James Benn - A Blind Goddess

“Oh no, she wasn’t from London,” Eva said. “She was with that group from Guernsey. She had no place to go back to.” Guernsey was one of the Channel Islands occupied by the Germans. When the war began, many of the children were brought to the mainland in case the Germans took the islands, which they had done with ease.

“Be that as it may,” Carla said firmly, “take the washing down and let Captain Boyle look at what he wants.”

“Has anything else been removed?” I asked.

“No, I just hung up a shirt that was on the chair, and cleaned up a bit. In case any relatives come for his things, I wanted it to look nice,” Eva said.

“Was Mr. Neville a nice man? I mean the friendly sort.”

“A bit reserved, wouldn’t you say, dear?” Carla said. “Like most of the English.”

“Perhaps,” Eva said. “But he didn’t talk to me like most adults. Treating me like a little kid, I mean. I am eighteen years old, you know.”

“Just last week, you were,” her mother said with a smile, ushering her daughter out. “Don’t rush things, Eva.”

They left me alone in Neville’s room. Searching a dead man’s place was never a favorite pastime. It didn’t bother some guys, but the little things people left behind always got to me. Change on the dresser. An unfinished book. All the possessions we think will be waiting when we return but only point to the uncertainty of life and the sureness of death.

The room was long and narrow, with a dresser on the wall to the left of the door. Next to it was an armchair, a bit worse for wear, but well placed. It faced the double windows on the opposite wall, which had an excellent view of the canal and the town beyond it. A church steeple crept above the rooftops, barely above the chimneys spouting grimy coal smoke. I watched a rowboat in the canal, the rower paddling idly as the current took him. A bed stood by the other wall, with a nightstand and lamp. Past the bed was a closet, and I opened the door to find a pair of shoes, slippers, and old boots. Neville had two suits hanging neatly, next to a few shirts and a couple of pairs of older trousers. A raincoat and a heavy winter overcoat filled out his wardrobe. After several years of strict clothes rationing, most Englishmen were making do as Neville obviously was. The suits were well-worn, a few faint stains and patches showing their age. I went through the pockets and found nothing but lint and a ticket stub for the Great Western Railway, Newbury to Cheltenham. Made sense, from what I knew of his job.

The book on his nightstand was Pied Piper , by Nevil Shute. Kaz had a copy in his suite at the Dorchester, and I’d started it myself a few days ago. It was about an English gent stuck in France at the beginning of the war, trying to get himself and a bunch of kids safely to England. Neville had gotten farther than I had, but I had a better shot at finishing it. I hoped.

I sat in his chair. I looked out the window, then at the one picture on the wall, a standard country scene. The wood floors were polished and clean, no dust anywhere. It looked like it would take about ten minutes to move Neville’s stuff out and get the place ready for a new tenant. I got up and checked the dresser drawers. Nothing but clothing. Stuart Neville appeared to be a man with few needs. He had a job, a room with a pleasant view, and friendly housekeepers. No pictures of family, no smokes, none of the debris of everyday life a working man might pick up and leave behind. I wondered what his office was like, and what he kept there. I checked the closet one more time, and noticed a clothes hanger had fallen on the floor. It seemed oddly out of place, which made me think.

I took the stairs quietly and darted into the scullery, which opened onto the backyard. Eva was pouring hot water into a dolly tub, a big metal-rimmed tub for doing laundry. The bed sheets were in the tub, but hanging from a peg was a blue serge suit.

“Oh, Captain,” Eva said, stepping in front of the clothing as if I might not notice.

“Did you take anything else?” I asked. “I don’t care about the suit, although his relatives may.”

“No,” she said, her eyes downcast. “Just this. I thought I might take it out a bit and it would fit Father nicely. He’s had nothing new since the rationing, and Mr. Neville told me he had no close relatives. I was worried the police would take everything away. I’m sorry.” That last bit was drawn out as if she was talking to an idiot, which meant she wasn’t sorry at all, and that I should stop being so mean.

“Don’t worry,” I said, going through the pockets and coming up empty. “Did Mr. Neville tell you anything else that you forgot to mention?”

“Yes. To be careful and not go out at night alone. He said the world was a dangerous place, and that I should watch out for myself. He was very serious about it. I didn’t want to say anything in front of Mama, it would only worry her.”

“He was right about the world,” I said. “It was good advice.”

“What should I do with the suit?”

“I’m not your conscience, kid. Do whatever you can live with.”

It wasn’t like I was a stranger to valuables vanishing from a crime scene. I’d never take a treasured family possession, but I do recall nicking a smoked ham once, from the house of a guy who’d taken two slugs to the back of the head. He was a mobster, lived alone, and I figured no one would mind since he had about a dozen of them hanging down in the cellar. Depending on the circumstances, I could live with certain small appliances, foodstuff, clothing and whatnot walking away. One suit from a guy who either had no family or didn’t care about them was a long way from crossing my line. I’d admired Eva’s initiative, but felt like I had to play the tough guy.

I wasn’t feeling so tough as I looked for Sergeant Sullivan, given that I was investigating a murder and had instead uncovered a kid pinching a dead man’s suit for her paunchy old man. I found Sullivan in the parlor, leafing through a copy of a film magazine with David Niven on the cover.

“It’s Eva’s,” he said, tossing it aside. “She loves the moving pictures. We’re supposed to see The Way Ahead , the new David Niven film, tonight. But I’ll be in Dutch with my CO for not getting back on time.”

“Yeah, you got it rough, Sullivan. Tell me, how’d you get along with Neville?”

“Everyone calls me Sully, Captain.”

“Okay, Sully. What did Neville call you?”

“We hardly exchanged a dozen words. I’m here to see Eva, so I stay in the kitchen most times. I had dinner with the family once when he was here, but he mainly talked with Mr. Miller. He was okay, I guess.”

“He ever give Eva a hard time?”

“You mean come on to her? Hell, Captain, he was an older guy. Forty, maybe.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time. Eva’s a pretty gal. You certain she never said anything?”

“No, she didn’t. What, do you think he pulled a fast one and she … oh, wait, I get it. You think I clobbered him, huh?”

“You’d have every right to be mad about a guy making a move on your girl. Him living under the same roof and all.”

“No, he didn’t pull anything. And you got a suspicious mind, Captain.”

“Goes with the territory. Anything out of the ordinary happen around here lately? Break-ins, strangers prowling around?”

“No, just that missing girl they’re all looking for. It’s the talk of the town.”

“Did Neville ever go out boating on the canal?”

“Jeez, Captain, I don’t know. I wasn’t keeping tabs on the guy.”

Big Mike came in and sat down on the couch next to me. I felt the springs sag. “Anything?” I asked.