Astride her motorcycle, she roared down the hill to the High Street. Pulling up outside the police station, she was relieved to see George and Sid’s bicycles leaning against the wall. She had made a promise to Earl, and this time she would keep it.
She found George at his desk as usual and quickly explained why she needed him with her.
“Right,” he said, when she was finished. Raising his voice, he called out, “Sid, take over here. I have some business to take care of with her ladyship.”
“You found the boys that burned down the Yanks’ gym?” Sid asked, as he emerged from the back room.
“I’m afraid not.” Elizabeth exchanged glances with George. “They are somewhere in North Horsham, I presume. I’m sure you’ll catch up with them sooner or later.”
“I doubt it,” George said, as he pulled on his helmet. “The case has been taken over by the North Horsham constabulary. It seems the Americans put in a rather strong complaint.”
“One can hardly blame them,” Elizabeth murmured. She waited for George to open the door for her, then hurried outside to her motorcycle. “Can you manage to squeeze yourself into the sidecar again?” she asked as George approached.
“Not on your life, your ladyship. I’ll be quite happy on my bicycle, thank you.”
“But we will get there so much more quickly.”
“I’ll manage very well on my own. Thank you, m’m.” George walked over to his bicycle and bent over to fasten a clip around each ankle. “I’ll be right behind you when you get there. You’ll see.”
Seriously doubting that, Elizabeth had to give in gracefully. She rode slowly down to the Tudor Arms. Even so, by the time she arrived there George was nowhere to be seen. Impatient now, she rang the bell on the back door and waited for Alfie to open it.
His bushy eyebrows shot up at the sight of her. “Lady Elizabeth! Whatever…?”
“I’d like a word with Malcolm,” she said, giving him no time to form the question. “Is he here?”
“Afraid you’ve just missed him.” Curiosity was written all over his face, but he knew better than to ask. “I do believe he’s on his way to see his lady friend, Fiona.”
“Thank you, Alfie.” Elizabeth turned away, then added over her shoulder, “Oh, when George turns up, tell him where I’ve gone, will you?”
“George is coming here?”
Hearing his bewilderment, she wished she had time to explain. “He’s following me,” she said, climbing back onto her motorcycle. “Do tell him to hurry, won’t you?” She roared off, drowning out whatever Alfie was saying.
It took her several minutes to reach the flat. Priscilla lived above the ironmongery and normally the shop would have been busy. However, since the war had taken many of the men who purchased the tools and gardening implements, business was no longer brisk. Which suited Elizabeth. She did not need a large audience to witness her visit, or the outcome.
Fiona opened the door to her knock, obviously taken aback by the lady of the manor’s second visit in as many days. Again she seemed reluctant to allow Elizabeth to enter, but was left with no choice when her guest deliberately walked through the door and into the cramped front room.
At least the room looked more tidy than when she’d last visited, Elizabeth observed. Malcolm Ludwick sat on the couch, reading a newspaper. He leapt to his feet when Elizabeth walked in, and his expression was not too welcoming. He greeted her in a surly tone of voice and offered her a seat.
Hoping fervently that George wasn’t too far behind, Elizabeth sat on the couch. “I quite forgot the reason for my visit yesterday,” she said, as Fiona perched on the arm of the chair that Malcolm now occupied. “I had the proofs of the wedding with me, and I meant to leave them with you. I’m afraid I’m becoming quite scatterbrained lately.” She drew the packet from her handbag and handed them to Fiona. “They are quite lovely. I’m sure Priscilla will be most pleased. Have you heard from her, by the way?”
“Not yet, your ladyship. There hasn’t been enough time for a postcard to reach us from Scotland.” Fiona took out the proofs and started thumbing through them.
“Oh, of course not.” Elizabeth laughed. “How silly of me. It seems much longer since she and Wally went on their honeymoon. Time drags so much these days. I suppose we’re all waiting for the Allied invasion to take place. One rather hopes that it will end the war, though I suppose that’s wishful thinking for the most part.”
She smiled at Malcolm and felt a chill when she saw his narrowed gaze on her face.
“Well, thank you very much, your ladyship.” Fiona stood up, the proofs still in her hand. “I appreciate you bringing these over. Priscilla will be thrilled to find them waiting for her when she gets home.”
“I imagine they are having a marvelous time in Scotland,” Elizabeth said, leaning back on the couch. “Although the weather can be quite beastly this time of year. I do think they might have done better to have gone to Somerset or Cornwall. So much warmer down there.”
Fiona seemed at a loss what to do next. She glanced at Malcolm, who still had his gaze pinned on Elizabeth’s face. “Er… I suppose I should offer you a cup of tea,” she said, making it clear it was the last thing she wanted to do.
“Oh, that sounds lovely!” Elizabeth glanced at the small clock on the mantelpiece. Where the devil was George? He should have been here by now.
“Actually, we were just on the way out,” Malcolm said, getting to his feet. “So if you would excuse us, your ladyship-”
“Of course.” Elizabeth made no effort to move. “I’m so glad you are here, Mr. Ludwick. Before you go, I have a question I’d like to ask you.”
She could see it in his eyes. The guilt, underlined with fear. She’d seen that look before. The question was, could she get him to confess what he’d done?
He pretended to be puzzled, though she was quite sure he knew what she was talking about. “Question?”
“Yes.” She smiled at him. She could only stall for so long. If George didn’t get there very soon, she could be walking into trouble again. Earl would not like that. “When George talked to you at the wedding-”
“Excuse me,” he interrupted. “George?”
“Yes.” Elizabeth met his gaze. “Police Constable George Dalrymple.”
She saw the muscles in his jaw tighten. “Oh, yes, I think I remember. Bald-headed chap. Bit of a bumbler.”
Elizabeth smiled. “I suppose he is, at times. Anyway, I seem to remember you telling him that you overheard Tess Winterhalter arguing with the deceased that afternoon. Furious with him, I believe you said?”
Malcolm appeared reluctant to answer, and Fiona answered for him. “That’s right, Malcolm. I heard you say that. I remember being surprised that you knew-”
“Shut up!” Malcolm snarled.
Fiona reared back as if she’d been struck, one hand at her mouth.
Elizabeth saw the dawning realization in the woman’s eyes and felt sorry for her. Turning back to Malcolm, she said quietly, “You overheard Tess accusing him of taking Fiona to his room, didn’t you? You probably saw her threaten him with the knife then lock him in the cellar. Maybe the idea came to you then. Here was your chance to get rid of your rival and blame it on the young girl who was so angry with her boyfriend.”
Malcolm apparently was prepared to bluff his way out. “Utter poppycock! I barely knew the chap. As for him being a rival, that’s utter nonsense.”
“Is it?” Elizabeth smiled. “I think not. Fiona is a woman of means, and you weren’t about to lose your benefactor to a two-faced schemer like Brian Sutcliffe. When you heard that Fiona had been to his room, you were afraid he’d charm her away from you. You were presented with a chance to solve that problem and you took it.”
Fiona gasped. “No! I don’t believe it!”
“Good,” Malcolm said roughly. “Because it isn’t true. Yes, I heard the bridesmaid arguing with Sutcliffe, but I left right away. Didn’t want to embarrass the girl. I never went back into the kitchen after that.”