Wedding Rows Part 13

Elizabeth paused. "You mean Fiona Farnsworth?"

"I believe that's her name, yes."

"Thank you, Mr. Muggins. I appreciate your time." She left, frowning. Of course, Fiona had gone to Brian Sutcliffe's room. She had forgotten about that. Goodness, she was letting her worries about Earl and Nellie cloud her brain. It wasn't like her at all to forget something so important during an investigation. Though what Fiona might have to do with Brian Sutcliffe's death was hard to imagine.

"You did what?" Rita's yell was even more terrible than Marge had expected. "How could you possibly lose Florrie? She's not a dog, you know. She didn't just run off."

Marge explained as best she could, while the women who had made it back to the tea shop sat looking at her as if she'd deliberately got Florrie lost. "I went all the way back," she said, looking longingly at the plate of Chelsea buns on Rita's table. "I even went down the trail after her. She just disappeared."

"The musketeers got her," Joan Plumstone muttered.

A chorus of shocked cries turned the heads of nearby customers.

"Shh!" Rita warned. "We don't want to start a panic, for heaven's sake. Florrie just got lost, that's all. Let's wait until the others get back. Maybe she ran into someone out there and is coming back with them. Meanwhile, we have to decide what to do about Nellie if we don't find her today."

"What are the bobbies doing about it?" someone asked.

"G.o.d knows." Rita picked up her cup and sipped her tea. "Knowing Sid and George, they're too wrapped up with that murder at the wedding to have time to look for our Nellie."

"What about Lady Elizabeth? Can't she do something about Nellie?"

Rita sniffed. "Apparently her ladyship has better things to do than search for a missing tenant."

"That's not fair," Marge said hotly. "You know she cares about Nellie as much we do. She's most likely trying to find out who killed Brian Sutcliffe. I'd say that's just as important. After all, that poor man is dead."

"How do we know Nellie isn't, too?" Joan said.

Marge felt a stab of fear. "Don't even think that."

"Well," Rita said, "don't worry about Lady Elizabeth. Whatever she can do I can do, and a lot more efficiently at that. If she spent more time worrying about her responsibilities instead of running around after that precious major of hers she'd get a lot more done."

Aware that someone had come up behind Rita, Marge looked at the newcomer. Her eyes widened, and she nudged Rita hard in the shoulder.

Rita shook her off with a testy, "Oh, shut up, Marge. You know I'm right. Her ladyship throws her weight around a lot, but it's yours truly who does all the organizing and getting the job done. We wouldn't have a war effort at all in Sitting Marsh if it weren't for me."

Marge's mouth trembled as she smiled at the woman standing behind Rita's chair. "Good afternoon, your ladyship," she said loudly. "How nice to see you."

As Nellie might have expected, Stan wouldn't let her go, but he had agreed to bring her back food and drink, which was something. She sat waiting impatiently for the three lads to return with the supplies. Stan wouldn't tell her what they planned to do. All she knew was that it had something to do with the American base and that it had to be done at night. She'd refused to give away any of her secrets until she'd had something to eat and drink.

She'd spent the last hour or so working out what she could tell them that would sound like she was helping them but at the same time would get them caught. The thing she was worried about was that they'd get caught and wouldn't tell anyone where she was.

It was obvious from the rusty equipment lying around that the barn wasn't used anymore. So many farm workers had been called up that the farmers were short-handed and had closed off some of their land until the war was over. The Land Army girls did a lot of the work, but there was only so many of them to go around.

Nellie could be dead and gone to heaven by the time someone found her. Maybe if she shouted loud enough, someone working in the fields would hear her.

After several minutes of yelling her head off, her throat was so raw she could hardly swallow. If she didn't get something to drink soon, she was going to die of thirst. Stan had given her a few sips of sour lemonade that hadn't helped her thirst at all.

Somehow she had to find a way to get down and escape from this place. Maybe if she could drop off the ledge and roll on the ground without hurting herself . . .

Nellie was considering the risks when she heard the sound of the Jeep returning. It amazed her that the field workers hadn't noticed the Jeep coming back and forth to the barn. The building itself hid the noisy vehicle from view as it crossed the field, but surely they must have heard the engine. Then again, everyone was used to hearing Jeeps driving around and took no notice of them anymore. Stan was no fool. He'd picked a good spot for his meeting place.

Her need to satisfy her hunger and thirst chased away all thoughts of trying to escape as she waited for the huge barn doors to open. When at last they did, the sunlight almost blinded her.

