Free Manor House 03 - For Whom Death Tolls by Kate Kingsbury

out of place on the rare occasion she visited the Tudor Arms. Her father would be enraged to know she set foot in such a place, much less accepted the free glass of sherry Alfie slipped her.
    But then again, this ancient building with its low, heavily beamed ceilings and stone walls had seen many changes over the centuries. Although this era in particular was probably the most startling, what with American servicemen taking over the public bar, women frequenting the place as often as the men, and the lady of the manor sipping sherry at the lounge bar alongside two privates in His Majesty's army. Times had changed, indeed.
    After enjoying a sip or two, she took advantage of the lull in customers and beckoned to Alfie.
    He hurried over at once. "Is everything all right, your ladyship? Sherry to your liking?"
    At the mention of her title, the two soldiers sent curious glances her way. She pretended not to notice. "The sherry is wonderful, Alfie, as usual," she assured him. "You must get me a bottle or two of that brand the next time you order."
    "I'll try, m'm," Alfie said, looking worried. "But you know how things are. Wartime, you know. Hard to get the stuff anymore. We haven't had a bottle of brandy in here since last Christmas."
    Alfie's comment was obviously for the benefit of the two soldiers seated at the bar, since Elizabeth knew very well that he kept a bottle or two under the counter for his special customers.
    "I know," she said solemnly. "Dreadful war. Still, one has to make sacrifices, I suppose."
    "We do, indeed, m'm. Still, it's nothing compared to the sacrifices young men like these two have to make." He nodded his head at the soldiers, who immediately looked embarrassed. "Tell you what," he said to them, "why don't you take your beer over to that table over there, and I'll bring you a drop of whiskey to wash it down. On the house."
    The soldiers looked surprised, but scrambled off their stools and headed for the table.
    "Thank you, Alfie," Elizabeth said warmly. "I did rather want to talk to you in private."
    Alfie nodded. "I knew that's what you wanted. If you'll just hang on a minute, your ladyship, I'll be right back."
    She waited for him while he took the whiskey over to the soldiers. Someone in the public bar had begun pounding on the piano—loudly and quite badly. A deep voice bellowed out the latest war song, and soon the rest of his companions had joined in.
    No longer concerned about being overheard, Elizabeth wasted no time in asking Alfie about Kenny Morris. According to the obliging bartender, the fight with Sam Cutter wasn't the first Kenny had been involved in at the pub.
    "Bloody troublemaker, he was," Alfie said, busily polishing a glass tankard with a small yellow cloth. "Knew it the first time he came down. I told Ted, I did. That lad's going to end up in trouble, I said. Just you wait and see." He nodded slowly up and down. "And I was bloomin' right."
    "You were, indeed," Elizabeth agreed. "I don't suppose you remember who else the young man fought with before his encounter with Sam Cutter?"
    Alfie raised his chin and closed his eyes. "Can't think right now, m'm. There's been so many down here. I think it were with some of them English blokes, though. Not local, mind. Most of them what fight are soldiers from the camp in Beerstowe, or down from the Smoke. That's where them two came from." He nodded at the table with the soldiers. "Down from London this morning."
    Elizabeth shook her head in amazement. "What brings soldiers all the way down here from London? There must be plenty of quiet places for a drink closer to the city."
    "It's the American base, m'm. Wherever there areAmericans, there are girls. That's what the blokes are looking for. Hoping for the leftovers, I suppose, seeing as how the Yanks always get the first pick."
    "Oh, dear," Elizabeth murmured. "No wonder there are so many hostilities between them."
    "You're right, there. Though in the case of that Morris chap, it weren't so