Dead Ground in Between

by Maureen Jennings

  “Where’s the gun?” he asked John.

  “Haven’t seen it.”

  Ned groaned and seemed to drift back into unconsciousness. Tyler thought that might be the end, but Ned spoke again, his voice so low Tyler had to put his ear a few inches from the man’s mouth.

  “He was outside. Came at me. Thought he was going to kill me. Only trying to defend myself.”

  Blood was trickling from the corner of his mouth and Tyler used the towel to wipe it away.

  “Outside? Who do you mean, Ned? The Italian?”

  Ned didn’t respond. He managed to lift his hand. Tyler caught hold of it. It was icy cold.

  “Do you know any prayers?” Ned murmured. “I’d like to go off with a prayer.”

  Tyler looked at John Cartwright, standing like stone behind him.

  “He’d like a prayer.”

  John seemed incapable of speaking, but Susan immediately clasped her hands together. “Our Father, which art in heaven…”

  Tyler turned back to Ned. His lips were moving as if he was accompanying her.

  Susan continued, speaking fast. “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done…”

  She hadn’t finished when the barn door opened and three uniformed soldiers rushed in. The leader was white-haired and had doctor’s flashes on his sleeve. The other two were young POWS. They were carrying a stretcher.

  “Over here,” called Tyler. “It’s this one.”

  He moved out of the way.

  Susan Cartwright was still kneeling in prayer. “You’ll soon be right as rain, pet,” she said.

  Tyler thought that was extremely unlikely.

  —

  “Help. Help.”

  It was a child’s voice, faint and feeble. Angelo froze. His thoughts were racing. Had a child fallen into a well or some such thing? Obviously the tree branch was preventing him from getting out. What could he do? Every minute of delay meant more chance that his own whereabouts would be discovered. He moaned.

  In all likelihood he would be charged with murder. Edie was dead. He’d sprung at Ned, desperately trying to grab his gun. It had gone off, and the bullet had hit the other man in the chest. Angelo didn’t even know if he was alive or dead. Even if he lived, Angelo knew he wouldn’t stand a chance. Who would believe him?

  He turned his bicycle.

  The tiny voice floated out from the air vent.

  “Is somebody there? Help! Please help!”

  —

  “He’s still got vitals,” said the doctor. “Let’s get him to the hospital.” He beckoned to the two medics who’d come with him. They were both young, frightened. “Put this man on the stretcher. We’ll take him into Ludlow.”

  “I want to come with you,” said Susan. “I’m his mother.”

  The doctor shook his head. “Better to follow behind us, madam. I will have to treat him as we drive.”

  “I’ll take the lorry.” Susan turned to John. “Will you come?”

  “Of course.”

  Both of them followed the stretcher-bearers out of the barn.

  The doctor halted in front of Tyler. “The girl looks to be beyond help.”

  “She is.”

  “Fill me in when you can. You can reach me through the camp. I’m Stevens.”

  He hurried off.

  Because of the need to tend to Weaver, Tyler hadn’t closely examined the nature of Edie’s wound, but now he went over to her body. The right side of her forehead had been sliced off; the flesh gleamed red and raw. He could see brain matter. It didn’t look like a bullet wound to him.

  Edie was lying next to a post. There was a fresh gouge on one side where the bullet had sheared off a chunk of wood that must have flown straight at Edie and hit her full force. She must have died immediately. This bright young woman, the chatterbox with so much love and passion for life, had gone from the face of the earth.

  —

  Angelo dragged the branch away from the opening in the base of the wall. There had been no more cries and the silence drove him to move quickly. The branch was very heavy but he was able to move it sufficiently to clear the entrance. He bent down and shouted into the small opening.

  “Hello in there! Are you all right?”

  There was no reply.

  He tugged at what appeared to be a loose plank. It was attached to a trap door, which he lifted up to reveal a narrow, dark opening and the top of a metal ladder.

  “Hello,” he shouted again, but there was only silence.

  He turned so he could descend the ladder. At the bottom was a small, cave-like dugout. The light he’d glimpsed earlier was coming from a small lamp that was flickering faintly. He could just make out two boys lying on a cot.

