Dead Ground in Between

by Maureen Jennings

  Susan took up the tale, as though she didn’t trust him to get it right. “At first, we thought we’d live in Market Drayton, in my house, but John’s pa started going downhill. Very fast it was. Doctor thought he couldn’t look after himself any more.” She shook her head. “What can you do? John thought it best if we move in here.”

  To Tyler’s surprise, Agnes Mortimer now stepped forward. “Excuse me, sir. I wonder if I might ask a question.”

  “Ask away, Constable.”

  She addressed Mrs. Cartwright. “I couldn’t help but notice there are six chairs at the table. Does anybody else live here?”

  Good girl, thought Tyler. He had to admit he hadn’t really registered that detail.

  It was Ned who answered. “We have a billet. A Land Girl.”

  Susan Cartwright continued. “John hurt his shoulder during harvest and we needed an extra pair of hands. Ned helps out when he’s able but it’s a lot of work, and John’s pa wasn’t doing anything to speak of by then. He just wasn’t reliable.”

  Tyler had been taking notes. “What is the young lady’s name?”

  “Edith Walpole. We all call her Edie.”

  “She’s a good worker is that young lass,” said John. “We’d have been hard-pressed to get in the harvest without her.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “She’s gone to Mohan’s to see if Pa has turned up there. Ned and me already went there but we thought it would be best to check again.”

  Mortimer gave a little cough.

  “Yes, Constable,” said Tyler.

  “Excuse me, sir, but as I understand it, Mr. Cartwright has additional helpers from the Italian POW camp.”

  Tyler had not immediately thought of that, but he knew that the men who were waiting out the war in a camp on Sheet Road were encouraged to work on the farms if they wanted to. Extra labour was a blessing these days.

  “It’s just winter work now so we’ve only got one fella at the moment,” answered John.

  “Weather was so bad last night he had to stay over. He slept in’t barn…” said Ned with a wink

  Susan interjected. “They’re allowed to do that if the weather is bad or they work really late. Typically they bike over. We rang the camp to let them know. The Captain said it was all right but we had to make sure he was locked in. Which he was.”

  “What time was that?” Tyler asked.

  “After we’d had our supper. Ned walked him over about nine thirty,” said John.

  “Do you all usually eat together?” asked Tyler.

  “Part of the agreement with the camp is that we provide three meals a day,” answered Susan. “Breakfast, dinner, and supper.”

  “Given who they are, them Ities don’t do so bad,” said Ned.

  John gave a little shrug. “Angelo works hard. It’s only fair to do right by him.”

  “So everybody was present at breakfast except for Mr. Jasper Cartwright, the Land Girl, and the POW?”

  “That’s right,” said John.

  “Like I said earlier, John’s pa doesn’t always join us,” interjected Susan. “Nobody thought anything about it that he wasn’t up. Sometimes he stays in his room until late. It’s not worth my life to disturb him if he’s in one of his states. Sometimes he gets the Ities mixed up with the Boers and he can be right nasty.”

  “Doesn’t happen all the time,” said John. “Just on occasion.”

  His wife frowned at him. “He’s been getting worse, John, and you know it.”

  “You said you didn’t realize he wasn’t in the house until you were about to serve the midday meal. And that was when, exactly?” Tyler asked.

  “It was just after eleven. I always have the meal ready for eleven,” said Susan. “He hadn’t shown hide nor hair of himself so I gave him a call. When I didn’t get an answer, I sent Ned up to fetch him. He weren’t there.”

  “He hadn’t got dressed,” said Ned. “When we checked downstairs, we saw his mack was gone and his wellies but not his cap nor gloves. And he’d taken one of the lanterns.”

  Tyler made a note. “So, at the moment, we have no idea what time he left the house, but it must have been between half-nine last night, when you all went to bed, and when you checked at eleven this morning.”

  Again Susan interjected. “Like I said, he would often sleep through breakfast so I wasn’t concerned right off the bat.”

