6

“Mrs. Villette Horn.” Berdie’s words were a shot across the ship’s bow.

All eyes in the Copper Kettle turned upon Berdie, who stood fully armed for the skirmish. She was doing battle for what was right and honorable.

Lillie took Berdie’s arm. “Berdie,” she whispered, “please remember your place in the community.”

“That’s just why I’m going to speak to her,” she whispered back, but with just a bit more fire.

“But is elevenses the best time? The place is full to overflowing, with the attentive ears of the village at the ready.”

Berdie became suddenly aware that every table and chair in the place was occupied and several others stood waiting. An air of anticipation, like royal guests at a jousting match, sizzled round, every face focused on her.

Berdie took a deep breath. Lillie was right. Her confrontation was with Villette, not the village. Coming in ready for a verbal punch-up was not the best way to begin a conversation, and it would do nothing for Hugh’s reputation to make a fuss, right or wrong, in public.

Villette hustled from the Copper Kettle’s tiny kitchen. “Someone called?” She stood, hands on hips, with a scowl that wrinkled her horseshoe-shaped face.

There was absolute stillness.

“Do you have any fresh teacakes on offer?” Berdie fumbled.

Villette’s tiny eyes flared. “As you can see, second from the top.” She jabbed her finger toward the blackboard where the day’s menu was listed. “Teacakes.” She lifted her chin. “And my teacakes are always fresh, Mrs. Elliott.”

Lillie smothered a giggle.

Villette squinted as she strained her neck forward, looked past Berdie, and stared out the front shop window.

Berdie turned to see Mr. Raheem, forehead pressed against the glass window, peering into the shop with hands cupped around his eyes. “How unlike him,” she whispered.

Lillie’s brows lifted.

“Shells, bells, and little fishes,” Villette squeaked. “What does he think he’s doing?” She stepped to the door.

Now all eyes turned to the front window, where Mr. Raheem pulled quickly back from his awkward scrutiny of the shop and made way to the entrance. He entered, the shop bell clattering wildly.

“Good morning” snapped from his lips as his eyes rested upon Villette, a nearby presence hard to avoid, then danced from face to face. His anxious gaze alighted on Berdie. “Mrs. Elliott, are you busy? It’s just that I’d like to see you for a moment,” he said in his slight Punjabi accent, an edge in his voice. He angled his head toward the road.

As if the ball had now landed in Berdie’s court, heads turned back to her.

She welcomed the interruption, a perfect opportunity to gracefully depart. “Of course, Mr. Raheem. Miss Foxworth is accompanying me.”

He gave a tentative nod.

“Excuse us please, Mrs. Horn. Can we fetch a dozen teacakes when we finish our business with Mr. Raheem?”

Villette crossed her arms and pursed her lips. “If you think they’ll still be fresh enough by then, Mrs. Elliott.”

“Thank you.” Berdie, not rising to the bait, stepped gracefully to the door, Lillie following.

Mr. Raheem gathered Berdie and Lillie and ushered them hastily cross the road to his shop like a dutiful sheep dog collecting his strays.

“Mr. Raheem?” Berdie didn’t recall having ever seen the shopkeeper this fretful. She put the Villette Horn dispute behind her, something to be sorted at a later opportunity. “Is everything all right?”

He opened the door, herded them inside the empty shop, and locked the door behind them. “I want none of the interruptions.” He turned the OPEN sign to CLOSED.

Berdie and Lillie exchanged glances.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Mrs. Elliott.” A mixture of harried activity and nervous energy dampened Mr. Raheem’s upper lip. He wiped his palm cross his white work apron. “Thank you for coming.”

“No, Mr. Raheem, you did me a favor. But you are not yourself.”

“Indeed, I am not. That’s why I hoped to speak to you. I think you can help.”

“I’m glad to be of service, but help how?”

Mr. Raheem took a large intake of air and slowly blew it out his lips as if practicing some kind of breathing exercise. “I’ll come straight with it. It’s my nephew, well, my wife’s nephew, Sundeep.”

