Manor House 04 - Dig Deep for Murder (21 page)

She straightened her knees and gave the knight a final flick with her duster. "There you are, me old cock sparrer—good as new. Don't say I don't look after you. Maybe one day you can come to me rescue, and ride off with me on your white horse. You'd have to get rid of that armor, though. Bit rough on me tender spots, that'd be."

Pursing her lips, she started whistling as she walked down the hall toward the east wing. The bucket in her hand swung to and fro, and she gazed up at each of the massive portraits as she drew closer and closer to the enormous square-paned windows.

She was almost even with the curtains now, and without turning her head, she glanced sideways at them. Peeking out just below the bottom of one of them was the toe of a very small shoe.

Sadie Buttons might not look very agile, but she could move at the speed of lightning when she wanted to. Letting go of the bucket, she made a dive at the curtains. "Gotcha!" she yelled, as her arms closed around a small, wriggling body. A shriek loud enough to deafen her rang in her ears.

It took her a moment or two to disentangle the body
from the suffocating curtains, but finally she dragged the small child from the dusty folds. The little face was streaked with dirt and her golden hair was a mass of tangles. She wore a red dress covered in stains, and her hands were filthy.

Holding a skinny arm firmly in her grasp, Sadie glared at the child and fiercely demanded, "Just what the bloomin' blazes do you think you're doing?"

The little girl opened her mouth and bawled. At the same time Sadie felt a thump in the middle of her back. Startled, she spun around, almost losing her grip on the child. To her astonishment, two more children stood glaring up at her.

Both girls looked as grimy as the one Sadie had captured, and the oldest, who couldn't have been more than eleven, stood with her fists clenched, her brown eyes glowering with hostility. " 'Ere," she snarled, raising her small fists, "you let 'er go or I'll sock you in the jaw."

"You'd have to reach it first," Sadie said grimly. "Who are you, and where did you come from?"

"None o' your bleeding business."

"Well, I'm making it my business, so there. If you don't start talking right now, I'm taking this one to the kitchen and I'm ringing the rozzers and they'll come and put her in jail."

The girl went on glaring at her, but the child at her side started whimpering. "Don't let the bobbies take her away, miss. We didn't do nothing wrong. Honest."

Sadie looked the eldest girl in the eye. "If you didn't do nothing wrong, then you can tell me what you're all doing here."

For a moment it seemed there would be a deadlock, but then the child shrugged her bony shoulders. "We was evacuated, wasn't we?"

"Evacuated? From where?"

"From London, silly. Where else?"

Sadie shook her head in bewilderment. "You was sent to the Manor House? Why didn't no one tell me?"

" 'Coz we wasn't sent here and no one knows we're here, that's why."

Sadie took a deep breath. "What are your names?"

"I'm Patsy." The child jerked a thumb at the little girl by her side. "She's Maureen and that's Jenny."

Sadie looked down at the tot she was holding, whose sobs had finally quieted to loud sniffs. "Well, I'm Sadie. You look as if you could use a glass of milk, Jenny. Wanta come with me to the kitchen?"

Jenny flicked a glance at Patsy, then nodded.

"I think you all better come with me." Sadie started walking down the hall, her bucket in one hand and the child tightly gripped with the other. Jenny trotted obediently at her side. Looking over her shoulder, Sadie was satisfied to see the other two trailing behind her at a distance.

The little group descended the stairs while Sadie chatted about anything that came into her head to keep the girls' attention as they approached the kitchen door. Nudging it open with her foot, Sadie prayed that Violet would be in there.

The housekeeper stood at the sink, washing potatoes under the tap. She spoke without turning around. "Finished already? That was quick. I hope you did a good job of cleaning those lavatories—"

"I brought some visitors."

"Visitors?" Violet spun around, a fat potato in one hand. "Who—?" Her jaw dropped, and she stared at the three children as if they had floated down from the moon.

"I found them in the great hall, hiding behind the curtains." Sadie beckoned to each one. "That's Patsy, that's Maureen, and this is Jenny. They was evacuated from London."

Violet dropped the potato in the sink. "Then what in the world are they doing here?"

Patsy appeared ready for a fight. "We ran away, that's wot."

