Bloody Right Page 18

  Lying was over.

  “What do you think he wants?”

  “I imagine to watch who comes to the house. Maybe eavesdrop?”

  “Could be. Does he have access to the house?”

  “He’s not supposed to. Just the kitchen for meals.”

  “But, short staffed as you are, could he get in?”

  She nodded. “From the French doors into the drawing room, or the side door, or even the door by the back stairs. Yes, it’s possible.”

  “If he’s left any listening devices, the two lads I left in the house will take care of that.” Listening devices? This was more like a spy story by the hour. But wasn’t that exactly what she’d abetted? “Now, Miss Aubin, you have a choice. You can work for us, watch this Smith chap with hawk eyes and report everything back to us, or we can arrest you. Which is it?”

  “Where’s the cook?”

  Molly looked up at the new gardener and then down at his boots. “You’re lucky she’s not here. She’d tear a strip off you for coming into her kitchen in boots. What do you want?”

  “Just wanted to know where she was. I thought I saw her drive off in a motor car.”

  “She’s doing something for Sir James. She didn’t tell me. Not my business and it certainly isn’t yours.” Sweet Jesus! He gave her the creeps, with his nasty, cold blue eyes. “Look, if you want to ask something, I’ll give her the message when she gets back.”

  “When will that be?”

  Some people never gave up. “Hell if I know. Before kitchen supper, I hope, or you and me will both be hungry.” She stood up and carried her tray into the scullery. “I’ll tell her,” she called through the open door.

  Although what she was supposed to tell Miss Aubin, she had no idea. She was a bit curious herself.

  Something was happening. Paul Schmidt knew it deep in his bones. Why else would an official black car, complete with uniformed chauffeur, pick up Miss Aubin and drive off? Did they suspect her? Had she blabbed? If so, she was dead. He was in the mood for a human feed. He was getting tired of horses and cattle. Pity how the mind link with the Fairy had broken, she’d have been able to contact Weiss—or would she? The connection with the Fairy had been odd. He’d felt her in his mind but never quite understood what she was doing. Didn’t miss her either. Her blood and struggles had been sweet, but having her poke into his head made him uneasy.

  No point in thinking about that. It was either give Weiss a phone call, which meant going into the house, asking permission and risking being overheard, or hang on until he appeared. Which would be Saturday. Unless Weiss had changed his plan of kidnapping the village grocer.

  Damn. He should have stayed in Guildford, with his steady supply of injured humans for sustenance, as well as his host and that whingeing mother of his on tap whenever he wanted. He’d been safe and cozy there, but now he risked exposure from the tattletale cook, and on top of it all, the house party, the whole point of his coming here, was canceled. He’d overheard that.

  It was a bad sign, too.

  He was sorely tempted to walk off and let Weiss get on with it on his own.

  Trouble was, without papers and identity card, he’d be reduced to hiding in bombed-out ruins and sleeping rough, and he liked walking about, planning how he’d rule his little fief when the time came.

  He’d just sit tight and bide his time. They’d have some fun this weekend after all.

  “Here,” Mary said, placing a small bronze coin on the table. “Not exactly a silver sixpence for your shoe. It’s two Guernsey doubles, but it might bring you luck.”

  “Thanks, I’ll put it in one shoe and a silver sixpence in the other,” Gloria said.

  Alice had dropped by on her way home, and the three of them were sitting around Gloria’s kitchen table, eating up the last of Miss Aubin’s gauche and talking weddings. “That reminds me,” Alice said, “brought you these.” She pulled a pair of silk stockings from her pocket. “Not new, I wore them for mine, but somehow a wedding needs the real thing.”

  “Thank you,” Gloria said. “That will be my something borrowed.”

  “Take care you don’t get a ladder in them, then you can pass them on to Mary when she needs them.”

  Mary decided to let that go. “Do you believe the old rhyme?”

  “Not sure I do, but never hurts to keep it. It’s fun anyway. I’ve no difficulty getting something old. And I bought a new pair of gloves in Woolworth’s in Dorking.”

  “So you just need something blue,” Mary said.