“Nice lad. Yes.”

“He’s gone missing.”

“Gone missing?” Lillie didn’t even try to contain her surprise.

“He’s taken my work van and disappeared.” He cupped his hands together. “The last I saw of him, he was loading boxes in the van, ready for his deliveries, happy as the beach boy.”

“Sand boy,” Lillie corrected.

“Was this Saturday, Mr. Raheem?” Berdie wanted to be sure.

He nodded.

Berdie recalled Sundeep’s rummaging round in the delivery truck but hadn’t seen his departure.

“And what makes it worse…” Air caught in his throat as if the words would not come out. “The police have called round asking for him. I was out, but my wife…So many questions, it makes her brain spin.” He swallowed. “They think our Sundeep is an insurrectionary, that he’s involved with something terrible.”

“It’s DI Brice, I presume, that questioned her.”

“A young man, she said, who was very”—Mr. Raheem paused—“to the point.” The greengrocer ran the fingers of his right hand along the edge of a display of fresh strawberries. “She told them Sundeep was visiting friends in London and would return soon.”

“Do you think that’s where he is?”

The man shrugged. “He doesn’t answer his mobile.” He sighed. “She lied to the police, Mrs. Elliott. She was frightened.”

“Has he ever done anything like this before? Just disappearing?”

“No. Not that I know. What will happen to him?”

“I’m sure all of this can be sorted.” Lillie smiled at him in her gentle way. “You’ve come to the right people. Berdie is very good at getting to the bottom of matters like this. And I am glad to help her.”

The man brightened. “Yes, yes, indeed. That’s what I was hoping.”

Berdie’s eyes bored into Lillie’s, but her dearest friend turned away, resisting any unspoken messages.

“Normally, Mr. Raheem,” Berdie began, “I would be glad to help, but…”

The man’s face fell. “It’s too much to ask.”

Now Lillie’s glare fell upon Berdie with a very clear message that said, “How can you possibly deny this kind gentleman your aid and still call yourself a human being?”

It gave Berdie pause, and Mr. Raheem apparently spotted it.

“Please, Mrs. Elliott, if you would be so kind.” He held his palms together and raised them to his chest as if in holy prayer. “Please.”

“Mr. Raheem, you needn’t…” Berdie couldn’t bear to see the tender parishioner in such humble posture. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The fellow lifted his hands heavenward. “Oh, thanks to you.” His usual sunshine smile returned. “Thank you, Mrs. Elliott, thank you so much.”

“Mind you, I can’t promise I’ll locate Sundeep. We’re quite busy at church with the Whitsun regatta and all that’s going on with the aftermath of a horrible situation. But I shall try my best.”

“I understand.”

Lillie grinned, a bit smugly, as Berdie read it.

“Mr. Raheem, this is going to seem just a bit odd, but may I take one of your delicious cherries?”

“A hundred of them, if you wish.”

“No, just the one. But Miss Foxworth would like to buy two pounds of them.”

“Would I?” Lillie wrinkled her nose.

“And can you put those in a carrier bag, if you please?”

The greengrocer gave the single cherry to Berdie and began shoveling cherries into a plastic bag.

Lillie didn’t seem particularly pleased but went along with it all, paying for the purchase promptly.

Quite unexpectedly, Mrs. Raheem appeared from the back of the store, her colorful sari flowing with her graceful movement. Her raven hair was pulled back, black brows rising when she spotted Berdie. The woman put her hand to her heart.

“Sharday,” Mr. Raheem nearly shouted and spoke some words in his first language.

The woman broke into a broad smile that instantly gave way to tears. “Praises to God.” She burst toward Berdie and Lillie, grabbed both by the hands, and gave them a generous squeeze. “Thank you, Mrs. Elliott, thank you. And to your help, Miss Foxworth.”

“As I told your husband, Mrs. Raheem, I’ll see what I can do, but we must be patient.”

