Dead Ground in Between

by Maureen Jennings

  Rowell came into the room carrying a bucket. He was scowling.

  “I found the problem. This was plugging the pipe.” He lifted out a wet pair of ladies’ underwear. “My apologies, Constable.”

  “That’s all right, Sergeant. Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

  “Oh, er, yes. Of course.”

  Tyler looked at the offending article. “How the hell did knickers get into my lavatory?” He held up his hand. “Let me guess. Who was last in there doing a spit and polish?”

  “Sam Wickers.”

  “Well, unless he’s a ponce and not letting on, he just happened to have a pair of knickers on his person that just happened to fall into the toilet bowl, and he just happened not to notice.”

  Rowell nodded. “I thought he was being a bit too accommodating. I’ll have his hide.”

  Tyler grimaced. “No you won’t. I will. He’s not going to thumb his nose at me and get away with it. He just added two more weeks to his sentence.” He jerked his head at Constable Mortimer. “I’ll meet you in the car park. Annabel can take an eternity to warm up. I’ll get her started.”

  “Annabel, sir?”

  “Never mind. Oliver and I have christened the bloody car.“

  “Yes, sir.” She hurried away.

  “Where shall I leave the, er, the underwear, sir?” Rowell asked.

  “Leave it in the WC for now. It’s vital evidence.”

  “Quite so. We might have to charge those lads with conspiring to obstruct police business.”

  Tyler laughed. “Good, Oliver. Very good.”

  He got his hat and coat and went outside into the blustery chill. Rain was coming in the wind. He’d hardly had time to warm up and he had to struggle all over again.

  This time, the capricious Annabel started right away. He let it idle for a few moments until Constable Mortimer emerged from the station carrying the camera bag and a tripod.

  “Come on, Constable. I daren’t stop. She might not start again. Put the stuff in the boot. Hop to it.”

  She did, and cautiously they crawled out of the car park and turned onto the narrow lane that connected with Broad Street. A handful of women were already queuing in front of the greengrocer’s shop. Each carried a basket over her arm. If Hayden did have a new delivery of a fruit or a vegetable, they wanted to be there before he sold out. To Tyler’s eyes, these women looked disheartened, already worn down with care. It was hard to witness. He fretted at his own feeling of helplessness.

  As they drove, he filled in Constable Mortimer about the new development in the Cartwright case. She looked grave.

  “It was sad enough before when it looked like death from misadventure. Now it’s dreadful.”

  “I think our safest bet is to go straight to the hideout. We’ll take pictures, see if there are any obvious clues that jump out at us. After that, we’ll go and tell the family.”

  “Do you want me to be present for that, sir?”

  “I certainly do. You can take notes, keep your eyes open. Be alert.”

  “Would any of them be under suspicion, sir?”

  “At this point, I’m not ruling anybody out. Who knows? Maybe the old man had a fortune tucked away. Greed can make people do very wicked things.”

  “We’ll have to see if there’s a will and who’s a beneficiary.”

  “Farmers like Jasper Cartwright typically don’t make wills. If he did leave anything it’s more likely to be hard cash and hidden somewhere.”

  He negotiated the turn at the top of the hill that led to Bitterley. Annabel acted as if the hill might be too much, but with a horrible grinding sound the gear kicked in and they made it.

  “I think the transmission might be about to give up the ghost, sir,” said Mortimer.

  “Cross your fingers it doesn’t expire until we’ve been and come back. I don’t want to have to commandeer a tractor.” He raised his eyebrows at his constable. “But you’re probably as adept at driving a tractor as you are a motorcycle, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Constable, is there anything you can’t do?”

  “Of course, sir. Many things.”

  “For instance?”

  She allowed a small smile. “Can’t think of anything in particular at the moment, sir. I seem to have an affinity for mechanics.”

  “Good. When we get back to the station, if we ever do, take a look at this darn machine. See if you can fix it.”

  “Yes, sir. Be happy to.”

  It had started to rain heavily. The windshield wipers were doing a feeble job and one of them squeaked horribly. They drove on, Tyler pushing the car as fast as he dared.