Violet stared at her. "Ran away? From who?"

"From the people we was sent to. They was cruel and mean, and they kept hitting us." She grabbed Maureen by the shoulders, spun her around and began unbuttoning her cotton dress.

Sadie and Violet stared speechless at the ugly purple bruises on the child's back. "That's what they did to her," Patsy said, her voice trembling for the first time. "All because she forgot to say please."

"Oh, my good Gawd," Sadie whispered.

Violet cleared her throat, and appeared to have trouble speaking for a moment. "Come and sit down here," she said at last. "I'll get you all something to drink. Lunch is almost ready, you can have it with us. Then you can tell us all about it." She glanced at Sadie. "You get back up there and finish your jobs. I'll take care of them. Though what her ladyship is going to say when she sees them, heaven only knows." She glanced at the clock. "You haven't seen her, have you, Sadie? The funeral was over at least an hour ago. She told me she was coming straight back here. It's not like her to be late for a meal."

Sadie shook her head. "Haven't seen no sign of her." She nodded her head at the children. "You going to be all right with them?"

Violet smiled. "Don't worry, I know how to take care of children. At least I know now who's been stealing food from the larder."

"We didn't take all that much," Patsy said, sounding less hostile now that things appeared to be working out all right.

Sadie left the kitchen, murder in her heart for the monsters who would hurt little tots like that. Deserved to be hung, drawn, and quartered, they did. Just wait until Lady Elizabeth found out. She was the kind of person who would make the rotters pay for what they done. She wouldn't let no one get the better of her. Not her. She knew how to take care of things, Lady Elizabeth did. Comforted by the thought, Sadie tramped back to the bathrooms.

There were times when words failed Elizabeth, and this was definitely one of them. She stared helplessly at the man emerging from under the stairs, knowing that trying to run for it was futile. He'd be on her before she could reach the front door. Her best hope was to talk her way out of this nasty situation, but right then she couldn't seem to think straight.

"Like I said, your ladyship, you really shouldn't go around poking your nose into things that don't concern you." Reggie pulled the cap from his head and ran his hand through his thinning hair. "Too bad, that. I was hoping you wouldn't twig it until after I got away."

"I assume your wife buried Fred Bickham this morning," Elizabeth said, finding her voice at last.

Reggie's smile was totally without humor. "She's lucky she didn't get buried with him. She's the one what caused all this in the first place. Carrying on with that bank bloke. Good luck to him, that's what I say. If he can stand her nagging, he's a better man than I am, that's for sure."

"Why did you kill Fred?"

She'd hoped to catch Reggie off guard, and apparently she succeeded. His head jerked up. " 'Ere, I didn't bloody kill no one. I spent the night with Bickham here, and when I woke up in the morning, he was dead. We'd been drinking down at the pub the night before. I reckon the beer got to him. He had a bad heart, so he told me."

Elizabeth edged out of the hallway into the living room, her heart leaping in apprehension as he followed her much too closely. "He died after or before you beat up his face?"

His smile faded. "I told you, he was already bloody dead when I woke up."

"Then why did you beat him? Why did you bury him? Why didn't you just tell the police he'd died in bed?"

" 'Cos I thought they might not believe me. At least, that's why I didn't go to them at first."

Elizabeth took another step backward. "And then?"

Reggie's face turned belligerent. "I don't have to answer none of your questions, so just shut up a minute while I work out what I'm going to do with you."

"If Fred died before you beat him," Elizabeth said quietly, "then you didn't kill him. You have nothing to worry about. I don't think there's a penalty for beating someone who's already dead. If you hurt me in any way, however, you will be guilty, and the police will hunt you down. So it would be in your best interests to let me go unharmed."

Reggie scowled. "How the hell do you know what's in my best interests? You don't know all of it, do you? How could you bloody know?"

He stepped forward, forcing Elizabeth backward. The seat of the armchair caught her behind the knees, and she sat down abruptly. "Why don't you tell me all of it?" she said faintly. "Then perhaps I can understand, and find a way to help you."

"Nothing's gonna help me now." Reggie moved between her and the front door, effectively barring her way. "But if you must know, Lady Big Nose, I'll tell you. I had a row with the missus, didn't I? I'd had enough of her hanky-panky, and I couldn't stand her nagging and whining anymore. So I went and joined the Army just to get away from her."