“Patient, yes. Oh, thank you, Mrs. Elliott.”

Mrs. Raheem released their hands, only to fall into her husband’s arms.

“We must move on.” Berdie took Lillie’s elbow, foregoing the elusive grocery order, and escorted her from the store, allowing the Raheems their privacy.

Not a moment outside the shop, Berdie took Lillie to task.

“‘You’ve come to the right people, Mr. Raheem?’”

Lillie bristled. “‘Miss Foxworth would like to buy two pounds of cherries?’”

“Lillie, we can’t go flitting into the tea shop without a bag of something. It at least needs to appear to have been some sort of business transaction.”

Lillie tipped her head. “Oh yes, of course.” She stopped. “But why didn’t you buy them?”

“I owed you.” Berdie moved on. “Please hear me out, my dear. You know my nosing in, even when helpful, is not appreciated by my husband. Searching for a lost young person who, as it turns out, is being pursued by the police? Hugh won’t wear it.”

“You’ll talk him round.”

“Lillie, you can’t go volunteering me for every little situation.” Berdie realized her voice was louder than intended.

“This is Mr. Raheem’s nephew, not every little situation.” Lillie looked askance at Berdie. “Tell me you’re not keen?”

“That’s not the point.” Berdie’s words sounded like a stomped foot. “There’s so much that needs looking after.”

“Like?”

“The hospitalized commander, in case it slipped your mind.”

“Which Hugh and his fellows are handling brilliantly, and rightly so.”

Berdie took a breath to launch into some form of defense, not quite sure what it would be.

Lillie grabbed the moment. “The Butz family is caring for Sparks, plus, as you said, the Yard’s doing a first-rate job on investigating the crime. And plainly put, all your guests have flown.” Lillie lowered her chin. “And here’s an opportunity to assist by doing what you do best.”

“What I do best. What happened to the ‘right people’ part of this?”

“Oh, I’m in.”

Berdie had to admit that a slight spark had ignited in her gray matter. Did Sundeep have something to do with the explosion? But how? Why did he do a bunk? Was he running from or to something in London, if that’s where he was? He might possibly confide in her rather than the law. But getting Hugh to agree could be tricky at best. Then she cast her mind to the postcard she had discarded yesterday. Angela Rockledge. She took a deep breath, grinned, and looked Lillie straight in the eye. “Does Wednesday suit you for a trip to the London area?”

Lillie let go a loud yelp and nearly danced.

“S-h-h.” Berdie looked cross the street to see half the patrons of the Copper Kettle staring out the window at them.

“Not a word to anyone about this. I’m sure tongues have already begun idle speculations.”

“Right.” Lillie lifted her fingers in her Girl Guide salute. “Not a word. Not even to Loren.”

“Especially not Loren.” Berdie rolled up her empty market bag and put it under her arm. “Now, bag of cherries in hand as we sally forth.”

Lillie lifted the bulging carrier bag.

“I should think a not-so-quiet mention to Villette of a donation of fruit”—Berdie held up the single cherry, then dropped it in the bag Lillie held—“for a cherry crumble at the next altar-guild meeting, along with an unabashed purchase of teacakes, is in order. Then away home. It seems now I’ve two plans to hatch.”

“We’ve got to hatch,” Lillie corrected.

“Come, Watson.” Berdie locked elbows with Lillie and they marched cross the road, ready to resist the gales of hot air that flourished in the Copper Kettle.

****

“These teacakes are delightful.” Lillie took another bite. “Has Villette added an extra dash of cinnamon?”

“Lillie, we were talking about my first plan.” Berdie added a bit more tea to the cups that sat before her and Lillie on the small table of the vicarage kitchen.

“Yes, yes, the idea you developed in church. You want to have a dinner for Hugh’s rowing team.”

“It’s much more than that. Other special guests shall be invited too.” Berdie sipped her tea. “It will lift the mood a bit, which we can all use. And besides, it’s really a means of getting Doug and Sandra together, although I shan’t tell Hugh that.”

