No Known Grave

by Maureen Jennings

  “It certainly sounds as if her lover has been in contact with her,” she said. “Perhaps he is stationed at the Ludford RAF camp. It certainly is close by.”

  “Mrs. McHattie insists he’s gone overseas, but he could have returned. If the family is so hostile to him, he might think it prudent to lie low for the time being.”

  The almoner was already reaching for the telephone. “I know the commandant of the camp. Shall I ring him for you?”

  “That would be grand. Rudy might not be his real name, but there can’t be that many men on the base who are foreigners and trained as commandos in Scotland.”

  Sister Rebecca looked at him. “I am probably being impossibly naive, but do you think we could be dealing with a simple elopement?”

  “Unfortunately, I’d say there’s very little chance of that being the case.”

  61.

  THE MORNING SUN HAD VANISHED, AND IN TYPICAL English fashion, the weather had changed. A louring cloud was coming in fast over the trees, and it was threatening rain. The common room was dim, electricity always used sparingly.

  For the third time in two days, Tyler found himself addressing the residents of the hospital. Faces with unseeing eyes, horrible scars and mutilations; ordinary faces like those of the two orderlies and the four nuns in their plain habits. Mrs. Fuller with her work-stained apron. Alfie fidgeting mightily on his chair.

  It was hard to believe one of these people had been trained as a killer and, presumably, had acted as such. But it had to be somebody among them. It had to be.

  “Ladies and gentlemen. I’m sorry to inform you that Shirley McHattie is missing. She left her room in the nuns’ quarters late last night and has not returned. Frankly, we don’t know if she is staying away of her own free will or if she has, in fact, been abducted. In either case, given her condition, we need to find her as soon as possible.”

  A gasp rippled through the group, followed by silent, intense attention.

  “The reason I have asked you here,” continued Tyler, “is because I want you to search your memories and see if there is anything, even the smallest thing, that you can tell me that might help us find her. For instance, did Shirley ever speak to you about the father of her child? A hint, a casual word she let slip about his identity. Some of you know this area far better than I do. Is there anywhere she might be? Perhaps hidden. Did you hear anything at all last night? An owl cry? A dog bark? Allow me to decide if it is relevant or not.”

  Nobody spoke. Nobody jumped up and said, I did. I heard Shirley McHattie being dragged away screaming. Not only that, I know who abducted her.

  Those who could look back at Tyler simply appeared frightened or confused. He went on.

  “To date, I have received three anonymous letters that may have a bearing on this case. They were all typed on one of the machines in the hospital common room. If you know anything about that, please let me know at once.”

  It was me, Inspector. I typed those grief-sodden pieces. I confess.

  No such luck. More blank stares, confused expressions.

  Daisy raised her hand as if she were in school. “What sort of letters are you referring to?”

  “As the bishop said to the Pope,” muttered Melrose.

  “I’m not at liberty to disclose the contents at this point, Miss Stevens.”

  “As the Pope replied,” said the irrepressible Melrose.

  Tyler was getting nowhere fast. “Three people have died on these premises. A young woman, about to deliver a child, has disappeared. She could be hurt and unable to seek help. She could be trapped somewhere by a malicious person or people. She is at risk. Her unborn child is at risk.”

  Again he was met with silence, but he could sense that he’d got his message across. To most of them anyway.

  Daisy again raised her hand. “Inspector, would it possible for us to take a little time to ponder? I think we are all shocked by what you’ve said. Perhaps if we got together in small groups, those who are more, er, capacitated can help those who aren’t. It might be easier that way, less intimidating.”

  Tyler could have kissed her. “Miss Stevens, that is a brilliant idea. Of course, you can have some time.”

  Daisy seized the handles of Bancroft’s wheelchair and swung him around.

  “Come on, touch and thumpers. Let’s gather over in the corner.”

  Slowly the rest of the assembly began to disperse, the nuns and the two orderlies assisting those who needed help.

  Tyler watched them. Somewhere stuck in his brain were the final words of the letter. The baby will continue to cry. Across the room his eyes met those of the almoner and he saw reflected back at him the same fear.

