Ned winked. “Never underestimate the cunning of a POW.” He leaned toward Edie. “Face it, Edie. It’s not out of the question that he’s the one responsible. Jasper was delusional half the time. Saw ghosts. He could have been the one on the attack.”
Edie’s lips tightened. “No. I simply don’t believe Angelo is capable of such a thing, even in self-defence.”
Ned’s eye was flickering nonstop. “Why not? He’s a trained soldier and he’s in a foreign land. Last time I looked we were at war with Italy.”
“No. I can’t accept that.” Edie looked as if she was ready to jump up and run out of the room. Mortimer moved slightly so she was blocking the doorway.
“All right, everybody,” said Tyler. “Let’s calm down for a minute. I know what I’ve had to tell you is shocking but, as I said, I am now making a full investigation.”
“I knew we should have locked Jasper’s bedroom door,” said Susan. “None of this would have happened if we’d done that, but John was dead set against the idea.”
“I couldn’t stand to make his own home a prison,” said John.
Susan was weeping openly now, tears trickling down her cheeks. Edie quietly handed her a handkerchief. John ignored her.
“Any opinions as to what he was up to when he went out?” Tyler asked.
“I can’t claim to know what was going on in Pa’s mind,” said John, “but he took his treasure box with him. It’s not in his room, and it was usually under his bed. I saw him put it there on Sunday.”
“His treasure box? What was that?”
Susan answered the question. “He liked to collect all his ‘special treasures,’ as he called them. Nothing of any real monetary value. The kind of things a child might keep. You know, his old dog’s collar, photographs of his dead wife, her wedding ring.”
“What did it look like, this case?” asked Tyler.
“Metal. About the size of a small suitcase,” said John. “It used to be a typesetter’s case. He’s had it for ages. Meant a lot to him. I’m guessing he went to stash it somewhere.”
Susan straightened her back. “What John isn’t saying is that his pa became convinced I was going to destroy his precious things.” She dabbed her eyes. “I’m not a monster, Inspector. I would never have done that. My lord, I have souvenirs of my own. Isn’t that true, John?”
Her husband didn’t reply.
“If he did intend to hide the box,” said Tyler, “was there a special place he might have used?”
“Not in the house, for sure. I might’ve found it.” Susan’s voice was bitter.
“Not that I know of,” answered John.
“Miss Walpole? Mr. Weaver? Any ideas?”
“None. I haven’t seen it,” said Edie.
“Could have been anywhere,” said Ned. “No shortage of places around here.”
This seemed like a good time to show them the old coin. Tyler took out the handkerchief that Murnaghan had given him and opened it on the table.
“This was in Mr. Cartwright’s pocket. It’s an old coin. I wonder if you know anything about it.”
John picked it up and examined it. “Charles I.”
“Did Mr. Cartwright show any of you this coin or talk about other coins he’d found?”
John answered, “I’ve never seen it before. But Sunday night Pa did say he’d found treasure. I didn’t take him seriously.”
“It wasn’t the first time he’d got excited about something he found,” interjected Susan. “Usually it turned out to be junk. He dug up an old watch once. Didn’t work, but he was as excited as if it was worth hundreds of pounds. So there was no reason this so-called treasure was any different.”
Edie touched the coin. “It’s three hundred years old. Maybe it could communicate with us about those past times. Give us some help.”
“Ha. I doubt it,” said Ned. “They was at each other’s throats just as much as we are. Worse, really. That coin comes from Civil War time. Same kind of people fighting each other. Not as if your neighbour was a foreigner, like the Krauts or Ities are to us. Fighting them is understandable.”
Tyler thought this was a rather more perspicacious comment than the young man had offered to date.
“Well, I don’t care what you say,” said Edie. “This coin would reveal something wise if it could.”
Tyler thought the shilling might give them a lecture on the futility of war, but it wasn’t communicating at the moment. Perhaps they needed a clairvoyant.
