by Oster, C. G.
Biting her lip, Dory decided not to say anything further, but she wondered how long that could go on. The way he was going, he was going to lose his job, and he, kind of, deserved to. He wasn’t opening the station like he should, and he’d been drunk on the job at least once. “You have to try,” she finally said.
“So where do we need to go?” he asked.
“Did Henry say anything about her mood?”
“He said she’d been very low with the death of Tommy.”
“But he didn’t say anything about the days before the telegram arrived?”
“No. That was some time ago. It wouldn’t have occurred to him to talk about it. Honestly, as long as his dinner is on the table, I’m not sure he’s all that observant. It seems he would get her anything she asked for, but I’m not sure he was that gifted at reading her.”
In fact, that was an astute observation. Worthing had some gifts in investigating, but he was just such a mess that he struggled to focus on it.
“If that is true, then more likely, it was her friends that would have noticed. Penelope Middlesmore was particularly close to her. Still, you must ask Henry what he recalls about that time. Perhaps do so now while he is back at the house for the midday meal. Most likely, you’ll catch Penelope there as well. She seems to be cooking for him.”
“Alright,” he said as they walked to the station. “I’ll drive out there now.”
The keys were on his belt and he stepped into the driver’s side, then looked over at her. “Do you wish to come?”
For a moment, Dory wondered if she should. It wasn’t as if she was needed. Worthing knew what to ask, and she could get the answers from him afterward, but then she was so very curious. “It would be unusual.” And it would be noted if she attended police interviews with him. Attending with the Hartmans might not be discussed widely, but if she turned up at Henry Wallis’ house with Penelope there, then there would be a great deal of questions coming her way. “Best not.” She could well imagine them treating her awkwardly afterward, and they would clam up if she asked them questions. Some people could likely be more casual with her than with official police enquiries. “But I will ask the ladies about it at the next WI meeting. It isn’t far away.”
“Alright,” he said and turned the key to start the engine. “Anything else you wish me to do?”
Well, she wanted to have him ask in the pub when Mr. Hartman had been around about the time of Edith’s death, but that would likely be too much temptation for him. “Not that I can think of, but I will let you know if I think of something.”
Obviously he was in no way required to take direction from her, but he did seem to need someone to manage him at the moment. Hopefully he didn’t see her interference as leverage over him, but equally, her prodding him was the only thing that seemed to keep him on track.
As he drove off, she watched, unsure if it was even possible for him to keep his job the way he was going. There was no denying he was struggling, and perhaps this was simply covering up a wound that wouldn’t heal. Perhaps it was drawing out the inevitable, but she couldn’t give up the hope that this gave him the time needed to pull himself together. She simply didn’t know, but she certainly didn’t see it as wasted effort, even if it didn’t save his job, in the end.
For a moment, she wondered how she could help the investigation. Worthing would do official interviews, but there were always things people held back when speaking to a policeman. Policemen made people nervous, and there were the other ladies. Perhaps someone had observed something. They also needed to establish the things that happened around that date. And to determine what date it was. Dory didn’t know.
Somehow, this all felt a little more hopeful now, that there was a lead to chase down.
Looking over, Dory saw someone she didn’t know walk out of the post office. What she could do was establish the question around the Hartman and Wallis telegrams. If they had come at different times, it could be very informative.
Walking across the square, Dory made her way into the small post office. Another person was in there buying stamps and Dory determined she would also buy some, for her letters to Lady Pettifer. This development might justify a letter, as well as to inform her of Constable Worthing, and how he was struggling. Lady Pettifer might know some things about such wounds from the Great War, especially how long such things took to recover from—and if they did recover. Some hope in that regard might be good for Constable Worthing to hear.
“Hello,” Dory said as the person ahead of her left the shop and she stepped up to meet the elderly postmaster. “Some letter stamps, please. To the south of France.”
“Standard letters?”
“Yes, three sets. Mr. Mortimer, isn’t it?”
“Yes. And I believe you are Mrs. Ridley?”
Dory nodded with a smile. “I had noticed a letter or two coming from the south of France from a Lady Pettifer. If I’m not mistaken, she is one of the Felllingworths from Walliford Hall.”
“That is correct,” Dory said, impressed with his knowledge.
“I have been in the area all my life. I worked in the Aylesbury post office for a few years and we forwarded mail to most of the districts around. Chose to come here for a quieter life.”
“And now the village is growing.”
“Not something I cannot cope with. Never fear,” he said with a smile and perused his stamp book, which had different stamps lodged between the pages. He tore a few out for her.
“I was wondering if you recall something from a while back, unpleasant news related to the telegram for Tommy Wallis.” Even the word telegram had become synonymous with the death notices the military had sent out during the war. Perhaps that would change now, but the word still brought shudders to people.
“Yes, I hated seeing those coming in. It was a sad day. A lovely boy. Boisterous as boys can be.”
“Did the one for Freddy Hartman come before Tommy’s?”
“No, they came on the same day, and went out on the same deliver. A sad day, I will say. The worst possible news we had to carry. I was, of course, the first in the village to receive all the bad news, and I hated having to deliver it, but such is the job.”
