Kate Kingsbury - Death Is in the Air

Bracing herself for an inevitable confrontation, Elizabeth deliberately revved up the engine and roared onto the scene. Her spectacular skid halted her a few yards from where Joan Plumstone and Marge Gunther crouched behind a bush. They both leapt into the air when Elizabeth’s wheels kicked up the dust behind them.

“Sorry,” Elizabeth murmured as she cut the engine. “I didn’t realize I was going so fast.”

“Lady Elizabeth!”

The harsh voice made it sound more like a reprimand than a greeting. Elizabeth grimaced as she watched Rita march toward her. “Good morning, Rita!” she called out. “Police Constable Dalrymple informed me that you have discovered the German pilot.”

The mention of the constable’s name appeared to take the wind out of Rita’s sails somewhat. She spluttered for a moment then said testily, “There was no need for George to bother you, your ladyship. I’m quite sure my ladies can handle the situation.”

Which was precisely why George alerted me , Elizabeth thought wryly. “Oh, I’m sure you can,” she said, vigorously nodding her head. “I’m simply here to observe, that’s all. In my role as lady of the manor, of course. I feel it’s my duty to be on the scene when something of such significance is taking place.”

Rather childish of her to remind Rita of her position, Elizabeth reflected, but necessary at times. Someone had to keep that woman under control.

“Well, as you can see, we have the entire place surrounded.” Rita waved an arm to emphasize her statement. “He cannot escape now. In a moment I will give the word, and we will charge in there and get him. Isn’t that right, ladies?”

A faint and definitely half-hearted chorus of “Right” answered her. Obviously the group of wary ladies did not share their leader’s enthusiasm when it came down to actually tackling the poor boy.

“Might I strongly suggest that you wait until the constables arrive?” Elizabeth said firmly. “Even the most innocuous of animals can become vicious when cornered. I should hate to see any of you ladies hurt.”

Several of the women began muttering in concern and were immediately silenced when Rita held up her hand. “We had planned on taking him by surprise, your ladyship. Since the noise from your motorcycle has now rendered that impossible, we shall have to resort to a charge. There are more than enough of us to overwhelm any attempt of the German to offer resistence.”

Irritated now, Elizabeth climbed off her motorcycle and approached Rita. “I cannot allow you to do any such thing, Rita. Apart from the fact that the young man could be armed with a gun and could shoot you all on sight, you have no right to attack a human being unprovoked.”

“Unprovoked?” Rita’s voice rose shrilly in the cool air. “The man is a murderer! If you don’t think that’s enough reason to attack him”-she dropped her tone to acrimonious drawl-“ your ladyship , then I have to respectfully question your sense of justice.”

“You have no proof that this young pilot killed Amelia Brunswick.” Elizabeth rashly went out on a limb. “In fact, evidence suggests that someone else was responsible for her murder.”

Rita seemed taken aback. “Evidence? What evidence?”

“That’s something you’ll have to take up with P.C. Dalrymple. He should arrive at any minute, and until then I must insist that you not attempt to approach the windmill.”

Several of the women muttered their agreement, apparently relieved the decision had been taken out of their hands.

Rita, however, became incensed with what she obviously considered mutiny. “All right, you miserable traitors!” she yelled. “You can all snivel on the sidelines if you like. But I’m not going to be called a coward. It’s our duty to capture this bloody German, and we will disgrace ourselves if we turn away from our duty. So who’s with me?”

She glared at poor Nellie, who, faced with choosing between the calm authority of the lady of the manor and the fevered rage of her fearless leader, sided with the person who could do her the most damage. “I’m with you,” she quavered, raising a shaking hand.

Rita glared at a few other women, all of whom dragged themselves reluctantly over to stand behind her. A dozen pair of eyes fastened on Elizabeth’s face, pleading with her to stop Rita somehow.

Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, but just then the door to the windmill opened a crack. It was enough to break the slim hold she had over Rita’s intentions. With an inhuman howl, Rita pulled a wicked-looking knife from under her coat and brandished it in the air. “Come on, ladies! Tally ho!”

The crack closed immediately, but that didn’t deter Rita. With her cohorts now hot on her heels, all feebly echoing that ridiculous war cry, she surged full tilt toward the windmill.

Elizabeth threw up her hands then determinedly gave chase.

Rita reached the door first. She shoved it open with her shoulder, raised the hand holding the knife above her head, and prepared to plunge inside.

Elizabeth briefly closed her eyes and prayed. When she opened them again, it seemed as if her prayer had been inexplicably answered. Rita appeared frozen in the doorway, while the group of women crowded silently behind her.

For a moment or two, Elizabeth was unable to move either. Whatever sight had met Rita’s eyes, it was enough to stop the avenging woman dead in her tracks. Elizabeth couldn’t imagine what could be dreadful enough to achieve that miracle, and right then she wasn’t prepared to conjecture what Rita might have seen inside the windmill.

The shriek of rage shook her out of her stupor. The agonized sound had come from Rita, who had now disappeared inside the dark depths of the rotting building.

Galvanized into action, Elizabeth pounded forward as fast as her sensible shoes would allow. She skidded to a stop when she reached the silent group and thrust her way past them to the door. Peering inside, she half expected to see Rita dead on the floor. The sight that met her eyes, however, shocked her to the core.

Rita stood immobile, apparently staring into the dark shadows in front of her. Elizabeth could just make out the two figures inside. One was the German pilot, his back pressed up to the wall. Standing protectively in front of him, a half-eaten loaf of bread in her hand, defiance in every line of her young body, was Lilly Crumm.

“Apparently Lilly had been feeding him for the past two or three days,” Elizabeth told Violet when she returned to the Manor House later. “Her mother had no idea, of course. She was totally flabbergasted. She was all set to tear the poor boy apart with her bare hands. Luckily, George and Sid arrived to take him into custody before anyone could do him any damage.”

Violet looked up from the stove, where a pot of soup sat bubbling. “Lord knows what Rita Crumm will get up to next, but mind you, she’s got her hands full with that Lilly.”

“Like mother, like daughter, I’m afraid.” Elizabeth dropped her handbag on the table and sank onto a chair. “They are both very strong-willed women.”

“Well, I know someone else like that.” Violet coughed and hurried on before Elizabeth could protest. “Anyway, I’m so glad they caught that German. Now we don’t have to worry about a murderer running around the woods, and everything can get back to normal. Polly can go back to riding her bicycle home instead of bothering that nice American officer.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Elizabeth murmured.

“Well, I’ll make sure she doesn’t bother him,” Violet said, giving the soup a vicious stir with her wooden spoon.

“No, I mean that we don’t have to worry about a murderer running loose.”