  John Cartwright took a briar pipe and tobacco pouch from his pocket and began to fuss with filling it. “Then by afternoon he still hadn’t shown up and we was starting to get real worried. We probably should’ve started to search much sooner. I was working in the shed all morning so I didn’t even know he was out.”

  He glanced over at his wife and Tyler saw the reproach. So did she.

  “He’s been and done vanishing tricks before, and this didn’t seem any different,” she said quickly. “That’s why we waited as long as we did.”

  “By then the weather was worsening,” said John. “Ned and me went out to search and we found the lantern, and it was still lit, but there was no sign of Pa.”

  “We thought we’d better report it to the police,” said Susan.

  “I assume your other helper, the POW, knows that Mr. Cartwright is missing,” said Tyler.

  John nodded. “He offered at once to help look for him. He’s a good lad.”

  Tyler noticed an expression on Ned’s face that he couldn’t quite decipher. With the man’s disconcerting wink he couldn’t be sure, but he had the impression Ned wasn’t as enthusiastic about the POW’S virtues as his stepfather was.

  “Did he? Help you search, I mean?”

  John grimaced. “The captain at the camp can be strict about what they’re allowed to do or not do. As prisoners of war, that is. So I thought it best if Angelo stayed where he was and Ned and me would take a look around.”

  “Where does Mr. Cartwright sleep?”

  “He’s got the front room upstairs,” answered Susan. “It was his bedroom from before and he refuses to leave it. Makes things cramped for all of us. My Ned had to take the small back room and Edie has to sleep in the parlour.”

  Tyler addressed the three of them. “I gather nobody heard any sound of Mr. Cartwright going out or moving around during the night?”

  “No. Nothing,” said John.

  “My husband sleeps like a log,” said Susan. “We all do.”

  “Mr. Weaver?”

  The young man winked twice. “Nothing.”

  Tyler put away his notebook. “Perhaps the best thing –”

  He was cut off by a frantic rapping on the front door.

  “Maybe that’s news,” said John, and he jumped up to open it.

  On the threshold stood two boys, wet, bedraggled, and obviously terrified.

  “Sir. Sir. We just found a dead man. I think somebody kilt him.”

  —

  The members of the little party hurrying after the boys were drenched almost as soon as they stepped outside. Jan and Pim were leading the way to the place where they’d found the body. The woods were pressing in on the road and the trees were being tossed so violently by the wind that Tyler half expected one of them to snap in two. Pim, the smaller of the boys, looked so white and shaken that Tyler was just about to offer him a piggyback ride when they reached the crest of the hill and Jan pointed to the field on the right.

  “He’s in there.”

  “Where?” asked John.

  All they could see was a bare, muddy field on the other side of the hedgerow. Jan seemed to be pointing at a rusty old cattle trough in the far corner.

  “Where?” John asked again. “Where do you mean?”

  “The trough. It’s a hideout,” said the boy. “You have to go down into it. I’ll show you.” He turned to his brother. “You stay here.”

  He started off to the hedgerow and pushed through a gap into the field. The others clambered behind him, except for Pim and Agnes Mortimer, who laid her hand gently on the boy’s shoulder to keep hi
m back.

  Jan jogged up to the trough and stopped.

  He bent over and pointed. “Down there.”

  Tyler could see a metal ladder leading into a dark hole.

  “What is this?” cried Susan.

  Nobody answered, but Tyler knew exactly what they were looking at. This was a hideout built by members of the Auxiliary Units.

  How had a troubled old man come to die in a top-secret bunker, known only to a very few?

  —

  “Is there any chance we could have a cuppa, Miss?” Jan put on his best smile. “My brother here had such a fright and it would perk him up.”

  When he’d understood the situation, Tyler had sent the boys back to the farmhouse with Constable Mortimer in charge. She had made them sit as close to the kitchen fire as possible. They’d agreed to remove their outer garments and their socks and shoes but balked at taking off their trousers, even though the legs were soaking wet.

  “We’ll be all right, miss,” said Jan.

  Mortimer had to be content with borrowing a couple of towels from the warming cupboard and wrapping them around their legs. Pim was pale and still shivering.