“Do you recall if any other news was carried to the Wallis’ beforehand, particularly to Edith?”
“I’m afraid I don’t recall any letters. Letters rarely stick in my mind unless they’re unusual, and there was nothing unusual that I recall. Edith wasn’t a great corresponder as some are. There is a sister, I believe, but little more than Christmas cards between them. They weren’t close, I would say. No, the majority of post to the Wallises is farm business.”
It hadn’t occurred to Dory that the postmaster would be such a fount of knowledge, but they really were privy to the correspondences of the people in the village. That had to say quite a bit about a person.
“Was there nothing else of note from that time?”
“Well,” he said, looking up in the air. “Quite a few of the evacuation children were going back. I recall some kind of party for them. We had some of the young mothers too, and they went back roughly at the same time. The village seemed to be shrinking at the time. There was some gossip that Ruben Stubbs had run off with one of them, because he left shortly after the young mothers.”
“Do you think that’s possible?”
“Anything is possible. He did run off—he was even seen doing so in Aylesbury, taking the bus to London, I believe.”
“There hasn’t been any correspondence between him and his wife since?”
“No, I would have noticed. The man had dreadful handwriting. In fact, I’m not sure he was entirely literate. I suspect if he did get in touch, it would have been over the telephone. “
“It seemed it was a very bad time in the village.”
“Yes, it was, although personally, I found the children going home peaceful in comparison. Some of them were incredibly rowdy. I’m glad to never see those days again, the children or the telegrams.”
&nb
sp; Then he was perhaps not pleased that so many young couples had moved into the new development. “Thank you ever so much for the stamps. I’ll be in to drop a letter off tomorrow, I think.” Because there was quite a bit to tell Lady Pettifer now. “Good day,” she said with a nod, having put her stamps in her purse.
That had answered some questions and posed a few more. She hadn't recalled that the village would have been full of evacuation children. Someone had mentioned it previously, but she couldn’t remember who it had been. And those young mothers—could they have been a source of friction? It certainly seemed so in Mr. Stubbs’ case. No one had mentioned there had been another party involved with his choice to abandon his farm and life. In a village like this, could he have carried on an affair with one of the evacuated mothers and no one would have noticed? It seemed unlikely, but perhaps he’d been a master at discretion.
Chapter 23
IN HER GUT, DORY FELT LIKE she’d learnt a great deal from the postmaster, but as she sat at home and recalled it, she couldn’t put her finger on what had felt so revelatory. The Hartmans hadn’t known of the deaths beforehand, so a confrontation with them was unlikely to have caused Edith’s low mood, but something had, and the only other thing that was of note were the evacuation children leaving, and Ruben Stubbs.
Could that be the cause, or rather he? Had the Wallises housed children? Having children leave after caring for them for so long could be the cause, but why had no one said so?
Now she was itching to hear what Constable Worthing had heard. In many ways, she would have loved to have gone with him to hear herself, and to read the language of their gestures, but it would also have ruined any notion that people were simply speaking to a lay person. Unguarded conversations were important. Although now they needed to know if Edith had sent any children back just before the telegram had come.
Unable to wait until tomorrow, she called the constabulary. It was close to four and after starting so very late that day, it would be unconscionable for him to knock off early. It rang and for a moment her heart sank, but at the last second, he answered the telephone.
“Constable Worthing, it’s Dory. I just thought I would ask how your interviews went.”
“Uhm, well, Mr. Wallis didn’t recall anything specifically, but Miss Middlesmore said that Edith had cancelled a hair appointment. They were both scheduled to go to Aylesbury to the hair salon, but Edith cancelled at the last minute.”
“Did she say why?”
“No.”
“Did they say anything about caring for evacuation children, ones that were sent back around that time? I understand that a group of them were sent back right then.”
“They didn’t say anything,” Worthing said. “I didn’t think to ask.”
“It’s just that I asked Mr. Mortimer if anything else of note happened at that time, and he said the evacuation children were sent home, and Mr. Stubbs disappeared.”
“You don’t think he was stepping out with Edith, do you?” he asked with doubt laced in his voice.
“It could explain why she didn’t see her hair appointment as necessary if he was the one she was looking pretty for. It could certainly explain her low mood. Oh, I also asked about the telegram for Freddy Hartman, and it went with the same delivery as Tommy’s, so the Hartmans weren’t aware of the death before the Wallises.”
Worthing was silent down the phone. “Out of everything, it still seems like the most likely motive, but we don’t have a scrap of evidence other than the harsh words some days before.”
“I think you need to establish if anyone had seen either of the Hartmans, or their van, in town around the time. I will ask about the evacuation children at the WI. I understand they managed the evacuation process, so they will know what children were placed with the Wallises. There is also the more delicate matter of Mr. Stubbs. The rumor in the village seems to be that he’d taken up with one of the young mothers from London.”
“In all honesty, I didn’t pay that much attention. Adultery isn’t illegal anymore, and I’d hate to imagine it being my business what people do within their marriages.”
“Only if it results in murder,” she said.
