Deathwatch: Inspirational WWII Suspense Page 6

  The arrival of the ambulance to remove the body aroused the curiosity of the other residents and heads peeked from doorways. The brave ones came into the corridor to question the constables.

  Grey caught the eye of one of the bobbies. “Did the dead man have any identification on him?”

  He shook his head. “No, sir. His pockets were empty except for a set of nasty looking brass knuckles.”

  At last the furor died away and the authorities left.

  The three of them were left alone and Grey suddenly realized he was famished. “I don’t suppose there’s anything here to eat?”

  Grace nodded. “I can make pancakes.” She grinned. “I even have a can of Spam my mother sent.”

  Aubrey held up his hand. “Let me do it. You’ve both had a horrid experience, and I’m quite

  handy in the kitchen. Just tell me what to do.”

  A short while later Aubrey set a stack of pancakes and fried Spam on the table, along with a loaf of margarine and a tiny bottle of syrup.

  They were silent as they attacked the food, each lost in their own thoughts.

  Aubrey finished his last bite and glanced across the table at Grace. “I’m sorry I can’t post a guard outside your door. Our manpower is spread too thin since the war.”

  Grey sat silently for a moment, drumming his fingers on the table, then came out of his thoughts. “Emergency situations require emergency measures. We can’t leave her alone.”

  He stood and carried his dishes to the sink. “We shall ignore propriety for this evening. Aubrey and I will be your guests tonight. As a wounded man, I shall take the extra bedroom. Aubrey, you get the sofa.”

  He walked into the bedroom and returned seconds later with a pillow and two blankets, which he tossed to his friend.

  Aubrey caught them smoothly and sent him a cheeky grin. “Admit it, Your Lordship. You would have taken the bedroom, wounded or not.”

  “Perhaps,” Grey said with a twitch at the corner of his mouth. “In the morning, we’ll see about getting that friend of Molly’s to stay with Grace. Now I suggest we try to get some sleep. We have a busy schedule tomorrow. Aubrey, you will need to see if our assailant has fingerprints on file, and we need to talk to Fossbury.”

  He called over his shoulder as he headed to the bedroom. “Be vigilant, old man. You are our first line of defense.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Bristol Arms Apartments

  London, England

  Grateful for an uneventful night, Grey awoke early. He and Aubrey went back to their flat to dress and to give Grace some privacy while she prepared for her interview with Molly’s friend.

  Grey decided he would take Grace when he and Aubrey met with Edwin Fossbury. It wasn’t his preference, but they’d leave as soon as she finished the interview. He wasn’t letting Grace too far out of his sight. He’d been charged with keeping her safe, and last evening he’d almost failed her.

  His dilemma was how to explain to her it would be better to exclude her while they questioned Fossbury. The MP would be reluctant to talk about his affair with Jacky Vidal in Graces’ presence. It didn’t matter that she had met him in the company of Miss Vidal. A man just didn’t discuss such things in the company of women they didn’t know.

  He’d made a promise to include her in the investigation and he couldn’t, in good conscience, break that promise. If she didn’t agree to wait elsewhere, he would have to take her to the interview and hope for the best. His preference was to leave her at a nearby tearoom until they finished, but the final decision would be up to Grace.

  ***

  Grace ate her breakfast at the coffee table in front of a warm blaze in the hearth. Sheets of icy rain and sleet washed down the French doors. She shivered, remembering how close she’d come to death last evening. Now, the incident seemed like a bad dream. But she had the bruises to prove it had been all too real.

  Although she couldn’t see the river through the downpour, the Thames must be high against the Victoria Embankment with all the bad weather. The only thing she disliked about this beautiful country was the constant downpour. Perhaps it was God’s tears for the evil in a world gone mad.

  She had just finished breakfast when the doorman called. “Miss Sullivan, I have a woman in the lobby who says she’s here to see you. Shall I send her to the servant’s entrance?”

  “No, it’s okay to send her up in the lift.” Molly hadn’t given Grace the woman’s name but it had to be her friend. No one else was expected.