He rewrapped the coin in the handkerchief and returned it to his pocket. “I’ll give this back to you after the investigation is concluded, Mr. Cartwright. I will also return his clothes, of course.”
“Do you think the coin has anything to do with why he was attacked?” John asked.
“I don’t know, Mr. Cartwright, but the more gaps I can close the better. Speaking of which, I must repeat my original question. Did any of you leave the house at any time between Monday night and early Tuesday morning?” This time he addressed each of them directly. “Mr. Cartwright? Mrs. Cartwright?”
They both shook their heads.
“Mr. Weaver?”
“Not me. It was too miserable a day to go anywhere. I stayed tucked up in bed until six thirty.”
“Miss Walpole?”
Edie muttered a quiet “No.”
“Very well. Is there anybody at all who you think might have encountered Mr. Cartwright?”
Ned answered. “You’d better talk to the two blokes who board at the Mohan farm, Sam Wickers and Tim Oldham. I suspect they’re poachers, them lads. I’ll bet they go out early to get their rabbits.”
Do they indeed? thought Tyler. Is that why they were out on their bikes the other night? “I’ll have a word with them,” he said.
There was a tap at the door. Mortimer opened it to take a look.
“Biggs and Mady are here, sir.”
“Good.” He turned back to the little group. “I’ll keep you informed as to any further developments. We’ll have to take fingerprint samples so we can rule out those that should be there and those that shouldn’t. One of my constables will do that shortly.”
“Are you going to talk to Angelo?” burst out Edie.
“If we can. Is he back working here today?” Tyler asked.
“Yes, he’s been busy all day in the barn. Can I come with you? I might be of help in interpreting. My Italian is basic but passable.”
“Thank you, Miss Walpole. I’ll take you up on that.”
She got up immediately and put on her coat. Ned began to light a cigarette. Susan was watching her husband anxiously. John stayed where he was. He appeared to be lost in his own unhappy thoughts.
Tyler followed his constable and the Land Girl out the door.
Edie hurried ahead through the gate and turned in the direction of the barn.
Mortimer whispered quietly to Tyler. “I myself am quite conversant in Italian, sir. Finishing school days. Shall I speak to the POW?”
“No, let’s leave it as is. Don’t let on you know the lingo. People are apt to reveal more if they think you don’t understand what they’re saying.”
“My thoughts exactly, sir.”
“Glean anything from our little meeting?”
“Quite a lot actually, sir.”
“Good. You can fill me in later.”
Tyler and Mortimer caught up with Edie as she opened the door to the barn.
Angelo was sweeping out a stall, but he stopped when he saw them.
“Ciao, Angelo,” said Edie. “The police want to talk to you about Mr. Cartwright’s death. He didn’t just die from exposure he was –”
Tyler interrupted her. “Let me tell him, Miss Walpole.”
Angelo said something in Italian to Edie, who nodded at him and replied also in Italian.
“Let’s speak English, if you don’t mind,” said Tyler.
“He simply asked me why I was here as well, and I said I’d help interpret.”
Tyler caught a
n almost imperceptible shake of the head from Agnes. That was not what the exchange had been about.
“Why don’t we sit down, take the weight off our feet,” said Tyler, and he walked over and sat on one of the hay bales. Mortimer took the one next to him. Slowly Angelo went to a bale facing them and perched on the edge. Edie hesitated, then walked over and sat beside him. She left a distance between them, but her deliberate casualness was a dead giveaway.
Lord help us. I’ll bet they’ve slept together. And that could create a huge problem for both of them.
There was a lantern hanging on a beam close to where the Italian was sitting. Tyler could see him clearly, and it was obvious the young man was extremely apprehensive.
“The reason I have come to speak to you again, Private Iaquinta, is because there has been a new development in the case of Mr. Cartwright’s death.” Tyler paused. “All right so far? Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Angelo nodded. “Si. Capisco.”
“The coroner, er, the doctor, has discovered that Mr. Cartwright was in fact stabbed…”
Angelo was looking bewildered.