  “I can cover that,” Alice said. “I’ve a pair of blue crepe de chine French knickers you can borrow. Perfect for the unveiling.”

  Gloria blushed. “Please!”

  “If you don’t want them, I’ll borrow them,” Mary said. “I’m planning my own event for Saturday night.”

  “Oh, I want them,” Gloria replied. “Thank you, Alice. With a bit of luck, I won’t be wearing them long anyway.”

  “So,” Alice said, grinning as she turned to Mary, “you’re planning on seducing our war hero?”

  “Yes.”

  “She’s giving him an ultimatum,” Gloria said. “If you want to marry me, you have to roger me first.”

  “I’m not being that blunt!” Was she? “I’ll just invite him in for a cup of tea after the wedding.” And try her luck.

  Alice had a wonderful laugh. “Seems to me it’s going to be one wild weekend. I’ll have to plan a long conversation with Peter myself. And by the way, Mary, I have a pair of red satin French knickers with rather fetching black lace. Want to borrow those? Gloria really gets first dibs on the blue ones.”

  “Where,” Gloria asked,” did you acquire this collection of sexy knickers?”

  “All over the place. Some in Paris, before the war. Some up in Town, in a rather nice place in Bond Street. Can’t get them now, so I keep them for high days and holidays and special friends,” she added with a smile. “I’ll drop them off tomorrow.”

  “I’ve a better idea,” Gloria said. “Andrew and Peter and Gryffyth are off to the Pig for the evening tomorrow. Why don’t you come here? I’ll try to get a bottle of wine and we’ll have our own version of a stag party.”

  “A hen party?” Mary suggested.

  “I’ll be here,” Alice said. “And I’ll bring an apple pie or a tart for pudding.”

  This was so wonderful, Mary thought to herself. She still missed her family and home, but she’d been here barely two weeks and had good women friends who were Other, and she no longer had to hide her nature.

  A nature which, even now, yearned for water. Cold or not, she was going up to the hammerpond very soon. “I think I’ll go up to the hammerpond tonight,” she announced, “but it’s going to be darn cold.”

  “There’s always the swimming baths in Dorking,” Gloria pointed out.

  It was just not the same and she bet Gloria knew it. “Would you want to shift, and run circuits inside the village hall?”

  Gloria smiled. “No, not really. Mind you, isn’t it wonderful to be able to talk about it and not hide what you are all the time?”

  “I didn’t have to at home,” Mary said. Maybe that sounded too wistful, but it was the truth.

  Alice chuckled. “Gran rather shoved it down my throat. I was the one didn’t want to know. Funny really, but we all listened to her stories. My brothers claimed to believe them. I always thought they did it to humor her, and be contrary to me.” She shrugged. “Who knows.”

  “Going out tonight then, Mary?” Gloria asked.

  “Yes.” Winter weather or not, she need the caress and sustenance of water.

  “Maybe you should invited Gryffyth along,” Alice suggested.

  She ignored that.

  “If you’re out, I’ll nip down and see Andrew. My last chance before Saturday.”

  “I’ll be off then, and let you two indulge yourselves,” Alice said. “But before I leave, come out to the car with me. I’ve a bundle of stakes Gran and Sergeant Pendragon insis
ted I bring. They think we all need to be armed.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “So, you’re here?” Schmidt scowled at Weiss. Intruding into his room was one thing, sprawling on his bed as if he owned the place was another. And what would stringy old Miss Aubin have to say if she saw his shoes on the blanket?

  “Of course,” Weiss replied, making no effort to even nod, much less smile. “We have a busy weekend ahead and need to prepare.”

  “Not as busy as you think. They postponed the house party.”

  That got his attention. He even sat up. “Why?”

  “Hell if I know! They neglected to share that detail with the gardener. All I know is Miss Aubin was fussing about wasted cooking.” He could mention about Miss Aubin’s temporary disappearance, but would keep mum until he knew exactly what was going on.

  “I see.” Weiss scowled a minute. “No matter. We can devote the entire weekend to that killer shopkeeper. Once he’s out of the way, there’ll be no one to hinder us.”