  Neither was moving.

  —

  Tyler stood at the threshold of the barn, watching as the morning light grew stronger. A cow inside mooed and he was jolted out of his reverie. Who was going to milk them?

  After what seemed like an eternity he heard the blessed sound of a motorcycle and, sure enough, Agnes Mortimer came roaring down the road and into the yard. Mady was in the sidecar.

  They quickly disentangled from the motorcycle, and Mortimer handed Tyler a brown envelope.

  “Sergeant Rowell sent this, sir. It just arrived. He thought you would want to have it right away.” It was stamped “TOP SECRET” in large black letters. When Tyler opened it, he found a second envelope inside, and within that, a single piece of paper. The message was handwritten, neat and small. Golden, he presumed.

  The operative named Zechariah was with the Auxiliary for a while but he was released a year ago. Reason being, “not suitable.” Unfortunately, I do not have a name for him. It was deleted for security reasons. Ezekiel is the code name of Samuel Wickers.

  Somehow, Tyler was not surprised. He could see Wickers enjoying the life of a commando with nobody to answer to except himself. So who was the unsuitable Zechariah? Presumably he would be aware of the location of the secret hideouts if he’d been in the Auxiliary Unit even if it was only for a while.

  He addressed his constables who were waiting. “Constable Mady, stay here and guard this door. There’s a corpse inside. Don’t let anybody touch anything. There should be a contingent of soldiers coming from the camp any minute to search for the missing POW. Tell them they mustn’t proceed until I get back.”

  “When will that be, sir?”

  “Hopefully not long. Constable Mortimer, come with me.”

  “Yes, sir. Shall we take the motorcycle?”

  Tyler hesitated. It was by no means his favourite form of transport but he didn’t want to waste time fussing with the unreliable Annabel.

  “All right. And this time you can speed.”

  “Yes, sir. Where are we going?”

  “Up the hill. The Mohan farm.”

  —

  They were at the Mohan place within five minutes. Tyler signalled to Mortimer to pull over near the front door. He could see that Sam Wickers and Tim were both having breakfast at the kitchen table.

  Tyler had no idea what he might be walking into and, not for the first time in his career, he wished he had a weapon. Basically he was trusting his instincts. First, that Wickers was not a cold-blooded murderer, and second, that neither was the young Italian.

  He knocked hard on the front door. Wickers opened it, and while he looked surprised to see them he did not seem particularly alarmed.

  “Inspector, Constable Mortimer, don’t tell me you’ve come to give me a report on my work?”

  “No. I’d like to come in and speak to you in private.”

  “I was just about to go out and hunt us up some dinner.”

  “Don’t push it, Wickers. You’re not going anywhere. Let’s just say we need to discuss a certain person.”

  “Who might that be?”

  “His name’s Ezekiel.”

  Wickers tensed. “Better I come out, then.”

  He did so and closed the door behind him. He had no coat but he seemed imper
vious to the cold.

  Tyler nodded in the direction of Mortimer. “Don’t worry. We can talk in front of my constable. I’ll get straight to the point.”

  “Please do. I can hardly stand the suspense.”

  “Don’t be so cheeky,” said Tyler. “Fact is, I’m aware you’re a member of the Auxiliary Units.”

  “Are you now?”

  “Don’t worry, I found out through proper channels. Chief constable and all that.”

  “Well, that’s a relief. Wouldn’t want you to read it in the Ludlow Ledger.”

  “Cut it out, Wickers. I’m dealing with a serious situation.”

  “Sorry.” Wickers seemed sincere for once. “What’s going on?”

  “As an Auxiliary, you would know about the hideout underneath the trough. Isn’t that right?”

  Sam nodded.

  “That’s where Jasper Cartwright’s body was found. Did you dump him in there?”

  Sam recoiled. “No. I did not.”

  “Somebody stabbed him with something that sounds suspiciously like a commando knife to me. Double-sided, sharp point. The kind you were most likely issued.”

  Sam rubbed his hands together to warm them. “Wasn’t me. I don’t fight with harmless old men.”