Edie interrupted. “You’re speaking too quickly, Inspector. His English is good but you have to speak slowly.”
“Miss Walpole, please. I shall have to ask you to leave if you interrupt again,” said Tyler. “Angelo seems to understand quite well.”
She subsided but it was obviously difficult for her. Tyler turned back to the Italian and mimed plunging a knife into a body.
“Stabbed. Mr. Cartwright was stabio.”
Tyler thought the young man was genuinely shocked.
“That is truthfully a very bad thing. What was the occurrence?”
“That is what I intend to find out. You told me yesterday that you didn’t see Mr. Cartwright, senior, after you came in here for the night.”
“Si. Er, I mean, no.” He put his hands together against his cheek. “I sleep.”
Tyler paused. “According to Mr. John Cartwright, when he came to fetch you for breakfast the door to this barn was not barred. Can you explain why that was the case?”
Angelo stiffened. “No, I cannot.”
“Did you by any chance have a visitor during the night?”
“Visitor? No, of course not. I sleep.” He repeated the hand gesture. “I have the sleep of the justified.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Tyler could see that Edie was clutching so hard at the side of the hay bale her knuckles were white.
“Right. I wondered if old Mr. Cartwright himself might have come in here. Perhaps you had an argument? He could get confused. Perhaps he attacked you? You defended yourself. He left –”
“No. No. No fight. Never with man with no weapon.”
Angelo slumped forward. He uttered something in Italian. Edie responded immediately, speaking in the same language. Her Italian was stumbling but she seemed able to make herself understood. Angelo shook his head at her.
“Miss Walpole,” said Tyler, “I would like Private Iaquinta himself to respond.” He turned to the Italian. “Did you understand what I said?”
“Si.”
“I’ll ask you again. Did you have anything to do with Mr. Cartwright’s death?”
His face full of misery, Angelo looked up at Tyler. “No, sir. I did not. I swear to my honour, I did not.”
“Do you own a knife?”
“No. Not allowed to us.”
“Did Mr. Cartwright come into the barn during the night?”
Angelo didn’t respond.
“Answer, please.”
Angelo stared back at the ground. Edie’s expression was agonized.
“Private Iaquinta! Did Jasper Cartwright enter the barn yesterday?”
“Yes, sir,” the Italian said in a low voice. “Yes, he did.”
Tyler let that revelation sink in. Edie had turned her face away and he could see she was trembling. He stood up and took a few paces from the young man, then turned to him.
“At what time did Mr. Cartwright enter the barn?”
“I am not sure of it but it was very early in the morning. Not yet dawn.”
“Why didn’t you admit that right away?”
“I was afraid I be blamed for something. I am the bad one, the enemy, after all.”
“I promise you won’t be blamed for anything you didn’t do. Please tell me what happened when Mr. Cartwright came into the barn.”
“Nothing…I swear, nothing. He was most confused. He came in. I was awakened and I called out to him. He did not answer to me. He simply turned around and left.”
“No attack?”
“None.”
“Did he say anything at all?”
“No. Nothing.”
“Perhaps he was frightened? Mistook you for an enemy?”
“No.”
“If he had mistaken you and attacked, you would have had to defend yourself. Nobody would blame you for that.”
Angelo shook his head.
“I notice you have been limping, Private Iaquinta. Is that because you were in a struggle – a fight – with Mr. Cartwright?”
“Please, signor. I told you, no fight. It was the pesky cow I was milking.”
Tyler let a pause drop between them. Angelo shifted on the hay bale. Edie was still staring at the placidly munching cows.
Finally, Tyler said, “Why should I believe you? It’s not that hard to come across a knife on a farm. Somebody stabbed Mr. Cartwright. I only have your word that it wasn’t you. There are no witnesses.”
“I am sorry, Inspector. It is utter truth. I not touch him.”
