Dead Ground in Between (9 page)

John Cartwright joined them.

Tyler took out his notebook. Not that he really needed it – there'd been nothing to record so far – but he'd learned that people were either reassured or intimidated by seeing a policeman take notes. His two constables, Mortimer and Biggs, were standing quietly by the door. They had not been invited to sit, but at least John had relieved them of their wet outer garments.

Susan hurried over with the tea tray and cups and Tyler waited while she poured cups of strong, dark tea. She took the chair next to her husband.

“Where have you searched so far?” Tyler asked.

“Me and Ned went through all the outbuildings,” answered John. “He's not in the cow barn nor the shed. We walked down to the Mohan farm just t'other side of hill, but he's not there either. They haven't seen hide nor hair. We went as far as the Bitterley road but no sign.”

“What about the woods?” Tyler asked.

“I don't think he'd have gone off the road,” said John Cartwright. “No reason to.”

“Unless he was seeking shelter. You said he could get confused,” said Tyler.

“Not that confused. You can hardly go more than two feet in those woods. They're too dense.”

“You said the last time you saw him was when you all turned in at about half past nine last night.”

Susan jumped in. “We all go to bed early. Early rising. We have a farm to run.”

“Yes, of course. Did Mr. Cartwright go to his room?”

“Yes.”

“And he seemed all right?”

Susan shrugged. “As all right as he ever is these days. He goes into some kind of state. Like he's seeing things that aren't there. He was in the Boer War as a young man, but he gets the wars all mixed up so you don't know which one he's referring to half the time. If you ask him what he's talking about he gets right snippy.”

“You know how it is, older people get set in their ways,” said John, his voice apologetic. “My ma passed on in '38, see, and there was just two of us, Pa and me, for nigh on three years.” He gave his wife a quick smile. “Then I met Susan just last year and, well, we took to each other, and before you knew it, we'd decided to get wed.”

Susan took up the tale, as though she didn't trust him to get it right. “At first, we thought we'd live in Market Drayton, in my house, but John's pa started going downhill. Very fast it was. Doctor thought he couldn't look after himself any more.” She shook her head. “What can you do? John thought it best if we move in here.”

To Tyler's surprise, Agnes Mortimer now stepped forward. “Excuse me, sir. I wonder if I might ask a question.”

“Ask away, Constable.”

She addressed Mrs. Cartwright. “I couldn't help but notice there are six chairs at the table. Does anybody else live here?”

Good girl
, thought Tyler. He had to admit he hadn't really registered that detail.

It was Ned who answered. “We have a billet. A Land Girl.”

Susan Cartwright continued. “John hurt his shoulder during harvest and we needed an extra pair of hands. Ned helps out when he's able but it's a lot of work, and John's pa wasn't doing anything to speak of by then. He just wasn't reliable.”

Tyler had been taking notes. “What is the young lady's name?”

“Edith Walpole. We all call her Edie.”

“She's a good worker is that young lass,” said John. “We'd have been hard-pressed to get in the harvest without her.”

“Where is she now?”

“She's gone to Mohan's to see if Pa has turned up there. Ned and me already went there but we thought it would be best to check again.”

Mortimer gave a little cough.

“Yes, Constable,” said Tyler.

“Excuse me, sir, but as I understand it, Mr. Cartwright has additional helpers from the Italian
POW
camp.”

Tyler had not immediately thought of that, but he knew that the men who were waiting out the war in a camp on Sheet Road were encouraged to work on the farms if they wanted to. Extra labour was a blessing these days.

“It's just winter work now so we've only got one fella at the moment,” answered John.

“Weather was so bad last night he had to stay over. He slept in't barn…” said Ned with a wink

Susan interjected. “They're allowed to do that if the weather is bad or they work really late. Typically they bike over. We rang the camp to let them know. The Captain said it was all right but we had to make sure he was locked in. Which he was.”

“What time was that?” Tyler asked.

“After we'd had our supper. Ned walked him over about nine thirty,” said John.

