Murder in the Library (Miss Merrill and Aunt Violet Mysteries) by Anita Davison

Author:Anita Davison [Davison, Anita]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Boldwood Books
Published: 2024-02-19T00:00:00+00:00

13

‘Don’t worry, Ivy, I’ll answer the door.’ Hannah abandoned her uninspiring breakfast and entered the hall just as Ivy shouted something unintelligible from the scullery. Hannah smiled as she threw open the door.

‘That’s a wonderfully welcome smile. I hope it’s for me.’ Darius’ impressive frame stood beneath the wrought iron canopy, his blue eyes filled with amusement.

‘You’re back!’ Her fingers on the door catch tightened as the emotion of the last two days welled, and she fought an impulse to throw herself into his arms. Pride won out.

‘Day before yesterday. I would have called earlier, but I had a few things to sort out at the War Office.’

‘Then you had better come in, or you’ll have the neighbours talking.’ She gestured him inside. ‘They’ve taken an interest in our visitors since Inspector Farrell began parking his motorbike against the garden wall.’

‘I always approve of giving the neighbours something to talk about over the teacups,’ he said, laughing as he followed her into the kitchen. She gathered up her half-eaten breakfast and started to take it to the scullery when he placed a thin brown file onto the pine table. ‘I brought you this.’

‘What is it?’ She paused, plate in hand and stared at it. ‘Messrs Rasen, Falcon Limited, Shippers and Exporters,’ she read aloud. The plate joined her teacup and a teapot.

‘Ignore that.’ Darius flipped open the front cover. ‘It’s um… an address we use at… well, use your imagination. Anyway, I’m about to take it to Inspector Farrell, but as you found the note, you might like to see it first.’

‘Note?’ Hannah frowned at the file then up at Darius. ‘Oh, the one inside the book Sergeant Tillman was reading when he was killed. Inspector Farrell told me he had asked you to look at it, what with you being so good at puzzles.’

He nodded and flipped open the front cover. ‘It’s a list of names of men serving in the second unit of the Eighth Battalion, London Infantry Regiment.’

‘Why have you brought this to me?’ Hannah asked, taking a chair.

‘Humour me.’ He slid the file closer, a finger pointed at a name halfway down the page. ‘Look at this.’

‘Captain Peter Gorman, 8784355,’ she read aloud, then frowned. ‘I’ve never heard of him.’

‘No, but you’ve seen this before.’ He spread the crumpled note beside the file and pointed to a series of numbers beside the letters, ‘P’, ‘O’ and ‘R’ on the note.

‘The numbers are the same, but what does it mean?’ Hannah frowned.

‘I thought it was a location co-ordinate or a code, but I was trying to be too clever. It’s so simple I ought to have seen straight away that it’s a regimental number. Captain Gorman’s, in fact.’

Her pulse raced as a thought struck her. ‘If he’s a patient at Endell Street he could be Sergeant Tillman’s murderer?’

‘It was the first thing I checked, but he was never a patient there. In fact, he’s dead. His body was discovered at Ypres last February and originally identified by his identity tags.

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