Reggie passed a hand across his eyes. "Stupid. Bleeding stupid, I was. When I got down to the pub that night, Fred was talking about all the 'orrible things that happened to soldiers on a battlefield. I got sick just thinking about it. I knew I'd made a mistake, but I didn't know what to do about it. I didn't want to go home, back to that lying, mouthy tart, so when Fred said I could stay here for a bit, I jumped at it. I thought it would give me time to decide what to do." Reggie started pacing back and forth, obviously agitated.

"And then Fred died," Elizabeth prompted.

"Yeah, he must have died in his sleep. The more I thought about it, the more sense it made. We looked a lot alike. Same height and weight, more or less. So I smashed
his face in so no one would recognize him, changed clothes with him, and buried him in John Rickett's garden. I knew John wasn't going to be doing any digging there. By the time anyone found Fred, I reckoned, they'd all think he was me. And I'd be free. No more nagging, lying, cheating wife, and no bloody Army. I could go anywhere and be anyone I wanted. Start all over again, like."

"So why did you wait so long? Why didn't you just leave?"

Reggie shrugged. "Well, if I was going to really be free, I needed money, didn't I?"

"Is that why you stole the picture frame?"

He stared at her. "How did you know about that?"

Elizabeth shifted her weight to the edge of the chair. "Betty told me the house had been robbed and the photograph had been taken. I couldn't understand why the thief didn't take the candlesticks as well. But all you wanted was food and clothes, and what little cash was lying around. You didn't take the frame for its value, you took what it held. The photograph that meant so much to you."

"Very clever, your ladyship. Bleeding brilliant, you are."

"I still don't understand why you didn't leave."

"I told you, I needed money."

Elizabeth stared at him. "Of course. Betty knew, didn't she? She knew it wasn't you she was burying."

"Too right she knew. But she wasn't going to say nothing, was she? She's been wanting that Henry bloke from the bank for weeks. He wouldn't have nothing to do with her while she was married, so it suited her really nice when they dug up my dead body. I was hoping she had a bit stashed away in her drawer, but it wasn't enough to get me farther than North Horsham. So I went back the next night. That's when we made a bargain. She'd get the bit of savings we had out of the bank and give it to me, and I'd disappear forever. She could have Henry and I'd have my freedom."

"Couldn't you have just divorced?"

Reggie snorted. "We're bleeding Catholic, aren't we? Catholics can't get divorced. Besides, who was going to believe me when I told them Fred was dead, after I bashed in his face? No one, that's who. Them stupid constables would have locked me up, and I'd be had up for murder."

"Well, I do believe you didn't kill Fred." Elizabeth put her hands on the arms of the chair. "And if I do, others will, too. You'll never really be free, Reggie, unless you admit to the police what you did, and take the consequences."

"There's not a bloody chance in hell of me doing that. Even if I got off for murder, I'd either end up with a nagging wife I can't stand, or I'd be stuck in the trenches fighting for me life. So just forget it and stop nagging. You're getting as bad as my bleeding wife, and that's the truth."

He started pacing again, taking a longer path each time. Elizabeth eyed the space between her and the door. Maybe, if she made a dash for it just as he was turning, she could make it to the door.

Perhaps Wally Carbunkle would be home by now, or one of the housewives. Surely someone would hear her and send up an alarm. She eased forward, her weight on the balls of her feet. It would have to be the precise moment he turned, so that he'd be off balance.

"It was the watch, wasn't it?" she said, as he passed in front of her. "That's how Betty knew it wasn't you. She took the watch George Dalrymple gave her, but she knew it wasn't yours. You didn't wear a watch. You asked Alfie the time when you left the pub that night. It was Fred's watch. The one thing you forgot to change."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't exactly thinking straight. I couldn't think of everything."

"And it was you who wrote the note saying Fred was going to Ireland."

"He told me he always wanted to go to Ireland." Reggie
flashed her a sinister smile. "I thought it was a nice touch."

"Except that Fred doesn't have a brother in Ireland. Alfie told me his only family was a sister in Devon."