Again Edie interceded. “I can vouch for Angelo in this matter, Inspector –”
The Italian caught her by the arm. “No. I will answer.”
Their eyes met, something was communicated, and he let her go. She turned to Tyler. “What I was going to say is that I myself was present when Clover kicked him. I was here. I saw it happen.”
“And when was this, Miss Walpole?”
“Monday. It happened during the afternoon milking.”
Tyler regarded Angelo. “Did you report it to your medical officer at the camp?”
“No, no. I am very well. It is nothing of importance.”
“You understand that I will have to come to the camp and give a report about what has occurred.”
“Si.”
“One more thing. Did you notice if Mr. Cartwright had anything with him when he paid this unexpected visit?”
“What mean you?”
“Was he carrying anything? Did he leave anything behind?”
“I see nothing. It was dark. I just hear the door open I and came up from my bed to see who. I recognized it was Mr. Cartwright.”
“How did you know it was him?” Tyler interjected. “You said it was dark.”
“He was carrying a lantern, but as I have said recently, he turned around and left. It was only moments.”
“Thank you, Private Iaquinta.” Tyler stood up. “I shall drive you back to camp later. In the meantime, you’ll have to come over to the farmhouse with me.”
“Si.”
“Does he have to go there?” Edie burst out. “They’ll all be ready to pounce on him.”
“We don’t have much choice at the moment, Miss Walpole. I’ll have him remain in the parlour for now.”
“That’s worse. He’ll be stuck by himself, wondering what’s happening.”
“No matter what he’d be stuck by himself, as you put it.”
Suddenly the girl burst into noisy sobs. “It’s so stupid. It’s all so stupid.”
Tyler waited a moment or two to let her cry.
“What is stupid, Miss Walpole?”
“War,” cried Edie. “This horrible war.”
“In many ways I agree with you. Regardless, I’m the representative of the law. Until Private Iaquinta is cleared of causing the death of Jasper Cartwright, he will have to be under surveillance.”
Angelo was regarding the young wo
man with obvious dismay. He went to reach out to her again, thought better of it, and let his hand drop to his side. Tyler could feel in his own body the young man’s ache to touch the woman he was so clearly in love with.
—
Tyler installed Angelo in the parlour across from the sitting room. There was no lock on the door but the Italian had no way of getting out without being seen.
“Do you want something to read?” Tyler asked. “You’ll be here for a while, most likely. Call if you need to use the toilet.”
“Thank you, that would be super. I would like this Boy’s Own Annual, if you please. I was given a copy and it is teaching me super English.”
Could be worse, thought Tyler. You got language and very British attitudes in the Annual. He left the young man to peruse the pages featuring the derring-do of clever, plucky English boys.
Susan Cartwright gave him permission to take over the small “best” sitting room. John was upstairs, “paying his respects to his father,” as Susan put it. Her eyes were red from weeping. Ned Weaver was fiddling with the wireless. Crackling noises came from the set. He had stared at Angelo as Tyler led him through to the parlour but hadn’t said anything.
Edie went directly to the sink. “I’ll help you with the dinner, Mrs. Cartwright. Perhaps we had better make more stew, just in case.”
“That’s the last of the carrots. You’ll have to add more potatoes.”
Tyler left them to it and went across to the front sitting room with Constable Mortimer.
“Let’s light the heater,” he said. “I’ll have them put in a requisition for compensation if they need to. This is police business, and I’ll be darned if I can work in subarctic conditions.”
There were folding doors that partitioned off the sitting room from the kitchen, and he left them open a crack so he could keep an eye out for any activity. He didn’t want anybody else in this family going wandering.
“Did you catch what Miss Walpole was saying to Angelo?”
“She was telling him not to worry. Everything would be all right.”
“Ah, the optimism of youth. Was that all?”
“Yes, sir. Her Italian is imperfect but that was the gist of it.” She frowned. “Do you think they are having relations even though he’s a prisoner of war?”
Dead Ground in Between Page 15
