Season of Darkness

by Maureen Jennings

  The three of them went into the shop.

  “I’ll wait in the back,” said Tyler.

  Lambeth’s living quarters were directly behind the shop on the ground floor. The main living room smelled of tobacco and meat. It was messy and looked as if it hadn’t had a good dusting for some time. Vera was always offering to clean for her father, but he refused. “Had enough of women sticking their noses into my affairs,” he’d muttered to Tyler one day. There were newspapers and plates with congealing food on them, several cups with the dregs of his tea ringing the bottom. Tyler thought if any of Lambeth’s customers saw how he lived, they might think twice about buying here.

  He looked around. He suspected his father-in-law wouldn’t be that imaginative in terms of hiding places, and he was right. There was a rolltop desk in the corner of the room. He pulled open the top drawer. Underneath a magazine with a nude girl on the front cuddling up to a tractor was a school notebook. He took it out and leafed through it. Lambeth had a list of about thirty private customers. What they received and what they paid for was meticulously recorded. All of them were getting meat way beyond what they were entitled to, and each paid handsomely. Bloody old hypocrite.

  He heard the bell on the outside door tinkle, and Mrs. Pound called out a goodbye. He closed the drawer but kept hold of the notebook. Lambeth pushed through the curtain that separated the store from the sitting room. He saw immediately what the situation was and, rather to Tyler’s surprise, didn’t bluster or try to get out of it.

  “I see you found what you were looking for, son. I hope you ain’t going to get all righteous with me. The way I see it, I ain’t doing anybody harm. I get a bit of extra money for the family and folks get a bit of extra meat. All’s fair in love and war, as they say.”

  “Do they? They also say you could be charged with profiteering and dealing with the black market.”

  Lambeth shrugged. “It don’t really be worth it. Them folks are all going to deny paying me. They’ll just say I gave them a gift of a leg of mutton, or a pork chop, out of the goodness of my heart. And I’ll say the same. I received more meat than I could sell and passed it on. As long as money doesn’t change hands, what we’re doing ain’t illegal.”

  Tyler practically shouted at him. “Yes, it is! Everybody in the bloody country is supposed to be on rations. Rich or poor. They have to show you their ration book and you have to take out the coupons. Not to do that is against the law. There isn’t a judge in the country who would buy that crock of shit you just handed me.”

  Lambeth fished in his pocket and took out his pipe. He proceeded to light it, and it irritated Tyler even more to see his hands were quite steady. “What are you going to do, then, son? We don’t want a scandal, do we? Won’t do anybody any good if word gets out that my own son-in-law is prosecuting me.”

  Tyler slapped the book into his hand. “First off, we’re going to lose this little list, Walter. No more favours. These people will get their regular rations and no more. Secondly, I want to know who’s been supplying you with extra goods.”

  “Lots of folks. If you think people are going to live by the rules when they can get a bit of extra for their family, you’re dreaming.”

  “Let’s put it this way. If you don’t give me their names, I’ll go straight to Percy Somerville, give him this notebook, and explain what you’ve been up to.”

  Lambeth laughed. “He won’t like that. He enjoys the occasional extra roast, does the magistrate. He just thinks his dear old mum goes without, I suppose. Don’t ask questions if you don’t want the real answers.”

  Tyler took a step closer. “I’ll say it one more time, Walter. Give me the names of your suppliers. I’m going to have a word with them and you will close up your operation. Do I make myself understood?”

  Lambeth glared at him. “Don’t be such a wanker, Tom. You’ll feel it if I close down.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean Vera has been keeping you comfortable for a while now. Didn’t you notice?”

  Tyler hadn’t noticed, and he felt angry with himself. Vera ran the house and he had chosen to think she was a good manager. He advanced so his father-in-law’s face was only a few inches from his own.

  “Suppliers, Walter. Now!”

  Lambeth shrugged. “I’ve got four steady and a few others occasional. Ewen Morgan is a regular, mostly for beef; Bill Wardell the same; Arthur Trimble and me exchange eggs and chicken; Syd Newstead brings me pork. Satisfied? You’ll not be able to suppress, it you know. They’ll find other ways and means.”

