Maisie sat on a stool, and looped the handle of her bag over the hook for women’s handbags under the top of the bar. She did not take out her notebook—she would have to remember everything until she was on the Tube back to the office.
“Now then, what can I tell you about Fred?” The landlord returned to the saloon bar, took up a fresh dry cloth from a hook on the wall, and began to wipe it across the counter between them, as if his hands needed to keep moving. “Terrible business. Terrible. Nice bloke, very nice—wouldn’t hurt a fly—so I don’t know why someone would hurt him. Probably knew he had his pay packet on him, being a Friday. And him having to come over here to stay alive in the war. I was in Belgium, and I saw what the people went through.”
Maisie did not interrupt, though it was clear the landlord was going to ramble on. Maurice had always taught her that there were times when it was best to let people talk even if the chatter meandered away from the route she would like the conversation to take. “You never know what gems might fall out of pocket while they’re on their own merry-go-round,” he had cautioned.
“I mean, I witnessed it myself. A long line of families walking towards the docks. They had horses loaded up, they had handcarts filled to overflowing with everything they owned. Little children hunched over with sacks; poor little mites. They were going one way, and we were going the other, straight into the German army. And it went on. Mind you, talk about brave—those people had it here.” He took his fist to his chest, just as Maisie had reflected Enid Addens’ feelings when she touched her chest to signify her broken heart. “They pulled together, and then they had to fight too—women and children, boys—I know what happened. That’s why I liked Frederick—we all did, us old soldiers who’d been over there. We knew what it took for him to get here, and then make a go of it. And he’s a worker—hard bloomin’ work too, six days a week on the railway, come rain, shine, and snow. Hot and cold. Bloomin’ good darts player too—could get a double top without even squinting at the board. Bull’s-eye was easy for him. I mean, some of them are so off-kilter when they throw the feathers, you’d have to duck if you were out there on the street! And he was a good sport.” The man seemed to choke up. “We miss him. Something rotten, we miss old Frederick.”
Maisie asked if Frederick Addens had ever argued with anyone. No. Had he seemed changed lately? No. She asked if he had been seen with anyone not known to the regulars, anyone of note. No. She asked what the man knew of Addens’ life before he came to England, if they’d ever spoken of it over a pint. No, Frederick never talked about it. She asked if Addens had lately seemed distracted, perhaps more fatigued or worried than usual.
“Miss, I don’t know if you’ve been keeping up, but there’s a war just been declared, and we all knew it was on its way because we’ve been preparing for it since March. There’s them bloody barrage balloons up over London, there’s barely a child on the streets because they’ve all been sent away, and it looks like old Adolf is going to do his level best to blow us to bits and then march in here and take over. Everyone’s been tired for months, everyone’s worried, and if—like Frederick and me—you’ve been at the sharp end of it before, then you’re not going to be sleeping easy in your bed, now are you?” He paused, his mood altered as he picked up Maisie’s glass, still half full. “Another?”
“No, thank you, sir. You’ve been most kind, and I appreciate your help. As I said, I am trying to find out who might be responsible for the death of Mr. Addens.”
The landlord sighed. “Don’t mind me, love. I’m sorry. It’s this weather bearing down, like you’re being suffocated.” He shrugged. “It’s just that there’s us who know what war really means.”
Maisie set a coin on the bar by way of a tip. “I know, sir. I was a nurse. I was there too. And I was wounded and saw my friends killed.”
“Then you’ll know why our Frederick was tired, why he looked a bit pale. He’s seen it all before, and he could see it coming again.”
Chapter 3