I laughed. I couldn’t help it. It was part nervousness and part astonishment that he would even contemplate such a ridiculous plan.
His hand came up and I thought he was going to hit me, something he had never done, even in the midst of our most acrimonious battles. I raised my own hand to protect my face, so I didn’t see Dennis’ expression as he gave my shoulder a hard shove. I fell back into the bed of hostas.
My landing was painful. It turned out there was a rock under the broad green and white striped leaves of the hostas, one with a pointy top. My left buttock connected with it, and the pain caused me to fight down a sudden wave of nausea.
Good thing it was just my butt. I eased that region off the rock. By the time my stomach stopped doing flip-flops, Dennis was gone. I don’t know if he even waited until I hit the ground before disappearing.
I got to my feet and stood there for a minute. The pain seemed to be centralized in the muscle, and when I started walking, it didn’t extend into my hip or spine. I think I was suffering from slight shock, because when Caroline opened the kitchen door and let me inside, I went straight upstairs and climbed into my bed.
I huddled in a ball while my rear end throbbed. After a half hour, I decided to get up and find some aspirin. I didn’t think anything in my herb cupboard would help. As I slid off the bed, two pairs of eyes observed me from just inside the bedroom door.
“Why are you two here again? You know you’re not supposed to be upstairs. Away you go now.” Jacqueline and Rasputin had started to trail around behind me whenever I was in the house. I herded them out the door and followed after them.
“I’m sure both of you must be lonely. Caroline will have more time for you after this weekend. Just be patient. And stay off the furniture.”
I checked all three upstairs bathrooms. No aspirin. Maybe in the employees’ bathrooms, but I didn’t feel I could intrude, and Conklin and Caroline were not in the kitchen to ask their permission.
I had left my hat in the shade garden and went to retrieve it. Then, I focused my thoughts and gave myself some instructions. Stay out of the sun, avoid Aunt Bertilla and Dennis. Talk to Aunt Clem and Aunt Wisty. I needed to know which lady was paired off with which gentleman during the 1943 reunion.
And talk to the old warrior. He can tell you a thing or two.
CHAPTER 22
I waited, my heart thudding, but Leander did not speak further. I looked around at the greenery and into the leafy ceiling above my head. If Leander ever did appear in a wisp of fog, I would drop dead on the spot.
Rear end pulsing with pain, I climbed back over the snow fence and surveyed the front lawns from the corner of the house. Groups of elderly people had gathered in the shade of the pines, as far away from the facilities as possible. The majority were women, but one or two groups of men sat together having a great time, judging by the whoops and table slapping. It didn’t occur to me at the time to approach any of the women. My internal radar zeroed in on the men and I watched them for a minute or two.
I wondered if any of these men were discussing their war adventures as they talked and laughed. Not likely, since most veterans of the great conflicts did not appear to have enjoyed the experience. Just try and get granddad or great-uncle to tell you what he did during the war.
It was going to be tricky, digging information from someone who had spent a lifetime concealing his most terrible memories. On the other hand, I just wanted to know about that long-ago reunion, and didn’t plan on asking about actual war experiences.
Still, I had to choose the right person, and it would be best if he was alone. I stepped away from the house and walked through the hazy sunlight toward the pines, trying to pick out a suitable candidate.
Stopping beside Avalon, I watched one trio who looked like they were set for the day with coolers of beer and cell phones. Two of them were in shorts and tank tops, while the third was bundled in his navy wool blazer and long trousers. They all wore combat berets and looked overheated.
There didn’t seem to be anyone sitting alone, and I figured I would be spending most of the day lurking behind the outhouses. I kept my eye on the fun-loving trio.
Just when I was thinking of trying my luck under the tent by the gates, or perhaps among the recreational vehicles in the field, the gent in the cold-weather garb got up abruptly from his lawn chair and marched toward another group nearby. His set features and pursed mouth hinted that his conversation with his partners was upsetting or distasteful. Almost immediately, one of his companions wandered away down the drive.