  They had to find Shirley McHattie soon.

  62.

  HE WENT BACK TO THE OFFICE. HOWEVER, HE’D barely sat down when there was a sharp rap at the door and without waiting for permission, Dai Hughes entered.

  “Inspector, there’s something I must tell you,” he burst out.

  The orderly was actually sweating with emotion. He wiped his face with the back of his sleeve like a boy might. His words came out in a rush.

  “I’ve done something terrible …”

  “Pipe up, lad. I’m all ears.”

  The orderly scrubbed at his eyes. “I’ve committed a sacrilegious act.”

  Hughes broke into sobs. His behaviour certainly didn’t seem to be that of a callous murderer, nor that of a tough commando.

  “I don’t have the foggiest notion what you’re blathering on about. Now, why don’t you have a seat and stop crying. What do you mean by a sacrilegious act?”

  Hughes gulped hard a few times but appeared to be regaining some control. Sister Rebecca had left a carafe of water on the desk for Tyler’s use and he poured out a glass.

  “Here, have a few sips of this.”

  Hughes did so and with a hiccup his sobs subsided.

  “Okay now? Do continue.”

  “As you discovered,” said Hughes, “I’ve had a girl who I said was my wife.”

  “Surely you’re not twisting yourself inside out because you lied about that, are you, lad? I’d hardly call that an act of sacrilege.”

  “No, it’s not that. You see, Polly … Well, she’s from Manchester and she’s used to a more exciting life than she’s been getting here in Ludlow. She said she wanted more adventure.” He shot a glance at Tyler. “We couldn’t really go out much because of my work, and we didn’t want to be seen in public. Then last week, Polly said she’d come across this old church that’s down in a field by the river. She thought it might be exciting to go there at night. It’s quite isolated. She said there were bodies buried in the crypt and if we went there at night we might see a ghost. So I thought, why not? Anything to keep her happy.” Hughes stopped. “The church wasn’t locked up or anything. It’s not very big, only a few wooden pews. Polly went over to a book that was on a stand. Not a bible, a register of some sort. Look at this, says she. This dates back to Norman times; the priests have got French names. That didn’t impress me that much to tell you the truth, but she seemed quite chuffed. I bet they’ll turn in their graves if we do it in here, says she.”

  Tyler held up his hand. “Just to be clear. By ‘do it,’ you mean have sexual intercourse?”

  Dai squirmed. “Polly was brought up a Catholic, but she hates the church. Says the priests ruined her mother’s life … She never explained how, but I think she was born out of wedlock and they made her mother pay for her sins. I want you to have me on that altar, says she. That’ll show them. Well now that we were in there, I didn’t want to really. I was raised chapel, but a church is a church. It seemed sort of holy in there. What we were planning to do didn’t seem right. But she got at me the way she usually did. She found some sort of priest’s robe in the vestry and she made me put it on. Then she climbed onto the altar table and I got on top of her.” He flashed Tyler a wan smile. “Tell the truth, it wasn’t very successful, but Polly was thrilled. Good thing I don’t believe
in Hell, she says, because we’d go there for certain.” Hughes paused.

  “When did all this happen?” Tyler asked.

  “Last week. Tuesday.”

  “I’m a police inspector, Dai, not a man of the cloth. Why are you telling me all this? I can’t absolve you of your sins. I can’t even charge you with trespassing, as you’re telling me the church wasn’t locked. If I look it up, I’ll probably find sacrilege is still on the statutes as a criminal offence. I could charge you if that would make you feel better.”

  “No, please don’t. My brother will skin me alive.” He lowered his head and stared at the floor.

  “What else?” prompted Tyler. “There’s more you’ve not told me.”

  Hughes’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m scared that Polly might have something to do with Shirley’s disappearance.”

  “What!”

  “There’s a part of Polly that’s a bit off, if you get my meaning. She tells everybody she’s a nurse, but she’s not. She admitted to me she got chucked out of nursing school ages ago. She was bitter about it. Anyway, she has a thing about babies. She told me she often felt tempted to make off with the infants. She usually considered the woman who’d given birth would be a dreadful mother and she would do better.”

