Kate Kingsbury - Wedding Rows

“He was stabbed through the heart,” Elizabeth said bluntly.

Dickie staggered, felt for a chair, and sat down on it. “Are you telling me someone murdered him? But that’s simply ghastly. Oh, dear, oh, dear! Whatever next?”

Elizabeth was far too astute to be swayed by this show of false emotion. “I understand you and Mr. Sutcliffe had a difference of opinion at the Tudor Arms last Friday night.”

The photographer’s eyes narrowed, and his voice sounded deeper when he answered. “Who told you that, may I ask?”

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

Dickie made a pretense of brushing something from his sleeve. “We had an altercation, yes. Nothing major. It was all resolved rather quickly.”

“I was told you gave Mr. Sutcliffe a warning. I also heard that you were arguing with him in the kitchen shortly before his death.”

Dickie’s mouth hardened. “If you’re suggesting that I killed the man, you couldn’t be more wrong. I am well used to intolerant, misinformed people like Brian Sutcliffe. His attacks were nothing new to me. I assure you, if I went around killing everyone who insulted me I’d have an army of deaths on my hands. I am many things, Lady Elizabeth. I’d be the first to tell you that my lifestyle may be controversial, but a murderer? No, indeed not.”

“Not even if your lifestyle is threatened?” Elizabeth asked quietly.

Dickie Muggins looked her straight in the eye. “Not even then.”

For some reason, she believed him. Picking up her handbag, she said briskly, “Well, I won’t take up any more of your time, Mr. Muggins.”

She was about to depart when he spoke again. “I’m not the only one who argued with Sutcliffe, you know. If I were you, I’d have a chat with that bridesmaid. The tall one. I had the room next to Sutcliffe, and I heard her cursing him on the landing. Not nice language for a lady to use at all.”

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.

“God 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?”