He sighed. Vera glanced over at him sharply.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just work. Why don’t you catch a few more winks?”
He tried to put some civility into his voice, but Vera must have picked up on his thoughts or seen them in his eyes because her voice became hurried.
“Now I’m up, I may as well stay up. Dad asked me to come over and help add up ration coupons. He likes to do it before he opens.” Her dark hair was sitting in sausages all over her head and she started to brush them out. Thick and wavy, her hair was one of her best features. It was still dark; she plucked out the grey strands immediately.
He took his dressing gown off the hook on the door. “I’d better get on to that phone call. God knows, it would be nice if it was good news, but somehow I doubt it.”
Vera began applying her makeup.
“You look nice, Vee.”
“Good Grief! A compliment. I wonder what I did to deserve that?” She wet her finger and smoothed her eyebrows. “Celia Clark was at the Institute last night. She told us about that Land Army girl getting herself killed.”
“Yes, I was going to tell you myself.”
“I should hope so. Some of the women think it’s a Jerry on the loose. Somebody escaped from that alien camp. Is it?”
“We haven’t found the culprit yet, but it’s not likely it’s anyone from the camp. They’re all behind barbed wire.”
“That’s what I said to her. It’s somebody closer to home if you ask me. I saw that girl around town and she was clearly no better than she should be. If you ask me, she probably got what was coming to her.”
“I didn’t.”
“What?”
“I didn’t ask you, Vera. This girl didn’t deserve what happened to her.”
“Well, pardon me for breathing.”
This was Vera at her worst, lips a straight line, the lipstick a slash of crimson.
She went over to the wardrobe for her clothes, and Tyler headed downstairs.
I’m going to leave her
, he thought.
I can’t stand this, I’m going to leave her. As soon as this case is finished, I’m moving out
.
It wasn’t the first time he’d had these thoughts, but it was the first time he’d felt such resolve. He’d been tied to Vera for years; guilt, responsibility, shame, all of them obdurate as forged steel. But now Clare had walked back into his life and he remembered what love was like. It was so utterly unfair to Vera to live with a man whose heart belonged to another woman. And always had. It was strange, but as he voiced these feelings to himself, the anger abruptly left him. It was going to be hard telling the kids, but he suspected they wouldn’t be surprised. He’d start looking for a place to live as soon as he could.
He put the kettle on for his tea and cut off a couple of jagged pieces of bread. While the water was boiling, he walked into the hall and picked up the telephone. Mavis answered.
“Number please?”
“Hello, Mavis, it’s Tom. Will you connect me to the dower house? I want to speak to Miss Stillwell.”
“Oo, Tom, I’ve heard about that poor soul who died. One of them Land Army girls, I hear. I hope you catch the killer soon. We none of us women feel safe now. I had to have our Charlie come and get me last night.”
“Good. I want you to tell all the women you know to be careful. This is most likely an isolated incident but you never
know. If anybody sees anybody acting suspiciously, tell them to get in touch with me right away.”
Mavis sniffed. “These days you can see somebody acting suspiciously on every corner. They’re
ARP
men … Carol Haycroft says she heard that the dead girl were mixed up with some of the enemy aliens. She weren’t a spy, were she?”
“My God, Mavis. I can’t believe how rumours get around. No, of course she wasn’t a spy.”
“Just wondering. It’s my skin I have to protect.… That other girl sounded right urgent last night when she called. Put the chills into me.”
“What other girl?”
“One of the Land Army girls. She were ringing from the hostel. She wanted to speak to you. I put a call through to the station but nobody answered. I offered to take a message but she said she’d call again.”
“What time did this happen?”
“About a quarter to seven. I was getting ready to leave.”
“Did she give her name?”
“Rose Watson or something like that.”
“Watkins?”
“That’s it. Rose Watkins. She said as how she wanted to speak to you, and to say it was important.”
“And that’s it? No mention of what it was about?”
“Not at all. I already told you what she said and what I said. That’s it.”
“Damn it, Mavis, you should have insisted on taking down a message. Why didn’t you try me at home?”
She snorted. “I’m not a mind reader, Tom. If she had wanted to leave a message with me she could have, but she didn’t, so there. And as for ringing you at home, she was off the line in a flash.”