  A few moments later, Grace answered a soft knock. When she opened the door, she thanked God she had made a fresh pot of tea. Never had she seen anyone who looked more in need of something warm to drink.

  The woman offered a cold, damp hand. “I’m Iona McPhee. Molly Hixs sent me,” she said in a soft, cultured voice. She wore a threadbare coat, without a hat or gloves, and carried a weather-beaten umbrella that looked as though a strong wind would crush it. She appeared to be in her early thirties, attractive, with hazel eyes, flawless olive skin, and thick auburn hair that touched her thin shoulders.

  Grace took her coat. “Please come in, Miss McPhee. You must be frozen. It’s a horrid morning. Have a seat by the fire and I’ll get you a hot cup of tea.” She hurried into the kitchen and returned with a tea tray and a plate of scones she’d purchased from a woman who sold them to tenants.

  The visitor accepted the hot drink with a soft sigh. “Thank you, this is very kind of you. Please call me Bunny. It’s a childhood nickname that stuck into adulthood.”

  “How is it you have such a lovely Scottish name and no accent?”

  “I’m an orphan, born in Scotland but raised in England. I married a Scot, Angus McPhee.” A sad smile tipped the corners of her mouth upward. “Now he had a burr so thick you couldn’t cut it with a razor.” She looked away, then back at Grace. “He died at Dunkirk.”

  Seeming to need to change the subject, Bunny glanced down at her worn, too large skirt and sweater and gave an embarrassed smile. “Forgive my appearance. I lost everything in the December 29th raid and I’ve depended on the kindness of strangers since then.” She shivered, whether from the cold or thoughts of her plight, Grace couldn’t tell.

  “God bless Molly. If she hadn’t taken me in, I’d have been forced into the Underground.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Grace said. “How horrible for you.”

  “Many good people have lost their homes and families, even their own lives. I have no reason to complain.” Bunny gave a dismissive shrug. “Molly told me you were looking for a companion, but she didn’t say why. You look to be in great health.”

  “I am in good health. Inspector Milford and Commander Hamilton want me to find a roommate. You’ll meet them later if you decide to take the job. They have the flat next door on a temporary basis. You should know there has been one attempt on my life, so there may be an element of danger involved. The Inspector plans to set up an alarm system in the flat as a security measure.”

  Bunny’s gaze swept over Grace’s face, a tiny crease formed between her brows. “I’m not particularly brave, but I’ve always felt I could take care of myself. Am I allowed to ask why someone wants to kill you?”

  “My friend and neighbor, Jacky Vidal, was murdered last week. There is a chance I can identify the killer.”

  “What would my duties be? I’m a good cook, but I’ve never thought of myself as a body guard.”

  Grace laughed. “I sincerely hope that won’t become necessary. I would expect you to clean up after yourself, of course. A maid service comes in once a week to do the heavy cleaning.

  “I’ll be out a lot during the day and maybe at night. You will be free to do as you please. Just be here at night. Your rent and food will be free, of course. I’ll speak to the Commander about some kind of compensation.”

  Grace watched Bunny’s face while she gave the woman the job description. So far she didn’t seem alarmed or ready to bolt for the door. “That’s about it. So what do you think?”


  “To be honest, it sounds too good to be true. I feel I’ve imposed on Molly too long. I’m willing to start whenever you want me.”

  “Just bring whatever you wish when you’re ready to move in. I’ll show you the extra bedroom and give you a door key.”

  “There’s little to pack.” Bunny gave a sardonic laugh. “I only have two changes of clothes: This one and the outfit I wore the night the Luftwaffe made me homeless.”

  “We’ll have to do something about your wardrobe. I would share mine but you’re much taller. I have an idea, but I’ll have to clear it with the Commander.”

  “I want to let Molly know I’m leaving and thank her for all she’s done for me.”

  “Do you need me to call a taxi for you?”

  “I still have my car. By the grace of God, I had driven it to a friends the night the bombs destroyed my home. That visit saved my life and my car.”

  ***

  Grey rang Edwin Fossbury and made an appointment to see him at his home at eleven that morning. He sounded put off, but agreed to give them an hour of his time.

