Kate Kingsbury - An Unmentional Murder

“Of course you did,” Elizabeth said soothingly. “I understand. But now we have to tell-”

“Tomm-y-y-y-y!” Iris’s voice floated down the alleyway.

Tommy shoved Elizabeth away with both hands. “Go! She’ll kill you. She said she wouldn’t let anyone take me away. She means it. I couldn’t let her do that because of what I did. I just couldn’t.”

“I’m not leaving you with her.” Elizabeth turned to face the alleyway as Iris’s voice sounded louder. “We’ll face her together and we’ll get Katie and-”

“No!” Tommy was sobbing now-huge, deep sobs that tore at her heart. “You can’t take Katie away, you can’t!”

“Tommy-” There was no time to argue with the boy. Elizabeth grabbed the knife out of his hand and turned to face the woman running toward them.

Just then another shout echoed across the quiet field. Someone hurtled out of the alleyway on a bicycle. Someone short and stout-George. Somehow he wedged his bicycle in front of Iris, stopping her cold.

For a moment it seemed as if she would fight him, but then she burst into tears and sank to the ground. Tommy broke free from Elizabeth’s grip and ran toward his mother. Dropping to his knees beside her, he wound his arms around her, his sobs joining hers.

“Thank goodness I thought to call Bessie,” Violet said, some time later. She set a glass of brandy down on the kitchen table in front of Elizabeth. “If she hadn’t said that about you talking about Clyde Morgan’s horse, I never would have thought of calling George until much later, and by then it might have been too late.”

She shivered and poured herself a generous glass from the brandy bottle. “I tell you, when George rang to tell me you’d almost been killed, I was beside myself.” She glared at Elizabeth. “Why didn’t you tell me that the rag and bone man was murdered and you were getting yourself involved again?”

Elizabeth took down a mouthful of brandy and shuddered. “I didn’t know for certain and since George was so convinced it was suicide I didn’t want to make any accusations until I was sure that my suspicions were founded.”

Violet seemed about ready to cry. “You always confide in me, Lizzie. I don’t know why you didn’t this time.”

“You were so worried about Martin. I didn’t want to worry you with something else that might well have been nothing more than my imagination.”

Violet wagged a finger at her. “Don’t you ever do that to me again, Elizabeth. From now on you tell me when you’re going off on one of your wild-goose chases. If no one knows where you are, how do we know when you’re in trouble? It was lucky the hospital rang or I’d-”

Elizabeth sat up straight in her chair. “The hospital? What did they say? Did they say anything about Earl?”

“Of course they said something about the major,” Violet said crossly. “Why else would they call?”

“What did they say?” Elizabeth took hold of Violet’s hands. “Violet, tell me, what did they say?”

“They said as how the major was awake and wanted to see you, but-”

Elizabeth waited to hear no more. She leapt to her feet, sending her empty glass spinning across the table. “I must go to him.”

“What now?” Violet deftly caught the glass and set it upright. “It’s past eight o’clock. You’ll never get there before dark. Besides, the major’s probably asleep by now.”

Elizabeth stared at the clock. “I had no idea it was that late.” She rushed over to the telephone and grabbed it off the hook. “I’ll ring the hospital and ask how he is.” Her fingers busily dialed as she spoke.

Violet said something she didn’t hear, but she paid scant attention. All her thoughts were on Earl now, and as she waited for someone to answer the urgent ringing of the phone, she prayed she would hear good news.

It took some time before she could persuade the nurse who answered to allow her to speak to someone in charge. When the sister finally came onto the phone, she was obviously annoyed.

“I must advise you, your ladyship,” she said stiffly, “that it’s past visiting hours. I must ask you to ring us back in the morning.”

“I just want to know the condition of Major Earl Monroe,” Elizabeth said stubbornly.

“The nurse could have told you that.”

“I didn’t want a carefully worded stock answer. I need to know his real condition.” Elizabeth waited a beat, then added, “Or should I just come in person to find out what I want to know?”

“The major is resting right now.” The sister hesitated, then added, “He’s over the crisis, and is expected to recover.” Elizabeth’s cry of joy made her pause, then she added, “I must warn you, however, it’s likely to be a long process. It’s better that you talk to the doctor in the morning. He can tell you more than I can.”

Elizabeth hugged the telephone to her cheek. “Thank you, sister. I’ll be there first thing.”

She hung up the receiver and turned to find Violet dabbing away at the corner of her eye with her handkerchief. “He’s going to be all right,” she said and, in a burst of joy, hugged Violet’s scrawny body. “He’s going to be well!”

“Thank the good Lord.” Violet patted Elizabeth’s hand. “Now sit down. I have something to tell you about Martin.”

Elizabeth sat. No matter what trouble Martin was in, they could take care of it. Now that Earl was on the mend, she could take care of anything.

“I think Martin has gone completely off his rocker,” Violet said.

Except that, Elizabeth thought. “Now what?”

Violet nodded. “I heard him talking to someone on the telephone. I think someone is pretending to be from the War Office and they’re humoring him. I wouldn’t be surprised if two men in white coats turn up at the door one morning to take him away.”

“Why? What did he say?”

“Not much. He just said his name, and the gentleman on the other end told him he’d done an excellent job and his country was grateful to him.”

“Oh, my goodness.” Elizabeth ran a hand over her hair and winced as her fingers came in contact with a large bump on her head.

“Let me look at that.” Violet jumped up and began parting Elizabeth’s hair.

“I do know Martin was involved with the government in some way in the first world war. Something to do with breaking codes, I believe. Apparently Martin taught the Morse code to sailors at the turn of the century and was an expert at breaking codes. Ouch!”

Her yelp of pain stilled Violet’s probing fingers. “I’ll get a cold cloth for that.” She hurried over to the sink and turned on the tap. “Well, that explains it, then. You know how Martin is, always getting confused. He must have thought it was World War One again and offered his services. The War Office must have got a good laugh out of that one. Can you imagine Martin trying to break a code nowadays? Half the time he doesn’t know where he is or what he’s doing.”

“Well, it’s nice of the War Office to humor him.” Elizabeth shook her head, then wished she hadn’t when pain sliced through it. “I must call them and thank them for being so understanding.”

Violet held a cloth under the water, then squeezed it out. “Well, they certainly went to a lot of trouble, picking him up in that fancy motorcar and all. I asked him about that and he said it was a chariot and it took him to the stars.”

Her hands stilled, and she stared at Elizabeth. “Funny about that motorcar. You don’t suppose…”

They stared at each other for a long moment, then in unison shook their heads, muttering, “No, of course not. It couldn’t be.”

“That’s what I thought,” Violet said, sounding relieved. “Barmy, he is. Completely barmy.”