A Blind Goddess

fell into the easy chair by the window.

“Okay, Big Mike,” I said. “What did you find out at CID?”

“Plenty of nothing,” he said. “I told Diana on the ride out here that those guys are the laziest investigators I ever saw. They got no real evidence, other than Private Smith’s nickname is Angry and his skin is black.”

“That’s what Constable Cook thought, too,” I said, and filled Big Mike and Diana in on the story he’d told me.

“It was Rosemary Adams’s statement that they hung their hat on,” he said. “Even though she admitted she lied.”

“Why didn’t your Criminal Investigations Division turn over the case to the local police, if Private Smith’s guilt was in doubt?” Diana asked.

“They want convictions as much as any police force,” I said. “To be fair, if they thought a GI was a suspect, they had to investigate. Once they turn it over, there’s no going back. It’s all because of the Visiting Forces Act.”

“You’d think common sense would win out,” Diana said. “There’s a killer on the loose now, and no one is looking for him.”

“We are,” Big Mike said.

“Yes, we are,” she agreed. I was about to ask what had happened with Roger Allen when footsteps sounded in the hall and the door opened.

“Glad to see you up and about,” Inspector Payne said. “I have news. Bit crowded in here, isn’t it?”

“Join the party,” I said. “What do you have?”

“This,” he said, setting a small worn suitcase on the bed. “We found it in one of the boats not far from the Millers’. Likely it belongs to the girl in the canal. Margaret Hibberd.” He held up a tag tied to the handle. “Her name, with an address in Great Shefford crossed out and an address in London added.”

“Where’s Great Shefford?” I asked.

“About ten miles north of Hungerford. They have a school for children evacuated from London during the Blitz. We have a constable headed there now to see if this girl is missing, ask for a photograph, and break the news if it’s the same one. Lieutenant Kazimierz is accompanying him. The clothing points to a girl the same size.” Children had been evacuated not only from the Channel Islands, but from all the major cities in England within range of German bombers.

“Terrible,” Diana said, picking through the threadbare garments.

“It is,” Payne said. “What’s worse is that the girl’s street in Shoreditch was bombed back in January. I called Scotland Yard and they checked the records. Her father’s body was found, but not her mother’s. Missing, most likely incinerated. They already had her listed as a runaway to watch for.”

“So this poor girl takes it upon herself to travel to London, only to be killed before her journey is barely begun,” Diana said.

“How would she get from Great Shefford to London?” I asked.

“Most direct route would be south on the road to Hungerford, then by train to London,” Payne said. “I’d wager she left on foot from Great Shefford, someone offered her a lift, and she never made it to the station.”

“Could be,” Big Mike said. “Question is, why was the suitcase found near the Miller place?”

“Does Miller have an automobile?” I asked.

“No,” Payne said. “And if he did there’s no petrol to be had. It’s rationed for official use only, and for businesses that require it.”

“He could have met the girl in Hungerford easily enough,” Diana said. “Offered to help her, perhaps.”

“I think we might be asking the wrong question,” I said. “The real question is why was I attacked, at that time and place?”

“Perhaps it was Miller,” Payne said, stroking his chin. “He sees you snooping about, figures you’ll find the suitcase, and Bob’s your uncle, you’re in the canal.”

“What you’re suggesting is that George Miller has committed one murder and one attempted murder, all to keep the suitcase from being found. If he’s the guy who took Margaret Hibberd, why didn’t he put rocks in the suitcase and toss it in the canal? Or bury or burn it?”

“So why were you attacked, Billy?” Diana asked.

“Because somewhere along the line, I got somebody nervous. My guess is the girl’s killer had the suitcase and needed to get rid of it. What better place than near the scene of a recent murder? Maybe we’d start looking at Neville or Miller as suspects. He waits until dark to plant the suitcase, and then sees me walking down the path. He might think I followed him, and he can eliminate me as a threat and divert suspicion at the same time.”

“Or he didn’t try to kill you,” Big Mike said. “You told me you weren’t hit that hard. Maybe he figured by attacking you, he’d ensure a search of the area.”

“I’m not sure I see the same connection you do,” Payne said. “You’re assuming the disappearance of Sophia and the murder of Margaret are tied to the Neville case. Why?”

“Because of the warning Neville gave to Eva Miller. He told her to be careful.”

“It’s not much,” Payne said.

“What else do we have?”

“There’s a sad truth,” he said. “Perhaps it is time to press our German friend Miller a bit harder.”

“Why not? It may serve to get some things out into the open.”

“Where MI5 are concerned,” Payne said, “they may be better left hidden. But we’ve little else, so I will invite Miller to come to the station for a bit of a chat. Would you like to attend, Captain?”

“No, I’m still a bit wobbly. How about Big Mike?”

“Indeed! We shall put the fear of God into the man, and see what happens.”

After Payne and Big Mike left the room was quiet, and I enjoyed the silence with Diana in the chair beside me. No talk of dead girls or drowning. After ten minutes of peace came a knock at the door.

“Tree,” I said, surprised at the visit. “Come in.”

“There’s been trouble, Billy. Oh, sorry, ma’am, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Tree said as soon as he noticed Diana. But he was worked up, and halfway into the room.

“It’s okay,” I said. “This is Diana Seaton, the woman I told you about.”

“You’re Billy’s friend, aren’t you?” Diana said, extending her hand. “Sergeant Jackson?”

“Yes, Miss Seaton. Call me Tree if you like, everyone does.”

“You must call me Diana,” she said. “Come and sit down, tell us what has happened.”

“Billy, what’s the matter?” Tree asked as we sat. “You don’t look so good.” I filled him in on the events of the night before, and the discovery of Margaret Hibberd’s suitcase.

“I’m still a bit shaky, but I’m fine,” I said. “Now what kind of trouble?”

“There’s rumors flying all around about the girl we found. Two of our guys were changing a tire on their jeep when four white GIs jumped them. They beat them up pretty bad, told them there’d be a lynching if any more white girls were raped and murdered. We had a supply truck headed to Greenham Common today and they had to turn back when their windshield was smashed.”

“Same story?” I asked.

“Worse. GIs at the base said they heard we had a white girl held prisoner in camp, and a bunch of rednecks were going to head out tonight to rescue her. I hope they come, they’ll see how Negroes can fight, you better believe it.” I believed. I knew Tree would stand up for what he knew was right, but in this situation it was likely to get him killed.

“Jesus. Did you go to the MPs?”

“Billy, have you heard anything I’ve been telling you? I go to the MPs and I’ll get my head busted for making trouble. Just like going to the cops in Boston. A waste of time at best, dangerous most likely.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” I said, knowing it all too well.

Diana shot me a questioning look.

“I’m sorry, Miss Seaton-Diana,” Tree said. “But it’s the truth. Seems we can’t get away from prejudice and hatred even when we’re fighting the same enemy.”

“What can you do, then?”

“I was hoping Billy was about to apprehend the real killer. That would help.”

“Not even close,” I said. “Not to who killed Neville, the guy I was sent here to investigate. Or to who killed