  “Not if I have anything to do with it. When do you work this little operation?”

  Lambeth shrugged. “Whenever’s practical.”

  All of the men he mentioned had registered their vehicles, but according to Constables Eagleton and Collis, only two of them could account for their whereabouts on Thursday morning. Ewen Morgan and Bill Wardell. Tyler knew Syd Newstead, who was another old farmer like Morgan. He’d already spoken to Trimble.

  Tyler contemplated his father-in-law. “Tell me, Walter, was anybody bringing you a delivery on Thursday morning, early? Say before six?”

  “I’ll have to think. One day’s much like another.”

  “Let me make this a bit more distinctive for you, Walter. Thursday was the day when a young girl in the prime of her life was brutally murdered on the Heath Road. Somebody driving a car, or a vehicle of some kind, knocked her off her bike.”

  Lambeth drew on his pipe. “I know what you’re getting at, but these are all respectable men. They wouldn’t have anything to do with that tart. If you ask me, you need to be looking into that sports car—”

  “Let me decide that, will you, Walter? Who came by here on Thursday?”

  “No one that I recall.”

  Tyler crammed the notebook into his pocket. “I’ll call on these folks. Don’t worry, I’ll be tactful, just scare the shite out of them … By the way, Walter, our Janet doesn’t want to come back and work for you. She’s had a terrible shock and I don’t think she can handle it. Vera says she must come back, but I know she’ll listen to you. You agree with me, don’t you, that Janet’s nerves are too bad for her to continue here?”

  “And if I do agree with you, what then?” Lambeth’s expression was sullen.

  “I want you to persuade Vera that under no circumstances do you want Janet back here. Let’s all start fresh, shall we.”

  “No charges?”

  “Not just now. I’ll see this as a first offence born of ignorance. And it won’t happen again, will it?”

  Lambeth knocked out his pipe on his boot. “Thursday morning I’d got up to take a leak, when I heard this car came roaring down the road. I looked out of the window and saw the MG.”

  “It was dark at that hour; how did you know it was an MG?”

  “Because the lights were low slung. There ain’t any other sports cars in the area.”

  “Did you see if Mrs. Devereau herself was driving?”

  “Didn’t need to. It were her all right. Who else’d it be?”

  “Was the top up or down?”

  “Up. But it was her, I tell you. She was heading for the Heath Road.”

  “How do you know that? The car must have been past in a second. It could have been going anywhere.”

  “Don’t be stupid, Tom. There’s only two turnoffs from Main Street. Alkington and Heath Road, otherwise you’re on your way out of town. She’s staying at Beeton Manor by all accounts. That’s where she’d be going.” He glanced slyly at Tyler. “Don’t know where she was coming from, mind.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  Lambeth growled. “It slipped my mind.”

  Tyler knew that wasn’t true. Lambeth hadn’t told him because he’d have to explain why he was up so early. He was probably waiting outside by the laneway for his next delivery. He could have seen the car from there. So which was it? Clare snug in bed with the alarm clock at that hour, or Clare in her flat after
a hard night of work with Grey, or Clare driving her car in the early morning hours heading for the Heath Road … and Elsie Bates?

  “Is there anybody else who could verify your statement, Walter?”

  “Just me. And her of course. If you ask her, she’ll tell you. At least I assume she will.”

  Tyler got the innuendo. “I’ll follow up on what you’ve told me.”

  “Enjoy yourself,” said Lambeth ambiguously.

  51.

  TYLER WENT STRAIGHT BACK TO THE STATION. WHAT now? According to Mr. Grey of MI5, it was against the interests of national security to pursue the killers of the two girls. The country would collapse and be overrun by Nazis who would destroy English culture for the next five hundred years. Bollocks. Wasn’t this war about defending the rule of law against the rule of anarchy? He lit a cigarette. Reluctantly, he decided he did have to go along with Grey’s request for now. In spite of his tendency to be rebellious against stiff-necked authority, Tyler was no fool. Perhaps the fellow did have a bigger picture in mind that he himself was ignorant of. However, that shouldn’t stop him from pursuing his own very discreet enquiries.