“All right, all right. I’m sorry.”
“And so you should be.”
The kettle began its shrill whistle from the kitchen. “Mavis, kettle’s boiling. Ring me right back when you get Miss Stillwell for me.”
He replaced his receiver and went into the kitchen to silence the kettle. Dear God, he hoped the delay in talking to Rose wasn’t going to turn out to be a crucial one.
Something important
. When he had talked to her in the library, he’d had the feeling she was withholding something, something to do with Elsie. Why hadn’t she called him back? Had something made her change her mind? Or was it worse than that?
The phone rang. He hurried to answer it.
“Inspector?” Miss Stillwell’s voice was tight. “I do apologize for the early hour, but Rose Watkins has not returned. I was anxious to know if you had any news.”
“Not yet, I’m afraid.”
“First Elsie, now Rose missing. What is happening?”
“I thought it might be worth pursuing her connection to the Catholic churches in the area. I understand that she attended Mass in Whitchurch.”
“Yes. Yes, she did. As soon as she arrived here, she sought out a church she could go to … but …” The warden’s voice became animated. “Usually, all the girls who are going to church pool together. I’ve given them permission to use the lorry. Sometimes, they bicycle but most of them are wearing their Sunday best and don’t want to get their clothes dirty. But Inspector –”
“What is it, Miss Stillwell?”
“I just realized that I saw Rose once or twice walking out of the gate on Sunday mornings. She wasn’t going in the direction of Whitchurch.”
“Where would she be going?”
“I believe she was going over the camp at Prees Heath.”
“The camp?”
“I’m sure of it. I have a friend who is Roman Catholic, and she told me recently that she has been attending the service at the camp. They aren’t all Jewish there; a small group of them are Christian. She said that the priest regularly says Mass twice a day, and in the past month, outsiders have been allowed to attend. It is easier for Mrs. Dwyer to go to Prees Heath than to go to St. Paul’s in Whitchurch. She quite likes it, she says. In spite of being German, the priest is very friendly. In fact, Inspector, I’d wager that when Violet saw Rose last night, that’s where she was going.”
The information didn’t explain why Rose hadn’t returned, but it was something.
“I have to go to the camp today. I’ll make enquiries.”
He heard Miss Stillwell clearing her throat and he wondered if she was crying.
“I’ve let the girls have a little sleep-in this morning. I don’t know whether to send them off to work. There’s such a lot to do at this time of year, but with this troubling turn of events about Elsie Bates, I don’t know if they would be better staying home. What do you think, Inspector?”
“Unless they are dead set against it, I recommend they continue as usual,” said Tyler. “Take their minds off everything. I promise I will contact you immediately if any news comes in.”
“Thank you, Inspector.”
“Try not to worry, Miss Stillwell.”
Empty words. He had a bad feeling about the whole situation. Rose Watkins was no wild child, no rebel. If she could have, he was sure she would have let the warden know where she was.
They hung up and he headed back to the kitchen.
Miss Stillwell rang again a few minutes later. Her voice was shaking.
“Inspector, I’m afraid I have quite dreadful news. I just received a call from Mr. Watkins, Rose’s father. Apparently, there was a terrible accident on the street involving two fighter planes. They collided with each other and one dropped onto the house. Their house is quite destroyed and Rose’s mother has been injured. He wanted me to give the news to Rose and he wants her to get leave and return to London.” The warden’s voice cracked. “Inspector, I did not know what to say to him. I’m afraid I was a coward. I simply said Rose was not available just now, but I would have her get in touch as soon as I could. Was that the right thing to do?”
Tyler’s heart sank. This was what the London constable had told him. Elsie’s family too. How could you tell a man his daughter was missing, maybe even dead like her friend, when the poor sod was already in the midst of tragedy?
“You did absolutely the right thing, Miss Stillwell. We don’t know where Rose is as yet. Better not to alarm her father at a time like this.”
They hung up and Tyler returned to the last of his tea.
Outside the thunder rumbled threateningly. Vera came into the kitchen.
“Did you have a talk with Janet last night?”
“I did. She’s got some things she needs to sort out.”
