Mystery at Glennon Hall Page 6

  “About the man-power bill?” Rose set the basket near Delia and Gladys.

  “No, about joining the service.” Claude pulled a branch down so he could reach the pears at the tip of it.

  “His father didn’t want him to go?” Gladys guessed as she crossed over to help Claude.

  “No, it was Carl. He said he didn’t want to leave.” Claude reached for another branch.

  Rose eyed another tasty pear. “Miss Markham. Would you return to the service if you could?”

  Delia bent to retrieve more pears. “Now I have a duty of another sort.”

  Gladys laughed. “If Miss Markham left, there wouldn’t be anyone to torment us with timed examinations on the typewriter.”

  Delia straightened and chuckled at the look of shocked surprise on Rose’s face at the comment Gladys made. “Exactly so.”

  ***

  Wes began loosening his tie as soon as he reached his suite. He found Otis waiting for him with a glass of Pennsylvania rye in his hand.

  “Good man.” Wes took the glass without pausing his steps. When he reached a comfortable chair, he sank into it and took his first sip. “I missed this when we were fighting.”

  “Not much Pennsylvania rye at the front,” Otis agreed.

  Wes tugged on his tie until he pulled it loose from his neck. “What have you been up to while I slaved away as the acting principal?”

  Otis took the tie from Wes’s hand. “I made some headway with your request to learn about your faculty and staff.”

  “I’m listening.”

  Otis disappeared into the other room. When he returned, the tie was gone. “Let’s see. We’ll start with the staff. Many of them are local to the area.”

  “Makes sense.”

  Otis stopped at the decanter and poured another drink before taking a seat across from Wes. “Your chef, Hazel Markham, did receive some training on the east coast.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Based on all accounts, she’s highly qualified for the job she holds.” Otis took a long sip of his drink before continuing. “The head baker, Crawford Stiles, comes from a long line of bakers. His father owned a business in a nearby town many years ago. Crawford relocated to this area at a young age when he met his wife. Her family is from here.”

  “I’ve spoken to the kitchen steward a few times,” Wes said. “He seems like a good man.”

  “Melvin Bower,” Otis said with a nod. “My sources agree with you.”

  Wes eyed Otis over the rim of his glass before taking another drink. “Your sources.”

  Otis gave an enigmatic smile. “There are four cooks who work under Miss Markham in the kitchen.”

  “I take it they are very knowledgeable about the rest of the staff,” Wes said dryly.

  “I am confident their many skills will prove useful over time.” Otis changed the subject. “As you know from personal experience, your head groundskeeper is quite skilled. Arch Keaton. Short for Archibald.”

  “Quite so,” Wes agreed. “I swear even the hideous poultice he left with you has helped.”

  Otis pointed to his own injured shoulder with his glass of whiskey. “I swear I have a little more use of my arm.”

  Wes examined the remaining liquid in his glass. “I wonder if the man can conjure up whiskey?”

  “That would be a useful skill indeed,” Otis agreed. “Your faculty are a mix of locals and others who have made Glennon their home because of the school.”

  “The librarian?” Wes tried to remember her name. “Miss Bergman?”

  “Philomena Bergman. I understand she prefers Mena,” Otis said. “She is from Glennon originally. Did you not know her as a youth?”

  Wes gave a half shrug. “Doubtful. As you know, I was sent away for school as a boy.”

  “Your mother wanted you to follow the footsteps of the men in her side of the family,” Otis said. It was a subject they had discussed often.

  “What of the commercial department?” Wes asked. “I met with Earl Gordon earlier this afternoon. He seemed able enough.”

  “It is a popular department,” Otis said. “The war saw to that. Between the available office positions and the war effort, there is no shortage of students.”

  “Earl was saying that even their evening student population has doubled.” Wes set his empty glass down.

  “There are several faculty in the department. Most have been here for many years.”

  “Most?”

  Otis took the last sip of his whiskey. “There is one new teacher. A Miss Markham.”

  “Is she any relation to the chef?”

  “I’m told they are cousins.”

  “Indeed?” Wes saw the humor in the other man’s eyes. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “My sources say Miss Markham was in the service.”

  “Impossible. Don’t tell me she was one of the yeomanettes?”

  Otis pointed at Wes with his empty glass. “The Navy prefers you not use that title.”

  Wes made a noise.

  Otis ignored it. “Remember that they freed up a lot of our boys to fight with us.”

  “True.” Wes looked longingly at the decanter across the room. “What made her leave early?”

  “The service?” Otis set his empty glass down. “I’m told there was some sort of injury.”

  Wes shifted his focus from the whiskey to Otis. “Really? What kind of injury?”

  “No one here seems to know.”

  “No doubt you were very thorough with your questioning,” Wes said.

  “Very,” Otis agreed with a satisfied smile.

  “See if you can find out. Maybe some of your old contacts still in the service?” Wes thought for a moment. “Who is the young boy I keep seeing about? I’ve seen him in the kitchen, working with the steward, and working with the groundskeeper.”

  “That’s Sam. He works here. I’m told he doesn’t have anywhere else to go.” Otis stood and collected the empty glasses.

