Billy was waiting for her in the office following their extended leave. “There you are! Miss, you will never—never—guess what!”
“I’m sure I won’t,” said Maisie, taking off her hat and placing it on the long table in her office. The case map outlining the Joe Coombes investigation had been folded and filed away, consigned to the past after the contents were revealed to Inspector Caldwell. She looked from Billy to Sandra, who came into the office as Maisie was responding to Billy’s greeting. “And good morning to you, Billy, Sandra—did you both have an enjoyable holiday away from Fitzroy Square?”
“I could have done with a holiday from Lawrence’s aunt,” said Sandra. “She’s overstayed her welcome. She is good with Martin though—but we’re relieved she’s leaving at the end of the week.”
“And how about your Billy?” said Maisie. Her tone was measured, knowing that Billy was bursting with news.
“I’ll tell you in a minute about him—but what about Walter Miles downstairs? He’s been arrested! I came in this morning and bumped into a couple of the students who live upstairs—told me everything. The police came—all on the QT, looking around in his garden, and especially at that thing he has growing up the gutter—and the next minute he was being carted off. Happened that day we went to Scotland Yard.”
“Oh dear,” said Maisie. “I wonder what he’s done.”
Billy looked at Maisie, his eyes meeting hers, then he went on. “Anyway, you asked about our Billy. He’s right as rain and gone back to barracks now. He asked me if I’d seen Vivian Coombes, but I said I thought she was walking out with a fellow, and it was serious. I mean, I don’t want to protect him from everything, but that Viv, well, he would need evacuating all over again if he took up with her!”
Much of the work involved in the final accounting kept Maisie in London. The pub on Warren Street had been closed, with a sign informing regulars that new tenants would be taking over soon, and it would be business as usual. Mike Yates’ yard was also closed, with the tall wooden gates pulled across the cobblestone courtyard where lorries had unloaded the toxic paint that had caused Joe Coombes so much suffering.
Maisie visited Phil Coombes, who was living temporarily with his sister in Norwood. They talked for only a short while, as Maisie understood that Coombes might still face charges of receiving stolen goods. She wanted, however, to discuss Joe’s final resting place.
“I thought about having him laid to rest with his mum, but I don’t know,” said Coombes. “I reckon he would like something different, and not be in a cemetery with that side of the family.”
“His body has been released to you, Phil. May I make a suggestion?”
Phil Coombes nodded. “My other two only seem to care about themselves at the moment. I reckon Archie will get off light, considering what he has to say about his uncle, and he’s a young man, so they’d like to see him in uniform. Enough were lost at Dunkirk, so they’ve got to make up numbers. But Viv—well, she violated the Official Secrets Act, and no matter how small the crime, they look upon that very seriously. She could be in Holloway for a long time—if she’s lucky. At least she’s not been charged with treason.”
“I’ve spoken up for her, Phil,” said Maisie. “I think there’s a case for her to receive some leniency, though even leniency can be hard in this situation.”
“I know.” Coombes nodded, biting his thumbnail. “I know it’s no good wishing it were all different, but I knew what Jimmy was like years ago and I should have put my foot down and taken on a brewery tenancy out of London. We should have gone somewhere else, well away from him.”
“But Sally was his sister. She was loyal to her family. And I think Jimmy would have put upon you anywhere you ended up.”
“Sally should have been a bit more loyal to our family, that’s what. And now I’ve lost her too.” Coombes seemed overcome, and turned away for a moment. As he regained control of his emotions, he spoke again. “What shall I do about Joe, Miss Dobbs?”
Maisie took a deep breath and exhaled. “I think that, when all is said and done, perhaps having Joe cremated might be the better course of action.”
“Then what? I don’t want him sitting on my sister’s mantelpiece, or coming with me to prison if I’m sent down.”
“No, that’s not what I had in mind. Phil, Joe wanted to live in the country. From the moment he went down to Hampshire, he loved it there—and he loved the land where the farmer Phineas Hutchins had offered him a job. Mr. Hutchins thought a lot of him, Phil. I can ask him if Joe’s ashes could be scattered across the land.”
Phil Coombes nodded. “All right. All right. Yes, I reckon that’s the best thing. Then I can go down there to the farm and imagine my Joe working there, on the land—if the old boy lets me.”
“Oh, I think he will.”
Maisie made the journey to Whitchurch by train, and walked around the town, stopping on a narrow bridge to look at the old Silk Mill, then wandering farther afield until she was ambling alongside the River Test, following the route Joe was believed to have taken during the last moments of his life. Later, she met Phineas Hutchins in the pub, and afterward he drove her back to the farm in his old van.
“He’ll rest up there, by that stand of trees,” said Hutchins. “You can tell his father that he’ll be looked after. I’ll watch over him, and so will these two—and his pup, when he’s ready.” He pointed to the two dogs—one a seasoned sheepdog, the other a youngster ready to learn the ropes. “They’ll know it’s hallowed ground. Dogs always know.”
Maisie bent down to stroke the dogs, and when she came to her feet she pressed the small silver disc engraved with the name “Magni” into the farmer’s hand.
Phineas Hutchins drove Maisie back into the town just in time to meet Sylvia Preston for tea. The young WAAF arrived in her distinctive “air force blue” uniform, a halo of coppery brown curls bubbling from under her peaked cap.
“This is awfully good of you, Miss Dobbs. I’m starving!” Preston tucked into a scone with jam and clotted cream. “I’m always starving—the food they give us is terrible and what that landlady puts on the table isn’t much better at all. My staple diet these days is toast!” She held up half a scone. “And who knows how long we’ll be able to get this sort of thing.”
“I’m very grateful for your help, Sylvia,” said Maisie. “The information you gave me was invaluable, and has helped to put those responsible for Joe’s death away for a long time.”
“That detective from London was a bit sharp, wasn’t he?”
Maisie laughed. “Detective Chief Inspector Caldwell? Consider his job—I think it would make anyone sharp.”
“Well, he didn’t keep me for long, but it raised a few eyebrows at the airfield, I must say. I think it might be part of the reason why I’ve been promoted—well, not exactly a promotion, but it feels like it, not to be driving that ambulance. I’m being transferred to a new job—much better.”
“Oh? That sounds exciting—well done.”
Preston used her handkerchief to dab her lips, and took a sip of tea. She looked around at others enjoying their afternoon tea, and turned back to Maisie. “I’m sure you don’t know any German spies, so I’ll tell you what it is—sort of.” She looked around again, and leaned toward Maisie. “They’re sending me to one of the Chain Home stations.”