Death Is in the Air (4 page)

A. B.
Elizabeth drew a deep breath. “Sheila, I’m sorry
to tell you this, but I believe it’s Amelia’s body they found in the woods.”

Sheila stared at her for several seconds. “Oh, no, you can’t mean it. Not Amelia.”

“I’m afraid so.”

Sheila shook her head. “She was such a bright young thing. I can’t believe she’s gone. The others are going to be so upset. Poor Maisie, she’s such a nervous little cow. This will scare her to death.”

“Maisie is one of the land girls?”

Sheila dragged a large handkerchief out of her pocket and loudly blew her nose. “We have four. Or we did until now. Pauline and Kitty are the other two. Oh, whoever done this to poor Amelia should be hung.”

“He probably will be,” Elizabeth said dryly. “Do you happen to know who it was Amelia was talking to last night?”

“No, m’m, I’m afraid I don’t. I only heard Amelia’s voice clearly. The other one was too muffled to even tell if it was a man or a woman. I just stayed in bed and pulled the covers over my ears. After all, it’s none of my business what they get up to in their free time. As long as they do their work around here, I stay out of their private lives.”

“Did Amelia make a habit of coming home late?”

Sheila stared down at the handkerchief and twisted it around her hands. “She liked the boys, I do know that. Always rushing around getting ready to go meet someone, she was. Most of the time I never knew what time she got home. She always got her jobs done, so I never asked.”

“Did she have a special boyfriend?”

“If she did, I wouldn’t know who it was.”

Deciding she wouldn’t learn much more from Sheila, Elizabeth asked, “Where are the other girls now?”

“Out in the fields. We’re tilling them now that the harvesting’s over.”

“I’d like to have a word with them, if I may?”

Sheila glanced at the clock again. “Of course. They should be in for elevenses soon. Which reminds me. I should be getting on with my chores. Just look at me. A farmer’s wife and still in my nightie. What must you think of me.”

Elizabeth smiled. “Even farmers’ wives become ill now and then. Don’t let me keep you, please. I’ll just wait here for the girls while you’re getting dressed, if you don’t mind.”

Sheila rose to her feet, looking flustered. “Not at all, Lady Elizabeth. Make yourself comfortable. There’s the morning newspaper there and a woman’s magazine. I’ll be making some coffee when the girls come in, so perhaps you’d care to join us. I could use your help when I tell them about poor Amelia.”

Elizabeth turned her head as the door opened and a skinny young woman poked her head into the room. “Excuse me, Mrs. Macclesby, but have you seen my spade anywhere? I left it leaning against the wall last night, and now it’s gone.”

Sheila whirled around. “Maisie, how many times have I told you to put your things away when you’ve finished with them? That spade is back in the shed where it belongs. Why is it that the last place you girls look is where something belongs? Next time you leave something lying around outside, I’m going to charge you a shilling to get it back.”

“Yes, Mrs. Macclesby. Sorry.” Maisie’s dark eyes shifted to Elizabeth for a moment, then she withdrew her head and disappeared.

Sheila sighed. “Half these girls they send us don’t know one end of a spade from the other. Most of them don’t have the stamina to work out in the fields all day, and they’re always moaning and complaining about their sore muscles. Still, I suppose we should be grateful for the help now that the men are all off fighting in the trenches.”

“We all have to make sacrifices these days, I’m
afraid.” Elizabeth settled herself more comfortably on the couch. “I quite admire those young ladies for volunteering to work on the land. It isn’t easy work, by any means.”

“Maybe not,” Sheila muttered as she crossed the room, “but they get well paid and well fed, and they’re away from all that bombing. That’s a lot to be thankful for, I’d say. Too bad they can’t appreciate that.” She opened the door that led to her narrow hallway. “I won’t be a minute, Lady Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth nodded. She needed time to think about the questions she wanted to ask the girls. She very much wanted to know the name of the person Amelia had spent time with the night before. Surely at least one of the girls should be able to tell her.

Idly she picked up the woman’s magazine from the table in front of her and began leafing through it. Her glance fell on a picture of a man and woman seated at a long table. Each of them held a brimming glass of wine, and candlelight flickered between them as they stared into each other’s eyes.

As she gazed at the picture with an intense fascination, the images changed. She imagined she saw herself seated at that table, staring into the eyes of Earl Monroe.

With a muttered exclamation she slapped the pages closed. She absolutely, definitely, positively could not entertain these silly notions about the major. He would be so embarrassed if he had the slightest inclination that she looked upon him in a certain favorable light.

She would be hideously mortified if he detected one hint that she was feeling anything other than businesslike toward him. The whole idea was so ludicrous she would have laughed out loud if it hadn’t been for the tiny flicker of excitement deep inside her heart.

CHAPTER
4

Polly paused at the bottom of the back stairs. The door opened out onto the courtyard, and she could hear an engine revving up outside. Her heart raced to keep up with the sound. Sam could be just a few feet away from her right now. Just one quick look, that’s all she wanted. It had been so long since she’d seen him, she could hardly remember what he looked like.