  When Grey rapped on Grace’s door at ten, she emerged dressed for the foul weather in a heavily-lined black trench coat, boots, hat, and gloves, with an umbrella on her arm.

  “Ah, the ever-punctual Miss Sullivan,” he said.

  She gave a merry laugh. “You make it sound like a terrible character flaw. And I thought we had agreed to skip the ‘Miss Sullivan’.”

  “On the contrary, Grace, I’m impressed. Punctuality is an admirable trait, one my fiancée never mastered.”

  Aubrey stepped forward and offered his arm. “You look lovely, and brighten this very dreary day.”

  Grace took Aubrey’s arm and gave Grey a glance over her shoulder. “You could take lessons from the Inspector, Commander.”

  She was probably right, but he didn’t bother to reply and rang for the elevator.

  The lift arrived and they all stepped in. Tilly had been replaced by a seventy-something Cockney gentleman named Ben. “G’morning gents, Miss Grace.”

  “Good morning, Ben,” they chorused.

  “How did your interview go?” Grey asked.

  “I liked her. She’s had a very hard time of late. Lost her husband at Dunkirk and her home in December. She only has two changes of clothing to her name.”

  The lift reached the ground floor and Grace exited first. She waited for Grey, obviously she had something on her mind. “Commander, if Jacky’s clothes are still there, I’d like to offer them to Bunny.”

  “Bunny?” he asked.

  “Sorry, her name is Iona McPhee, but she prefers ‘Bunny’. She’s about the same size as Jacky and we can’t contact her parents since they’re in Occupied France. The clothes would be a God-send to Bunny. I would be happy to pay for them.”

  Grey turned to Aubrey. “Do you have any objections?”

  Aubrey shook his head. “Under normal circumstances it would be frowned upon, but the war has changed the rules. I have no objections. The clothes should be put to good use.”

  “Then it’s settled.” Grey smiled down at Grace. “No need to pay for them. We shall bring the wardrobe over when we return from our visit with the MP.”

  Grey called for a taxi before he left his apartment. He’d had no opportunity to get to Amherst to bring back a motor car.

  Outside, the taxi splashed to the curb. They stepped from under the building overhang into a solid wall of water. The three of them quickly piled into the back-seat.

  As the vehicle moved like a sloth through the wet streets, Grey made eye contact with Aubrey above Grace’s head, and finally broached the subject he’d been avoiding. “Grace, would you mind waiting at the tearoom near Fossbury’s home while we speak to him about his affair with Jacky? He might be more forthcoming without a woman present.”

  “That thought occurred to me as well. The teashop is a good idea. I thought I might have to wait in the taxi.”

  Grey hoped he kept the shocked expression off his face. “You don’t mind?” The woman continued to astound him.

  “Did you think I would be upset? Why would I be? Your reason makes perfect sense, and I want to find Jacky’s killer as much as you do.” She reached into her handbag and retrieved a novel. “I brought along a book read. But you must promise to tell me everything he says. Promise?”

  “Of course. You’re a member of the team. What are you reading?”

  “Mrs. Miniver, by Jan Struther. It’s quite good.”

  Edwin Fossbury Residence

  London, England

  They deposited Grace at the teashop and arrived five minutes early for their appointment. Grey rang the bell anyway. The weather was too inclement to stand on the stoop. An Oriental houseboy answered the summons, which surprised Grey. Perhaps it shouldn’t have. He’d read somewhere that Fossbury had spent time as ambassador to China before assuming his post in Parliament.

  The houseboy stored their coats and umbrellas then led them into a masculine sitting room with well-stocked book shelves and Chinese art. Aromatic wood-scented heat warmed the room from a stone fireplace. Two elaborate samurai swords were mounted over the mantel.

  “He be with you soon,” the houseboy said in halting English.

  When Fossbury entered the room, he was much the same as Grey remembered; tall, muscular, with dark hair and eyes, and a full, well-trimmed beard. He must now be in his mid-forties. A sprinkling of grey had been added at the temples and to his beard since their last meeting.