  Tyler could feel himself growing cold. “Did she know Shirley McHattie?”

  Hughes nodded. “Polly met her one day at the market. She struck up an acquaintance with her. Shirley was lonely I think, and Polly didn’t know anybody here except me. They were like a couple of kids, writing secret letters to each other, having little rendezvous whenever they could.”

  “How did they get letters to each other?” Tyler asked, although he thought he already knew the answer.

  “They had a hiding place in the east wall. Polly would put a note behind the brick and Shirley would pick it up and then leave one for her.”

  So he’d been wrong about Shirley getting a message from her lover. It was Polly all along.

  “Do you think Polly has truly gone to Manchester to take care of her mother?”

  “She doesn’t have a mother in Manchester. Her ma died years ago.”

  “Where do you think Polly has gone?”

  Hughes bit his lip. “I’m afraid she might have lured Shirley to the church.”

  “She wants to take the baby?”

  “I think so.”

  “Good God. Where is this church?”

  “I’m not completely sure, look you. I borrowed the tandem, but it was so dark, and Polly was the one leading the way. All I can tell you is that it’s to the west of here. Maybe a quarter of a mile. It’s set back from the river in a field.”

  Tyler jumped to his feet. “Come on. We’ve got to find it. Now.”

  Hughes said softly, “I’m sorry, Inspector.”

  “Me too, lad. Let’s hope we’re not too late.”

  63.

  THE ORDERLY AT HIS HEELS, TYLER HURRIED OUT TO the front entrance to look for Constable Mortimer. She’d know where this church was if anybody would. She was standing at the west gate chatting with Constable Mady. Tyler gave them a quick précis of Hughes’s sordid story.

  “Do you know what church this might be? Old. Small. Norman probably.”

  “Yes, sir, I believe I do,” answered Mortimer. “It has to be St. Clement’s. I attended services there when I was a child, but it’s hardly used at all these days.”

  “I think Shirley got into a boat. There were gouge marks on the bank at the end of the footpath. Is it possible to access the church by way of the river?”

  “People did sometimes come in by boat when the road was impassable. There’s a private dock for that purpose.”

  Before Tyler could proceed further, Sister Rebecca came out of the house.

  “A Mr. Grey is on the telephone, Inspector. He says you have been trying to reach him.”

  “Damnation. Please tell him to hold on. I’ll be right there.” Tyler turned to the constables. “I’ve got to talk to this bloke. It’s urgent. Mortimer, I want you and Mady to proceed to the church. Use the motorcycle. For God’s sake, be careful. For now, I just want to know what’s going on. Don’t take any action unless you consider it a matter of life or death. Understood?”

  They both stared at him with round eyes. “Yes, sir,” said Constable Mortimer.

  “As soon as I’ve taken this call, I’ll follow. Constable Mortimer, give me directions.”

  “The church is about a quarter of a mile west of here. Go across Dinham Bridge and follow the road that runs beside the river on the castle side. You’ll pass a red barn, and about a hundred yards farther on, you’ll see a lane veering off to the right. There’s an old faded signpost that says, Church Lane. You can just make it out. The lane bends twice. You’ll see the church on your left as soon as you take the second bend. It’s in a little dip surrounded by a copse of trees; there’s a gravel lane leading up to it.”

  Tyler turned to the orderly. “Does that sound familiar, Hughes?”

  “Yes, sir. I do remember the river and the little lane. It was bumpy.”

  “Okay. Get back to the patients. I’m sure you’re needed. Keep your mouth closed. I don’t want anybody told anything at this point. Understood?”

  Hughes’s face was utterly miserable.

  “Yes, sir. Understood.”

  Tyler turned to the two constables. “Okay, go! When you get there, keep out of sight. This is strictly a scouting mission. Got that?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Mortimer. “I should say, however, that the church stands in the middle of a clearing, and it might be a problem to approach without being seen.”