“My dear Berdie, you’re matchmaking. Doug and Sandra?”

“Did you see them in church yesterday?” Berdie smiled thinking about it.

“Two people sitting together at church are hardly something to see.”

“No, there was more. There was definitely more than just sitting together. For both of them.”

“Well then. Just let them get on with it themselves.”

“But Sandra is always at her Aunt Natty’s beck and call—she rarely has a free moment. And I’m not entirely sure Doug has the confidence to ask Sandra to go out with him. At least not yet.” Berdie tapped her teacup. “So, will you help me put it all together? The dinner and all?”

“Serve me up another teacake and I’ll dance a jig if you like.”

Berdie laughed and lifted the tasty morsel from its box. She ran it under Lillie’s nose.

Lillie almost purred.

Berdie plopped it on Lillie’s plate.

“So, if you get Sandra and Doug together, what will happen to Tillie?”

“Oh,” Berdie quipped, “I’ll find someone for her too.”

Both women laughed.

“Now plan number two…” Berdie began.

Hugh grinned as he entered the kitchen. “It’s more than tea that’s brewing in here with your heads together like that. I can tell.” Though it was his day off, if clergymen really have a day off, he wore his clerical gear.

“We’ve a teacake going spare.” Berdie redirected the conversation and pointed to the box.

“Put my name on it for later, please. Must get off to the hospital.”

Berdie stood and put her arms round Hugh’s shoulders. “Things are bound to take a turn for the better with Cedric.”

“We bring in Sparks tomorrow. If he and the commander hang on. It’s a long shot, but we must certainly give it a go.”

“Now, I know we’ve got a lot on, Hugh, but I wanted to ask you something.”

Hugh put his hands round Berdie’s waist. “Oh yes.”

“I was thinking of giving a dinner party here for the fellows on the rowing team, inviting a few other people in as well. What do you say?”

“Actually, as long as the commander stays aboard, so to speak, I think it’s a grand idea. A pleasant evening together could be exactly what the doctor ordered.”

Berdie ran her hands down Hugh’s arms and he released her waist.

“Good.” Berdie looked at her friend. “And Lillie’s going to help.”

Lillie nodded.

“So that’s why you had your heads together.” Hugh exhibited a satisfied air.

“Would Thursday do for the dinner?”

“Sounds wonderful to me.”

“Oh good,” Lillie said, “that’s settled.”

“Now I have something to ask you.” Hugh took Berdie’s hand. “Dave called. Chad’s staying with him at his flat. The authorities want both men to stay close by for obvious reasons. Chad’s not doing very well. We’ve all been so taken with Cedric, Chad’s been rather neglected. I feel my duty is to be by the commander’s side.” Hugh’s blue eyes held what Berdie called his “mercy-on-me” look. “Could you drop in on Chad?”

Though Berdie felt a sizzle of excitement, she didn’t want to overplay her hand. “What about transport—how will I get there?”

“Edsel Butz has offered one of his work vans, temporarily, for church use. It’s parked over by the church. You can take it.”

Lillie, still nibbling her teacake, chuckled.

“What about our car?” Berdie couldn’t see herself driving Butz and Sons Electrics through Kingsford to Dave’s flat where Chad was staying.

“The hospital parking pass is on the car.”

“Oh yes.” Berdie tilted her head. “Is a special permit in order to operate a work van?” Berdie had clearance to drive the people carrier, but a work van?

“Edsel’s seen to everything with Goodnight. Unless you wish to drive something that weighs over seven tons, your current license is adequate.”

“Oh, seven tons, my, no.” Berdie knew in her heart that she’d drive a John Deere tractor if it meant she could talk with Chad.

Hugh put on his authoritative voice. “Now, I think Chad will welcome the company and conversation. But, mind you, nothing terribly intense.”

“That’s rather up to him.”

Hugh raised his chin. “Berdie, this is an official church duty. Leave your spade at home.”