  Assuming the grocer was the murderer. Either way it would be fresh blood.

  Since Weiss had appropriated the bed, Schmidt pulled the straight-backed chair from the corner and made himself as comfortable as one could on a sagging cane seat. “So, we spend the weekend enjoying the grocer.”

  “Yes. We take him tonight.”

  “He’ll be missed.”

  “So what? Let these peasants go without their eggs and bread for a weekend. It’s going to be easy enough. I’ve been watching him. He shuts up shop punctually at five-thirty. His assistant sweeps up and then leaves. Whorleigh lingers about twenty minutes more, to close the cash register, count his money, and do whatever country shopkeepers do at the end of the day. Then he goes home. He found a replacement bicycle very easily, but that won’t help him. We’ll wait for him in the narrow lane behind his shop. We take him, render him unconscious, and bring him here. You do have the room ready?”

  “As ready as I can with only a bed frame. I stole some rope from the potting shed. He can have my chamber pot. I have no use for it.”

  “And food? No point in having him expire before we finish with him.”

  Schmidt indicated the stack of wrapped packages on the narrow table. “Over there. I’ve been accumulating from the kitchen. I can bring more as we need it. The cook daren’t refuse me. We can get water from the tap downstairs.”

  “Ah yes, the cook. And how cooperative is she?”

  Damn, why go into that? Might as well tell, even though Weiss was bound to blame him. “Cooperative enough, but…” He almost enjoyed passing on the events of the afternoon.

  Weiss’s eyebrows almost met between his eyes. “So, she has betrayed us!”

  “I didn’t say that. Unusual, yes, but she came back with two crates of wine, and a hamper of food. Part of it was a large cheese, I overheard later. Could well have been a little illegal food transfer. It happens a lot round here. You should hear the talk about Whorleigh.”

  “I have no desire to,” Weiss snapped. “I care nothing for how these humans get their food supplies. You’ve stayed away from the village?”

  Did Weiss think he was simpleminded? “Of course! I’m not an idiot.” He did not care for the expression on Weiss’s face but he let it go. No point in mentioning the old man who’d seemed oddly familiar, either. But he did have something useful after his talk with that Proudfoot person. Stupid names these Inselaffen had. “Have you given any thought to how we’ll bring him back here?”

  “If we can’t carry him between us we can hardly call ourselves Vampire.”

  “And risk being seen as we traverse fields?”

  “You have a superior alternative?”

  Oh yes, he did. “I believe so. One of the farm workers was told to deliver a bunch of flowers to a house in the village, late tomorrow. He wants to leave early for London, his mother-in-law was bombed out and they’re going to help. He asked if I’d run the flowers down for him.”

  “Have you no sense? Go into that village where you might be recognized?”

  “Won’t be like that. He’s lending me one of the farm lorries and I’ll go after dark. All I have to do is deliver the bouquet and come back. With Whorleigh in the back of the lorry.”

  Even Weiss couldn’t disagree. “Much easier. Why ask you?”

  “He doesn’t want anyone on the farm to know he’s leaving early. He told me where he’ll leave the lorry, with the keys. I said I’d do it as a favor. He was so grateful, he gave me a packet of cigarettes.”

  Weiss laughed. “We can use them on the grocer. Humans squirm amusingly when burned. Makes them talk too. We need some worked iron. Remember how it weakened that Fairy? Let’s hope it works as well with this creature. He can move fast. We have to be ready for that.”

  Damn! Now he had to scrounge for stray chains. Did Weiss have any idea how hard that would be? Any extra metal had been collected to help the pathetic Inselaffen war efforts. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Schmidt managed. Mainly by stealing a length of chain from the barn over at the Home Farm, and snapping the handles off two hoes after deciding the loops might make passable wrist restraints. Pity he hadn’t been able to accost one of the village policemen and steal a pair of handcuffs.

  It was going to be an entertaining weekend. He left his cache of iron in his room, almost snarling at the sight of Weiss stretched out on the bed, and went back down to rake the leaves off the lower lawn and cut back the dying plants in the herbaceous border, just like a hardworking and industrious worker.