The man left sitting alone was a wizened little soul who looked like he had been dipped in salt and left out in the sun too long. As I watched, he removed his beret and scratched a mottled bald head. The vacant chair beside him beckoned. I was afraid I couldn’t lower myself down that far, let alone plant my posterior in it.
As I hesitated, the door to Avalon swung open, hitting me in the butt. The pain caused white spots to fly across my vision and I clutched the nearest pine for support.
When the spots disappeared, I let go of the tree’s rough trunk and took a few steps away from the outhouse. A tingle between my shoulder blades propelled me toward the little man who was reaching for the beer can on his portable table. I caught his bright-eyed glance and realized he had witnessed the incident. I thought I detected a malicious bent to the gleam in his eye, but since he was the sole elderly man sitting by himself, I ignored it and limped over to the empty chair.
By the time I was seated, the sweat was trickling down my chest, not all of it from the heat. “Hello. I’m Lyris Pembrooke and I live here at Hammersleigh now.”
“I know you. I heard you’re taking over from Patrick.” His bright glance slid over me, but it was assessing rather than lascivious, I preferred to think. “My name’s Bert Pembrooke. You’ve grown into a fine-looking woman. A bit skinny, but that’s the fashion nowadays it seems. You were a right nuisance when you were a young one, I remember”
I crossed my legs, then immediately regretted it. Easing my weight off the left side of my body helped a little, but I felt that shivery-spine thing that happens sometimes when you’ve injured yourself.
“Well, Mr. Pembrooke, I hope you’re enjoying the reunion so far. Don’t forget to come for the official picture tomorrow morning. We want to make sure everyone’s in it.”
“I’ll be there. I’m staying in Billy’s camper.” He looked over at the man who had left so suddenly and was pointedly not looking our way. “He’s mad right now, just because I said he stinks at bridge, which he does. He’ll get over it. And Arnie there takes it in his head to be someplace else. He’s getting old. Anyway, you can call me Gunner, although I think I’m your uncle or cousin or something. Because I was a tail gunner in the war, did you know that?”
“No, I didn’t. Just what does a tail gunner do? Were you in the infantry?”
He appraised me like he expected a second head to pop up beside the first. “You don’t know much about the war, do you, Missy?”
“Not really, I’m afraid. Will you tell me about it, about your part?” Well, there I went asking about war experiences, when I had promised myself I wouldn’t.
“Not much point. You young people aren’t interested in what happened to us then. Once we’re all dead, and that won’t be long now, nobody will remember the war or what really happened.”
“There are history books. We studied the Second World War in high school.”
“History books.” He spat into the grass near my feet. I yanked them under my chair, causing another wave of pain to radiate down my leg.
He leaned closer. “I’ll tell you what a gunner is. I sat in the back of a Lancaster bomber and operated the gun. I shot at the enemy, Missy, and got a few of them too.”
“I see. That sounds dangerous, Gunner. Were you ever wounded?”
Gunner reached out and wrapped a tiny, gnarled hand around my wrist. “I was shot down once. Lucky for me it was over France, in the country. I para
chuted out and landed in a ravine. Some resistance found me and I got back to my company.”
“I’m sure there was more to it than that, Gunner. Did the resistance have to hide you from the Germans? How long did it take you to find your company?”
He released me and leaned away. “No need for you to know all that. It’s over and done with. It’s not seemly for a young lady to know about the things we had to do to survive.”
Although I had started this conversation with Gunner in hopes of leading up to the 1943 reunion, I felt some frustration in his refusal to talk about the war. I wasn’t so naïve that I didn’t realize there was much the history books didn’t tell us, so much we needed to know from these former soldiers before it was too late.
“As you say, Gunner, pretty soon there will be no one left to tell about it. Don’t you think it’s your responsibility to make sure your experiences, even the bad ones, are remembered by the following generations?”
