by R A Wallace
The surprise in his eyes was replaced with caution. “He is also a military officer.”
“You both decided to take a look at the preserve?” she prompted.
“Why not? Hunting season is coming up. We wanted to know what the prospects were.” He turned back toward the field.
“Was that your idea?”
A flash of annoyance flooded his eyes as he looked at her again. “Maybe. I don’t know. It might have been Pierce’s. Why?”
“Who told you about the preserve?”
His shoulders moved under his uniform with his shrug. “I can’t say that I remember.” He nodded toward the field. “It may have been some of the recruits.”
“May have or was?”
He began to answer but a whistle interrupted. His attention was diverted as he began moving away. “It might have been Pierce.” He motioned toward an officer leading a small unit of recruits off of the field.
Delia moved with him. “How did he hear about it?”
Arlie looked concerned that she planned to go out onto the field with him. “I don’t know. I think he said the groundskeeper told him. Yes, that’s it.”
Delia stopped walking as Arlie moved around some of the recruits and began calling them onto the field.
Pierce Byers was the opposite of Arlie Gibson. Tall and on the lanky side, he had a ready smile. He greeted Delia with curiosity.
“Here to try some drilling practice?” he asked with a smile.
“Not today,” she said with a return smile. After introducing herself, she asked him about the game preserve.
“Sure, we went out there.” He automatically looked toward Arlie on the field. “Might be some good opportunities.”
“How so?”
“We saw a lot of tracks. I’m thinking there’s good hunting.” Pierce frowned as a recruit turned in the wrong direction. “Of course, not all of the tracks we saw were from animals.”
She was aware of at least a dozen people in the woods that day. “You saw human tracks?”
He nodded agreement but his focus was on the field. “We followed them for a bit.”
“And?”
He took a step away from her and shouted something at the recruit on the field as the young boy took another wrong turn in the opposite direction of his unit.
“They must learn to follow direction,” Pierce said to no one in particular as he continued to watch the unit.
Delia couldn’t see the face of the young recruit from her distance, but she heard shouts from the others watching on the sidelines. Some of the shouts were in the form of encouragement. Others were quite the opposite. She was reminded of the many hours of practice it took for the female yeomen to perfect the required formations. Though it took longer for some to master the steps, once they had it was a sight to see.
Pierce suddenly remembered that she was waiting to speak with him. “You must think it cruel that the men are subjected to such treatment.”
She knew better than most that their very lives might depend upon their training. “I am confident a little hard work now will be good for them later.”
Pierce seemed surprised at her words. He turned back to watch the unit as it drew closer to them again. When the unit on the football field performed another turn, it was flawless down to the last man.
“You followed the tracks,” Delia prompted as Pierce stopped pacing in his agitation.
“That’s when we found him.”
“The victim?”
He turned to look at her. The curiosity was back in his eyes. “What’s this to you?”
“Whether you realize it or not, your presence here has an impact on the school,” Delia pointed out. “Our role, both in the community of Glennon and the educational community, requires that the school be above reproach in all matters. What did you see?”
He glanced away for just a moment as though collecting his thoughts. “Tracks, as I said. Both animal and human.”
“Did you see anyone else while you were there?”
He gave a half shake of his head.
“Did you approach the victim?”
“No.” It was said quickly. “We returned here, to the campus.”
“You called the police?”
He made a face indicating that wasn’t the case. “There were already others here talking about it. The police came to us. Asked us what happened. We figured someone else had called them and it was all handled.”
She watched his face carefully. “But you did plan to call them when you returned here?”
His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course.”
Chapter Twelve
“Have you learned much yet?” Mena crossed her arms in front of her. She cradled each elbow with the opposite hand and leaned forward on the front desk of the library. The gold rim frames of her spectacles glinted in the well-lit workspace where she spent much of her time.
Delia stood on the other side of the desk. Behind her, there were students in various areas of the large, multi-story library. Tall baroque columns were spaced throughout supporting the ceiling high above. The second-floor mezzanine containing rows of bookshelves overlooked the tables situated around the center area of the main floor which also had its share of shelving units to house Mena’s precious volumes. In one corner of the library was a comfortable sitting area where students could gather for a less formal study session.
Delia considered her answer. “To be honest, I believe I may have acquired more questions than answers.”
“Principal Glennon trusts you.” Mena sounded wistful.
The words took Delia by surprise. “How so?”
“I would think it obvious. He has placed the welfare of the school in your hands, not for the first time.” Mena took a deep breath. “It must be very gratifying to know that your abilities are so highly regarded.”
Delia thought she saw pain in Mena’s face. Perhaps it was longing, of a sort, to have her thoughts considered with the care they deserved and her knowledge appreciated. “I spoke with Alexander.”
Mena’s eyes dropped down to the desk in front of her. “And?”
“I am not yet certain what his involvement in the situation might be,” Delia conceded. “I must learn more.”
“Where are you headed next?”
Delia described the two lovers she’d heard about in her dormitory earlier in the day.
