The Rest is Silence (Billy Boyle World War II Mystery) by James R. Benn Read Free Book Online Page A

probably.”
    “In the South Hams?” Edgar asked.
    “Why do you say that?” I asked.
    “Restricted area, you said. Fits the bill, close by. Never mind, don’t bother to answer. Loose lips and all that. I hope you find whoever it was.”
    “Well, he doesn’t match any missing persons, so it’s doubtful anyone reported his absence to the police.” I continued to watch Helen as we spoke. She moved around David, putting her right arm through his left, so she faced the unscarred side of his face. She relaxed and opened her clenched hand.
    She couldn’t look at his face.
    Edgar went off to freshen his drink. He had the careful gait of someone who has drunk quite a bit and is working hard to hide it. Meredith motioned me to where she and Kaz were entertaining Great Aunt Sylvia, and I put on my best face for the old girl.
    “The baron tells me you are related to General Eisenhower, young man,” she said. “Is that true?”
    “Yes, ma’am. I mean Lady Pemberton. We’re related through my mother’s family. I call him Uncle Ike—only when we’re alone, of course—but I believe we are actually distant cousins.”
    “Hmm,” she said. “One bristles at the idea of a foreigner, even one of our American cousins, telling the British army what to do. But he seems like a decent fellow. Is he?”
    “The best,” I said. “You can rest easy. He has the interests of all Allied soldiers at heart.”
    “Well, that may be, but does he have the worst interests of the Hun at heart as well?” Great Aunt Sylvia’s eyes bored into mine, and I realized this wasn’t just idle chitchat. She had a sharp mind, and it was a perceptive question.
    “He’s not a general to throw men’s lives away for nothing,” I said. “But he intends to win this war by destroying the enemy. Nothing short of unconditional surrender.”
    “Good!” Great Aunt Sylvia said. “That is what I wanted to hear. No talk of armistice like in the last war. What a mess they made of that. Having this happen all over again would be a disgrace to all thosewho died.” Her face was vivid with rage, still fresh a quarter century later.
    “You lost someone,” I said. It was only a question of whom.
    “My husband and my son,” she said. “Lord Pemberton was a commodore on the battle cruiser Queen Mary . He was lost in the Battle of Jutland. Roger was a lieutenant with the Devonshire Regiment. He was killed at the Somme. His body was never found. Neither came home.”
    “I am sorry, Lady Pemberton,” I said, my voice catching in my throat.
    “As have I been all these years. I am the last of the Pembertons, living here by sufferance in the house and on the lands that should have gone to my son and his heirs. I have no wish for another generation to suffer such losses in the future. Tell your uncle to get on with it, Captain Boyle. Finish them off.”
    I said I would. I meant it.
    Sir Rupert entered the library, and a deep silence. Everyone had been listening to Great Aunt Sylvia, and when she was done speaking, the only sound was Edgar pouring another drink.
    “What’s this?” Sir Rupert asked. “Has someone died?” He smiled at his jest and looked wonderingly around the room.
    “Not recently,” Great Aunt Sylvia said, and David stepped up to do the introductions. Meredith sat with her great aunt as the others hovered around Sir Rupert. He was middle-aged, dressed in a blue double-breasted suit that had been in style sometime during the previous decade. Not a surprise exactly. With wartime rationing, everyone in England made do with what they had. His face was long, topped by curly hair going grey. He had an easy air of authority about him, an acknowledgment that he was master of the house and a lot more besides. He stood with his back to Meredith and Great Aunt Sylvia, waiting for his drink as Edgar poured and David made the introductions.
    “Sorry to keep you all waiting,” Sir Rupert said. “I only got back from London an hour ago. More Foreign