  “According to what I’ve heard, Jasper was a bit off his rocker. Did you run into him in the wee hours when you were poaching rabbits? Perhaps he threatened to tell on you.”

  “No. In my book, getting rabbits for those that need them isn’t exactly a major crime. So what if word got out? We’re at war, don’t forget. Nobody cares.” He rubbed his hands again. “I’m not going to stab somebody over a trifle like that.”

  “All right. I believe you. But what I’d like to know is if you did see Jasper? He was out wandering around in the storm.”

  Wickers shook his head. “No, I didn’t see him. I know you don’t have a high opinion of me, Inspector, but I assure you if I had run into the old man I would have taken him home.”

  Mortimer tapped Tyler on the shoulder.

  “Excuse me, sir. Can Mr. Wickers provide us with an alibi? That would help enormously.”

  “I was about to ask that very thing, Constable,” said Tyler.

  Wickers grinned. “Matter of fact I can. Hope you won’t be shocked.”

  “We’ll try not to be,” said Tyler.

  “I wasn’t home for the entire night.”

  “That’s not what your chum said.”

  “Tim was trying to help, but I have a better witness who will vouch for the fact that I was nowhere near here on Monday night. If it’s an alibi you’re looking for, I’ve got one.”

  “Do tell.”

  “I spent the night, the entire night, with a lady-friend in Ludlow. I joined her about eleven and got back here at six. She’ll vouch for me.”

  Tyler took out his notebook. “Lucky for you – if it’s true. I’ll need her name and address.”

  Wickers didn’t answer right away. “Look, problem is she’s married.”

  “Her husband wasn’t at home, I presume, when you were, er, visiting this lady? Or was it a threesome?”

  He caught a bit of a blush flit across his constable’s face.

  “What? No, course it wasn’t,” said Wickers, his voice indignant. “He works out of town.”

  “All right. I’ll just ask her to confirm that you were together for the night. So? Who is she? Where does she live?”

  Reluctantly, Wickers gave him the information. “You promise you’ll be discreet? She’s a good woman. She gets lonely is all. I don’t want to get her into hot water.”

  Tyler wasn’t going to be so hypocritical as to comment on marital infidelity. He put away his notebook. “All right, back to more important issues. We’ve got two young boys who’ve gone missing. We know they were making use of a hideout that was built by the Auxiliaries. It’s not out of the question that they know something they’re not supposed to. Frankly, Wickers, I fear for their safety.”

  “Good lord. You’re not talking about the little Dutch kids, are you? Jan and Pim?”

  “That’s them.”

  “When you say they’ve gone missing, what do you mean?”

  “They left their foster home yesterday, said they were going to London to see their Queen. They’ve vanished.”

  “Good lord,” Wickers exclaimed again. For the first time, Tyler thought, the I-don’t-really-give-a damn attitude dropped away. “They discovered me not too long ago when I was going into the hideout with some rabbits. I was careless, didn’t realize they were out there playing at being Scouts. I put the fear of God into them, but also told them they could use the place as long as it was a deep secret.” He bit his lip. “The Auxiliaries haven’t been active for over a year. I didn’t see any harm would come of it.”

  “Are there any more hideouts?” Tyler asked.

  “One other, in the woods. It’s not in good shape though.”

  “Did the boys know about it?”

  “I mentioned it but I didn’t show them.”

  Tyler looked over at his constable. The tip of her nose was red from the cold but she was listening intently.

  “They might have gone there, sir.”

  “We’ll check right now.” Tyler turned back to Wickers. “Listen, son. I believe what you’ve told me, but there’s something else I need to know. According to the chief constable there were two of you Auxiliaries in this area. One of them was discharged last year as unsuitable. Code name of Zechariah. What’s his real name?”

  Before Wickers could answer, Agnes Mortimer suddenly cried out, “Sir! Look. It’s the POW.”

  Tyler twirled around. Emerging from the stand of trees on the ridge was Angelo Iaquinta. He was wheeling his bicycle. His arm was around one boy, holding him on to the saddle. The other boy was sitting on the crossbar and draped over the handlebars. Iaquinta was attempting to keep him in place with his other hand. Jan and Pim.

