Fire When Ready (Manor House Mystery) (5 page)

"Yes, of course." Elizabeth glanced at Sadie, who stood by the stove, a steaming cup in her hands, her expression grim but resolved. Remembering that the housemaid had once been bombed out of her home in London, Elizabeth could only imagine what was going through her mind. Over in the corner, the two dogs lay watching everyone, obviously confused at being woken up at such an abysmal hour.

Elizabeth sat down at the table. "I can't believe we didn't hear the planes. Did the siren go off? Why didn't we hear it?"

"I don't think anyone spotted them." George glanced at Martin, as if waiting for him to sit down first. "I'll have to have a word with our night watchmen. I don't know who's turn it is tonight, but he must have been asleep on the job, that's all I can say."

"That's what I said," Violet muttered.

"When exactly did this happen?" Elizabeth demanded. "Is it just the factory? How bad is it? Was anybody hurt?"

Without saying a word, Martin began the process of reseating himself.

George followed suit, and she could tell by his expression that the news wasn't good. "I came straight from the factory to tell you, m'm. The firemen were putting out the fire when I left." He fiddled with the handle of his cup, avoiding looking at her. "We reckon the bomb were dropped somewhere around eleven o'clock this evening. It took out the east end of the building and set fire to the rest." He rattled the teaspoon in his saucer. "They found two people in there, m'm. Locked inside the office, they were."

Elizabeth caught her breath. "Who were they?"

"Mr. McNally was one of them. He was working late, it seems." George sighed. "Jessie Bandini was the other one. She cleans the office and the canteen in the evenings. She must have been just about ready to go home when it hit." He passed a hand over his balding head. "Poor Jessie. Her daughter's going to miss her, that's for sure."

"She's dead?" Elizabeth leaned forward, her heart thumping in anxiety. "And Mr. McNally? He's all right, isn't he?"

George shook his head. "I'm afraid he bought it, too, m'm. I'm right sorry to have to tell you this, but I thought you'd want to know."

Elizabeth sat back, stunned by the news. That energetic Scotsman, so full of life and vigor, gone. Just like that. She just couldn't believe it.

"Your ladyship?" Sadie placed a cup and saucer in front of her. "Drink this. I put a shot of brandy in it."

"Thank you, Sadie." Elizabeth reached for the cup, her hand unsteady, and Sadie moved around the table to pat Martin's shoulder with an unusual show of concern.

"Are you all right, me old luv? Drink your tea, then, there's a good boy."

For once, Martin showed no offense at being spoken to in such a familiar manner. Obediently he picked up his cup and brought it shakily to his lips.

"He's a bit upset, m'm," Sadie explained unnecessarily. "He thinks he's in a bomb shelter and that the manor's been bombed."

"I knew it would happen," Martin said, his voice wobbling. "I told everyone they'd drop those dratted bombs on us one day."

George gave him a pitying look. "They only bombed the factory, Martin, that's all. They've gone now, haven't they. That was all they was after. The factory. Now that's gone, they won't bother us again."

"Douglas McNally," Elizabeth said, putting down the cup. "I still can't believe it." She'd taken a hefty sip of tea and the brandy was still stinging its way down her throat. "We'll have to let his family in Scotland know. Did he have a wife? Children?"

"Not as far as we know, but we'll be looking into it." George drained his cup. "If you'll pardon me, m'm, I'd best be getting off. I'll have to be up early in the morning. The head office will be wanting a full report."

"Yes, of course." Elizabeth got slowly to her feet. "Thank you for letting us know. "I'll stop by in the morning to see if there's anything I can do."

"Appreciate that, your ladyship." George pulled on his policeman's helmet and straightened it. "Not that there's much any of us can do for the poor buggers now, though."

"I suppose not. Goodnight, George."

Martin was still in the process of struggling to his feet
once more. Elizabeth reached across the table and took hold of the gun. He showed no resistance as she gently drew it out of his hand. Alarmed by the old gentleman's pallor, she motioned to Violet. "We must get him back to bed at once. All this has been a great shock to him."

"To all of us," Violet muttered as she hurried to take Martin's arm. "God help us all. Give us a hand, Sadie. Look sharp about it."

