Rough Cider

FOURTEEN

“Why don’t you sit down?” When her suggestion had been acted on, Alice gave Harry a cool, unfilial look. “You said you could have put the court right on a few things. This is your chance.?m going to take you through the crucial days of 1943.”

With an air of authority that wouldn’t have disgraced a learned counsel examining a witness, she drew Harry’s story from him: how he and Duke had met me in Mrs. Mumford’s and driven out to Gifford Farm; how they’d met Barbara and offered to help gather the apples.

“Why?” asked Alice.

Harry’s eyebrows lifted, but he gave no answer. All the bounce had gone out of him.

“Why did you offer to help?”

‘Two bored GIs looking for free drinks and friendship, I guess.”

“So, was Barbara the attraction?”

“Sure, she was pretty. She had the whitest skin you ever saw. Rosy cheeks. Fine black hair. She was a sweet kid but kind of remote.” To this touching eulogy he added the footnote, “I didn’t expect to score with her.”

“Did Duke?” asked Alice. If proof were wanted of her self-control, it was here in the way she put the question, as if the daddy she’d never mentioned before without a tremor in her voice was suddenly a cipher.

Harry shook his head. “He was a married man.”

“So were hundreds of other GIs who went with English girls,” said Alice. “You can be frank with me.”

“All the time he was over here, Duke never looked at a woman.”

She said in the same reasonable tone, “That’s not true, is it? He escorted Barbara to the Columbus Day concert.”

None of Alice’s composure rubbed off on Harry. His voice rose to a protesting squeak. “He did it to help me out.” Then his words came in a rush. “This was twenty years ago. Nice girls moved in pairs, safety in numbers from studs like me, understand? I couldn’t date Sally without finding someone for her friend. So Duke came along. He drove the jeep, hands on the wheel, Barbara beside him clutching her handbag. They didn’t even talk much. All the action happened in the rear seat.”

“And after that evening?”

Harry looked vacant.

“Didn’t they meet secretly?” Alice asked.

“Where was this, for God’s sake?”

“In the lanes around the farm. Barbara would go for evening walks. Duke would be waiting with the jeep.”

“Sweetheart, who gave you this crap?”

Alice didn’t answer. She didn’t even look in my direction.

Harry said, “Listen, Duke spent most evenings writing to Elly. Take it from me, if he’d been going out nights in the jeep, I’d have known. Jesus, I’d have been with him.”

“Maybe he didn’t tell you.”

“Nuts.”

Still unruffled, Alice said, “Let’s backtrack, shall we? You did some shooting on the farm with Mr. Lockwood and his son?”

Harry nodded. “Joke. The only gun we could lay our hands on was a.45. That’s a pistol, an automatic. We shot nothing. And before you ask, Barbara wasn’t in the party.”

“But on another occasion you took her with you.”

“That was different. Duke had promised to give the boy a turn with the.45.” Harry’s eyes fastened on me. “Am 1 right?”

I confirmed it.

He continued, “Barbara just tagged along, as I recall. We took a few shots at an oilcan.”

“And afterwards?”

“We put the gun in the hallstand where old Lockwood kept his shotguns.” He gave a sly grin. “That.45 was like a bottle of Coke-nonreturnable.”

“So anyone could have taken it from there on the day of the murder?”

Harry passed no comment.

Alice moved on. “Let’s come to the cider pressing. While it was going on, you and Duke drove out to the farm several times, didn’t you?”

“Sure.”

“You watched Mr. Lockwood put mutton in the casks?”

“Yup.”

“And you heard Bernard mention that he’d spotted Cliff Morton’s bicycle in a ditch on the farm?”

Harry’s response was more assertive this time. He wagged a fat finger in the air. “That’s another thing. Duke hardly met the guy he’s supposed to have shot. The first time we came to pick apples-this is back in September-there was some kind of incident. I believe Morton was caught trying it on with Barbara. He was given the bum’s rush. We didn’t see him again.”