  Constable Mortimer spoke. “If none of the immediate family was involved, what I was wondering, sir, was who might Mr. Cartwright have encountered? I would think it would have to be someone close by. And was this a planned meeting or a chance one? If chance, why was the assailant out in the early hours of the morning? What was his business? Or her business, for that matter?”

  “Excellent questions, Constable Mortimer. For which I currently have no answers.”

  —

  Tyler parked the car in a lay-by off the side of the road. From there the ground sloped upward to the crest of the hill and the road curved sharply right. He could see the cattle trough, looking innocent enough, at the western end of the north field.

  “Keep your eyes peeled, Constable. We’ll flag any spot where there might be evidence of activity. As you say, at this point we don’t know if Jasper met anybody, either with intention or accidentally. Neither do we know whether he entered the hideout of his own free will or was dumped down there. Although Dr. Murnaghan said there wasn’t a lot of bleeding from the stab wound, there may be minute traces of blood that we failed to notice before.”

  “We had no reason to suspect foul play originally, sir.”

  “I realize that, Constable,” said Tyler. “However, I’m a policeman. I shouldn’t have been asleep at the helm.”

  “If I may say so, sir, you are being unnecessarily hard on yourself.”

  Her voice was so earnest, Tyler actually smiled. “Thank you, Constable. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “And you didn’t seem quite yourself that day, sir. I thought perhaps you hadn’t slept well.”

  “Good grief, Constable. Drop it, will you?”

  “Yes, sir. Sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

  Tyler sighed. “And I apologize for snapping.”

  They got out of the car and Constable Mortimer hoisted the bag of wooden flags over her shoulder. Rain was lashing the fields, stirred periodically by violent gusts of wind.

  “I can’t imagine anybody trying to push through that hedge unless they had to,” said Tyler. “They would likely have entered by the gate at the lower end of the field. Let’s do the same.”

  They proceeded slowly to the gate, pausing to examine it thoroughly, but there was no sign of anything out of the ordinary. If there had once been traces of blood on the gate or the ground, the rain had already washed them away.

  They continued on to the trough.

  Tyler stared down. The bottom was covered with layers of sodden leaves. He certainly would not have guessed there was a hidden entrance if he hadn’t already seen it. He moved aside the debris to reveal the grill.

  “Take a photograph, please, Constable Mortimer. I want views of the entire trough, inside and out.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He waited while she set up the tripod and camera. Then he pulled on the lever and lifted the grill, revealing the entrance. Here again, he examined the area carefully but saw no sign of blood.

  “I’ll go down first and you can hand me the camera.”

  There was some light coming from the peepholes but it was too dim to see anything clearly. He flashed his torch on the floor where Jasper had been lying. Even here there were no blood stains. The plank flooring didn’t show any clear footprints either, only a few small clumps of mud that had likely come from the
coroner’s shoes. They didn’t tell him anything.

  Constable Mortimer lowered the camera to him and then climbed down. There were two narrow cots, one on each side, leaving an aisle just wide enough for Tyler and Mortimer to stand next to each other. The ceiling was quite high and they were both able to stand without stooping. At the head of one cot was a shelf on which perched a paraffin lamp. Across from it on an identical shelf was a heater, also paraffin. Tyler sniffed at them. Neither had been lit recently.

  “Will we need to take fingerprints, sir?”

  “Not sure if we’ll get much from these surfaces but we’ll give it a try. Who’s our fingerprint man these days?”

  “Well, since Eaves got called up, sir, I think it has devolved onto Constables Mady and Biggs.”

  “The ladder might yield something. Possibly the lamp and the heater. Keep your gloves on when you touch anything.”

  “Yes, sir. I was intending to do that.”

  There was a drawer underneath one of the cots and Tyler pulled it open. It contained a couple of neatly folded blankets and a pillow.

  Agnes pointed to one of the planks that was shoring up the wall. “I think there’s a compartment behind here, sir. You can see that the wood doesn’t quite align.”

  “Good observation, Constable. Let’s take a look.”