Sadie tossed the remains of her tea down her throat and smacked her lips. "It was worth getting up in the middle of the night for that," she said, putting her cup down on the table. "That's a good drop of brandy."

"For medicinal purposes, my girl, and don't you forget it." Violet glared at her. "Take hold of his other arm. It will take two of us to get him in bed."

Sadie hurried over to Martin's side. "Poor old bugger. Wonder what he'd do if we really did get bombed out of here. The shock'd kill him, I'm sure."

"Bite your tongue, missy," Violet snapped. "We've got enough trouble without you dreaming up more."

The door closed behind the three of them, leaving Elizabeth alone in the kitchen with the dogs. She went over to them and, much to their delight, knelt down beside them. Wrapping her arms around their thick necks, she murmured, "Dear George and Gracie. I never thought the war would come to Sitting Marsh. But now that it has, I promise I won't let anything happen to either of you."

The dogs thanked her with a sloppy slap of their tongues on her cheeks.

"I miss him so," she whispered in Gracie's soft ear. "He would have been such a tower of strength at a time like this." Tears slid down her cheeks. She rarely cried, but now she let the tears fall. For Douglas McNally and the loved
ones he'd left behind. For the unfortunate charlady, and her grieving family.

She didn't know Jessie Bandini personally, but she knew the name. The middle-aged woman had lived with her daughter and baby granddaughter in a caravan not far from the village. There were rumors that they were gypsies, cast out by their tribe because the child had no apparent father.

She cried for them all. And she cried for herself, for her broken heart, and her own personal loss, made all the harder because she could not share her sorrow with anyone. No one except her beloved dogs.

Elizabeth slept late the next morning, and when she entered the office Polly was already at her desk. She looked up, her eyes filled with worry when Elizabeth greeted her. "They bombed the factory last night, m'm," she said.

"Yes, I know."

Elizabeth was still wondering if she should mention the deaths when Polly blurted out, "When I heard two people were killed, I thought it might be Ray. He sometimes works late at the factory. But then Sadie said as how it was Mr. McNally and Jessie Bandini. It's just awful. What are we going to do if they come back to bomb us again? We'll all be killed. I knew they should never have put up that factory." Her voice ended on a wail and she burst into tears.

Hurrying over to her, Elizabeth said soothingly, "Polly, there's no reason for the Germans to come back now. They've got what they wanted. It's over." She was repeating George's sentiments, and she hoped fervently that he was right.

Polly nodded tearfully. "That's what Sadie said, and Violet. It's just the shock, that's all. Everything's going wrong, m'm. Everything. What with me dad off fighting the
war, and Sam gone back to America, and Marlene driving an ambulance at the front." She looked up at Elizabeth, her eyes wide with fear. "What if Marlene gets bombed, too? I couldn't bear it. I really couldn't." The tears started falling again.

Elizabeth gave the girl's thin shoulders a hug. "Now, now, this won't do. We can't let the enemy get us down like this. Where's that British stiff upper lip? Everything's going to be all right, you'll see. The war will be over soon, and your father will be home, and Marlene, too. Meanwhile, you have a nice young man to take care of you, haven't you?"

To Elizabeth's relief, a reluctant smile tugged at Polly's mouth. "Yes, m'm. He's really nice. I'm going to see him tonight. I'm just glad he wasn't there in the factory when it was bombed."

"Well, I'm sure all this will be forgotten soon." Elizabeth went back to her desk. "Now, let's get started on this pile of letters. I promised George I'd stop by the police station this morning, and it's nearly lunch time already.

"Tell you what, m'm." Polly left her desk and came over to collect the letters. "I'll take care of these, and you go on down to the police station. If there's anything I'm not sure about I'll ask you about it later."

Elizabeth beamed at her assistant. "Thank you, Polly. You have no idea how comforting it is to know I have such an efficient secretary."

Polly's face warmed with pleasure. "I do my best, I'm sure."

"And it's a very good best at that." Confident that Polly's smile meant she was feeling better, Elizabeth left the girl to her task.

George was at the front desk when she entered the police station an hour later. As usual, his mouth was full of
Banbury cake from Bessie's Bake Shop, and he chewed frantically as he staggered to his feet.

"Good morning, George," Elizabeth said brightly. Giving him time to answer, she called out to his partner in the back room, "You as well, Sid!"