At this point in the exchange I interrupted. Harry was so wide of the mark that I couldn’t prevent myself. I said, “Whether Duke knew the man is immaterial. The motive wasn’t jealousy. He killed him because of the savage attack he made on Barbara.”

I was rewarded with a cold stare from Alice. “Will you let me continue?” she asked in a tone that left no doubt that she would. She returned to Harry. “On that afternoon you drove out to the farm with Duke to invite the girls to a party.”

“Thanksgiving Day,” Harry confirmed. “And before you ask, I was the organizer. I had it down as my benefit night. You may not believe this after what you saw just now, but Sal was hot for me in those days. I knew I was ready to score. All I had to do was set it up, keep the Shoesmith family sweet. So I talked Duke into being Barbara’s escort again. I really had to sell it to him, I can tell you. Finally, the songwriting swung it my way. He was composing these songs in the Somerset dialect, using the words he’d heard. They were three-quarters written, but he was stuck for a few more lines.”

“Which you told him Barbara could provide?”

“You got it.”

“You’re quite certain that there was nothing between them?”

“Duke and Barbara? Zilch.”

“On both sides? I mean, how about Barbara? Did she have romantic ideas about Duke?”

“I doubt it. If you ask me, she was doing Sally a favor.”

Alice said thoughtfully, “Maybe I should ask Sally.”

“Sure. Why not?” Harry was all for the spotlight moving to someone else.

“Let’s finish this. I believe you called for Sally on the way to the farm.”

“Correct.”

“And?”

Resignedly, he wound himself up again. “The party was a surprise. She’d never heard of Thanksgiving, but she was over the moon when I invited her. I told her we’d pick up Barbara on the way. She put on some face and a pretty dress and we were on the road inside the hour.”

“And when you got to Gifford Farm?”

Harry took off his glasses and wiped them, remembering. “There was a holiday atmosphere, not for Thanksgiving but for the cider pressing. They were on the last load of apples, and the machine was going like a steam hammer. Old man Lockwood had treated everyone to extra cider and given the farmhands an early finish. Mrs. Lockwood was offering hot scones and cream, but we wanted to ask Barbara to the party first, so she could get ready.”

“You told the Lockwoods about the party?”

“No need. We had Sally with us in a pink chiffon dress.”

“She must have been cold.”

“Sitting on my lap? You’re kidding. To answer your question, we told them about the party and they raised no objection, so Duke and I went off to find Barbara. She should be milking, they told us. She wasn’t. She hadn’t been. The cows were still waiting with their udders straining. We went back to see if anyone had a better idea. No dice.” Harry stopped and jerked his head in my direction. “He can tell you the rest.”

Alice wasn’t letting him off. “I’ve had his account,” she told Harry in a firm, no-nonsense voice. “I came here for yours.”

“The works?”

“All of it. Everything.”

“You’re going to be disappointed,” he warned her.

“Try me,” said Alice.

Hearing all this, I was veering between anger and admiration. She’d handled Harry brilliantly, keeping control without seeming to antagonize him. Her grasp of the disjointed and highly subjective story I’d unfolded the previous evening was rock-sure. What’s more, she’d sorted it into its proper sequence. She’d match any computer in processing information. Believe me, I was smarting from the rebukes she’d dealt me, and peeved that she didn’t challenge some of Harry’s wrongheaded assertions, yet I’m forced to admit that she got more from him than I would have done.

And for all his denials, some of the most interesting details came at the end.

“I was just a bystander,” he insisted. “I heard about the rape from Sally, and she got it from Mrs. Lockwood.”

“Aren’t we jumping forward here?” said Alice. “You left us with the cows not milked and no sign of Barbara.”

Harry put back his glasses and blinked in a puzzled way. “But you know what happened. The boy found Cliff Morton in the act of raping Barbara and ran out to tell the first person he saw, who was Duke.”

“No,” said Alice serenely. “i’m not asking that. I want to know what you were doing.”