  He tugged at the join in the wood with his fingernails and, sure enough, it opened.

  Agnes Mortimer is turning into a first-rate copper, he thought. I could do with more like her.

  There was a shallow cupboard built into the wall. It was crudely lined with tin. Tyler flashed his light on the interior. Inside was a wooden box stamped “ISSUED BY SPECIAL ORDER OF THE WAR OFFICE. NOT FOR PUBLIC CONSUMPTION.” He moved it out a little. It was sealed, but there was a printed list of the contents pasted on the side. Tyler read: “Quarter pound of tea; tin of condensed milk; tin of pudding; tin of dried eggs; tin of sardines. Bar of chocolate. Bar of soap. Tin of tooth powder. 50 Cigarettes. That would keep you going for a while. Maybe as much as a week.”

  “You talked about the Auxiliary Units, sir. Would these be standard rations for one of the hideouts?”

  “I’d say so. The box hasn’t been opened so I assume it was part of the furnishings when the hideout was built.” Tyler turned around. “Where there’s one cupboard, there’s bound to be another. Ah. There we are.”

  Next to the other cot there was the same slight misalignment in the planking.

  “Shall I try, sir?”

  Mortimer opened the door to the compartment easily. Inside was a Peek Freans biscuit tin. Tyler took it out and removed the lid.

  The tin contained several rather furry-looking boiled sweets and a couple of paltry Cadbury’s Ration chocolate bars. They were untouched, but there was an empty wrapper from a Kit Kat bar indicating that a tastier treat had been devoured. There was also a rather tattered newspaper clipping. He directed the beam of the torch on the paper and read out loud.

  QUEEN WILHELMINA ADDRESSES HER SUBJECTS ON BBC

  The indomitable queen of the Netherlands has expressed her determination to never be defeated. She assured her loyal subjects that she has not nor will she ever abandon them. “We will support our Allies until this Nazi scourge has been driven from our land. Do not lose heart. Your queen is with you at every moment.”

  Tyler aimed his torch back inside the cupboard. “What else have we got?” He slid out a little bundle of comics. “Two Beanos, two Wizards, a Rover, and a Hotspur.” The dates ranged from August to just three weeks ago.

  “Hello, what’s this?”

  Tucked inside the Wizard were two small pieces of cardboard. On one was written the number 2204, on the other 2206.

  “They look like the identification tags that evacuee children have pinned on them when they first arrive here,” said Mortimer. “Necessary but sad, I think. As if they’re parcels.”

  “Well, no prizes for guessing who numbers 2204 and 2206 might be.” He turned the tags over. Sure enough, the names printed on the back were Jan Bakker and Pim Bakker. Tyler sighed. “Our lads were not telling us the truth, were they, Constable? It’s not likely you’re riding all over the countryside in bad weather with your precious tin of sweets and your favourite comics clutched to your bosom and then, by sheer chance, you discover a secret hideout which turns out to be the final resting place of a very dead body. In the midst of all that you have the presence of mind to locate a hidden compartment where you stash your treasures. All before going off for help.”

  “They’d been here before, sir.”

  “This is probably what you sensed they were hiding when you talked to them at the farmhouse.”

  “I hope there aren’t other things they’ve been lying about. I must say, I’m becoming quite fond of the little rascals.” Mortimer’s expression was woebegone.

  “Don’t let your personal feelings cloud your judgment, Constable.”

  “Don’t worry, sir. I won’t.”

  —

  The Cartwright household, together with Edie, were in the kitchen seated around the table. John had the Bible open in front of him. He had a wide black band on his sleeve. Susan Cartwright was dressed entirely in black, and the plainness of her frock made Tyler think of a housekeeper. She looked drawn and haggard.

  Mortimer discreetly took a position by the door while Tyler delivered his news concerning Dr. Murnaghan’s findings.

  John was the first to break the silence that fell upon the room.

  “Stabbed!” he whispered. “By who? Who’d do that to Pa?”

  “I don’t know as yet,” said Tyler. “But I am declaring his death an indictable offence.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Susan.