Obeying the irresistible urge, she dragged off her apron, undid the top two buttons of her white blouse, hitched her dark blue skirt up a couple of inches under the wide black belt she wore, then opened the door and peeked outside.

Her stomach did a double somersault when she saw the driver of the Jeep. By some miracle it was Sam, and his profile was every bit as smashing as she remembered. Her excitement propelled her forward, and before she
really knew what she was doing, she’d bounced outside into the sunlight.

He saw her right away and flashed her a grin. “Well, hi, beautiful! Where have you been hiding?”

He’d called her beautiful. Entranced, Polly gazed happily at him, oblivious to the whistles and catcalls echoing across the courtyard from Sam’s appreciative comrades. She wondered if it was all right to call a man beautiful, because right then, with the sun glinting on the badges on his uniform, and his teeth gleaming white in his dark, suntanned face, he was the most gorgeous thing she’d ever come close to in her life. Better than any film star she’d ever seen. Just watching him smile like that made her feel like floating all the way up to the clouds.

“What’s the matter, honey? Cat got your tongue?”

She snapped out of her trance. If she wanted him to go on thinking she was a twenty-year-old woman, she’d better start behaving like one. In her best imitation of Ava Gardner, she tossed her head. “I was just wondering how long you were going to sit there making all that noise.”

More whoops and whistles greeted her comment. Sam winked at her. “We’re on our way out, babe. Sorry if we’re disturbing you.”

“Well, I do have a lot of work to do. It’s hard to concentrate on the bills and everything with all this noise going on.”

Sam looked around at his leering companions and climbed out of the Jeep. “Move on out. Wait for me at the end of the drive.”

“Hey, Sam, no fraternizing with the natives!” one of the grinning Yanks called out as he slid into the driver’s seat.

“Got any more like you at home?” another one yelled, and the rest joined in with various remarks that heated her cheeks.

“Get out of here,” Sam growled at them.

As the roar of the Jeep faded away down the long, curving drive, Polly suddenly felt shy. She stared down at her serviceable black shoes and wished she’d worn the high-heeled sandals she’d splashed her coupons on last month.

“What are you doing out here?” Sam asked. “I thought you worked in the office at the other end of the house.”

“I do,” Polly said, crossing her fingers behind her. “I had to run an errand, that’s all. I’m on my way back there now.”

Sam nodded, his brown eyes intent on her face. “Haven’t seen you around much.”

That’s because she’d spent her time avoiding all of them, Polly thought wistfully. She had to talk to Lady Elizabeth again and beg her to give her a job in the office. The last thing in the world she wanted was for Sam to find out she was only a housemaid. “What happened to Clay?” she asked, more to change the subject than anything. “He told Marlene he’d meet her at the pub, but he never turned up.” It was a mild rebuke of sorts. Marlene had met Clay the same night she’d met Sam, and neither one of the men had kept their promise to meet them down the pub the next night.

Sam’s gaze drifted over to the beech trees lining the drive. “Sorry about that. Clay didn’t come back from a mission. I didn’t feel like going into town without him.”

Polly felt as if someone had slammed a fist in her stomach. “Oh, blimey, I’m so sorry. Poor Clay. Doesn’t anyone know what happened to him?”

Sam shrugged. “I saw him bail out. If he’s lucky he got picked up by the Resistance. If not, he’ll spend the rest of the war in a POW camp.”

Tears clouded her eyes, and she blinked them back. “I’ll tell Marlene. She’ll be so sad. She really liked him.”

“Yeah. He was a nice guy.”

In spite of the warmth from the sun, her insides felt like they’d been dipped in ice. It could be Sam the next
time. She couldn’t bear to think of him locked up in a prison camp. “Are you going up today?”

“Probably.” He glanced at his watch. “I’d better get going.” His gaze shifted to her face again. “Wanna meet me at the pub tonight?”

She nodded eagerly. “I’ll try. About eight o’clock?”

“If I can make it.”

He’d said the words casually enough, but she knew what they meant. What he really meant was
if I come back.

Just then a shrill voice screeched from behind her, “Polly? What in the world are you doing?”

“I’ll see you then,” Polly said hurriedly and waved her hand before spinning around.

Violet marched toward her with a grim look on her pinched face, Polly’s discarded apron flapping in her hand.

Polly held her breath until she heard the crunch of Sam’s footsteps gradually taper off in the distance. Violet stood waiting a few feet away, with arms crossed and a scowl as dark as thunderclouds.

“I came out to see what all the noise was about,” Polly said, darting past the birdlike woman to the door.

“Oh? And did your apron just happen to fall off on the way out?” The housekeeper brandished the white cloth in her face. “And how did your skirt get all bunched up like that? Your knees are showing. Blinking disgraceful, that’s what I call it.”

“Oh, don’t get your knickers in a twist.” Polly tugged at her skirt, then snatched the offending article of clothing from Violet’s skinny hand. “I was just being polite, that’s all.”