Silence.

He shifted in his chair. “Well, I, em… I joined in the search.”

“Where did you search?”

“The cowsheds. Took me some time. All those stalls.”

“And, of course, you found nothing. Did you hear anything?”

Harry considered the question. “The cider mill was still grinding.”

“So you heard that. Anything else?”

“No.”

“You searched the cowshed, and then?”

“Back to the house.”

“You crossed the yard, then?”

“Sure.”

“See anyone?”

“Barbara, with her mother. They were ahead of me, moving towards the kitchen door. Great, I thought, we found her. All we need now is Duke, so he can invite her to the party. I was about to go find him when I sensed something wrong. I took another look at the two women. I just had a back view of them, and they were almost through the door by this time. Mrs. Lockwood had her hands on Barbara’s shoulders… like this. Barbara’s hair was loose, and her head was right back and shaking, like she was hysterical.”

“Screaming?”

Harry shrugged. “The damn machine was still going. Far as I could tell, Mrs. Lockwood was holding her upright. They went inside.?m standing there scratching my head when out comes Sally.”

“From the kitchen?”

“Yeah. She runs over to me and tells me Barbara was attacked. I ask her who did it and she doesn’t know. She’s pretty upset herself, and she asks me to take her home. I ask her where Duke is. She shakes her head and tries to pull me towards the jeep. She says leave him. Just take me home. I’m telling her I can’t do that when Duke comes around the side of the cider house and says let’s go. He gets in the jeep and starts up.”

“How was he looking?” asked Alice.

“Kind of solemn. Tight-lipped.”

“His appearance. Blood on his clothes? Any sign of violence?”

“Not that I saw.”

“He was in uniform, I expect?”

“Sure.”

“Blouse and pants? The buttons all fixed as usual?”

“I guess I’d have noticed if not.”

“And how was his behavior?”

“A little erratic,” Harry admitted. “That’s how it seemed at the time. I asked if he knew what happened to Barbara. He said, as if he knew all about it, there’s nothing we can do. I said for Christ’s sake, Duke, there’s plenty we can do. For a start, we can find the creep who attacked her. Duke said leave it. He told me to get in the jeep. He spoke with a kind of authority. Sally was already aboard, yelling at me to get in for God’s sake. So I did.”

Alice had listened in rapt concentration. She was standing with her two hands on my stick, holding it forward like a divining rod. “I want to get this straight,” she told Harry. “Were these Duke’s exact words: There’s nothing we can do. Leave it. Get in the jeep’?”

“Jeez, it was a long time ago,” pleaded Harry.

“Think.”

“I’m ninety percent sure. He may have thrown in a stronger word.”

“But the rest stands?”

“Sure.”

She paused for thought, staring up the the stuccoed ceiling: Presently she nodded at Harry. “And then?”

“We drove off.”

“Where to?”

Harry’s face showed the strain as he wrestled with a memory. A new set of creases branched out from his eyes and mouth. “I told you Duke was at the wheel. At the crossroads he turned in the Shepton Mallet direction and put his foot on the gas. He didn’t give a thought to Sally. She was in the backseat with me. She says to me where the heck are we going? I can’t go to the party after what happened to my friend. So I stuck my hand on Duke’s shoulder and asked him to stop.”

“And did he?”

“Not before we were halfway to Shepton Mallet, and then he refused to turn the jeep.”

“Why?”

Harry sighed. “How do I know? I can’t say what had gotten into him. He started giving me the needle. He said what’s with you two? You got it made. You don’t really need Barbara or me to have a good time. Make hay. Have a ball.”

“Couldn’t he see that Sally was upset?”

“I just couldn’t get through to him.”

“Could Sally?”

“Sal? She was too scared to speak. She had rape on her mind, I guess.”

“So what happened?”

“When it was obvious we were at a stalemate, he told me to take over the jeep. I could drive Sally home if I wanted, but not with him on board. He’d rather walk to Shepton Mallet.”