He hitched his lawn chair back a few inches and looked across the expanse of Hammersleigh’s vast lawns. I felt him withdrawing his memories from me.
“Gunner?” I shook his arm until his eyes returned to me and I saw awareness in his face again.
“Gunner, were you here in 1943 for the reunion? During the War?”
“I know when 1943 was, Missy. Do you think I’m senile or something? And of course I was here. I may not remember all the reunions, but I sure won’t forget that one.”
“Did you hear that I found little Tommy’s body in the house”?
“I heard.” He looked angry. “Poor little tyke. Funny thing, I remember him running around that first day, getting into everything. Some young girls were looking after him. There was no sign of his mama. Under the weather or something, I guess. It was real hot that summer, kind of like this one. Usually I don’t feel the heat any more, but it sure is hot now. Just like it was back then.”
Looking uneasy, Gunner lifted the neglected beer can to his thin lips. I needed to think of some questions that wouldn’t shut him down for good.
“I don’t suppose you remember who was staying in the house at the time?”
This time the scorn was unmistakable. “You’re a ninny, aren’t you?”
There didn’t seem to be a safe answer to that, so I waited.
“When you get to be my age, Missy, you’ll find out that you can remember what happened sixty years ago better than yesterday.”
“So you do remember who was in the house then?”
“Missy, you deaf or something? I said I remember just fine.” His voice carried across the still air. The people sitting nearest to us looked our way.
“Well, who was in the house, if you remember so well?” I was raised to respect my elders, but Gunner was pushing it.
“Why do you want to know?” A cunning expression crossed his face. He took another swig of beer, and on finding the can empty, expertly popped the tab on another from the cooler at his side.
I suspected Gunner was drunk, not just suffering from age-related irascibility.
I modulated my voice. “Since I found the body, I feel a responsibility to find out what happened. I believe Tommy needs us to know why he died.”
“Huh. Don’t know about that. Sometimes it’s best to leave the past alone. The truth can hurt people, you know. Or maybe you don’t know, you’re such a ninny.”
For a brief moment, I thought about screaming. Or crying. Or maybe drowning the old coot in his cooler of melting ice. I decided to try another approach instead.
Extending my leg to try and ease the pain, I said in a casual tone, “I guess you don’t remember the 1943 reunion after all, Gunner. Don’t worry, that’s to be expected at your age. I’ll find someone a bit younger and ask him.”
Gunner had been gazing at my leg, but at this statement, his head snapped up and he squeezed his beer can in one gnarled fist. He almost dented it too.
“I remember everything about that weekend. Don’t try playing games with me, Missy. Since you’re such a nosy parker, I might just tell you a thing or two you don’t want to hear.”
“Go ahead, try me,” I challenged. “First of all, who was in the house, how many people I mean?”
“Who do you think? Wisty, Clem, Patrick and that friend of Patrick’s. I don’t remember his name, but I will in a minute.”
I supplied the name. “Bruce Wingate. So there were just the four of them?”
“The baby, too, of course.”
“And that’s all?”
He wore a crafty look now. “Why, do you think there was more?”
There seemed to be no point in keeping my suspicions secret from Gunner, or anybody. I was pretty sure that most Pembrookes over the age of eighty already knew how many souls were staying at Hammersleigh House that weekend. It was even possible there was an unspoken conspiracy to ensure that particular family secret died with their generation.
“I think Thomas Pembrooke, Wisty’s husband, was here. I don’t know for how long or what happened to him. Maybe he went back overseas to the War for a time. But I know his body is buried at the edge of the cemetery and there is no official record of it at the funeral home.”
“Well, you don’t know everything, Missy. Thomas never left here…” He stopped in midsentence, perhaps aware of his imprudent words.
“I guess maybe I’ll have to ask somebody else.” I looked around me at the many seniors seated nearby, some of the men with berets similar to Gunner’s, some with medals pinned to their light blazers or checked shirts.