  “Let’s put it this way,” answered Tyler. “The coroner is sure that Mr. Cartwright was wounded shortly before he ended up in the hideout, although the stabbing wasn’t what killed him directly. He likely died soon after from exposure. Somebody was culpable, though, and I must determine who that person was.”

  Tyler paused. John Cartwright stared down at the floor; his stepson wasn’t looking up either. Almost reflexively, Susan started to brush invisible crumbs from the table. Only Edie continued to focus on Tyler. Her eyes were wide.

  “When we spoke before, you all said you heard nothing to indicate Mr. Cartwright had gone outside. I assume you all stand by that?”

  One by one they nodded.

  “I didn’t ask this question before because it didn’t seem necessary, but now it does,” he continued. “After you had all retired for the night, did anyone leave the premises? At any time? For any reason?”

  He didn’t miss the flood of colour that came into Edie’s cheeks.

  But it was John who had the strongest reaction to the question. He actually slammed his fist on the table. “What! Am I being thick, here? Are you suggesting one of us may have stabbed my father?”

  Susan reached over and touched his arm. “Don’t be foolish, John, of course the inspector doesn’t mean that.”

  “I’m simply trying to get a picture of what went on Monday night and early Tuesday morning, Mr. Cartwright,” answered Tyler.

  Ned Weaver glared at him, his eyelid twitching wildly. “If it’s drawing a picture you’re after, you should speak to the POW. He’d probably jump at the chance to get back at an Englishman.”

  “How can you say that?” said Edie. “He had nothing against Mr. Cartwright.”

  “You can’t know that for sure,” Ned shot back. “In Jasper’s mind the Itie was the enemy.”

  “Mr. Cartwright didn’t die anywhere near the barn,” Edie replied. “Regardless, Angelo was locked in. You know he was.” Tyler noticed the utter dismay on Edie’s face.

  John shoved his chair back. “Not when I went to call him for breakfast he wasn’t. The bolt was not shot from the outside the way it should have been.” He held up his hand to stop Susan’s recrimination. “It didn’t seem important to mention. Angelo hadn’t run away. He was in the barn
where he was supposed to be. I thought Ned might have forgotten about bolting the door. Maybe he’d had one of his nervous collapses.”

  Ned spluttered, “Whoa. You can’t pin that on me. I walked the Itie over to the barn after we had our supper. I let him in and bolted the door behind him. I did exactly what I was supposed to do.”

  “Are you certain?” Tyler asked. “It might not be something you’d pay a lot of attention to. In a hurry to get in out of the rain, that sort of thing.”

  “Course I’m certain. I wouldn’t let an Itie have the chance to roam around the countryside. Never.”

  Tyler addressed John. “Mr. Cartwright, if you found the door was not barred in the morning, and Mr. Weaver says it was barred the previous night, who might have unlocked it?”

  It was Susan’s turn to jump in. “Perhaps Jasper did. He might have gone to the barn looking to get into a fight with the Itie. You know how he could be.”

  “That’s utter nonsense,” said Edie sharply.

  “But how would he have got into that hideout?” said John. “Like Edie said, it’s nowhere near the barn.”

  “Maybe Mum’s right,” said Ned, speaking very quickly. “Jasper could’ve attacked the Itie, and he was the one carried him out and dumped him there.”

  Edie glared at him. “Don’t be silly. Of course he didn’t.”

  “The Itie’s problem is he could hardly lock the door behind himself, could he? If it wasn’t fastened this morning, who knows what he’d been doing? He could have been wandering all over the countryside for all we know. All he had to do was return to the barn and then act all innocent when somebody came to get him.”

  Tyler thought there was some credibility to what Ned was saying.

  John shook his head. “No, no. I can’t believe that young fellow would harm Pa.”

  “We hardly know him,” said Susan. “Who knows what he’s capable of?”

  John continued, “Besides, how would the Itie know the whereabouts of the hideout?”

  Ned shrugged. “Why not? Those kids found it, why couldn’t he have?”

  “Wait a minute,” interjected Edie. “Hold on. Even I didn’t know the place existed and I’ve been working here all summer.”