  He went into the front hall.

  “Where’s young Eager?” he asked Gough.

  “He’s in the back, sir, having a cuppa.”

  “Bloody hell. Are we running a rest home?” He bellowed in the general direction of the duty room. “Eager, get your arse out here.” He didn’t wait but turned on his heel. “Tell him I’m in the car park.”

  The first crank was useless and Tyler kicked the tire in exasperation. Eagleton came over to him, buttoning his jacket.

  “Sorry, sir, I heard you wanted me.”

  Tyler stepped back. “Can you make this bloody machine turn over? It’s got a mind of its own where I’m concerned. It hates me and delights in making my life miserable.”

  “You have to be a bit more gentle, sir. Steady, not too hard and fast, just brisk and masterful. It’ll surrender and be purring away in no time.”

  Tyler grinned at him. “Sounds like you’re talking about a woman, Eager. Is that the voice of experience I hear?”

  The constable blushed. “No, sir. Just with cars.” He got to his task right away. He only had to crank a couple of times before the engine coughed into life. Tyler got in. “Go and get your bike.”

  Eagleton ran over to the shed, retrieved his bicycle, and fastened it to the rack on the boot. Tyler barely waited until he was inside before accelerating out of the car park. He turned onto Main Street, going as fast as he dared and the Humber could manage. Fortunately, there were only one or two people out. All the shops were closed on Sunday, and with nothing to draw them, the residents of the town were at home with their roast dinner, if they had one, listening to the latest bad news on the wireless.

  Tyler got the car out of the town before he spoke. “There are two people I want you to talk to. Syd Newstead and Arthur Trimble. One of them, or both, may have been delivering black market goods to Lambeth’s butcher shop on Thursday morning. Trimble says he was in the barn at that time. See if he can produce any witnesses. Same with Newstead. He lives in Ash Magna, so if he was coming from Main Street, he would probably turn off at the Heath Road.”

  “He’s an old fellow, isn’t he, sir? I can’t see him killing a young girl in cold blood.”

  “Frankly, neither can I, but we have to rule him out.”

  “Beg pardon, sir, but I thought we were supposed to lie low with this investigation, sir. In the interests of national security?”

  “We are. We’re simply going on a scouting mission.” He patted the constable’s arm. “I know how clever you are, Eager, but they don’t. Arrogant sods like Arthur Trimble can be lulled into dropping their guard if they think you’re a fool. See if you can get him to say where he was on Thursday evening about seven.”

  “Yes, sir.” Eagleton looked pleased at being given so important a task. “Excuse me, sir, but Mr. Lambeth is your father-in-law, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean my exemplary character has rubbed off on him. He’s been trading in the black market.”

  “Sorry to hear that, sir.”

  “Not half as sorry as I am, Eager.” Tyler stuck to the middle of the narrow road, trusting he’d have time to pull over if another vehicle came along. “I’ve closed him down for now, but we’re going to keep a closer eye on him than a dog watching a rabbit.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “While you chase up the yokels, I’m going to talk to Mrs. Devereau.”

  Startled, Eagleton looked over at him. “Is she a suspect, sir?”

  “No, of course not, but she might have witnessed something that could help us. Her flat is above the former stables and who knows, she may have heard or seen something. Trimble for instance.”

  “I saw her in town last Wednesday. She’s quite a swell, isn’t she?”

  “She is that.”

  Tyler wondered if he was fooling his shrewd young constable for one minute. “While you’re talking to Trimble, keep your eyes open for any twine on the premises. It’s common as muck but if he has some lying around, I’m going to sit on that slimy sod until he howls, national security or not.”

  They drove on for a while in silence until they reached the lane that led to Beeton Manor. Tyler pulled up in front of the house.