"Morning, your ladyship," Sid's voice echoed back from behind the half open door. "Bit of excitement here last night, I reckon."

Having choked down the remnants of his cake, George said hastily, "Have a seat, your ladyship. I was hoping you'd drop by. I've got some important news for you."

Elizabeth took the chair he'd indicated, hoping it wasn't more bad news. Right now the people of Sitting Marsh had enough to deal with. By now the news of the bombing would be all over the village, and she would have her work cut out over the next few days trying to calm their fears. She folded her hands in her lap and tried to sound composed when she asked, "All right, George, what is it? What's happened now?"

CHAPTER

4

George coughed, then put on his official face. "We got the report from the fire department, your ladyship. It weren't no bomb what set the fire at the factory last night, after all. It were someone on the ground what did it. Which accounts for the fact that no one heard any airplanes."

Elizabeth stared at him in dismay. "Someone deliberately set fire to the factory?"

It was George's turn to look startled. "Oh, no, m'm. Not deliberate, no. Dave, the chief fireman, said it were an accident. Someone chucked a lit cigarette in a bucket of rags. Must have smoldered all evening and then caught fire. Course, once it reached the ammo, up it went."

"Oh, my." Elizabeth clutched her throat. "That must
have been quite an explosion. I'm surprised the whole village didn't hear it."

"Well, luckily, most of the explosives are stacked behind the main building. Dave said there were just a few boxes of ammo in that part of the factory, otherwise it would have taken out Fred Shepperton's farmhouse along with it. I always said he was taking a chance letting them build that thing on his land. His wheatfields are right alongside it."

"I understand it was Fred Shepperton who raised the alarm," Elizabeth said.

"Yes, m'm. Rode his bicycle down to the Tudor Arms, he did. Doesn't have a telephone. He told me he didn't want one of them newfangled things ringing in his house all day and night." George sniffed. "As if that many people would be bothering to call him."

"I still can't believe Douglas McNally is dead. I was just talking to him a week ago." She caught her breath. "How very ironic."

George looked puzzled. "Beg your pardon, your ladyship?"

"Oh, I was just remembering something Mr. McNally said." Elizabeth frowned. "He told me someone had been pushing threatening letters through his letterbox. Something about meeting his Maker. It just seems strange that this should happen to him now. I don't suppose he happened to mention anything about them to you?"

"Letters? Not so I can recall. I didn't have much to say to the gentleman. He always seemed to be in a big hurry. I don't reckon he could have been that worried about them letters though, or he would have reported it."

McNally's words were now echoing clearly in Elizabeth's mind.
Someone out there wants rather desperately to
see me dead and buried. And I have not the slightest doubt he means business
.

He'd certainly sounded concerned about them. She was the one who'd made light of them. "The firemen are quite sure that it was an accident?" she asked sharply.

"Quite sure." George picked up a sheaf of papers. "They went over everything as best they could. Of course, the place were in a bit of a mess, seeing as how it had been blown up, set on fire, and water poured on it, but the official word is that it were an accident."

"You mentioned the fire chief. David something . . . what was his name?"

"Dave Meadows. He's only part time, of course. All of them are, aren't they. Volunteers, every one of them. All the real ones are off fighting the war. Dave owns a repair shop for bicycles in North Horsham. Does a bit of tinkering with motorcars as well, I believe."

How well
, Elizabeth wondered,
would a part-time volunteer fire chief be able to conduct an official investigation?
It wouldn't hurt to find out. Remembering McNally's letters had made her uneasy. And now that her mind was working on the possibility of arson, there was something else bothering her. If only she could remember what it was.

"I have called this meeting," Rita Crumm's shrill voice announced, "to organize an official petition to close the munitions factory for good."

Crowded into Rita's tiny front room, the members of the Housewives League gazed at their leader with varying expressions on their faces, most conveying boredom.

"What do we want to go and do that for?" Marge Gunther demanded. "It's already closed down."

"That's as maybe." Rita wore her hair pinned back,
except for a bunch of curls on top of her head that wobbled back and forth whenever she was agitated. The curls bounced joyfully as Rita tossed her head. "But there's talk that they're going to make repairs and reopen it as soon as possible."