“I see. I’m to be excluded as usual? I am her mother. I’d like to know what’s on her mind.”
“You’re not being excluded, Vee. It’s just that—”
“She’s Daddy’s girl,” interrupted Vera.
Some time ago it seemed as if he and Vera had come to an unspoken agreement. A girl for him, a boy for her. Nevertheless, Vera resented her daughter’s closeness to her father. For his part, he would liked to have much more communication with his only son, but Vera got in the way.
She began to tug on pristine white gloves. “Jimmy’s already
gone. No breakfast again, I might add. He said he was going to help Mrs. Thorne with her garden. She sees more of him than his own mother.” At the door, she turned. “You’d better make sure Janet is up. It takes her an age to get going. She shouldn’t be late.”
She had expressed no curiosity about his early call from Miss Stillwell.
The door snipped shut behind her and Tyler went to the bottom of the stairs. “Janet. Time to get up.”
A rumpled girl appeared on the landing. “I am up, Dad.”
“Tea’s on.”
He returned to the kitchen. Ominous black clouds were roiling in the sky. A thunderstorm was coming.
Janet came down the stairs in her dressing gown.
“I’ve got to go, pet,” said Tyler. “I should have been at the station ten minutes ago. It’s going to rain by the look of it; take your umbrella.”
She gave him an exasperated grin. “I could have figured that out myself, Dad.”
He wagged his finger at her. “Don’t be cheeky. I’ll see you tonight.”
He folded up the bread and jam and crammed it into his mouth. Janet poured herself some tea.
“Look, Jan. I want you to be careful.”
She turned around. “Careful in what way?”
“Use common sense. Don’t go into deserted places by yourself.”
“Dad! I’m working today. You can hardly call Granddad’s shop a deserted place.”
“Nevertheless. All I’m saying is be sensible. I can rely on you for that, can’t I?”
She concentrated on drinking her tea. “Of course you can. See you tonight then.”
T
HE STORM OPENED UP JUST AS
T
YLER STEPPED OUT
of his door. He made a dash for the police station but even in that short distance, he got drenched.
Sergeant Gough was behind the desk. The clock on the wall showed a quarter past seven.
“What time did you get in?” Tyler asked.
“About half an hour ago. Shall I get you a towel, sir? You resemble a drowned rat, if I may put it that way.”
“You may not. And I can get my own towel.”
The
WC
was off Tyler’s office. Not quite his own private toilet but close enough. There was another one for general use. He was thinking he might hang his pictures of Clare in here but he hadn’t yet got up the nerve.
He returned to the front desk. “I had a phone call from Miss Stillwell, the warden at the hostel. Rose Watkins has not returned. She thinks she may have been heading for the Prees Heath camp when the maid saw her. They have a priest there who says Mass. Apparently locals have been attending.”
“Yes, I heard about that.”
“What! How come you know of it, and I didn’t?”
“From Constable Collis, as a matter of fact. He’s
RC
and found out he could attend Mass there. It’s closer than his own regular church. He was worried, in case it would look bad. An officer of the Shropshire constabulary cavorting with enemy aliens.”
“You said it was fine, I presume?”
“I did. The super apparently attended a concert at the camp not so long ago.” Gough did an imitation of the posh, marble-mouthed superintendent. “Quite superior music, I’d say. As good as Albert Hall.”
Tyler laughed. “I’ll speak to the priest when I go over there today. In the meantime, Guff, let’s go over what we have so far?”
Gough handed him a piece of paper. “Here’s a list of all vehicles that have been registered since the outbreak of war. It’s by no means complete, but it’s a place to start.”
Tyler glanced over it. The local ones he was familiar with. Sir Percy had three registered: his Bentley, the Rolls, and the farm lorry. Arthur Trimble had a Ford; Dr. Murnaghan and the vicar both had Austins; the headmaster of the private school in Market Drayton drove a Rover. See how long he’d get to drive
that
with petrol rationing.
He drew a line through the vicar’s name. “Reverend Pound’s Austin has been up on blocks for the past six months. He goes everywhere on his bike.”
To his surprise, there was a 1933 Morris registered to Alice Thorne. He’d never seen her drive it, but she’d renewed the licence just last year.