Gunner pointed a shaky finger at me. “You quit upsetting people. What happened to Thomas and his little boy was a long time ago. There’s still people who can be hurt by your nosy questions.”
Sure, I felt like a bully. But something spurred me on nonetheless. Not Leander, just a sense that it was important for the truth to be known, maybe for Tommy who had died much too soon, and who had to wait more than sixty years for a peaceful grave among his family. Or maybe there was some other reason.
“If you tell me what you know, I won’t have to bother anybody else,” I said with ironclad logic.
“I only know what I heard, and the rest I guessed for myself.”
“Didn’t you see Thomas at all?”
“I thought I did, once. It was out back of the house.” He looked at me, accusation in his eyes. “There wasn’t a fence put up to keep us out back then.”
I shrugged and waited for him to continue.
“I was under those maple trees, trying to cool off. They weren’t so big back then. Had a nice little second cousin to keep me company, too.” He waited for a reaction and I rolled my eyes obligingly. Gunner was probably his own second cousin.
“A man came out of the back door, kitchen I think, and stood in the sun for a while. He looked around like he didn’t know where he was, then went back in. I thought it was that Wingate person at first, but later when I heard the stories, I figured it was Thomas himself. I didn’t see him too clear.”
“Then what?”
“Then nothing until the next morning, Sunday. Then Patrick came out of the house and said the little boy was missing, and a statue or something was gone too. The police came and organized a search of the woods and fields around the house, but nobody ever saw the boy again. Not until last week, that is.”
Gunner seemed to be tiring. We sat in silence for several minutes before he spoke again.
“Some of us were late getting back to our outfits. Got in a lot of trouble because of it too. We were here until Monday evening, searching. They said a thief got into the house during the night and did something to the boy to keep him quiet.”
“Didn’t you hear anything after that? When the war was over and you were here again for another reunion.”
“We talked. We heard things. The chief of police’s brother-in-law or some such started telling people that Thomas was here and that he died somehow right after. It was said that he had something to do with his boy’s disappearance, but nobody kne
w for sure.”
“What was he like? Thomas, I mean.”
“Thomas? Thomas was a fine man. He was older than some of us, but that didn’t stop him joining up. He’d been a captain in the previous war, so they were glad to get him back.”
“But what was he like as a person?”
“I told you. You are deaf, aren’t you? He was a hard man, but a good man. He took good care of Wisty and was right fond of that little boy. He was proud as punch when he was born. Said he had to help restore the world to its proper order so his son could grow up safe.”
“Were any of the others paired up at the reunion before Thomas came? Was there anything going on that Thomas’s sudden appearance at the house interrupted?”
I had gone too far.
Gunner gazed past me. “Did you know some wood parts for the Mosquito fighters were made right here in Blackshore at the furniture factory? I often thought about that, back then. When I was over there.” He popped another beer tab and closed his eyes.
They opened again and this time there was a malicious gleam there. “I have to have an operation, did you know that?”
“I’m sorry. I hope it isn’t too serious.”
“It’s a hernia. The size of your head. Do you want to see it?” He pulled his shirt out from his shorts.
“No. Thanks. I’ll take your word for it.”
I slunk away like the ninny I was, hearing his delighted cackle behind me. During the half hour I had been sitting there with Gunner, my leg and hip had seized up. I had to force myself to keep walking as I crossed the grass and reached the circular bricked driveway.
The sun beat down without mercy, and a flickering haze rose from the bricks, obscuring the house. I looked upward at the widow’s walk, barely visible from this angle. Danger in a high place. Aunt Clem’s guide had struggled through the cosmic curtain with that cryptic warning.
The bright sunlight was making my eyes water and I started to look away, but a slight movement on the widow’s walk caught my attention. A figure was bending over the railing, watching the grounds. Bright hair glinted in the sun, but the rest was just a shadow.
Cheat the Hangman Page 22
