James Benn - The Rest Is Silence

Tea was served in the sitting room. Helen and Sir Rupert were there, along with Edgar, who sat by himself reading a book.

“Ah, here they are. How did it go today?” Sir Rupert asked, taking an unsteady step and nearly falling onto a couch.

“Eventful,” Kaz said. “Are you feeling poorly, Sir Rupert?”

“It’s the fever,” Sir Rupert said. “It never truly leaves one. Dengue fever, picked it up in the Raj,” he said to us by way of explanation. “They call it breakbone fever in India, and I can vouch for the name.” He winced as he tried to crack a smile, and took a few deep breaths.

“Were you looking for me, dear?” David said to Helen, a hopeful note in his voice.

“No,” she said, busying herself with the tea plates. “Oh, I may have wondered where you were, that’s all,” she said, moving around to his left side before she actually looked at him. “You were with Piotr and Captain Boyle again, I assume?”

“Yes,” David said, and retreated in the face of her indifference.

Meredith came in with Great Aunt Sylvia, and tea was served. There were scones and cookies, which the English insist on calling biscuits, which makes about as much sense as calling a four-thousand-pound bomb a cookie, I guess.

“Do tell us how things went today,” Sir Rupert said. He looked pale, and there was a sheen of sweat on his forehead, but he sounded better. I recounted our journey to Newton Abbot with Constable Quick, and described the discovery of the dead bodies. I left out most of the blood, and all of Tom’s reaction to the bombed-out houses. I put David a little more at the center of the action, and watched Helen’s eyes widen.

“Really?” Helen said. “You found three dead gangsters? How horrible!” For a moment, she looked at David dead-on, her normal aversion forgotten in the excitement of the story.

“Not as horrible as war, my dear,” Great Aunt Sylvia said. “And David has seen much of that, remember.” There was a touch of reproach in her voice, and Helen had the sense to murmur her agreement.

“Does that settle your business here, then?” Meredith asked Kaz and me. “Or do you still need to investigate that poor man on the beach?”

“No, we think all the stories match up well enough. He was likely the killer sent after Sabini, who was killed in turn and dumped into the River Teign, which carried him out into the Channel,” I said.

“Where the tides and currents tossed him about until he washed up on Slapton Sands,” Kaz explained.

“How horrible,” Meredith said, in an offhand voice that told me she, like her sister, knew little about the horrible things in life.

“Well, please do stay on if you can,” Sir Rupert said. “I haven’t seen David look so alive since-well, in quite a while.” As pale as he was, Sir Rupert’s embarrassment showed in his face.

“We can stay on, as it turns out,” Kaz said. General Eisenhower’s travel plans had to be kept secret, but I hoped we’d have a few days here before we had to tag along to watch the maneuvers at Slapton Sands.

“Splendid,” David said. Meredith smiled politely and stood to pour herself some more tea.

“Excuse me, Sir Rupert,” Williams said as he entered the room. “An American naval officer wishes to speak to you.”

“One of yours?” Sir Rupert said to me.

“I’m not expecting anyone,” I said.

“Very well, show him in. One more for tea is no problem.” He pushed himself off the couch with some effort and stood to greet the visitor.

“Lieutenant Peter Wiley, sir,” Williams said from the doorway.

“I’m very sorry to interrupt your tea,” the young lieutenant said. He looked like he should still be in college, and not even about to graduate. He was outfitted in his khaki dress uniform, which didn’t have much in the way of decoration except for his lieutenant’s bars. He was a good-looking kid, with light, sandy-colored hair and blue eyes that flickered over each person in the room. “I can come back if I’m intruding.”

“Not at all, young man,” Great Aunt Sylvia said. “Do join us, and tell us why you’ve come.” She raised her glasses and squinted through them as she studied him from across the room.

“I wanted to ask Sir Rupert for permission to paint the house.”

“Paint it?” Meredith asked, dropping a sugar cube into her cup.

“I’m a watercolorist, I should explain,” Wiley said hurriedly, perhaps in case they thought he’d brought ladders and buckets. He took a step closer and extended his hand to Sir Rupert. “I’m pleased to meet you, sir. I’ve heard so much about Ashcroft.”

Sir Rupert’s eyes widened at the proffered hand, and he promptly fell back onto the sofa.

Meredith followed his gaze and promptly dropped her teacup, which shattered on the floor, milky tea splashing on her shoes as she stared, her mouth open in surprise.

“Wiley, you said? Where … where did you get that ring?” Sir Rupert asked, wiping his hand across his face as if the man standing before him might be a mirage. He stood again, Helen standing at his side holding his elbow. She was confused, but she showed none of the shock that Meredith and Sir Rupert had displayed when Wiley had held out his hand.

“Who are you, exactly?” Meredith asked, advancing on Wiley, her narrow eyes studying him. “Why are you here?”

“I’m very sorry,” he said, taking a step back. “I didn’t mean to cause a disturbance. I only wanted to know if I could come back in the morning to paint. I should leave.”

“I said, where did you get that ring?” Sir Rupert repeated, his voice unusually loud.

Great Aunt Sylvia stood at Sir Rupert’s side, her hand patting his arm.

“I should think he got it from his mother, Julia Greenshaw,” she said. “Isn’t that so, young man?”

“My God,” Sir Rupert said. There was a confused murmur around the room, and Sir Rupert looked like he was ready to hit the couch again.

“Let’s all sit down and let Lieutenant Wiley talk,” David said, bringing a chair closer for Wiley. Tea was forgotten as the group-except for Edgar, who stayed in a far corner with his book-hunched forward to listen. Kaz and I backed up, not wanting to get in the middle of this family to-do, but not wanting to miss the story either.

“My mother did live here,” Peter Wiley said. “Her name was Julia Greenshaw, and she worked as a maid to Miss Pemberton. Lady Sutcliffe, after she became your wife, Sir Rupert.”

“Yes, I remember Julia. Miss Greenshaw,” he said, his eyes darting to Great Aunt Sylvia. “She married Ted Wiley and emigrated to America. He was our groundskeeper,” Sir Rupert added for our benefit.

“That’s right. My mother gave me this ring when I got my overseas orders. It was a gift from Lady Sutcliffe. This is the Pemberton crest, I was told.”

“Well, the coat of arms, to be precise,” Great Aunt Sylvia said.

“What does it mean?” I asked, leaning over Wiley’s shoulder, unable to resist butting in. It was a gold ring with a flat surface engraved with a chevron and what looked like three small buckets.

“This coat of arms comes down to us from Sir George Pemberton of the seventeenth century,” Great Aunt Sylvia said. “The buckets represent his service furnishing provisions for the army. Beer, perhaps. Possibly not the most prestigious coat of arms in the Empire, but still, not every family has one.” With that, she gave Sir Rupert a withering stare.

“I didn’t know Louise had given that ring away,” Sir Rupert said, sounding a bit confused.

“Now do you believe me?” Meredith said. Sir Rupert ignored her. Believe her about what, I nearly asked, but managed to keep my mouth shut.

“And how are your parents?” Sir Rupert asked Wiley.