by John Gardner
Within a couple of minutes Dennis and Peter had heard enough, they separated the pair and arrested both of them, at which point each went silent, refusing to answer questions.
When Tommy arrived he sorted out what he could and charged them jointly with the murders of Jenny and Paul Ascoli and Fillipo Ascoli.
‘That’s what happened? Max killed his brother and his wife and child?’
‘Not certain yet,’ Tommy said. ‘Suspect it was neatly set up and I have doubts about Max killing his own child. We won’t know everything for some time, if ever, but my guess, heart, is that Max had Pip in the house against the day when he could set him loose to prowl around without taking any medication. Like so many patients, Pip was controlled by a balancing act of drugs. Don’t forget that people in the village saw him regularly for a while, going about seemingly quite normally.
‘That didn’t seem to last for long though. After the end of 1940 there are no reports of people seeing Pip in the village. I suspect he was kept to the house and the garden at Knights Cottage. You must have noticed the way the whole of that garden is protected — the wall at the end and the trees and fences around the rest of the property. The story about Piglet romping in Mr Raines’s field, that was only when the door in the brick wall had been “accidentally left open”.
‘No, I believe he purposely allowed Pip to deal with Jenny and Paul; even let him dress in Max’s old clothes, and finally shot him in the hall, they were not unalike, Pip and Max. I didn’t begin to suspect it until quite late on, and I still can’t work out how Max programmed him to blast their faces off — a most necessary part of the whole thing.’
‘And Paula? Did she not know…?’
‘About Pip? Obviously not. Those two couldn’t really live without each other and I suspect they found it difficult to live with each other, if ever there were star-crossed lovers, drawn back to each other again and again. Unable to resist the magnetic pull. I suspect they emotionally plundered each other. Drank each other dry. He probably gave her some cock and bull story about who the man was — dead in his hall.’
It was going to be an interesting investigation over the next few weeks. In the end Paula became a prosecution witness and then backed out at the last moment, and there were many questions never answered. In the years to come, Tommy thought much would be unearthed about the Ascoli family in Italy; and that Max’s final Machiavellian plan, to free himself from one family and continue with the other, had all the cunning of a great Italian plot.
‘The only thing I can’t understand, heart, is how Max kept up the facade for so long and was able to put up with Jenny, who turned out to be a real harpy.’
‘You brought up John Goodman’s name when we were all in “River Walk”…’
‘Smoke and mirrors, heart. Smoke and mirrors.’ His terrible smile once more.
*
Molly had left explicit instructions for the disposal of her body: wanted it buried with Christian rites near to where she was at the time of her death.
They buried her in the graveyard of the Church of St Mary Magdalene, Long Tadd-marten, on a rainy Thursday in September. Suzie remarked at the time that there seemed to be a sea of umbrellas around the grave, stretching to the edges of the churchyard and even out through the lychgate.
Early in January 1943, Tommy and Suzie returned to see the gravestone they had ordered. It was a simple marble stone with the inscription:
WOMAN POLICE SERGEANT
MOLLY ABELARD
WHO DIED IN THIS VILLAGE ON ACTIVE DUTY
AUGUST 1942
REQUIESCAT IN PACE
Golly Goldfinch is buried nearby in an unmarked grave.
On that visit, Tommy and Suzie did not stay at the Falcon Inn, but at a nearby hotel on the recommendation of Eric Tait with whom Tommy had made his peace.
As Suzie was sitting at the dressing table in their room, preparing to go down to dinner on the Saturday night, Tommy came up behind her, put his hands on her shoulders and asked when she was going to make an honest man out of him. They hadn’t mentioned the subject since the end of the Ascoli case.
‘When’re you going to marry me, heart?’ Tommy said, and Suzie looked at him in the mirror, standing behind her.
She had a moment of inspiration. ‘Tommy, about the Ascolis: why did King Edward VII arrange for them to become British citizens without any fuss? Why would he do that?’
‘One of the great mysteries, heart. Haven’t a clue.’ Count of six. ‘Heart, when’re you going to marry me?’
She felt the old sinking feeling. ‘Well Tommy…’ she began, desperately searching for excuses.
Author’s Note
This is the third book in the series following a young woman detective sergeant, Suzie Mountford, through World War II, and we have now reached 1942. The first all-American air attack on occupied Europe took place on 17th August of that year. Twelve B17 Flying Fortresses bombed the railway marshalling yards at Rouen, escorted by a gaggle of RAF Spitfire IXs. No aircraft from 302nd Bomber Squadron, 33rd Bombardment Group, 8th USAAF took part in that attack because none existed: there was no 302nd Squadron and no 33rd Group in the 8th USAAF at that time.
No aircraft flew from a base at Long Tadd-marten fifteen miles or so from King’s Lynn, because Long Taddmarten does not exist.
The brave men who were the crew of Wild Angel did not exist either. If I have accidentally used names of people who were members of the 8th USAAF I apologize: all mine are fictitious, as are the police officers working in Norfolk, and those depicted as coming from Scotland Yard.
However, events on board Wild Angel are drawn from the published reminiscences of officers and men of the 8th USAAF.
Also, while I know the first raid took place on the date above, other raids have been scheduled at random — the targets were targets but maybe not on the days I assign them.
The thing that is real is the spirit of the times.
John Gardner