“Ivy Banks.” Delia watched Mena’s eyes widen. “You know her?”
“Her family. You’ve seen her mother. She attends the same church.” Mena made a face. “Mrs. Banks is not happy about Ivy’s choice of a mate.”
Delia thought of the sketchy directions she’d received earlier. “Can you tell me where they live?”
Mena pulled a sheet of paper closer. After writing down the directions, she even drew a map. “You’ll exit the last trolley stop here. I’m afraid it’s a bit of a walk after that.”
“My classes are over for the day. I needed to go into town at any rate.” Delia reached for the paper and the paper bag of clothing next to it. “I must update Judson on what I’ve learned.”
“Be safe,” Mena said as Delia moved away.
Given it was the end of classes for many for the day, the trolley stop in front of Glennon Hall was busy. Delia had to wait for a second car to arrive. She was surprised to see that there was a female trolley driver in charge of it.
As she took a seat, she thought about the recent article in the paper calling for more women to join the workforce. With the current draft lottery, tens of thousands more men would be sent to training camps and then on to the war overseas. The need for women was greater now than at any other time during the war.
She followed Mena’s excellent directions to a moderately-sized farm on the edge of town. It occurred to her as she walked the last distance that it was well situated. They had the benefit of the land and the relative quiet away from the bustle of town without sacrificing many of the benefits. It would be but a short drive to reach anything
they might need, even using horses to pull a wagon.
The house was a single-story sprawling structure. It looked as though rooms were added on over time. Delia imagined it was during times of prosperity as the family grew. It was in need of maintenance at the moment, however. A good coat of paint, shingles replaced, and a few loose boards attended to would be an improvement. It occurred to Delia that Mena hadn’t mentioned a Mr. Banks. She wondered if the gentleman passed away.
The woman that answered the door looked familiar. Delia introduced herself.
“You’re from the school.” It was said with a nod and wasn’t phrased in the form of question. “I’ve seen you in church every week. You’ve just moved to the area?”
“My cousin, Hazel, is the head cook at the school,” Delia explained.
It earned another nod of approval. “Hard working woman, Hazel Markham.” Mrs. Banks scanned the yard behind Delia as though looking for someone. Her long hair was pulled back in a knot at the base of her neck. She wore a gingham apron over a plain house dress.
Delia caught a whiff of a smell. “Is there something on the stove?”
“My, yes. Please, come in.”
Delia allowed the screen door to close behind her and followed the other woman into the kitchen. It was obvious she was in the middle of canning.
“Quince jam?”
“It used to be a particular favorite of my husband when he was alive.” Mrs. Banks used tongs to pull jars from the boiling water. “I have one batch done, but I have one more to do.”
“I was hoping to speak with your daughter Ivy.” Delia wondered why the girl wasn’t helping her mother. “Is she at work?”
“She took the remains of the quince out to the hogs.” Mrs. Banks lowered the flame of the gas burner under a pot on the stove. “I’ve kept her at home, but I’ve been wondering of late if it was the best thing to do. Maybe I should let her take one of those factory jobs.”
“Has she mentioned doing that?”
“She has. When I was first married, our farm wasn’t as close to the town. Glennon has grown over the years. It spread out until it reached us.” Mrs. Banks stirred the quince with a long wooden spoon. “Her father and I envisioned her getting married and staying here to help us as we grew older. In my dreams, I always thought she’d find a nice young man who wouldn’t mind taking on a farm.”
Delia stepped closer to the stove but didn’t interrupt the other woman’s thoughts.
“Instead, she’s found Howard.” Her grimace made it clear that the name was bitter on her tongue. “No-good male next door that can’t be bothered to do a lick of work.”
“Perhaps the benefit of a larger world might open Ivy’s eyes to the possibilities,” Delia suggested.
Mrs. Banks tapped the spoon on the side of the pot before setting it down. “I’ve been thinking the same thing of late. She’s convinced herself she’s in love with Howard but I swear it’s only because he’s the closest young man her age. Maybe if she found out the world is full of them?”
“A job might broaden her horizons,” Delia agreed.
“Mama?” The young girl entered the kitchen carrying an empty pail. “Oh. I thought I heard voices.”
“Did you think I was talking to myself?” Mrs. Banks didn’t sound offended.
Ivy shared a smile with her mother. “I’ve heard you do it before.”
Delia listened to the two banter for a few moments before Mrs. Banks introduced them. “She’s from the normal school.”
Ivy looked at Delia curiously before setting her pail down. “I never did well in school. I kind of wish now that I would have tried harder.”
“Maybe one of those factory jobs,” Mrs. Banks said. “You would be able to work without needing an education.”
Ivy looked at her mother in surprise. “Really?”
“I think you should look into it.” Mrs. Banks slanted her eyes at Delia before turning back to her stove.
“I wanted to ask you about what you heard at the new state game preserve,” Delia said to Ivy.
Ivy shifted alarmed eyes toward her mother but the woman didn’t turn around. “Preserve?”