  “Suggestions?”

  “It will be best to park at the bottom of the lane and walk up.”

  “Okay. Do that.”

  She set off towards the motorcycle with Mady trotting at her side. Tyler called after them, “Be careful.”

  He hurried to the office, Sister Rebecca behind him.

  “Sister, I’ll need to commandeer your car,” he said over his shoulder.

  “Of course. I’ll bring you the key.”

  She’d rested the receiver on the desk and he picked it up.

  “Hello, Tyler here.”

  Grey’s familiar mumble greeted him.

  “Tyler? ’Bout to hang up.”

  “Sorry, sir. I was outside.”

  “Yes, well, I apologize that I wasn’t available when you rang before. Business in London, don’t you know. Most disagreeable.”

  He didn’t elaborate as to whether it was London or the business that was the problem and Tyler had to bite his lip not to burst out impatiently. Grey continued.

  “You asked my assistant, Nesbitt, about the special training unit that is up in Scotland. You said you wanted names of the men who were based there since December last.”

  “That’s right, sir. There definitely seems to be a connection with the commando unit in Ariscraig and my case.”

  “Does there, indeed? Well, I followed up as best I could, but they’re a closed-mouthed bunch at the War Office.” Tyler heard him drawing on his ubiquitous pipe. “The first two chaps I got refused to open up until they’d consulted with another higher-up muckety-muck. Good thing probably, these days, but it can be aggravating. When I emphasized blind man, child, and nun, all killed, they got a move on. Finally I was connected with a chap by the name of Hubbins. Turns out we knew each other at Oxford, so I got clearance and we didn’t have to go through tiresome identity checks. I said I was trying to track down a commando, first name possibly Rudy, who had gone overseas in December on a special mission. He was a foreigner, but I didn’t know what sort. With me so far, Tyler?”

  “Yes, sir. With you.” And for God’s sake, hurry up.

  “I know I’m rambling, but I want you to get the whole story.”

  “Yes, sir. The rigmarole in high places is always fascinating.”

  “Don’t get sarcastic with me, Tyler, I’m not in the mood. I’m surprised I got that much i
nformation, with Göring’s boys interrupting us constantly.”

  “Sorry, sir. Didn’t mean to sound sarcastic. It’s just that I’m very concerned about the whereabouts of a young girl from here. She’s the daughter of the murdered man and she’s about to give birth. I think she’s been lured away.”

  “Good Lord. I’ll get to the point then.”

  “Thank you, sir. That would be helpful.”

  “Tyler! Well, anyway, Hubbie was as helpful as he was able. There was a special mission into occupied Europe right around the time you mentioned. Codename Operation Anthropoid. Where they come up with these names, beats me. Anyway, a handful of commandos were sent over, all trained at Ariscraig. They were Czech, and part of the manifest was to show Mr. Churchill the Czechs were onside and not eating out of Herr Heydrich’s paw. They were parachuted into Moravia in December for the express purpose of assassinating the blond butcher himself.”

  It was Tyler’s turn to draw in his breath. “Bloody hell. They succeeded. Big brouhaha in Nazi circles. Heydrich was buried with hero’s honours and all that.”

  “That’s right. Herr Hitler was most ticked off and ordered severe reprisals. As is his wont. Apparently, the Gestapo thought they had tracked down the assassins’ collaborators. Wrongly as it turned out, but they’re never too fussy about evidence. They descended on a nearby village and ordered every male over the age of sixteen to be shot.”

  This had to be the incident the letters referred to. The villagers being stood against a wall and shot. The devil referred to in the second letter, the one whose death might be worse than his reign, must be Heydrich.

  Tyler gritted his teeth, waiting for Grey to go on. He was not a man to be rushed.

  “After this bit of brutality, the local police, who were helping out, loaded the remaining women and children into lorries and took them off. The story we’ve got from one of our operatives in Prague is that the mothers and children were separated.” Grey paused to draw on his pipe. “Very nasty business, Tyler. Very nasty. According to our source, all but four of the children were gassed.”