Free Manor House 04 - Dig Deep for Murder by Kate Kingsbury Page A

scraping of chair legs on bare floorboards and a muttered exclamation before George's round, balding head appeared around the doorway. "Morning, your ladyship." The rest of him followed, one hand clutching the remains of what appeared to be a thick ham sandwich. "Just having me lunch, I was. What can I do for you, then?"
    Elizabeth came straight to the point. "You can tell me what Betty Stewart was doing in here."
    George's face seemed to close up. "Now, your ladyship, you know very well that's police business. I'm not at liberty to say. Can I offer you a chair?"
    Sighing, Elizabeth sat down. This was a game she was well used to playing. All the same, she resented having to indulge George's irritating insistence on sticking to protocol when he knew perfectly well that she would ferret out the truth eventually.
    "I assume that Mrs. Stewart's visit had something to do with her husband's murder," she said, folding her hands over her handbag.
    George looked blankly at her.
    Sid's grating voice wafted from the back room. "Can't assume nothing, your ladyship."
    "Shut up, Sid," George growled.
    Sid's lowered voice could be heard muttering something unintelligible.
    "Does that mean she wasn't here about her husband's murder?" Elizabeth demanded.
    George shrugged, but offered no comment.
    Elizabeth thinned her lips. "I ask that you at least give me the courtesy of an answer when I ask a question, George."
    "Yes, m'm. It's just that my lips are sealed, so to speak."
    "Then nod, or shake your head. After all, you've done so plenty of times before."
    George looked as if he were about to explode. His cheeks got very red and puffed out, and for a moment Elizabeth was quite alarmed, thinking he might be about to have a stroke.
    Then his breath came out in a violent burst. "Begging your pardon, your ladyship, but every time I tell you what I know, you go charging off into police business and get into all sorts of trouble. The inspector's got wind of it, and he isn't too happy with me right now."
    "I'm sorry, George." Elizabeth conjured up her sweetest smile. "I promise I won't get into trouble this time. I would just like to know why Betty Stewart was here, that's all."
    "She was robbed!" Sid called from the back room.
    "Sid!" George howled.
    Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. It wasn't the answer she was expecting. "Robbed? Someone broke into her house?"
    George rubbed his eyes with stubby fingers. "All right, if you must know, your ladyship. Someone got into her house last night while she was out. I'll be going down there right after I finish me lunch." He gestured with his half-eaten sandwich. "Until then, I don't know no more than you do. That's the truth."
    Elizabeth turned the news over in her mind. "Did she say what was taken?"
    "The usual stuff—clothes, money, food—"
    "Food?"
    George gave his sandwich a fond glance. "Just about wiped her out of her week's rations, she said. She was going to see Percy in the hopes he could help her out with a little bit under the counter, if you get my meaning."
    But she didn't
, Elizabeth thought. Betty Stewart had gone straight to the bank. Of course, she could have gone there to get some money. Then again, if she were upset, she could have gone to someone for comfort. Like Henry Fenworth.
    "These days," George said, still gazing at his sandwich, "it's a bloody disgrace to steal food, what with the rationing and all."
    "It is, indeed," Elizabeth agreed. "George, I think we might have a problem here. Violet has been complaining about food missing from the larder. She thought it was Martin, but the other night I could swear I saw someone slip out of the kitchen when I got home. I'm wondering now if we have a thief going around the village stealing food."
    George sat down rather heavily behind the desk. "Gawd, where's it going to end? What with a murderer and now a robber lurking around the village, Sitting Marsh is becoming as evil as London, I swear it is."
    "Speaking of which, how is the murder