“But most likely at the Macclesby farm,” Elizabeth said dryly, “considering that’s where the victim lived and had presumably arrived home late that night. Not to mention she was heard arguing with someone there. I should think that would be fairly obvious.”
George looked offended. “Naturally I conducted a search of the premises, and there were several tools in the vicinity. None of which appeared to have been used as a murder weapon.”
Elizabeth didn’t answer. She was remembering Maisie’s missing spade that turned up later in the toolshed. If Amelia was killed at the Macclesby farm, it appeared more and more as if Maurice might be involved. On the other hand, there were also the questions of who had kept Amelia company on her last evening on earth and where she had spent her final hours.
“None of the tools I looked at,” George said, “had any signs of damage or bloodstains. That doesn’t mean the Nazi didn’t take it with him, to keep as a weapon. Then again, he could have found it anywhere. Then again, we don’t know for certain that the young lady was killed at the Macclesby farm.”
Elizabeth glanced at the large clock above George’s head. If she was going to talk Rita Crumm out of her foolhardy expedition, she had to leave now. Since both George and Sid seemed convinced the German pilot had committed the murder, there was no point in wasting her time or theirs until she had more information. In the meantime, she had a group of imprudent housewives to save.
“Well, I’ll pop in tomorrow to see if you have any more news,” she said, rising from her chair. “In the meantime, I’d appreciate it if you would call me if there are any further developments. My housemaid has to cycle home past those woods. I’d like to know when the German is captured so that I no longer have to be concerned for her safety.”
“I’ll be sure that you get the message, m’m,” George said, stumbling to his feet. “Thank you for stopping by.”
“Not at all, George. Thank you for answering my questions.”
“Yes, well, you can thank Sid for most of that.” The unfortunate Sid received another baleful glare. “Oh, I almost forgot. The victim’s parents are driving down today to claim the body. I thought you’d want to know.”
“Thank you, George. I trust you can take care of that?”
“Of course, m’m. No need to worry on that account. Just one word of warning, though, if I may. I’d steer clear of Mrs. Crumm and her brood. Never know what she’ll be up to next, but one thing I do know, she’s quite capable of taking care of herself.”
“I’m sure she is,” Elizabeth said as she headed for the door, “but it’s not Rita I’m worried about. It’s all those empty-headed, trusting fools who plunge joyfully into jeopardy behind her.”
She left the warmth of the station and climbed aboard her motorcycle. Although the rain had ceased, she could feel a distinct nip in the air. The smell of dried grass and corn stubble had given way to the pungent aroma of seaweed and salt. The winds had shifted. Soon the nights would be drawing in, and morning frost would coat the bare branches of the oaks and beech trees in the woods. Already the prickly burrs were falling from the chestnut trees, and the children would be gathering them to roast in the fireplaces.
Elizabeth secured her hat by tying her scarf under her chin. She hoped fervently that mothers would make every effort to keep their children out of the woods until the German was captured and the murder solved. Time was of the essence, and it seemed unlikely she would receive much help from the local constabulary.
There wasn’t much she could do about capturing the German pilot, she acknowledged, as she sailed down the High Street with her skirt tucked up beneath her as much as modesty allowed. But she had managed to solve one murder without too much help from the police. There was no reason why she couldn’t do it again.
She arrived at the village green just as Rita Crumm climbed up on the small pavilion, prepared to address her enthusiastic, if misguided, band of followers.
The roar of Elizabeth’s motorcycle momentarily distracted the excited group, and several women turned to wave at her as she coasted to a halt.
Obviously put out by this unwarranted interruption, Rita screeched at the top of her lungs, “Ladies! Pay attention! We are here to serve our country today. So please stop nattering like magpies and listen to me.”
Chatting busily, the women ignored her.
Elizabeth cut the engine, and in the deafening silence that followed, Rita bellowed, “I said, will you bloody fools listen to me!”
The women stopped talking. A couple of them giggled and were immediately nudged into silence by others.
“That’s better.” Rita tossed her head, and the little tight curls on her forehead bounced up and down. “This is serious. If we are going to hunt down a German we have to do it”-she raised her voice and yelled-“ quietly.”
“You tell ’em, Ma!” a high-pitched voice encouraged from the front of the crowd.
Elizabeth recognized Rita’s daughter, Lilly, who had apparently taken a day off from the factory to join in the hunt. The stupidity of this woman in placing her own child in jeopardy astounded Elizabeth. Rita, however, seemed just as shocked to see her daughter standing there.
“Why aren’t you at work?” she demanded.
“I’ve come to help you find that murdering bugger, haven’t I,” Lilly declared in a close emulation of her mother’s strident voice.
“Over my dead body,” Rita snapped back. “You get your blinking arse back to work this minute. I never heard of such a thing, taking off like that. You could lose your job over this.”
“I wish.” Lilly stuck her fingers into her muddy blond hair and fluffed up the curls. “They’re not going to sack me, Ma… they need all the help they can get down there.”
“I don’t care if they sack you or not. You’re going back there this minute.”
“Aw, Ma… I want to help you find that Nazi. I even brought a knife with me.”
Sunlight glinted on the blade of a wicked-looking butcher knife in Lilly’s hand. A woman standing close to the young girl screamed.
“Shut up, you silly cow,” Lilly muttered.
“You tell her, Lil,” someone else called out.
Rita’s face had turned crimson. “This is a job for grown women,” she howled, “not children! Go back to work, Lilly, or I’ll lock you in your bedroom when I get home.”
“I’m not a child!” Lilly yelled back. “I’m seventeen. If I’m old enough to die from a bomb falling on me, I’m old enough to hunt down the bugger what’s dropping them, so there!”
“Here, here! Yay!” The women clapped and cheered.
“Let’s find the bugger and kill him!” someone else called out.
A roar of approval went up from the crowd.
Deciding it was time she intervened, Elizabeth stepped forward. A path miraculously cleared through the crowd in front of her. Amid murmured greetings, which she acknowledged with a gracious nod, she headed for the pavilion.
Rita watched her approach, her grim expression warning Elizabeth that she had no easy task in front of her. She climbed the worn steps of the pavilion and reached Rita’s side.
“Lady Elizabeth,” Rita muttered, her lips so thinned the words barely slipped through. “What a surprise. Have you come to join us in the hunt?”
“Certainly not.” Elizabeth turned to face the crowd and raised her voice. “Listen to me, all of you. The military has sent soldiers to search the woods for the German pilot. If you go in there today you could very well be mistaken for him, and someone could get badly hurt. Please, go home and let the soldiers do their job.”
“They need our help out there,” Rita declared, addressing the housewives, who were muttering to each other again. “We know those woods better than any soldier. We know where to look.”