“I understand you were there the other day.” She watched Ivy stiffen even more. “It’s important, Ivy. You may not have heard yet, but a man was killed.”
Mrs. Banks turned at that. “Did Howard put you up to it?”
Ivy nodded mutely.
Mrs. Banks pointed at Ivy with her spoon. “You’d best answer her questions.”
Ivy’s shoulders slumped. “Howard wanted to take a walk in the preserve.”
“Did you see anyone else while you were there?” Delia asked.
Ivy shook her head. “But we heard voices.”
“Male or female?”
“Male. We hid behind a tree until they were gone.” Ivy picked up a towel and began tightening the lids of the jars.
“You’re certain you didn’t recognize the voices?” Delia asked.
Ivy shrugged as she continued her work. “Don’t know that many people. Most of the girls I knew in school work in the factories now and some of them are married. I don’t really see anyone else except at church on Sunday.”
“That’s going to change,” Mrs. Banks said as she turned back toward her stove.
“With more of the men being called up, there’s an even greater need for women to join the workforce,” Delia said.
It earned her a smile from both women. She left a short time later. Mother and daughter were discussing which of the factories Ivy should apply to the following morning. Though Howard Leach was only the next farm over, it took several minutes for Delia to get there. She found a young man fitting Ivy’s description sitting on his front porch.
Delia remained at the bottom of the porch steps and introduced herself. She could tell by Howard’s demeanor that she barely had his interest.
“I understand that you and Ivy were at the new game preserve on the day a man was murdered.”
The long piece of straw in Howard’s mouth dropped out when he pitched forward in his seat. His face morphed into a smile of delight. “Are you pulling my leg?”
“You haven’t heard about it?”
“I don’t get the paper all the way out here.” He made it sound as though his farm was too remote.
“Ivy said that you heard voices,” Delia prompted.
Howard was losing interest in the conversation. “Yeah? So?”
“I would like to know who it was you heard.”
He gave a half shrug as he slouched back against the house. It caused the strap of his overalls to slide off his shoulder. “Just some of the boys from Glennon.”
“Boys you went to school with?” She watched a flash of irritation cross his face.
“When I was younger. You might know them seeing as they spend time with you. That new military school.” His eyes looked over her shoulder at the field behind her. “I wasn’t a candidate on account of some trouble back in our younger days.”
She knew the military school required the recruits to have the equivalent of a high school degree. Apparently, Howard hadn’t made it that far. “Their names?”
“What’s it to you?”
“I believe my question was polite enough,” Delia said. “The police may not ask as nicely.”
Howard scowled as he listed the names of Bennie’s friends. “Some soldiers they’ll make. They were worried about their instructors finding out they were there.” Howard’s lip curled. “Worried they’d get demerits if they’re caught.”
Chapter Thirteen
Gary Weir was perhaps in his early forties but looked at least a decade or more older. The man was around Delia’s height. The unpainted clapboard house sat on a small plot of land at the end of a dirt road just as Winnie had described to her. Delia wondered if Hazel’s kitchen employee once lived nearby.
The garden next to the house didn’t appear large enough to provide for the family she saw. In addition to Mr. Weir and his wife, there w
ere three small children in evidence. She knew it was possible there were more in school. However, the small children that peered around Mr. Weir appeared too young to be his own.
“From the normal school, you say?” Gary eyed Delia warily.
Delia offered a smile to Mrs. Weir. The woman had remained near the front door of the house when the rest of her family spilled out at the sudden appearance of a visitor.
“Yes, that’s right. The school has been collecting clothing. Some of the donations are being sent to the war front. Others are being distributed here in Glennon.” Delia held out the bag in her hands.
Gary Weir took a step back as though she held out a snake. “Don’t have no need for charity.”
Delia glanced at the woman near the door. Mrs. Weir had taken a step forward when Delia held the bag of clothing out. Delia skirted around Gary and passed the paper bag to his wife. The woman disappeared into the house as soon as the bag was in her hands.
“Hey, now. See here.” Gary’s angry words were punctuated with a pointed finger as he took a step closer to Delia.
She noticed again that he limped when he did so and wondered at his injury. It was a struggle for him to get out of his house when she’d first arrived.
His actions caused distress in the children. The youngest began whimpering. He stopped and pulled them toward him. “Now look what you’ve gone and done. You’ve scared my grandchildren.”
Delia watched the man gently cradle the head of the oldest girl to his thigh. The youngest wrapped her arms around his other leg. As Delia moved away from the house, the middle child stared at her with wide eyes.
“Your grandchildren?” Delia glanced around as though looking for the parents.
“Our daughter is at work,” he said grudgingly.
“She has a job?” Delia offered a friendly smile to the children. The youngest ducked behind Gary out of sight.
“Went to the factory. This war has done turned the world upside down. Women doing the jobs of men.” He smoothed the hair down on the oldest girl’s head. “She had to go in my place.”
“You were injured at work?” Delia guessed.