Blinking, she couldn't see who was in the Jeep at first. The doors grated closed again, and for a moment all she could see were bright spots of light in front of her eyes. Then, gradually, her vision cleared. She heard a whimpering and thought at first the boys had brought back a dog with them. Then she saw the figure being roughly hauled out of the Jeep.

She blinked, and blinked again. "Florrie? Is that you?"

The frightened woman peered up at her, crying, "Nellie! Are you all right? What's going to happen to us?"

"Something nasty if you don't shut up wailing," Jimmy said harshly.

Florrie whimpered again.

Jimmy held her hands behind her back, while Robbie dragged the ladder over to the ledge. "Get up there," Jimmy ordered, giving her a shove. "Maybe your mate can keep you quiet."

"I still don't think we should have brought her back here," Robbie said, as Florrie started crawling up the ladder. "Stan ain't going to like it one bit."

"What else was I supposed to do with her?" Jimmy demanded. "Bury her in the woods?"

Florrie squealed and scrambled up the ladder with surprising agility.

Incensed at their treatment of the fragile woman, Nellie glared down at them. "Where is Stan, anyhow? Where is my grub?"

"He's bringing it on his bicycle," Robbie said, as he dragged the ladder away from the ledge again. "He couldn't very well go into the High Street in a Jeep, now, could he."

Nellie was about to answer when one of the doors creaked open a few inches and Stan slipped through the crack. He carried a satchel in his hand, and Nellie prayed he had something to eat and drink in there.

"I thought I told you to wait for me in the woods," he said, scowling at his companions. "I had to bike all the way across that field."

"We couldn't," Jimmy said gruffly. "We ran into a bit of trouble."

Stan swore and dropped the satchel to the ground. "What happened?"

Jimmy jerked a thumb up at the ledge. "That."

Florrie drew back as Stan stared up at them. "Where the h.e.l.l did she come from?"

"She popped up out of nowhere. We almost ran over her. Then when she saw us she went bananas. Said she knew we'd got Nellie." Jimmy jerked his thumb again. "That's the name of the other one."

Stan lifted both hands and raked them through his hair. "And you brought her back here? Are you bleeding stupid? Now we have to get rid of two of them."

Nellie's stomach turned over. She heard a thump behind her and looked over her shoulder. Florrie was on the floor in a dead faint.

CHAPTER 11.

By the time Elizabeth arrived back in Sitting Marsh it was almost two o'clock. Having missed lunch, which she knew would not sit well with Violet, she decided to stop in Bessie's Tea Shop and enjoy a pot of tea and sandwiches before paying Fiona a visit at Priscilla's flat.

She wasn't too happy to find members of the Housewives League occupying some of the tables when she walked in. Judging from the noise level, something important had happened. Praying that they had found Nellie safe and sound, she resisted the urge to slip out again unnoticed and approached Rita's chair. Just in time to hear the abominable woman make a nasty remark about her relationship with Earl.

She was about to announce her presence, which had already been noticed by Marjorie Gunther, when Rita had the audacity to declare that Elizabeth made no contribution to the war effort.

Ignoring Marge's stuttered greeting, Elizabeth said quietly, "How nice to know the future of our country is in such capable hands. I wonder if Mr. Churchill is aware of Rita Crumm's magnificent contributions to such a worthy cause."

Marge and a few of the others giggled, while Rita had the grace to look embarra.s.sed, though she covered it well. "Lady Elizabeth," she said, rising from her chair. "We were just talking about you."

"So I heard." Elizabeth nodded at the rest of the group. "Please don't get up. I'm only here for a moment. I was wondering if Nellie has been found. I don't see her here."

"Not only has Nellie not turned up, your ladyship," Marge said, earning a scowl from Rita, "but now Florrie's missing, too."

Elizabeth stared at her in alarm. "Great heavens! Are you sure?"

"Quite sure, m'm," Marge a.s.sured her. "I was with her when she disappeared."

Elizabeth listened as Marge gave a hurried account of how she'd lost Florrie.

"We're waiting for the rest of them to come back," Rita added when she was finished. "We're hoping she ran into them and is coming back with them."

"Here they come now," Marge said, nodding at the door.

The group of women filing in through the door looked hot and weary, though they all managed a smile for Elizabeth. Much to her dismay, however, no one had seen any sign of Florrie, and had no idea she was even missing.

"Now what do we do?" Marge demanded, looking hopefully at Elizabeth.

"I'll report Florrie's disappearance to the constables," Elizabeth said, trying to sound calm. Inside she felt anything but calm. Two missing women and a murdered man on her hands. The whole situation was fast reaching disaster proportions. "I'll tell George to let the inspector know what's happening and ask him for help in searching for them. The rest of you start going door to door. Perhaps someone saw or heard something helpful. Report back to me if you hear anything at all. I'll be at Priscilla's flat for a while, or you can ring me up at the manor from the police station."