  “He seems young. Shouldn’t he be in school?”

  “He attends the Model School on campus during the day,” Otis agreed. “You should be getting ready for dinner with your sister.”

  Wes pushed himself out of the chair. “Let me know when you hear back about our yeomanette.”

  “Female yeoman.” Otis ignored Wes’s laughter as he passed into the next room.

  Chapter Eleven

  Delia followed Faye and Harriet into the dining hall for dinner. Though many of the faculty returned home in the town of Glennon at the end of the school day, those who lived on campus used the dining hall for all of their meals. For now, Delia found it more convenient to join them.

  “How are your classes coming along?” Faye asked Delia.

  Delia took a seat between the two women and turned to answer her colleague. “I’m starting to know the students’ names better.”

  “By the end of the school year, some will be more difficult to forget than others,” Harriet said with a mischievous grin. “For my part, I’m just trying to make it to the weekend. The end of the school year is much too far away.”

  “It sounds like someone has plans,” Faye said as a student worker stopped next to her to fill her water glass.

  “Nothing of any great excitement.” Harriet slanted her eyes to the table next to them as she lifted her water glass. “I see the motoring restrictions on Sunday are to be enforced.”

  Faye’s eyes followed Harriet’s. “Someone will miss their parades around town.”

  Delia lifted her brows in question.

  Harriet leaned closer. “It’s all I heard in my classes today. Some of the students like to dress in their finest and drive around in their motor cars on Sunday for the attention. In the end, however, they all agreed it was their patriotic duty to support the war effort.”

  “Ah, yes. The gasoline shortage. It’s for a good cause.” Delia said. She sat still as someone stopped next to her to set a plate in front of Harriet. “Hello, Sam. I didn’t know you
were serving in the dining hall too.”

  The young boy in question turned a deep shade of red. “Yes, miss. One of the older boys wasn’t feeling well.” Sam returned to his cart to get another plate of food.

  “Have you thought about going back?” Harriet asked.

  The question got Delia’s full attention. “Back?”

  “To the service. Now that the president has called for more men to sign up for the draft. I imagine you must miss it horribly.” Harriet waited for Delia’s response.

  Delia opened her mouth to respond as Sam stopped next to her with a plate of food. Sam’s eyes met Delia’s. A loud clatter interrupted whatever Delia was going to say.

  The redness crept back into Sam’s face. “Sorry, miss.” He remained next to Delia and clasped his hands together.

  “It’s nothing, Sam. You didn’t spill anything.” Delia flashed a reassuring smile. “Really. No harm was done. Please don’t give it another thought.”

  “She’s right.” Harriet made a show of glancing around to make her point. “No one even noticed.”

  “Thank you, miss.” Sam returned to the empty cart and began to push it away.

  “He really is a dear,” Harriet said as she reached for her fork.

  Delia thought so too. Especially since Harriet seemed to have forgotten her question. She made it through dinner without the subject returning to her time in the service. After dinner, Delia filed out with the others.

  “I have grading to do,” Faye said as she paused outside of Glennon Hall.

  “That makes two of us.” Harriet turned to Delia. “Are you going our way?”

  “No, thanks.” Delia motioned to her right. “I was planning on a walk for exercise. I will see you both tomorrow.”

  Delia watched her colleagues walk away from the hall for a few moments before heading toward the gardens. After her adventure in the dark the previous night, she wanted to return to the locations where she saw the others out and about.

  It took her several minutes to make her way to the orchard and then follow the same route she’d taken the night before. As she walked, she thought about the others that she saw. There was the night watchman, of course. She knew it was possible he could be involved in the theft of the food. But he didn’t appear to be concealing anything last night as he made his routine patrol. For now, she put the thought aside. If all other avenues of inquiry led to nothing, she would look into the watchman.

  Then there was the next lone figure. She was still unsure who that might have been. She paused near the outbuilding where she first saw him. She remembered using the building for cover as she skirted around it to watch him. She followed him for a while and lost him but heard two voices next. Delia moved to where she’d heard the voices.

  In the light of day, she wondered now how she managed to move around at all in the night without injury. The area she found herself in was secluded. There were hedgerows to one side acting as a windbreak. She realized that she was close to where the greenhouse was located. She walked around to see what else was there as she attempted to orient herself.

  She knew she was very near where the two figures had been. She stood still for a moment trying to picture it in her mind when they paused. It was just moments before they began running. She was fairly certain that they stopped for a brief time first.

  A muffled sound interrupted her thoughts. A moment later she heard whistling. She followed the sound to the other side of an outbuilding and found the groundskeeper, Arch Keaton. He was working in one of his herb gardens.

  “Hello.” Delia walked to the edge of the garden. “Working with mint?”

  His smile didn’t quite reach the blue eyes under the brim of his soft work cap. He studied her for a moment before answering. “You can smell it, can you?”

  “Oh, yes. I always liked the smell of mint.” She saw the cart on the other edge of the garden closest to him. “You’re harvesting some of your herbs for the winter?”

  “It’s time,” he said as he bent to snip more. “I’ll dry them out and store them.”

