An Unwilling Accomplice by Charles Todd Read Free Book Online Page A

interest in the man.
    “And he seemed normal to you? Calm, collected, as far as anyone could be after an audience at the Palace?”
    “Yes. Most of the men who have done brave things appear to think it’s nothing out of the ordinary.”
    “An interesting observation. What can you tell me about the sergeant’s friends?”
    “I never met them. I couldn’t even say with any certainty that they came to call on him. Only that he claimed he was expecting them to come.”
    “And the orderly, Thompson?”
    “He did what he was ordered to do, and then left for France. So I was informed.”
    “Yes, we’ve checked. He was on that train, all right, and on the transport to which he was assigned.”
    “Is anything wrong, Inspector? I really don’t know why you’re asking me questions about Sergeant Wilkins. I’ve already reported all I know to the Army and to Matron at the Nursing Service.”
    “We are aware of that. Your report was concise and to the point. And you’ve given me no reason to doubt it now.”
    “Which still doesn’t tell me why you’ve come to interview me?”
    Stephens looked down for a moment before answering me. “We have been informed by the Inspector in a town in the north that two days after he disappeared from London, Sergeant Wilkins was seen there by a witness whose identification is trustworthy.”
    “Then you’ve located him?” I said, surprised and uncertain whether I was pleased or not. From my own point of view, it was good news. But deserters got short shrift from the Army. He would be tried and executed. Hero or not.
    “Not to say located him,” Inspector Stephens said brusquely.
    Which meant, surely, that he’d been seen and then got away before he could be caught.
    I waited.
    After a moment, Inspector Stephens added, “The charges against this man Wilkins now include murder.”
    It was a shock. I’d never considered Sergeant Wilkins a candidate for desertion. Much less murder.
    “I can see this is unexpected.”
    “I—yes, it is. May I ask who he killed?” All I could think of was his accomplice, or even the Sister who had lied about his wounds for him.
    “A man by the name of Lessup. Sergeant Henry Lessup. He was at home on extended leave.”
    “Had he helped in Sergeant Wilkins’s escape?”
    “He was never in London on the dates in question.”
    I could think of a number of explanations why one soldier might kill another. But the most likely reason in this case must have to do with that medal Sergeant Wilkins earned. Perhaps there was more to the account of his bravery than we knew.
    When I said as much, Inspector Stephens shook his head.
    “Lessup wasn’t in France when Wilkins was there. In fact he’s spent most of his war in England.”
    Surprised, I said, “Then it was something that happened before the war.”
    “Frankly we can’t find any connection between the two men at all. That’s why I’ve come to speak to you. To see if he’d mentioned anyone by that name.”
    “But how could the witnesses know that the murderer was Sergeant Wilkins?”
    “According to the Inspector in Ironbridge, a man who fits our description of Wilkins was seen in the town two days before, and he asked several people where he could find Lessup. The next morning, Lessup was discovered hanging from the iron bridge. And Wilkins was gone. The description is quite clear, and the man had apparently been wounded, for he had a limp and carried one arm with care.”
    “But that could describe many wounded men.”
    “I understand. Which is precisely why we’re looking for this man Wilkins. First to hear what he has to say, and then to bring him face-to-face with his accusers in Ironbridge.”
    “What does the Army have to say about the sergeant?”
    “They are as eager to find him as we are at the Yard.”
    “I can’t help you. I spent less than twenty-four hours in the man’s company, and most of that time he was in his room or with me at the Palace.”
    Inspector Stephens