The Spitfire Murders: A Homefront Sleuths Mystery (The Homefront Sleuths Cozy Mystery Series Book 3) by Anna Elliott & Charles Veley

Author:Anna Elliott & Charles Veley [Elliott, Anna & Veley, Charles]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wilton Press
Published: 2025-03-05T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter thirty-five

Evie

Evie didn’t know how much time had passed before the echoes of the bomb faded and the rattling inside her skull slowed from debilitating to merely irritating proportions. One minute? Five?

When the world at last righted itself, the air raid sirens were continuing to wail. Nigel was still holding the girl and the older boy, while the youngest child still crouched on Evie’s lap, stiff with terror. All three children were crying now.

Evie didn’t blame them. Her palms were slick with sweat, and she had to slam the door firmly shut on the avalanche of memories that felt as though they were poised to drop down on her, like a boulder teetering on the edge of a cliff.

“We need to get them into the basement shelter at the factory,” she shouted to Nigel.

Nigel shook his own head as though trying to clear it. He’d lost his hat at some point during their sprint down the road, and there was a scrape from a branch across his cheekbone.

“We've had at least one instance of suspected sabotage at the factory,” he shouted back. “And now a bombing raid on Ashford. How do you like that for coincidence? Because I certainly don’t.”

Evie stared at him, brought up short by the slap of realisation. She must have been more shaken by the air raid and the bombing than she’d even been aware of; otherwise she would have seen it, too. The Ashford Auto Parts Factory and the secret Spitfire production unit it housed were the target of this entire bombing raid.

“You’re right,” she said.

Nigel tilted his head, looking at her.

Evie frowned. “What?”

“I’m just wondering how worried I should be that you just admitted that. Whether it means you’re convinced that we’re going to die out here,” Nigel said.

Evie scowled, although she felt oddly steadied by the exchange— which was probably what Nigel had intended. The fact that he knew her well enough to guess that an exchange of mild insults would make her feel better was something she didn’t want to consider for too long.

So she said, only, “You’re right that we can’t take the children into the factory. We’d be bringing them into danger that could be even worse than out here.”

Especially if the factory took a direct hit before they could even get inside and down into the basement shelter.

Nigel set the little girl down on the ground and crouched in front of her. “Do you and your brothers live around here?”

Despite the howl of the sirens and the continued rumble of aeroplanes, his voice held the surprising gentleness that Evie had seen in him before. Nigel might be hard-edged and dangerous when confronting thieves and murders, and he might rival Mr. Darcy for his lack of communication skills with everyone else, except possibly his uncle. But he was very good with children, the elderly, and the infirm.

The little girl looked to be about eight, a sturdy-looking child with dark hair braided into two pig-tails. She hiccoughed but managed to nod.

“Do you know where the nearest bomb shelter is?” Nigel asked her.

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