  Delia wondered again what the man was doing out in the middle of the night when she saw him. Could he possibly be the one who was stealing the food? She watched as he straightened.

  “Well, that should do it for now.” Arch set the cuttings in his cart and lifted the handles. “Have a good evening.”

  “You too,” Delia called after him.

  She remained where she was until he was no longer in sight. When she was certain she was alone, she turned away from the herb garden and crossed over to a stone building. She could tell that it was a spring house. She doubted it was much in use at this point in time. According to Hazel, Glennon Normal School had been getting their water from the town of Glennon for several years. With the help of electricity and refrigeration, the school also no longer had to rely on the spring house to store food.

  The location of the gardens near the spring house made sense. The spring supplied a water source in the form of a creek that led out of the spring house, but the stone building could also be used to store the produce from the garden. Delia walked around the perimeter of the spring house before stopping in front of the door.

  She pulled the door open and stepped inside hopeful that she might have found some of Hazel’s stolen food. She left the door open behind her to use the light from outside. It offered little help but at least she wasn’t in total darkness.

  Her hopes were dashed when she realized the spring house was empty. She stood in the cool silence for a moment as she considered what she saw the night before. The two figures had stopped at the spring house. She was certain of it now.

  If they weren’t dropping food off to conceal it, was it possible they were picking their stash up from a previous theft? She looked around the room as her eyes became accustomed to the darkness. A piece of paper lying on the ground near the wall caught her eye. She crossed over to pick it up but wasn’t able to make out the writing in the dim light.

  She slipped through the door and returned to the sunshine outside. With a jolt of excitement, she realized that she recognized the label that she held. It was the same one she’d seen in Hazel’s storeroom on the sack of flour.

  Chapter Twelve

  Delia stared at the page in front of her without seeing. The cup of tea next to her was cold. Although a review of her lesson plans for the following day was needed, her mind willfully refused to remain focused on the task at hand.

  Instead, she revisited her adventure the previous night trying to tease out any other clues from her memory. Anything that might aid in discovering the identity of the unknown single male out for a stroll of the campus in the middle of the night.

  At this point, she was fairly certain that the two at the spring house were the culprits she sought. Although she had failed at catching them with evidence in hand, their words and actions left little doubt that their intentions weren’t altogether honorable. They were most assuredly involved in something. The discovery of the label matching Hazel’s flour sack convinced her of it. What she didn’t know was how many others might be involved.

  “Have you found anything?” Hazel stood in the doorway to the living room. She was still wearing her hat.

  “I didn’t hear you come in.” Delia set her lesson plans aside.

  “I just returned from work.” Hazel moved over to the sofa across from Delia. After taking a seat, her hands went up to her hat to remove it.

  Delia noted the lines on Hazel’s face. With her slight figure and boundless energy, Hazel had always appeared younger than her thirty-eight years. At the moment, she looked as though she wore the crushing weight of the world on her shoulders. “You look tired. Was it a particularly difficult day for you?”

  Hazel looked away for a moment without answering. When she did respond, it was as though the words she settled upon had not been her first choice. “Have you made any progress?”

  “With the theft of the food? I think so.” Delia watched for Hazel’
s response to her words. It was slow in coming.

  Hazel shifted her focus from something across the room to Delia. “You found the thieves?”

  “Perhaps. I believe I have a good start, at any rate. It’s possible they may be using the spring house as a temporary storage place for whatever they steal.” Delia watched Hazel drop her eyes to her hands as though losing interest in the subject. “Did something happen at work today?”

  “What?” Hazel’s eyes met Delia’s. “No. It’s just the stress.” She waved her hand vaguely. “I’m concerned about the theft. It’s been on my mind and draws my focus from my work.”

  “I hope to have a resolution for your problem in the near future.” Delia watched Hazel begin to worry the brim of her hat with her fingers. “You’re certain there isn’t anything else troubling you?”

  “Of course not.” Hazel’s fingers moved nervously along the brim. “Not that Mr. Wilson is helping at all with my nerves. This new man-power bill. Whatever was he thinking?”

  “The president?” Delia tried to follow Hazel’s train of thought. “He needed to increase the number of men available for the war.”

  “He changed the requirements for the age,” Hazel said.

  “Yes. It’s been lowered from twenty-one to eighteen. Or will be, with this next registration.” Delia said slowly. She wondered if Hazel might be worried about the male students at the college.

  “From eighteen to forty-five,” Hazel pointed out.

  “Hazel, your poor hat,” Delia said quietly.

  Hazel stood quickly. “I’m sorry. I feel a headache coming on.”

  “I can bring you something to your room for supper,” Delia offered.

  “You’re very kind.” Hazel’s words were muffled as she left the room.

  Delia picked up her cup of cold tea and brought it to the kitchen. After dumping the cold tea in the sink, she set the cup aside as she retrieved the kettle. She moved a small, delicate vase away from the faucet so she wouldn’t accidentally knock it over as she filled the kettle with water. As one part of her mind wondered what might tempt Hazel to eat, the other was focused on her plans for later.