“Do you all usually eat together?” asked Tyler.

“Part of the agreement with the camp is that we provide three meals a day,” answered Susan. “Breakfast, dinner, and supper.”

“Given who they are, them Ities don't do so bad,” said Ned.

John gave a little shrug. “Angelo works hard. It's only fair to do right by him.”

“So everybody was present at breakfast except for Mr. Jasper Cartwright, the Land Girl, and the
POW
?”

“That's right,” said John.

“Like I said earlier, John's pa doesn't always join us,” interjected Susan. “Nobody thought anything about it that he wasn't up. Sometimes he stays in his room until late. It's not worth my life to disturb him if he's in one of his states. Sometimes he gets the Ities mixed up with the Boers and he can be right nasty.”

“Doesn't happen all the time,” said John. “Just on occasion.”

His wife frowned at him. “He's been getting worse, John, and you know it.”

“You said you didn't realize he wasn't in the house until you were about to serve the midday meal. And that was when, exactly?” Tyler asked.

“It was just after eleven. I always have the meal ready for eleven,” said Susan. “He hadn't shown hide nor hair of himself so I gave him a call. When I didn't get an answer, I sent Ned up to fetch him. He weren't there.”

“He hadn't got dressed,” said Ned. “When we checked downstairs, we saw his mack was gone and his wellies but not his cap nor gloves. And he'd taken one of the lanterns.”

Tyler made a note. “So, at the moment, we have no idea what time he left the house, but it must have been between half-nine last night, when you all went to bed, and when you checked at eleven this morning.”

Again Susan interjected. “Like I said, he would often sleep through breakfast so I wasn't concerned right off the bat.”

John Cartwright took a briar pipe and tobacco pouch from his pocket and began to fuss with filling it. “Then by afternoon he still hadn't shown up and we was starting to get real worried. We probably should've started to search much sooner. I was working in the shed all morning so I didn't even know he was out.”

He glanced over at his wife and Tyler saw the reproach. So did she.

“He's been and done vanishing tricks before, and this didn't seem any different,” she said quickly. “That's why we waited as long as we did.”

“By then the weather was worsening,” said John. “Ned and me went out to search and we found the lantern, and it was still lit, but there was no sign of Pa.”

“We thought we'd better report it to the police,” said Susan.

“I assume your other helper, the
POW
, knows that Mr. Cartwright is missing,” said Tyler.

John nodded. “He offered at once to help look for him. He's a good lad.”

Tyler noticed an expression on Ned's face that he couldn't quite decipher. With the man's disconcerting wink he couldn't be sure, but he had the impression Ned wasn't as enthusiastic about the
POW
'
S
virtues as his stepfather was.

“Did he? Help you search, I mean?”

John grimaced. “The captain at the camp can be strict about what they're allowed to do or not do. As prisoners of war, that is. So I thought it best if Angelo stayed where he was and Ned and me would take a look around.”

“Where does Mr. Cartwright sleep?”

“He's got the front room upstairs,” answered Susan. “It was his bedroom from before and he refuses to leave it. Makes things cramped for all of us. My Ned had to take the small back room and Edie has to sleep in the parlour.”

Tyler addressed the three of them. “I gather nobody heard any sound of Mr. Cartwright going out or moving around during the night?”

“No. Nothing,” said John.

“My husband sleeps like a log,” said Susan. “We all do.”

“Mr. Weaver?”

The young man winked twice. “Nothing.”

Tyler put away his notebook. “Perhaps the best thing –”

He was cut off by a frantic rapping on the front door.

“Maybe that's news,” said John, and he jumped up to open it.

On the threshold stood two boys, wet, bedraggled, and obviously terrified.

“Sir. Sir. We just found a dead man. I think somebody kilt him.”

The members of the little party hurrying after the boys were drenched almost as soon as they stepped outside. Jan and Pim were leading the way to the place where they'd found the body. The woods were pressing in on the road and the trees were being tossed so violently by the wind that Tyler half expected one of them to snap in two. Pim, the smaller of the boys, looked so white and shaken that Tyler was just about to offer him a piggyback ride when they reached the crest of the hill and Jan pointed to the field on the right.