  “Trimble has a cottage just down the path. He might be there; he might be working on the estate. I’ll meet you back at the station.”

  “When would that be, sir?”

  “God help me, I don’t know, Eager. Whenever I’ve done what I’ve got to do.”

  “Yes, sir.” He got out of the car and collected his bicycle.

  The windows of the flat were all open and he could hear the sound of a wireless. It sounded like George Formby was plucking his ukulele. Tyler liked George and felt absurdly glad that Clare might like him too. He was the working bloke’s entertainer. Tyler climbed the stairs and knocked on the door. His heart was beating faster but he couldn’t do anything about it. She opened right away and gave him a warm smile that melted the tension building in his stomach.

  “Tom, I thought we were getting together tonight? Come in.”

  She stepped forward, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him. Then she leaned away and scrutinized his face. “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you’re regretting already?”

  “No, of course not. Nothing like that, but I need to talk to you.”

  “Oh dear. Let’s go to the living room. I’ve just made some lemonade. Not as good as we got at the camp, but decent enough. Would you like some?”

  “Love it.”

  He followed her down the long passageway. The screen to the bedroom was moved aside and he could see her unmade bed. She was wearing the white cotton top and khaki shorts. Once again, he was aware that the clothes fit loosely on her frame. She was too thin.

  She poured his glass of lemonade, took it to the couch, and sat beside him. “I was afraid you’d regret everything and wouldn’t want to see me again.”

  It had never occurred to him that Clare might be insecure after their coming together, but he saw that she was.

  “I think I’ve fallen in love with you all over again,” she whispered.

  At another time, those words would have filled him with ecstasy.

  He put down his glass on the table. “Clare, I have to talk to you regarding Elsie Bates.”

  He saw her unguarded expression of fear.

  “I gather this is as Inspector Tyler, policeman?”

  “I suppose you could put it that way. I’m sorry but it’s something I couldn’t ignore.”

  She shifted slightly away from him on the couch.

  “I had a visit from Mr. Grey, the big hugga mugga from the security service,” continued Tyler. “He told me something rather, shall we say, unexpected. He said you were working for MI5.”

  “Oh God, Tom. That’s all supposed to be completely hush-hush. Why on earth did he tell you that?”


  “He was very anxious to provide you with an alibi for the time when we know that Elsie was killed.”

  She frowned. “I don’t know what you mean by ‘anxious to provide me with an alibi.’ ”

  “He says you were working overtime. That you were here in your flat and he fell asleep. You both had breakfast at seven and he left to go back to Whitchurch. You told me you were in bed contemplating throwing the alarm clock at the wall at six o’clock. Which is it?”

  Clare shrugged. “Both things. Grey was here. We had a lot of translating and transcribing to do. He fell asleep on my couch so I let him stay. He always looks exhausted. My alarm did go off at a quarter to six and I did think of throwing it out of the window.”

  “Right. So you told me half of the facts?”

  “Yes. Clearly, I couldn’t tell what I was doing with Grey.”

  Tyler couldn’t resist going one step further. Although even as he did, he knew it was ridiculous. “He also insinuated you were together all night having it off in rhapsody until dawn tiptoed over the misty mountain tops.”

  She stared at him incredulously. “He told you we were having a sexual relationship?”

  “He implied you were.”

  She banged her hand on her forehead. “Men! You let your imagination run away with you, Tom. Did you honestly think I would sleep with somebody like Grey?”

  “Frankly, no. But that could just have been my own basic conceit. He didn’t get his leg over?”

  “Please! Grey and I have a purely business relationship.”

  “He didn’t even try?”

  “No. He did not.”

  Tyler took out his cigarette case. “He certainly considers you a valuable agent. One who must be protected at all costs, even if it means feeding the police false information … because he was lying, wasn’t he, Clare? I happen to know that you weren’t here tucked up in your bed until morning. Your car was seen much earlier in Whitchurch, driving along Main Street at about a quarter to six.”

  “That’s ridiculous, Tom. It must have been somebody else.”