“I’ll depart for Kingsford within twenty minutes.”

“Keys are on the peg rail at the front door.” Hugh kissed Berdie on the forehead, and then turned. “And remember to leave one of those cakes for me if you will, Lillie,” he jabbed.

“Perhaps,” Lillie returned, taking another bite.

And he was out the door.

“What time do we set out? Fancy you driving a van.” Lillie’s eyes had a twinkle.

“It can’t be that difficult.” Berdie ran a finger cross her chin. “But I think it best you not come. Chad’s more likely to share confidences if I’m on my own, Lillie. I have another job for you.”

Lillie’s twinkle went flat. “Not more cherries, I hope.”

“No, but it does concern Mrs. Raheem.” Berdie took a damp dishcloth from the sink and began to wipe the table. “Ring her, or better yet, stop by the shop and find out all you can about Sundeep: parents, why he’s in Aidan Kirkwood for starts, who he spends time with, those kinds of things.”

“Oh, that’s all right then.” Lillie perked. “Yes, indeed, I can do that.” Lillie took the last bite of cake, arose, and rinsed her empty plate at the sink. “I’m to the off—I want to be timely with my investigative responsibilities.”

“Yes, you do.” Berdie wore an interior smile.

Lillie pointed a finger at Berdie as she made way to the door. “Mind how you go. Edsel’s no taste for bent bumpers.”

Berdie threw her dishcloth at Lillie. “Oh, be on your way.”

A bit of a rummage and Berdie found the keys to the van right where Hugh said she would. She no sooner slipped them in her bag than the phone rang. Berdie contemplated letting it ring itself out, but decided she must answer. “Vicarage.”

“Mrs. Elliott, it’s Tillie.”

“Tillie, how are you keeping?”

“We’re doing better, thank you.”

“I’m sorry to be so short, but may I ring you back later? I was just leaving on a church errand.”

“This won’t take but a moment, if you will. First of all, I’m afraid I was quite sharpish when we left your home yesterday.”

“And I wouldn’t have won any commendations for conviviality either, Tillie. Never mind, we’re all a bit wobbly after what happened. I wouldn’t give it a second thought.”

“Yes. Kind of you. It seems, in my rush to pack, I left a couple things behind. May I come get them?”

Berdie wanted to invite Tillie and Doug to the dinner, but she hadn’t time now. “What is it you’re missing and I’ll bring them to you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. I’d be glad to do it.”

“Well, there’s a library book and a pair of earrings. I think they’re on a bedside chest.”

“I’ll bring them round tomorrow morning. Does after breakfast sound good?”

“Yes, that works. Thank you. See you then. Ta.”

“Goodbye, Tillie.”

Berdie hung up and flew out the door before another possible phone call could delay her.

She rushed to the van and opened the door. A wrapped laundry parcel, limp and tied with string, sat on the seat. Berdie poked at it and pulled back a corner of the paper. Blue coveralls, boiler suits by the look of it, peeked through. “I wonder if Edsel needs these,” she muttered. Still, she was on a mercy dash, dash being the operative word. She tossed them behind the passenger seat when Chief Inspector Jasper Kent approached.

“Changing careers again, I see.” He thrust a thumb toward the blue letters of Butz and Sons Electrics that stood out against the white work van.

Berdie tilted her head. “Rather shocking, wouldn’t you say?”

“Very droll, Mrs. Elliott, very droll.” The gentleman removed his hat. “I’d like to speak to you for a moment.”

“I’ve always got a minute for you, Chief Inspector.” She closed the vehicle door.

“You and your husband know this fellow, Chadwick Meryl.”

“My Hugh served with him in the Navy. He’s been to our home several times during his service.”

“Yes, naval intelligence. We questioned him last night.” He tapped his hat against his lower thigh. “I remember you as being able to suss out a person with a fair degree of accuracy. So what do you make of the fellow?”

