Kate Kingsbury - Death Is in the Air

“What are you doing out here?” Sam asked. “I thought you worked in the office at the other end of the house.”

“I do,” Polly said, crossing her fingers behind her. “I had to run an errand, that’s all. I’m on my way back there now.”

Sam nodded, his brown eyes intent on her face. “Haven’t seen you around much.”

That’s because she’d spent her time avoiding all of them, Polly thought wistfully. She had to talk to Lady Elizabeth again and beg her to give her a job in the office. The last thing in the world she wanted was for Sam to find out she was only a housemaid. “What happened to Clay?” she asked, more to change the subject than anything. “He told Marlene he’d meet her at the pub, but he never turned up.” It was a mild rebuke of sorts. Marlene had met Clay the same night she’d met Sam, and neither one of the men had kept their promise to meet them down the pub the next night.

Sam’s gaze drifted over to the beech trees lining the drive. “Sorry about that. Clay didn’t come back from a mission. I didn’t feel like going into town without him.”

Polly felt as if someone had slammed a fist in her stomach. “Oh, blimey, I’m so sorry. Poor Clay. Doesn’t anyone know what happened to him?”

Sam shrugged. “I saw him bail out. If he’s lucky he got picked up by the Resistance. If not, he’ll spend the rest of the war in a POW camp.”

Tears clouded her eyes, and she blinked them back. “I’ll tell Marlene. She’ll be so sad. She really liked him.”

“Yeah. He was a nice guy.”

In spite of the warmth from the sun, her insides felt like they’d been dipped in ice. It could be Sam the next time. She couldn’t bear to think of him locked up in a prison camp. “Are you going up today?”

“Probably.” He glanced at his watch. “I’d better get going.” His gaze shifted to her face again. “Wanna meet me at the pub tonight?”

She nodded eagerly. “I’ll try. About eight o’clock?”

“If I can make it.”

He’d said the words casually enough, but she knew what they meant. What he really meant was if I come back.

Just then a shrill voice screeched from behind her, “Polly? What in the world are you doing?”

“I’ll see you then,” Polly said hurriedly and waved her hand before spinning around.

Violet marched toward her with a grim look on her pinched face, Polly’s discarded apron flapping in her hand.

Polly held her breath until she heard the crunch of Sam’s footsteps gradually taper off in the distance. Violet stood waiting a few feet away, with arms crossed and a scowl as dark as thunderclouds.

“I came out to see what all the noise was about,” Polly said, darting past the birdlike woman to the door.

“Oh? And did your apron just happen to fall off on the way out?” The housekeeper brandished the white cloth in her face. “And how did your skirt get all bunched up like that? Your knees are showing. Blinking disgraceful, that’s what I call it.”

“Oh, don’t get your knickers in a twist.” Polly tugged at her skirt, then snatched the offending article of clothing from Violet’s skinny hand. “I was just being polite, that’s all.”

“Hmmph!” Violet snorted. “If you ask me, there’s entirely too much of this sort of thing going on. I knew there’d be trouble if them Yanks moved in, that I did. I warned Lady Elizabeth, but she wouldn’t listen to me, oh, no.”

Polly tugged at the strings of her apron and tied them securely around her waist. “If you ask me, it’s the nosy old biddies around here what causes all the trouble.”

“Here! Mind your tongue, my girl, or I’ll have you thrown out on your ear, so help me I will.”

“Yeah? And who do you think will come up here and clean this house for Lady Liza then? No one, that’s who. There ain’t anyone in Sitting Marsh who’d do what I do, and that’s a fact.”

“Really.” Violet stomped past her into the shadowed hallway. “Well, there are a good few women in North Horsham who would be only too glad to have a job like this. Especially when they get all that free time and their food thrown in.”

“There’s not enough money in it to pay their bus fare.” Confident of her position, Polly picked up her bucket and turned her back on Violet. “So you’d better be nice to me, or I’ll leave and go work in the factory. So there.”

“Polly.”

She was tempted to ignore Violet’s command, but something in the older woman’s tone turned her head. “What?”

“I’ve got something to tell you. Your sister called here this morning.”

Alarmed, Polly turned all the way around. “Marlene? She’s all right, isn’t she? What did she call for? Is it Ma? It’s not Dad, is it?” Fear made her voice crack. “Oh, Gawd, don’t tell me it’s Dad!”

“There’s nothing wrong with any of your family as far as I know,” Violet said crisply. “There is something you should know, though. One of the local land girls was found murdered in the woods this morning. Your sister called to warn you, and Lady Elizabeth wanted me to tell you she’ll make some arrangements to get you a lift home this evening, so you don’t have to ride your bicycle past the woods.”

Polly barely heard the rest of Violet’s words. She was too hung up on the news of the murder. She sat down hard on the bottom stair, trying to make sense of what she’d heard. “A land girl? Who was she? Who done it, then?”

Violet shook her head. “I don’t know who she was, but it looks like that German pilot who got away yesterday killed the poor little mite. He must have been hiding in the woods, and the poor girl just happened to come across him.”

Polly frowned. “What was she doing in the woods all alone, anyway? I thought those girls always went around together.”

“Well, apparently this one didn’t.” Violet massaged the sides of her forehead with her fingers. “Anyway, get on with your work. I’m going back to the kitchen. All this upset has given me a headache.”

Polly moved aside to allow her to pass her on the stairs. She couldn’t believe it. Another murder in Sitting Marsh. Things had certainly changed since the Yanks had come to town. But at least they couldn’t blame this on the Yanks. Polly thought about the German bomber pilot hiding in the woods and shivered. Thank goodness someone was going to take her home tonight.

She pulled herself to her feet, then her pulse leapt as an idea blazed in her head. Maybe she could get Sam to take her home. Blissfully forgetting about the murder, she began a daydream about Sam and her alone in the Jeep under the stars-a dream that would last her the entire day.

The three land girls, all of whom were strangers to Elizabeth, seemed suitably impressed when Sheila introduced her visitor as the lady of the manor. Pauline, a stocky redhead and obviously the leader of the group, startled everybody when she demanded in her strident voice, “Did you come about the murder, m’m?”

Maisie stared down at her feet, while Kitty’s pudgy face turned a bright red. Elizabeth studied their reactions with interest and made a mental note to question them all individually.

“How did you hear about that?” Sheila spluttered, obviously put out at being robbed of her big announcement.

Pauline shrugged. “Biggs told me. He got it from the milkman when he came to pick up the milk this morning. He said it were a poacher what came across the body.”

Sheila’s face was quite pale as she stared at Pauline. “Did Biggs tell you who had been murdered?”

The girl looked uncomfortable. “No,” she said slowly, “but we all think it might be Amelia, ’cause she never came back from her date last night.”

“You’re sure she didn’t come back?” Elizabeth asked.