  “Let me see what I can rustle up,” she said to Jan. Strictly speaking, she didn’t have permission to requisition any of the Cartwright tea ration, but she considered this something of an emergency. She hoped the inspector would agree with her. The boys tugged at her heart, although she had a sneaking feeling that Jan, the older boy, knew this and played it for all he was worth. Both boys were undersized, dark-haired, and sharp-featured. Pim’s scalp was scarred from what looked like a previous ringworm infestation and his hair was patchy. He looked like a newly hatched chick.

  There was a set of canisters on the counter, each conveniently labelled – TEA, SUGAR, FLOUR, BISCUITS – and she was relieved to find the tea canister was almost full. She spooned three generous helpings into the teapot and added hot water from the kettle on the stove.

  “Pim likes his sweet, miss,” said Jan. “He can have my helping of sugar if there’s not enough.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll manage,” said Mortimer. The sugar canister was only half full but she thought two spoonfuls would hardly be missed. She plopped a tea cozy on the pot and brought it over to the table. The two boys watched her quietly, alert as hungry dogs. She went to the cupboard for some cups.

  “What were you doing out bicycling on a day like this?” she asked casually. She didn’t miss the look they exchanged.

  “We had to be in magistrates’ court this morning,” said Jan. “Nothing serious, just a mix-up, really, but Pim got all nervous about it. I thought a bit of exercise after school would do him good. He’s highly strung, you see.”

  Mortimer poured the tea into the thick mugs she’d found in the cupboard.

  “Would you like milk?”

  “Yes, please, miss. Thank you. Say thank you, Pim. Where’s your manners?”

  “Thank you, m-miss,” mumbled the other boy.

  Biscuits? She wasn’t sure if she was pushing the assumed generosity of Mrs. Cartwright too far but she opened the canister anyway. Mrs. Cartwright must have baked recently because it was full. She handed each of the boys two biscuits and sat down at the table.

  They almost simultaneously dipped them into the tea, then stuffed the soggy morsels into their mouths.

  “You’re evacuees, I believe?”

  “Yes, miss,” Jan answered.

  “When did you come to Ludlow?”

  Biscuits disposed of, both boys took big gulps of the tea.

  “About three months ago. We was in London first, but the house was bombed out and our foster mother had a nervous collapse. We was sent up to Cardiff, but the mum there got ill and couldn’t keep us, so we come to Ludlow.”

  “Poor chaps. You have been all around the Wrekin, haven’t you? Where were you living before you were evacuated?”

  The younger boy lowered his head and concentrated on his tea. Jan answered her.

  “We was in Amsterdam. We come over with the Kindertransport.” He paused. “You know what that is, don’t you, miss?”

  “Yes, I do. Brave boys. Do you have any relatives in England?”

  “No.”

  “That must have been hard.”

  Jan shrugged. “Not really. Pim and me have each other, see.”

  “Are your parents still in Holland?”

  “That’s right, miss. They haven’t got out yet.” His voice was flat.

  “Have you heard from them?”

  “Not for a while.”

  “I’m sure they’ll be all right.”

  “Yes, miss.” Jan’s voice didn’t hold much conviction.

  “We’re staying with Mrs. Keogh.” Jan wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “She’s nice. Like you, miss.”

  “Thank you, Jan. What about you, Pim? Do you like Mrs. Keogh?”

  The other boy smiled shyly. “She’s smashing. She’s been ever so g-good to us.”

  Jan drained his mug of tea. Agnes hesitated, then went back to the canister for two more biscuits. They smelled so fresh and tasty she was almost tempted to take one for herself, but, unlike the boys, she didn’t need sustenance for a case of shock.

  Uninvited, Jan reached for the teapot and refilled both mugs. More biscuit dipping.

  Mortimer sat down again. “It’s amazing you found that hideout.”

  “Yes, miss. We’re Boy Scouts, though. Have been a year gone. Always prepared.”

  “Did you ever see the man before, Jan?” Agnes asked. “The man who died. His name is Jasper Cartwright. Did you ever come by the farm when you were out riding around?”

