Jeff Thomas, m’m. He’s a lieutenant out at the army camp in Beerstowe.” She pinched her lips together, as if afraid of what she’d said.
“Don’t worry,” Elizabeth said, feeling sorry for the girl. “You’re not doing anything wrong. I appreciate you telling me all this. It could be extremely helpful in finding out who murdered that poor girl.” She paused, watching an array of conflicting emotions chase across Maisie’s thin face. “Is there anything else you want to tell me?”
Maisie swallowed a few times, then said in a rush, “I don’t want to get no one in trouble, Lady Elizabeth, but I don’t want you to go blaming Jeff, neither. He’s a nice lad, that Jeff, and he wouldn’t hurt no one. If you ask me, it’s Maurice you should be talking to, that’s who.”
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “Maurice? What makes you say that?”
Maisie sent a hunted look in the direction of the farmhouse. “He was always hanging around Amelia. Fancied her, he did. Amelia wouldn’t have none of it, though. Told him to shove off. She told us she was afraid of him, and Amelia was never afraid of no one except him.”
Feeling greatly disturbed, Elizabeth thanked the girl and watched her hurry off to join the others. Try as she might, she could not picture Maurice Macclesby in the role of murderer. True, he could be somewhat unsettling to be around. With his pronounced limp and vacantstare, not to mention the scruffy chin thanks to his inept and apparently infrequent efforts to shave, he was not a comfortable person to be around. Still, she would never have considered him violent.
She tackled Pauline next who, unlike Maisie, was obviously bursting to tell her what she knew. “That Amelia was nothing but a greedy, two-faced snob,” she announced, stabbing the ground with her pitchfork for emphasis. “I always said something bad would happen to her one day. Though I never thought she’d be done in. Especially by someone like Maurice.”
Startled, Elizabeth fastened her gaze on the young woman’s face. “Does everyone think Maurice killed Amelia?”
Pauline shrugged. “I don’t know about everyone else. The milkman reckons it was that German pilot. All I know is that Maurice was really soppy about Amelia, and she couldn’t stand him near her. She told him that more than once, but he never took no notice. Kept following her around, staring at her in that funny way of his like she was a film star or something. Mind you, she was really pretty, I suppose, in a prissy kind of way. All that blond hair and blue eyes. She didn’t half fancy herself, I tell you.”
Elizabeth closely watched Pauline’s expression when she said quietly, “I understand you were a friend of Amelia’s boyfriend, Lieutenant Jeff Thomas?”
Pauline flinched visibly. “I was. Not anymore. Good riddance to him, that’s what I say. If he wants to be taken in by all that talk, then he’s not worth caring about.”
“Amelia had gone out to meet him last night, I understand.”
“I don’t know who she went out with. The rest of us went to bed. I have to get my sleep to do this kind of work.”
“And you didn’t hear her come back?”
Pauline shook her head. “She never came back. Her bed wasn’t slept in.”
“You didn’t hear anyone talking outside the house late last night?”
“Never heard a thing.” Pauline sent her a sly look. “Why? Did someone see her come back? Was it Maurice? I knew it. I bet he waited for her in the dark then went for her. Wonder what her father will say to all this.”
Maurice again. Elizabeth frowned. “Do you know Amelia’s father?”
“No, ’course not. He’s some big fancy attorney in London. Got pots of money. That’s if Amelia was telling the truth. Though I wouldn’t put it past her to make it all up. Never did like her. She was too full of herself, that girl.”
“Well, thank you for your help.” Elizabeth had noticed Kitty climbing down from the wagon and wanted to
“Don’t worry,” Elizabeth said, feeling sorry for the girl. “You’re not doing anything wrong. I appreciate you telling me all this. It could be extremely helpful in finding out who murdered that poor girl.” She paused, watching an array of conflicting emotions chase across Maisie’s thin face. “Is there anything else you want to tell me?”
Maisie swallowed a few times, then said in a rush, “I don’t want to get no one in trouble, Lady Elizabeth, but I don’t want you to go blaming Jeff, neither. He’s a nice lad, that Jeff, and he wouldn’t hurt no one. If you ask me, it’s Maurice you should be talking to, that’s who.”
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “Maurice? What makes you say that?”
Maisie sent a hunted look in the direction of the farmhouse. “He was always hanging around Amelia. Fancied her, he did. Amelia wouldn’t have none of it, though. Told him to shove off. She told us she was afraid of him, and Amelia was never afraid of no one except him.”
Feeling greatly disturbed, Elizabeth thanked the girl and watched her hurry off to join the others. Try as she might, she could not picture Maurice Macclesby in the role of murderer. True, he could be somewhat unsettling to be around. With his pronounced limp and vacantstare, not to mention the scruffy chin thanks to his inept and apparently infrequent efforts to shave, he was not a comfortable person to be around. Still, she would never have considered him violent.
She tackled Pauline next who, unlike Maisie, was obviously bursting to tell her what she knew. “That Amelia was nothing but a greedy, two-faced snob,” she announced, stabbing the ground with her pitchfork for emphasis. “I always said something bad would happen to her one day. Though I never thought she’d be done in. Especially by someone like Maurice.”
Startled, Elizabeth fastened her gaze on the young woman’s face. “Does everyone think Maurice killed Amelia?”
Pauline shrugged. “I don’t know about everyone else. The milkman reckons it was that German pilot. All I know is that Maurice was really soppy about Amelia, and she couldn’t stand him near her. She told him that more than once, but he never took no notice. Kept following her around, staring at her in that funny way of his like she was a film star or something. Mind you, she was really pretty, I suppose, in a prissy kind of way. All that blond hair and blue eyes. She didn’t half fancy herself, I tell you.”
Elizabeth closely watched Pauline’s expression when she said quietly, “I understand you were a friend of Amelia’s boyfriend, Lieutenant Jeff Thomas?”
Pauline flinched visibly. “I was. Not anymore. Good riddance to him, that’s what I say. If he wants to be taken in by all that talk, then he’s not worth caring about.”
“Amelia had gone out to meet him last night, I understand.”
“I don’t know who she went out with. The rest of us went to bed. I have to get my sleep to do this kind of work.”
“And you didn’t hear her come back?”
Pauline shook her head. “She never came back. Her bed wasn’t slept in.”
“You didn’t hear anyone talking outside the house late last night?”
“Never heard a thing.” Pauline sent her a sly look. “Why? Did someone see her come back? Was it Maurice? I knew it. I bet he waited for her in the dark then went for her. Wonder what her father will say to all this.”
Maurice again. Elizabeth frowned. “Do you know Amelia’s father?”
“No, ’course not. He’s some big fancy attorney in London. Got pots of money. That’s if Amelia was telling the truth. Though I wouldn’t put it past her to make it all up. Never did like her. She was too full of herself, that girl.”
“Well, thank you for your help.” Elizabeth had noticed Kitty climbing down from the wagon and wanted to
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