Berdie was pleased that Inspector Kent valued her input, and she wanted to give the most viable information. “My husband seems quite sure that Leftenant Meryl was not involved in this crime, if that’s what you’re asking. He certainly knows him better than I, and he’s a good judge of character.”

“Yes, but what do you think?”

Berdie paused. “Well, frankly, I’d say Chad is rather impulsive. Words fly out his mouth and he thinks about them afterwards. He can be quick-tempered, I’ll give you that. But this particular crime seems to need deliberation and planning.”

“So you’re saying this Chad is more a crime-of-passion fellow.”

“Yes, I believe I am.”

The inspector nodded and lowered his voice. “Can I speak to you confidentially and off the record, Mrs. Elliott?”

Berdie raised her brows. “Have we ever had a conversation that wasn’t confidential and off the record?”

Jasper Kent smiled. “Small villages can have quite the loud jungle drums.”

Berdie straightened. “Chief Inspector, there are both personal and professional ethics that I hold dear. Drumming is certainly not one of them.”

Kent gave an amused chuckle. “That’s one of the things I’ve always appreciated most about you, Berdie Elliott. You’re a woman of character, always have been, and, I should think, always will be.”

Berdie felt pink rise in her cheeks.

The detective ran a finger over the edge of his hat, glanced at the crime scene, and back to her. “In confidence. It was C4 explosive material, not particularly well done, a smaller amount than needed to do a really good job of it. It lacks precision, which tells us, most likely, the perp is not a military sort.” He paused. “Or…”

“Or the perp is quite clever in giving the appearance that they’ve no expertise in working with explosives, eliminating them as a suspect if they are a military sort.” Berdie finished Chief Inspector Kent’s sentence.

“Precisely.”

“But it bothers me. Who would want to go after Cedric, who’s retired from active service and well into pipe-and-slippers time? Why? And why here? It seems so odd.”

“We’re often less guarded when on holiday. But apart from that, you know, I’ve thought about eventual retirement from the Yard myself. But somehow, I can’t see growing cucumbers and leeks on a small allotment as taking up the lion’s share of my time and valuable experience. I’d need some other activity as well. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Berdie thought for a moment. Snap. “The commander was doing consulting work. In intelligence.”

The inspector didn’t say a word. His mouth simply turned upward on the ends.

“Well, if there’s some kind of a group responsible, the more people that are involved in the planning and execution of a crime, the more likelihood of a weak link, harder to keep things quiet. But a single person on their own, that’s a tougher nut to crack.”

“There’s a group who’s claimed responsibility,” Kent said hesitantly.

“Really?”

“It doesn’t come off as terribly likely. This bunch has been pretty much off the radar for a while now. It seems more probable that they need to make people take notice of them again, claiming the crime as a kind of attention seeking, if you will.”

“Fancy feigning destruction of a life as a means to appear strong and gain attention.”

“It’s a sad old world, Mrs. Elliott, a sad old world.”

“Yes, but we are at work, you and I, Inspector Kent.” Berdie stood her full height. “In our respective careers, we work to bring justice where there’s none. We bring the light to expose darkness, a light no darkness can quench.”

“Well.” Jasper Kent nodded. “I’ve not thought of it quite like that. And righteously delivered, I might add. Yes, indeed.”

“Inspector Kent,” a young policeman called out from the crime-scene area. “We have a question for you, sir.”

“I’ll be right there,” Kent responded. “Well, thank you, Mrs. Elliott.” The man put his hat on and brushed a finger over the brim. “I must get about my work and let you go about your spreading of light.” He pointed again to the Butz and Sons Electrics insignia.

“Now it’s your turn to be very droll, Chief Inspector.” Berdie let a hint of smile appear. “And you’re welcome. Anything I can do to aid in any way is a pleasure.”

He grinned and departed for the crime scene.

“God go with you,” Berdie said and got in the van.

“C4,” she breathed. “Oh, my dear Hugh. I’m afraid my spade is permanently attached.” She started the vehicle and made way for Kingsford, and whatever it might hold.