  “Come on,” said Tyler, and he set off on the run. Younger and faster, Wickers raced ahead, and Mortimer was close behind.

  Angelo halted.

  “Help. Please help me. The boys are sick.”

  —

  Later, Tyler would credit Sam Wickers with saving Pim. Jan was looking green around the gills but he was still conscious. Tyler got him off the bike and carried him to the side of the path. Mortimer immediately removed her own coat and put it around Jan’s shoulders. In the meantime, Sam lifted the smaller boy, who was pale and unmoving, off the handlebars and laid him flat on the ground on his stomach, arms above his head. He pressed on the boy’s back, then pulled up his arms. Repeat.

  Barely moments later, as if on cue, the cavalry arrived in the shape of an army lorry. The half dozen soldiers crammed in the back jumped out, rifles at the ready, all focused on Angelo. Tyler yelled at them to stay where they were.

  “Situation under control.”

  Angelo made no attempt to get away but leaned on the bicycle watching anxiously as Wickers frantically worked.

  It seemed a very long time before Pim responded but it was probably only minutes. His eyelids fluttered and a dribble of saliva came from his mouth. Wickers turned the boy’s chin and he vomited yellow bile.

  “Atta boy,” said Sam cheerily.

  Jan tried to stand up and go to his brother. “Pim. Wake up. Wake up.”

  Tyler held him back. “Take it easy, lad. Your brother’s in good hands. He’s going to be all right. Let the man finish his job.”

  Wickers had in fact stopped the artificial respiration. He turned Pim over onto his back and pulled him into a sitting position.

  “Feeling a bit better, Scout?”

  “Yes, Captain,” whispered the boy.

  “Keep taking some nice deep breaths for me, there’s a chum,” Wickers said.

  Jan pointed at the group of soldiers and at Angelo. “They’re not going to arrest him, are they?”

  “I’m afraid he has to go back to the camp. He’s a POW. You were very lucky he fou
nd you.”

  “A tree branch fell across the entrance. We couldn’t get out. Pim started to get sick.”

  “You shouldn’t have been in that hideout, young Scout. I told you we abandoned it ages ago. I didn’t even know there was still a heater in there, but it was probably not working properly. Those things are bloody dangerous when they’re faulty.”

  Nobody said, “You could both have died,” but the words hung in the air.

  Tyler had Wickers and Mortimer take the boys back to the Mohan farmhouse. Wickers gave Pim a piggyback ride. The boy was still ashen but alive. Jan looked wobbly but was all right with Mortimer taking his hand.

  A corporal from among the soldiers came forward to take charge of the Italian. Angelo didn’t resist, and at Tyler’s request, he handed over the gun he’d taken from Ned. He had a wound in his left arm, but it had stopped bleeding and didn’t look too serious. As the soldiers put him in the lorry, Tyler spoke to him softly.

  “I’m sorry, son. I’m truly sorry about what has happened.”

  He made his way to the Mohan farm and was met at the door by Sam Wickers.

  “We just got a message from the hospital. John Cartwright called. Ned died in the ambulance on the way.”

  “Damn. I didn’t hold out much hope, I must say.”

  “Oh, and Inspector,” continued Wickers, “I never got the chance to answer your question.”

  “Yes?”

  “The real name of the other Auxiliary was Ned Weaver.”

  CHRISTMAS EVE

  NUALA INVITED TYLER AND SERGEANT ROWELL TO come over on Christmas morning.

  “You’ve got to come early because it will be torture for the boys to have to wait too long to open their presents.”

  She and Tyler had continued their relationship, but discreetly. Tyler left her bed in the middle of the night and grabbed a couple of more hours of shut-eye at home. He was starting to suffer from sleep deprivation, but so far it was worth it.

  When he conveyed Nuala’s invitation to Rowell, his sergeant grinned at him. “Might I suggest, sir, that you give yourself the luxury of staying through the night?”

  “Hmm. I’m not ready to go public, Oliver. The boys are sure to wonder what I’m doing there.”

  “They’ll be more interested in seeing what Father Christmas brought them. You can fib about dropping in if you have to.”