Alice’s eyes widened. “And did he?”

Harry gave a nod. “Wasn’t much over three miles. I turned the jeep and drove Sally home. End of story.”

Alice preferred to reach her own conclusion. “Was it really the end? Didn’t you see Duke again that evening?”

“If I had, we wouldn’t have spoken.”

“What time did you get back?”

“I couldn’t say. I had a beer in the Jolly Gardener, and then I drove around for a while, looking for a pickup. Just wasn’t my night.”

“Was this before midnight?” Alice persisted.

“Yeah.”

“And was anything said when you saw Duke next?”

“About what happened? Nothing. Frost.”

“You fell out?”

“That’s the size of it. We didn’t speak for weeks.”

“Not even after Barbara committed suicide?”

“Not even then. Much later, after we’d both been posted to Colchester, I mentioned it. Duke knew about Barbara. He said it was really sad.”

“Nothing else?”

“Nothing. It was a sensitive topic.”

“I understand,” said Alice in a way that signaled a respite for Harry. She picked her fruit juice off the table and took a sip.

Remarkably, considering how drained he looked, Harry was unwilling to leave it at that. He appeared to sense that some self-justifying statement was still necessary. After he’d taken out a colored handkerchief and wiped his brow, he added, “You know, when I first heard about the murder, and Duke taking the rap, I didn’t believe it. I can’t describe the feeling. Coming on top of the war, which to a GI was totally unreal until you got in the firing line, it was way over my head. Took me weeks to come to terms with it-I mean, just accepting that Duke had been hanged. He was no killer.”

Harry stopped to blow his nose. He was visibly affected by what he’d been saying. He resumed. “Finally I read a book on the case, The Somerset Skull, by some English journalist.”

“Barrington Miller,” I said with contempt. “A real scis-sors-and-paste job.”

“True,” said Harry, “but it had the essential facts on the trial, and it told me the prosecution was garbage. Sexual jealousy? No chance. He never had sex with the girl. If she was pregnant, believe me, it was some other guy, I told you how it was between Duke and Barbara.”

“ ‘Zilch’ I think, was how you described it,” I said, observing neutrality. Alice was silent, drawing breath, perhaps, for a heart-to-heart with Sally.

“Take that U.S. Army major in court to speak for Duke’s character” Harry said with a sharp note of censure. “It was character assassination. They couldn’t get over the fact that he heisted a.45 and used a jeep for private trips. They didn’t say he was a loyal husband, one of the gentlest, most civilized soldiers in the army.” He stopped to wipe his nose again. “I’m sorry. You don’t want to hear all this. I just want to explain my position. After reading all this crap I had to decide what to do about it. I was back in the States by this time. What could I do to put the injustice right? Send a letter to the London Times? Write to the Lord Chief Justice? Whatever I did, I couldn’t bring Duke back to life. Alice, honey, do you know what I did?”

“Found my mother,” said Alice flatly.

“Precisely. Help the living. Elly was in a pitiful state. No job, no pension, and a child to raise. And bitterly ashamed of what Duke had done. I put her right on that for a start. Then I married her. I won’t say it was much of a marriage, but I got her through a bad time. We came to an understanding about Duke-not to make waves, not to write to The Times, not even to mention him. You know why? For your sake, sweetheart. I respected your mother’s wishes.” With that off his chest Harry got to his feet and said, “Whose glass is empty?”

Alice had listened impassively. Now she brushed aside Harry’s diversionary gesture. “If it’s all the same to you, we’d like to meet your wife again.”

“No problem,” claimed Harry. He fairly scuttled through the door.

Alice handed me back my stick. “I have a feeing that Mrs. Ashenfelter II might respond better to you.”

But as it turned out, Sally was in no shape to respond to anyone. Harry came back grim-faced and announced, “No dice. Sally’s out cold. She took a chisel to the cocktail cabinet, and she’s been through a bottle and a half of vodka.”