“Hmmph!” Violet snorted. “If you ask me, there’s entirely too much of this sort of thing going on. I knew there’d be trouble if them Yanks moved in, that I did. I warned Lady Elizabeth, but she wouldn’t listen to me, oh, no.”

Polly tugged at the strings of her apron and tied them
securely around her waist. “If you ask me, it’s the nosy old biddies around here what causes all the trouble.”

“Here! Mind your tongue, my girl, or I’ll have you thrown out on your ear, so help me I will.”

“Yeah? And who do you think will come up here and clean this house for Lady Liza then? No one, that’s who. There ain’t anyone in Sitting Marsh who’d do what I do, and that’s a fact.”

“Really.” Violet stomped past her into the shadowed hallway. “Well, there are a good few women in North Horsham who would be only too glad to have a job like this. Especially when they get all that free time and their food thrown in.”

“There’s not enough money in it to pay their bus fare.” Confident of her position, Polly picked up her bucket and turned her back on Violet. “So you’d better be nice to me, or I’ll leave and go work in the factory. So there.”

“Polly.”

She was tempted to ignore Violet’s command, but something in the older woman’s tone turned her head. “What?”

“I’ve got something to tell you. Your sister called here this morning.”

Alarmed, Polly turned all the way around. “Marlene? She’s all right, isn’t she? What did she call for? Is it Ma? It’s not Dad, is it?” Fear made her voice crack. “Oh, Gawd, don’t tell me it’s Dad!”

“There’s nothing wrong with any of your family as far as I know,” Violet said crisply. “There is something you should know, though. One of the local land girls was found murdered in the woods this morning. Your sister called to warn you, and Lady Elizabeth wanted me to tell you she’ll make some arrangements to get you a lift home this evening, so you don’t have to ride your bicycle past the woods.”

Polly barely heard the rest of Violet’s words. She was too hung up on the news of the murder. She sat down
hard on the bottom stair, trying to make sense of what she’d heard. “A land girl? Who was she? Who done it, then?”

Violet shook her head. “I don’t know who she was, but it looks like that German pilot who got away yesterday killed the poor little mite. He must have been hiding in the woods, and the poor girl just happened to come across him.”

Polly frowned. “What was she doing in the woods all alone, anyway? I thought those girls always went around together.”

“Well, apparently this one didn’t.” Violet massaged the sides of her forehead with her fingers. “Anyway, get on with your work. I’m going back to the kitchen. All this upset has given me a headache.”

Polly moved aside to allow her to pass her on the stairs. She couldn’t believe it. Another murder in Sitting Marsh. Things had certainly changed since the Yanks had come to town. But at least they couldn’t blame this on the Yanks. Polly thought about the German bomber pilot hiding in the woods and shivered. Thank goodness someone was going to take her home tonight.

She pulled herself to her feet, then her pulse leapt as an idea blazed in her head. Maybe she could get Sam to take her home. Blissfully forgetting about the murder, she began a daydream about Sam and her alone in the Jeep under the stars—a dream that would last her the entire day.

The three land girls, all of whom were strangers to Elizabeth, seemed suitably impressed when Sheila introduced her visitor as the lady of the manor. Pauline, a stocky redhead and obviously the leader of the group, startled everybody when she demanded in her strident voice, “Did you come about the murder, m’m?”

Maisie stared down at her feet, while Kitty’s pudgy face turned a bright red. Elizabeth studied their reactions
with interest and made a mental note to question them all individually.

“How did you hear about that?” Sheila spluttered, obviously put out at being robbed of her big announcement.

Pauline shrugged. “Biggs told me. He got it from the milkman when he came to pick up the milk this morning. He said it were a poacher what came across the body.”

Sheila’s face was quite pale as she stared at Pauline. “Did Biggs tell you who had been murdered?”

The girl looked uncomfortable. “No,” she said slowly, “but we all think it might be Amelia, ’cause she never came back from her date last night.”

“You’re sure she didn’t come back?” Elizabeth asked.

Pauline exchanged looks with the other girls. “Well, m’m, her bed hadn’t been slept in. We all went to bed early, but Amelia slipped out to meet her boyfriend. When we woke up this morning we saw she hadn’t come back.”

“And you didn’t say anything to Mrs. Macclesby?”

“Yes,” Sheila put in, “why didn’t you tell me?”

Pauline’s chin shot up. “Well, you was asleep when we got up. You always told us not to disturb you in the mornings, so we made a cup of tea and a jam sandwich and then went to work. Then, when Biggs told us a land girl had been murdered, we all decided it had to be Amelia. There didn’t seem much point in telling you she was missing after that.”

“I hope you didn’t use more than a teaspoonful of jam,” Sheila said crossly. “That stuff is rationed, you know.”

“Tell me what isn’t,” Pauline grumbled.

Maisie, who seemed to be the most disturbed by the news, looked at Elizabeth. “Excuse me, Lady Elizabeth, but did the police find out who killed Amelia?”

“We all know who did it,” Sheila declared before Elizabeth could answer. “I was thinking about it while
I was upstairs. It had to be that German pilot who ran off yesterday. Who else would want to hurt such a nice young lady?”