  Humans were so easily duped.

  “This is what you have to deliver?” Weiss all but snarled at the basket sitting on the seat between them.

  “That’s it.” Why complain? The lucky coincidence of access to a lorry was simplifying abducting the grocer.

  “What is it? Love offering to some wench he wants as a mistress?”

  “Could be, he doesn’t part with his camellias often.” Apart from that old man that Schmidt still couldn’t quite place. Not that he was wasting time or effort on that now.

  They parked up the narrow track, fifty meters or so from the main street. And waited, Weiss saying nothing and Schmidt wondering how Weiss knew his way around so well. Had to have been scouting out, or maybe just snooping.

  It was a short wait.

  Weiss led, taking them through the trees, carrying the chain wrapped around his waist to keep it from clanking, and Schmidt had a hoe blade in each pocket. Honestly, the things he did for Germany. Traipsing through mud in the dark, carrying broken garden tools. Damn good thing this was all going to turn to his advantage very soon. He was damn well earning it.

  They took up position behind a rickety storage shed behind the grocer’s shop. It was a full twenty minutes of sitting in the damp before Weiss moved. Without a word, or even looking back to see if Schmidt followed, Weiss walked closer to the back of the shop where Whorleigh’s bicycle was propped against the wall.

  Weiss climbed the back of the building and found a perch on the window ledge; Schmidt decided to go for the narrow porch over the back door. So poised, they waited. Listening intently for sounds inside: drawers opening and closing, the sound of money being counted, the smell of a cigarette as Whorleigh wound up business for the day. Footsteps approached the back door, there was a pause, the sound of bolts being drawn back—and then it opened.

  They leapt together, landing one each side of him, blocking him in. There was a delightful shriek of terror and he ran, faster than any human could move, and leapt upwards. They’d have lost him, but Weiss, moving at Vampire speed, whipped off the chain and swung it, narrowly missing Schmidt but catching Whorleigh neatly around his knees and felling him.

  There was another shriek, this one muffled, as Schmidt jumped on him and closed his hands around Whorleigh’s neck until he passed out.

  “Enough! He’s no use dead,” Weiss snapped.

  Nothing like gratitude for silencing a dangerous Other, and the possible eliminato
r of Eiche and Bloch. “He’s not dead.” Yet. And even dead, he still had blood in him.

  Grabbing the inert form, they ran down the muddy track to their hidden lorry.

  They dumped him in the open back, leaving the chain around him, and tossed a tarpaulin on top. Then Weiss sent Schmidt back for the bicycle. “That way it’ll seem he went home as usual. Leave it there someone would notice.” Absolutely true, but it didn’t make Schmidt very happy.

  He tossed it into the back, under the tarpaulin.

  “I’ll drive now,” Weiss said, jumping up into the driver’s seat before Schmidt thought to object. “Now where is it you go to complete your flower delivery?”

  No reason to make it sound as if he were making lace, or tatting. He was working undercover for the Fatherland and Weiss had better not forget it. “He drew me a map.” He brought out the paper; he’d even marked the row of shops and the village green. Make it easy enough.

  “Not far,” Weiss said, tracing his finger on the paper. “Right here then, that one on the left. Be there soon enough.” He started the engine, turned right and stopped a short distance further on. “Here you are, Schmidt.”

  “Here? I’m not getting out here.”

  “Yes, you are. It’s a narrow lane, easier for foot traffic. Look at the map, it’s only a little way up. You go take your flowers to the lady, and I’ll get our Fairy creature to safety. Better not wait around. Too much of a risk.” As Schmidt hesitated, he added, “Get out, I can’t sit here idling the engine, someone will notice.”

  Short of a stand-up fight, he had no choice. Hefting the basket, Schmidt stepped out of the cab. As the lorry drove off and the engine faded into the distance, he hoofed it up the narrow lane. Honeysuckle Cottage was on the left. Should be easy enough to find. Hell, there weren’t that many cottages up here and he could read, even in the dark.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven