by Oster, C. G.
Knocking loudly on the door, she waited, and as before, her knocking roused him out of bed. A pale face met her. Yes, he had been overly imbibing last night. “It’s a nice day. Time to greet it,” she said with a bright smile, getting a groan in response.
“I might need a coffee,” he croaked. His hair was still messy and he’d slept in his shirt.
“Why don’t you go freshen up and I’ll make a coffee for you that you can take with you.”
“Uhm,” he said with uncertainty.
“I lived in the East End during the blitz, I can handle a little mess,” she stated.
“Alright, fine. The kitchen is through there.” He disappeared into the back and Dory walked into the kitchen. The sink was filled with dirty dishes, and she had to rinse both the kettle and a mug. She wasn’t going to serve herself one, she decided.
It was astounding to think they were roughly the same age. He seemed barely able to take care of himself, but perhaps he had been clean and tidy before the war and had lost that ability.
“Perhaps you should invest in a cleaner,” she said when he returned and she gave him the steaming mug. “Through this period, at least. It would be one thing off your mind.”
For a moment, he savored the coffee and tried to get himself in order. “Mr. Hartman had been to the pub a few days before the murder, but wasn’t there on the day of it. No one else recalled seeing him in town that day. As for Ruben Stubbs, he was known for being a bit of a flirt.”
“So there could have been a flirtation between Edith Wallis and him.”
“Clearly he preferred a younger woman if he chose to run off with one. I can’t say anyone pointed to a specific woman, though. If there was a deep enough relationship that he would walk away from his life, he was quite discreet about it,” Worthing said. “Maybe the tenderness from Edith wasn’t reciprocated.”
“Hopefully Mrs. Stubbs can shine some light on it,” Dory said. “Should we go?”
Worthing checked his watch. “We might have to find her on the farm.”
Leaving the cottage, they walked to the police vehicle, where he was well enough to drive them. For some reason, Dory felt nervous, but she couldn’t specify why. Maybe because she expected they would get some answers. Then again, what was the likelihood that Ruben Stubbs would come back and murder Edith? Why would he? The only reason would be that she held something over him, perhaps something that threatened his new life. That was certainly a plausible motive.
The farm was some ways out of the village, which could be why Eleanor didn’t come to meetings anymore. Plus the fact that she now had a farm to run.
“Eleanor isn’t seeing anyone?” Dory asked.
“Not that I have seen.”
“Does she come to the pub?”
He shook her head. “I think she stays on her farm.”
“It must be lonely.”
“I guess if you grow up that way, you’re used to it.”
The road wasn’t well-maintained, which suggested the farm might be struggling. The vehicle swayed as they slowly drove over the potholes. An older type car stood next to the house, which suggested she was at home.
The yard was surrounded by stone buildings with low roofs. The recent rain had made everything muddy, and there were animal hoofprints throughout. Dory had had the foresight to wear sturdier shoes, but there would be some cleaning involved when she got home.
“What do you want?” a woman’s voice said from inside the darkness of one of the outbuildings.
“We were hoping to ask you some questions,” Worthing replied. Clearly he didn’t enjoy the mud either, because he stepped gingerly. Granted, with his cleaning skills at the moment, he was better off not getting things dirty in the first place.
“And why’s she here?” Eleanor demanded, coming out into the light. She didn’t look pleased to see them.
“I take the notes,” Dory said. It was a spur of the moment statement and she and Worthing quickly exchanged looks. Anyone who knew anything about the police knew they didn’t interview with notetakers—at least not for informal interviews.
“Alright,” she said. “What do you want to know?”
“Shall we go inside?”
“If you must,” the woman said and started walking toward the house. At the door, she used the cemented iron spur to pull her boots off. Both Dory and Worthing had to take their shoes off to walk into the kitchen, which had a homely feel to it. It was nicer than the Hartman’s kitchen, and felt less cramped.
“We were hoping to ask you some questions about your husband.”
Eleanor looked at them sharply. “I find nothing good comes from talking about him. He ran off.”
“I’m sorry to bring this up, but it could be pertinent to our inquiries. Do you know where to?”
“London, last I heard.”
“When was the last you heard?”
“Quite a while ago now. He called.”
“And what did he say?”
“Only that he wasn’t coming back, and he said he was sorry.”
“It has been said that he went to join one of the women who came here from London during the war.”
“So I understood, but from what I gather, he didn’t stay with her. When I heard from him, it sounded like he was with some foreign woman.”
“Foreign?” Worthing said.
“I heard her in the background. She wasn’t British. I don’t know any more than that. I’m not in his confidence, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
“What was the relationship between Edith Wallis and Ruben?”
“Edith?” Eleanor said, looking stumped. Then she frowned. “Nothing worth remarking on.”
“Do you think there has been any communication between them since he left?”
“Why would there be?”
“Had she been interested in him or his whereabouts?” Dory asked.
“Not particularly. Why would she care?”
“Well, we are wondering if she did care,” Worthing said. “Maybe she had interacted with him in some manner.”
“Look, Edith wasn’t interested in Ruben. She didn’t like him. No one did. I doubt she would try to look him up for any reason.”
“What if she sought to harm him?”
“Edith?” Eleanor said with raised eyebrows. “I don’t think so.”
“Would he harm her if she posed a threat to him? To his new life?”
Eleanor looked confused for a while. “I can’t see her doing something like that, and frankly, Ruben wouldn’t be in a position where he cared if anyone gossiped about him. It just isn’t like him. If Edith threatened him in any way, he wouldn’t care.”
“It’s said he was a violent man,” Worthing said. This was something Dory hadn’t known about. “That he was a bit of a drinker and that he liked to use his fists.”
“Him leaving was no great loss, but honestly, he never cared about what people thought of him, and he certainly wouldn’t care if someone came talking about him.”
“Even if it was to accuse him of bigamy?”
Eleanor looked surprised for a moment, then dismayed.
“Had he at any point discussed divorce with you?” Dory asked carefully.
“Can’t say that he did.” She checked her watch. “I really must get going. But as I said, I doubt anyone threatening bigamy would have him particularly bothered. I doubt he reformed to make himself the pillar of some community. Men like Ruben are what they are, and if some woman wants him in her house, that’s her business. Whatever he does, I honestly don’t care. But my cows are waiting, and that I do care about.” Her impatience was growing more apparent.
“Right,” the constable said. “Thank you for your time. If you think of anything, please give me a call at the constabulary.”
They were urged out of the house and they retreated out to the stoop where their shoes were. Eleanor closed the door and then pushed past them to step into her wellies. She was about to walk away.
“Are y
ou not worried he’ll come back and claim the farm?” Dory said and Eleanor stopped and turned.
“That’s why I very much prefer that everyone leave him where he is. Nothing good would come of dragging him back here.” She continued walking until she was out of sight.
“She certainly doesn’t seem to pine for him,” Worthing said.
“Would you if he was a drunk who was generous with his fists?” Dory asked. “Him running off was probably a blessing.”
“Do you think it’s true what she said about him not caring if something threatened him?” Worthing asked.
“No,” Dory said. “It would be a crime and for a man with a short temper, being threatened wouldn’t be something he’d simply blow off.”
“I think Mrs. Stubbs simply wishes to leave things alone, but would that extend even if he murdered her friend?”
“Maybe she doesn’t believe he would, or she’s too afraid to stir things up.”
“But he would go to jail for a good, long time. Wouldn’t that suit her?”
“Only if you could make it stick. It would mean stirring up a hornet's nest and then not being able to run from it. And perhaps she’s scared he would change his mind about the farm. We need to know where he is,” Dory said, imagining he trouble Eleanor would be in if he came back to the farm with his new woman. She would have no recourse. It wasn’t as if the farm was hers because he’d deserted her. Even bigamy would not secure the farm for her. It was a precarious situation for Eleanor Stubbs.
“I have asked for information about him, but he could be anywhere.”
Chapter 25
DORY HAD SO MANY THINGS she wanted to ask when she made it to the next WI meeting, she didn’t know where to start. Obviously, the purpose of the meeting was not for her to ask questions, and they did have a rather interesting topic about dyes—both natural and chemical ones. A good way to revive faded clothes.
Marjorie was leading the discussion today, so they didn’t have a guest. From what Dory understood, Penelope was closest to Edith, but Hesta and Marjorie knew her as well. The younger girls didn’t really know her well, so it wasn’t much use asking them. They probably knew the late son better, which was an interesting thought if she wanted to get a better handle on his character, and the Hartman boy. Still, she couldn’t see how they were relevant to Edith’s death. If Tommy Wallis was in some way responsible for Freddy’s death, Dory didn’t know. If the Hartmans weren’t responsible, then it was hard to see how it was relevant.
Penelope walked over to the tea table, and Dory decided to approach her. Out of the three of them, Penelope was the one Dory had had more to do with, although she suspected the woman didn’t completely like her. Penelope gave her an efficient smile as Dory poured herself a cup of tea. “I’m looking forward to the talk today,” Dory said. “It’s a topic I don’t know much about, if I’m honest.”
“Yes, it should be informative,” Penelope replied.
“I saw Eleanor a few days back. She seems a nice woman.”
“Yes,” Penelope said absently.
“That farm is such a large responsibility for her. It’s a shame she cannot attend meetings anymore. Did she used to?”
“That was quite some while ago.”
“Before her husband ran off.” A grimace went through her features for a split second. Penelope hadn’t liked him. “What sort of man was he? It seems a curious thing to leave a whole farm behind for your wife to manage. I wonder what will happen if he comes back?”
“That would be awful,” Penelope said. “I doubt Eleanor would want him back.”
“It’s said he was a violent man.”
“Uhm,” Penelope said with distaste. “A man we are all better off without, truthfully.”
“Did the Wallises have anything to do with him?”
“Not particularly.”
Penelope wasn’t being particularly forthcoming. “My husband says it is always useful to look to the people with violent habits when it comes to violence being done.” That wasn’t true, but of course policemen considered the people prone to violence when violence happened.
With a raised eyebrow, Penelope turned to her. “What are you suggesting?”
“Just that I would expect the police to consider if he held something against Edith Wallis, enough to make him come back and hurt her.”
“He left quite some while ago.”
“Did she ever mention hearing from him, or knowing where he was?”
“No. Edith certainly wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with him. Good riddance to bad rubbish.”
“He was as bad as they say, then?”
“Oh yes, he was a horrid man. Truly awful. A drunk.”
Constable Worthing came to mind, because he was most definitely a drunk, but he didn’t go home and beat anyone.
“So you don’t think there’s any chance he could be responsible?”
Penelope stared at her blankly for a moment as if her mind was churning over the question. “Do I think he was someone who could hit someone about the head if the mood struck him, then yes, I do.”
“I overheard Constable Worthing talking to my husband,”—which was another lie—“and he mentioned that Edith cancelled a hair appointment that you two had planned in Aylesbury around the same time he was seen in Aylesbury after leaving here. Did you get the feeling she perhaps feared running into him?”
Again, Penelope blinked. “She didn’t say anything of the sort, but the news about Tommy came and she wasn’t the same after.”
“Do you ever recall her saying anything about Mr. Stubbs either before or after?”
“I know she didn’t like him, because she talked about how awful he was to Eleanor, but once Tommy died, I think she stopped caring. Stubbs was gone and we were all better off.”
“Yes,” Dory said, feeling a little frustrated, because she wasn’t getting anything new out of this. If Edith Wallis either had tenderness or fear of Ruben Stubbs, she hadn’t confided in her friends about it.
“Right, ladies,” Hesta called, holding her hands up as if calming children. “Let’s start this meeting.” They took their seats and Hesta started leading them through the formalities before the topic of the day was introduced.
Again, Dory was surprised the things she learned in these meetings. Dyes was a complex topic with consideration needed to the materials to be dyed and what they were to be used for. They spent some time talking about dyeing wool.
Before she knew it, the meeting was over and they were concluding. It had gone awfully fast. They were putting the seats away and clearing the hall.
As Marjorie left the hall, Dory rushed after her, knowing she lived somewhere on the other side of the village. “It was a wonderful talk,” Dory said as she reached her.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Marjorie replied, who now wore a beige coat and a tweed hat. Her thin face seemed to have a permanent expression of disapproval. Dory had never seen her smile. “How are you finding living in Beaconsfield now that you’ve settled in?”
“It’s a lovely village. Obviously, I’m still deeply concerned about the business with Edith Wallis. It’s just so... unfortunate.”
“I suspect whoever did it is long gone from the village.”
“It would be nice to think so. Hopefully the police will find the person responsible so everyone’s minds can settle.”
“It would be nice to think. Unfortunately, Constable Worthing is not terribly experienced,” Marjorie said.
“Yes, he is young.”
“And a drunk,” Marjorie said sharply.
“I think he is trying to recover his stability,” Dory said, trying to be tactful. “There is another mystery in the village, I understand, around the whereabouts of Ruben Wallis. It seems his wife doesn’t know where he is.”
“And she is better off not knowing.”
“He was a violent man, I believe.”
“A coward, and no doubt he still is—wherever he’s taken himself off to. Hopefully
, he is ashamed of his behavior. One can only hope.”
“Did he ever have any run-ins with Edith Stubbs?”
“Why would you ask?”
“I just know that the police tend to look at links between incidents. It wasn’t all that long ago that he disappeared, and he was known for violence.”
“Like I said, he was a coward. He’d never act in the manner that Edith was met with.”
“You don’t think so?”
“Goodness, no. He grumbled, but it was all hot air with him. He never actually hurt anyone, not seriously. The man was known for his bluster, but at heart, the man was a coward, and running away was what he did. He hasn’t come back, and he never will if he knows what’s good for him. There aren’t many in these parts that would welcome him back.”
“It sounds like that would be the best solution for everyone.”
“For all we know he’s in prison somewhere, else lying drunk in a gutter. It’s the way he solves his problems.”
“Did anything happen to cause him to leave?”
“No, I think he simply wanted to change his life and left. Could be he was ashamed of himself. It’s perhaps fair to say that he’d burnt a great many bridges in the village. Not many liked him and perhaps that had started to weigh on him. Were you aware he tried to enlist but they wouldn’t take him? I always suspected he went over to the continent and tried to serve in some capacity. There were many civilians working with the forces during the war. Ambulance drivers, cooks, drivers, and the like. I know he was incensed they wouldn’t let him enlist, and I think his desire was still to go.”
That didn’t exactly match with Marjorie’s determination that he was a coward.
“Is your husband taking an interest in the case?” Marjorie asked.
“Obviously he does take some interest as it happened where he lives.”
“I understand he was a policeman before the war. Was he during the war as well?”
“No, he was commissioned with Wilton Park during the war.”