“He's in there.”

“Where?” asked John.

All they could see was a bare, muddy field on the other side of the hedgerow. Jan seemed to be pointing at a rusty old cattle trough in the far corner.

“Where?” John asked again. “Where do you mean?”

“The trough. It's a hideout,” said the boy. “You have to go down into it. I'll show you.” He turned to his brother. “You stay here.”

He started off to the hedgerow and pushed through a gap into the field. The others clambered behind him, except for Pim and Agnes Mortimer, who laid her hand gently on the boy's shoulder to keep him back.

Jan jogged up to the trough and stopped.

He bent over and pointed. “Down there.”

Tyler could see a metal ladder leading into a dark hole.

“What is this?” cried Susan.

Nobody answered, but Tyler knew exactly what they were looking at. This was a hideout built by members of the Auxiliary Units.

How had a troubled old man come to die in a top-secret bunker, known only to a very few?

“Is there any chance we could have a cuppa, Miss?” Jan put on his best smile. “My brother here had such a fright and it would perk him up.”

When he'd understood the situation, Tyler had sent the boys back to the farmhouse with Constable Mortimer in charge. She had made them sit as close to the kitchen fire as possible. They'd agreed to remove their outer garments and their socks and shoes but balked at taking off their trousers, even though the legs were soaking wet.

“We'll be all right, miss,” said Jan.

Mortimer had to be content with borrowing a couple of towels from the warming cupboard and wrapping them around their legs. Pim was pale and still shivering.

“Let me see what I can rustle up,” she said to Jan. Strictly speaking, she didn't have permission to requisition any of the Cartwright tea ration, but she considered this something of an emergency. She hoped the inspector would agree with her. The boys tugged at her heart, although she had a sneaking feeling that Jan, the older boy, knew this and played it for all he was worth. Both boys were undersized, dark-haired, and sharp-featured. Pim's scalp was scarred from what looked like a previous ringworm infestation and his hair was patchy. He looked like a newly hatched chick.

There was a set of canisters on the counter, each conveniently labelled –
TEA, SUGAR, FLOUR, BISCUITS
– and she was relieved to find the tea canister was almost full. She spooned three generous helpings into the teapot and added hot water from the kettle on the stove.

“Pim likes his sweet, miss,” said Jan. “He can have my helping of sugar if there's not enough.”

“Don't worry, we'll manage,” said Mortimer. The sugar canister was only half full but she thought two spoonfuls would hardly be missed. She plopped a tea cozy on the pot and brought it over to the table. The two boys watched her quietly, alert as hungry dogs. She went to the cupboard for some cups.

“What were you doing out bicycling on a day like this?” she asked casually. She didn't miss the look they exchanged.

“We had to be in magistrates' court this morning,” said Jan. “Nothing serious, just a mix-up, really, but Pim got all nervous about it. I thought a bit of exercise after school would do him good. He's highly strung, you see.”

Mortimer poured the tea into the thick mugs she'd found in the cupboard.

“Would you like milk?”

“Yes, please, miss. Thank you. Say thank you, Pim. Where's your manners?”

“Thank you, m-miss,” mumbled the other boy.

Biscuits? She wasn't sure if she was pushing the assumed generosity of Mrs. Cartwright too far but she opened the canister anyway. Mrs. Cartwright must have baked recently because it was full. She handed each of the boys two biscuits and sat down at the table.

They almost simultaneously dipped them into the tea, then stuffed the soggy morsels into their mouths.

“You're evacuees, I believe?”

“Yes, miss,” Jan answered.

“When did you come to Ludlow?”

Biscuits disposed of, both boys took big gulps of the tea.

“About three months ago. We was in London first, but the house was bombed out and our foster mother had a nervous collapse. We was sent up to Cardiff, but the mum there got ill and couldn't keep us, so we come to Ludlow.”