“But Henry Wallis’ alibi is concrete, unless he had an accomplice. Still, I can’t see it,” Worthing said. “He may not show it much, but I think he’s upset by her death.”
Not upset enough to push Penelope away, Dory thought tartly. It was as though he was just accepting Penelope as a convenient replacement. Again she felt ungenerous. What was he expected to do? The man couldn’t manage on his own, apparently. It would certainly constitute motive if he liked Penelope and had decided he preferred her as his wife. Was there an accomplice? “Is there anyone who would murder at his request?”
Penelope had been at the WI meeting, watching the presentation with the rest of them. Or had she? The presentations had been absorbing, so could she have snuck away to do a dastardly deed? It wasn’t far to Edith’s house. A simple excuse to go to the lavatory, and who would notice if she’d been gone an extra five minutes? Surely it wouldn’t take more than ten minutes to run to the Wallis’ house, whack her on the head and run back. In fact, a brisk walk would have done it. More importantly, was she seen by anyone? “You did ask the neighbors if they saw anyone approaching the house at the time of the murder?”
“Of course I did,” Worthing said, clearly offended.
“I’m just saying that it’s possible someone could have snuck away from the WI meeting and snuck back before anyone particularly noticed. But I do recall Penelope sitting with Sue. What I cannot attest is if she was there the whole time, or if she excused herself for a few minutes.”
“Maybe the others would remember?” Worthing suggested.
“I could ask, but what are the chances anyone would recall?”
Worthing was silent again.
“We also need to know if anyone else knows about this relationship between Mr. Stubbs and the young mother. More importantly if there was a relationship between Edith and Mr. Stubbs,” Dory said.
“If we could trace him, it might help. The postmaster hadn’t noticed any unusual correspondence from Edith. She wasn’t much for writing, so if she did, she didn’t send any letters through this post office.”
“Everyone knowns Mr. Mortimer pays attention to most things, so maybe she mailed letters in Aylesbury, even during these visits to the beauty parlor.”
Biting her lip, Dory considered all this for a moment. “There is something here. We’re just not seeing it yet. It’s important we start asking about Mr. Stubbs’ movements before he left. Is it possible to trace his whereabouts?”
“It would be a long shot, but we could make inquires with the London boroughs to see if they recall him. If he’s kept his nose clean, it would be unlikely. I will try,” he finally said. “I will also go have a chat with Eleanor Stubbs.”
Again Dory was tempted to go with him. Should she go? This could be a crucial interview. “I’ll come with you, if you don’t mind.” And that was how easy it was to give into temptation.
“Alright, tomorrow,” he said. “But I will do some asking around about him beforehand.”
Dory knew that the asking would be down at the pub. Hopefully he would take better care of himself this time, but it could be true that people were more liberal with their thoughts at the pub and when he wasn’t wearing his uniform. Or did he get blind drunk in his uniform? “Alright, tomorrow. Bright and early.”
“Good evening, Mrs. Ridley.”
Hanging up, Dory considered it all. They were making headway, but the answer wasn’t within their grips yet. Moving with a start, she realized she needed to get dinner started. Michael would be home shortly, especially if he arrived home a little early. Lamb chops would be on the plate tonight, with tinned peas and potatoes. Hopefully the gravy wouldn’t split this time.
Dory cooked and it was dark by the time supper was ready. It sat under a cover on the kitchen table, waiting for him to come home. As
she so often did, she stood by the large window in the salon and looked out on the street, waiting for him to come. The wireless played a tune. The radio opera would start shortly and normally they were done with supper by the time it started. Her stomach grumbled. It had been a busy and active day and now she was hungry. Should she eat? He could be just around the corner, seconds away from his car appearing.
Or he wasn’t coming for hours. If it got too late, he even stayed at the station. How she wished he’d inform her if that was the case, but she also understood. When it came down to chasing leads, one couldn’t always stop simply because dinnertime was approaching. Clearly he had something important he was chasing. People’s lives could even be in the balance.
Relenting her vigilance, she returned to the kitchen and ate her supper. Nothing was heard but the distant murmur of the wireless in the salon. It felt cold and stark eating alone, particularly as she didn’t know where he was—or worse, if something had happened to him. It was rare that things happened to policemen, but the unease, the concern was always there.
Chapter 24
THE POLICE STATION WAS LOCKED when Dory arrived at nine, but she wasn’t entirely surprised this time. The young constable had likely spent the evening in the pub and was struggling to rise. Obviously she found it frustrating, but she also understood that the problem wasn’t as simple as him just pulling himself together. Hopefully he would recover from his malaise. In the meantime, if he could just hold himself together to get on with this investigation. Perhaps that was the best that could be hoped for just now. Once he actually started, he seemed to have good instincts for it.
None of these things she’d told Michael, in case he was obligated to report it and it got Worthing into trouble before he was given a chance to heal.
A bit of uncertainty hit her, because she didn’t know if she was doing the right thing by prodding him. She was hopeful it gave him the space to sort himself. If his behavior didn’t constitute dereliction of duty or he put people in danger by not responding, that was one thing, but as it was, he was rough around the edges, but he was, more or less, performing his duty—with a push or two.