  Something happened in Jan’s eyes at the question. They went dead, as if a shutter had closed across a lens. “Oh no, miss. We discovered it today. Sheer chance. Pim saw the rabbit holes first. He was the one thought they looked sort of funny. We saw they was glassed over. So we scouted around. Didn’t we, Pim?”

  “Yes, m-miss, that’s what we d-did.”

  “We’re always on the lookout for signs of fifth columnists, miss. Hidden mines and that sort of thing.”

  “When can we go b-back to Mrs. Keogh’s?” Pim asked. “She’ll be awful worried.” His voice was on the verge of a sob. Agnes smiled at him.

  “I’ll tell you what. Let’s move ourselves into another room. The others should be coming back any minute now. Inspector Tyler will want to ask you some questions. Same sort of thing I’ve been asking you. When he’s done that I’ll take you home. I came on a motorcycle. It has a sidecar. It’s a bit on the chilly side but it’ll be better than your bike. We’ll get that later on.”

  “Are we going to get in trouble, m-miss?” whispered Pim.

  Jan cut him off. “Don’t be such a twerp. We ain’t done nothing wrong, have we, miss?”

  “Not that I can see. It was a good thing that you found the hideout when you did. Nobody might have discovered Mr. Cartwright for weeks.”

  “He would have been very smelly by then, wouldn’t he, miss?”

  Jan’s voice was matter-of-fact and she was startled by the candour of his remark. And what it revealed about his experience. She decided to probe a little further.

  “Jan, when you came to the door, you said that somebody had killed the man you found. Why did you think that?”

  The boy looked at her and his eyes had the same blank expression she’d noticed earlier. He shrugged. “I seen dead people like that. All of them was killed.”

  “By whom?”

  “Nazis. Who else?”

  —

  Tyler left Biggs at the site to stand guard until the coroner arrived. The rest of them returned to the farmhouse. The walk back in the driving rain was utterly dismal. Nobody said a word. John Cartwright led the way. His wife attempted to put her arm through his but he didn’t respond, and she put her hands in her coat pockets, walking silently beside him. Ned Weaver trailed behind all of them.

  When they reached the farmhouse John dragged off
his wet coat and sat at the table, putting put his head in his hands. Susan and her son took the chairs on either side of him. Nobody spoke for what seemed like a long time, and Tyler didn’t try to break the silence.

  Finally, John pressed his knuckles into his cheeks as if he could shove back his grief.

  “Didn’t deserve to die like that, did he? Unless I’m mistaken, he’d been dead for some time.”

  John had been the one to climb down into the bunker after Tyler and identify the body.

  “How’d he end up in that place?” Susan asked, her voice sharp. “I never knew it existed. Did your pa ever mention it to you, John?”

  Her husband shook his head. “Not a word.”

  “Ned? What about you?”

  “Nothing, Ma. Never saw it before.” The persistent involuntary wink almost made a mockery of what he said.

  “Inspector? What was it used for? Why is it such a big secret?”

  “I can’t say at the moment, Mrs. Cartwright.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Let’s say it’s a matter of security. It’s very important that you don’t talk about it outside of the bounds of this family.”

  Susan stared at him, her expression incredulous. “And what am I going to tell people when they ask us where he was found?”

  “Susan, all we have to say is that he’d wandered away, took a fall. That’s all.”

  “Exactly, Mr. Cartwright,” said Tyler. “These days, people are accustomed to, shall we say, circumspection.”

  “Speaking of which,” said Weaver. “I think I should fetch Edie. No point in her spending her time trying to find him any more. That all right, Inspector?”

  “Yes, of course. Just don’t give out too much information.”

  Ned got to his feet, hovered briefly behind his stepfather, and then, with a barely audible “I’m sorry,” he left.

  Tyler addressed Susan. “I’d like to use your telephone to ring the coroner.”

  “It’s in the hall just outside the parlour. When do you think he’ll get here?”

  “I hope it won’t take him more than an hour.”

  “In that case, I’d like to go upstairs for a while,” said John.

  “Do you want me to sit with you?” Susan asked.