To Elizabeth's surprise, Rita didn't offer one protest at having matters taken out of her hands. In fact, she seemed almost relieved that she was no longer in charge and responsible for her missing members. She did find the nerve to dismiss her crew with a terse, "All right, you lot. You heard her ladyship. Get going!"

The women scrambled to obey, and as they hurried out the door, Rita added, "I'll ask around the tables here, if you like, Lady Elizabeth."

"That's a good idea, Rita. Thank you." Elizabeth left her to her task, thankful that the dratted woman hadn't made a scene for once.

It took her no more than a minute or two to reach the police station, and she hopped off her motorcycle with less attention than usual to her skirt, which tended to ride up over her knees in a most unbecoming manner when she was in a rush.

Hurrying into the police station, she was rather annoyed to see George lounging back in his chair, one hand holding a sugary Banbury cake, while the other propped up the daily newspaper.

He dropped the cake onto the newspaper when she entered and hastily got to his feet. "Good afternoon, your ladyship. Nice surprise to see you down here. I was just having a spot of afternoon tea."

Sid's voice floated in from the back office. "Caught in the act again, George?"

George scowled. "Shut your mouth, Sid."

Elizabeth let out her breath in exasperation. "I was rather expecting you to be out searching for Nellie Smith," she said, a trifle crossly. "She's been missing for seventeen hours. The Housewives League has been out all morning looking for her."

"I was establishing headquarters here," George said huffily, "to direct operations. If anyone should be out there searching, it should be that lazy b.u.g.g.e.r in the back room."

"I heard that!" Sid called out. "You told me to stay here and not get in the way."

George cleared his throat. "I take it the young lady has not been found?"

"Not only has Nellie not been found, but Florrie is now missing." Elizabeth looked up at the clock above his head. "I would not like another night to pa.s.s before we find them."

George clicked his tongue. "Now how on earth did Florrie go and get lost? Not very considerate of her, when we already have to take care of a murder and one missing person."

"I'm sure she didn't lose herself on purpose, George. I need you to notify the inspector right away and ask for volunteers to help search for the women. Up until now the musketeers have been content with causing damage to property, but things have taken a very nasty turn. We have to a.s.sume the worst and act accordingly."

George had been frowning in concentration while she talked, and now he shook his head in confusion. "Act how, your ladyship?"

"Act accordingly!" Sid called out.

Elizabeth laid her hands on the desk and fixed a stern glare on the constable. "Find them, George. As quickly as possible. I don't care how you go about it. Call in the army if you have to, but find them. Now. Today."

"Yes, your ladyship. We'll do our best, I'm sure."

"I'm relying on you, George. You, too, Sid!"

With their chorus of a.s.surances ringing in her ears, Elizabeth rushed out of the station and climbed aboard her motorcycle. One stop to talk to Fiona, then she would head back to the manor and call Earl. He'd know what to do.

To her great relief, Fiona answered her urgent rapping on the door knocker. She was half afraid that Priscilla's friend would be out shopping and she'd have to hunt her down.

Fiona was obviously surprised to see her guest, and somewhat reluctantly invited her in.

Elizabeth could understand why when she saw the front room. Magazines and books were strewn around; a slipper lay near the door, its partner flung across the room. A half-empty cup of cold tea sat on the table next to the settee, and next to it a plate of broken biscuits nestled among a mound of crumbs.

"Sorry for the mess, your ladyship," Fiona muttered, sweeping a dressing gown and pyjamas up in her arms from the settee. "I wasn't expecting visitors." Priscilla's cat, which had been snuggled up in the clothes, uttered a plaintive meow and leapt to the floor.

Hoping the woman would clean up before the new bride returned home, Elizabeth took the chair she was offered. Declining a cup of tea and a biscuit, she opened the conversation with a safe topic.

"The wedding was quite beautiful," she murmured. "Priscilla looked magnificent."

Fiona sat down nervously on the edge of the settee. "Yes, she did. Pity about the murder, though. Rather spoilt things, didn't it. I'm just glad Prissy got away before it happened."

"Or at least before the body was discovered," Elizabeth amended.

Fiona seemed startled. "You think it happened while she and Wally were still there?"

"Possibly. After all, the knife was missing before the cake was cut."

"Oh, yes, I see what you mean. How dreadful. Thank heavens they didn't know about it then."

"It was fortunate, yes." Elizabeth stared hard at her. "You didn't care for the victim, did you?"

Fiona's fingers clenched and unclenched. "I hardly knew him."