  Grey made the introductions. Fossbury offered a firm handshake then waved them to a sofa and took a leather chair nearby, seemingly a little nervous, but confident. “I’ve been expecting a visit from Scotland Yard. You’re here about Jacky, of course.”

  “Yes,” Aubrey acknowledged. Grey had asked him to take the lead in questioning the MP. “We’re aware that you were a frequent visitor at Miss Vidal’s flat. We’d like to know the extent of your relationship and the last time you saw her.”

  Grey expected denial, anger, and perhaps even threats, but Fossbury leaned back and steepled his fingers, resting them under his chin. A deep sadness entered his gaze when he spoke. “Jacky and I had been lovers for three years. We met at a dinner at the French Embassy. I was there as a guest with others from the Home Office.”

  He paused, seemingly lost in memory for a moment. “She was like a beautiful moth: attracted to bright lights, gay, laughing, and witty. I’d never met anyone like her. She wanted to get married, but I couldn’t, of course. It would have meant the end of my career. Her race was unimportant to me, but it would have been unacceptable to my constituents.”

  He glanced from Aubrey then back to Grey. “That may sound cowardly, but I believe what I’m doing in Parliament is important. It isn’t merely a diversion as with some of my colleagues.”

  “When did you see her last?”

  His voice cracked before he collected himself and answered, “The evening before she died. We went out to dinner.”

  “How did you learn of her death?”

  “I ran into Nigel Lewis. He informed me. We’ve known each other for years. He knew of my relationship with Jacky. It was he who introduced us at the Embassy the night we met.”

  Aubrey continued. “Did you know she was seeing other men?”

  “You mean the lieutenant? Yes, I knew.” He gave a rueful smile. “She made sure I knew. He was supposed to make me jealous enough to marry her. She didn’t understand that I would have been happy to make her my wife if I could. And I fully intended to once I retired from office.”

  “So you weren’t jealous?”

  “Not in the least. I knew he meant nothing to Jacky.” He shook his head. “She could be such a child at times.”

  Grey spoke for the first time. “Did she ever discuss her work at Bletchley Park?”

  “No. She worked long hours and relished the furloughs when they came. The last thing she wanted was to talk about her profession. She needed to forget all th
e pressure. I’d get a call when she came to town. She would party until the leave ended. Despite her demeanor, she was quite brilliant, you know.” He glanced past them at the rain pelting the French doors. “I’ll miss her frightfully.”

  “Did she ever talk about the lieutenant?”

  A wry smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “No, she was never indiscreet enough to do that. What will happen to her remains? I’d like to see she has a decent burial. I know her parents can’t be reached.”

  “I’ll see that you are contacted when the body is released,” Aubrey said.

  As they were leaving, Grey reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a velvet box that contained Jacky’s pearls. “I thought you might like to have these, Edwin. We’ll try to keep your name out of the newspapers if possible, but I can’t make any promises.”

  Fossbury removed the pearls and fingered the strand, his eyes filled with pain. “I’d appreciate whatever you can do, Grey. Give my regards to your lovely mother.”

  As the taxi pulled away from the Fossbury residence, Aubrey asked, “Did you believe him?”

  Grey nodded. “I did. He could be an excellent actor, but what he said rang true. That leaves the imposter lieutenant as our primary suspect.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Bristol Arms Apartments

  London, England

  Gray and Aubrey moved Jacky Vidal’s wardrobe next door and collected the list of clubs and the sketch of the lieutenant from Grace.

  Aubrey ran the sketch over to Scotland Yard to make copies while Grey installed a heavy security lock on the front door of 3B and a simple buzzer system in every room of Grace’s flat; skills he’d learned as an MI6 agent.

  Afterwards, he made plans for the evening. The first place on Grace’s list was the Savoy Hotel. They would start there.

  The hotel had sustained minor bomb damage and suffered from food shortages like everyone else, but it was still the best restaurant and club in London.

  It was too much to hope for that they would run into the imposter there. If not, Grey would flash the drawing around to the staff, see if they recognized him and perhaps know where he lived. Failing that, they’d move on to the less exclusive spots Jacky frequented.