The Rest is Silence (Billy Boyle World War II Mystery) Read Online Free PDF Page A

Britain, then was sent to North Africa. We kept in touch, but I hadn’t heard from him in months when I got his letter inviting me to visit.”
    “You’re sure you don’t mind me tagging along?”
    “Not at all. David will be pleased to meet you,” Kaz said, finishing his drink.
    “Did he mention how serious his injury was?”
    “He was rather silent on the subject, and of course I didn’t press. The English are not the most demonstrative people, as you may have noticed. He may not wish to discuss it, even with an old friend.”
    Kaz and David Martindale had been friends at Oxford, where they both studied European languages. Flight Lieutenant Martindale was recuperating from injuries received in Italy. He’d been discharged from the hospital to rest at home, which was not far north of Dartmouth. He’d invited Kaz about a month ago, but a case we were on had kept him away. When we’d learned an investigation would take us to the Kingsbridge area, Kaz had written and set up the visit.
    To be honest, we weren’t exactly in demand at SHAEF. There was a shortage of murder—criminal murder, in any case—and other crimes that impeded the war effort. With the big invasion looming, it seemed as if everyone had been drawn in to the planning and training for D-Day, leaving little time or energy for our stock-in-trade.
    Kaz and I, along with Staff Sergeant Mike Miecznikowski, or Big Mike as everyone from generals to privates called him, made up General Eisenhower’s Office of Special Investigations. Our job was to deal with low crimes in high places that got in the way of the war effort. And to deal with them quietly, although quiet wasn’t always in the cards. Every now and then the Brits borrowed us for some dirty work, which usually involved keeping me totally in the dark about everything until it was almost too late. We’d gotten in a bit of trouble because of our tendency to dig too deeply on our last job, and I half wondered if we had been sent here to get us out from underfoot.
    Now all we had on our plate was the case of the rotting corpse. None of us needed to know anything about the invasion, for reasons of security. “Need to know” was the popular phrase of the day, often preceded in our case by “you don’t.” If you worked at SHAEF and weren’t involved in D-Day, then you just sat back and watched everyone else scurry around being busy and important.
    The fact that I understood why we were left out of planning for Operation Overlord—and I only know the code name since I’m nosy and can read upside down—didn’t make it any easier to swallow. I hate being on the sidelines, no matter the logic. So when the opportunity came along to spend a few days at an English country home with a fancy name like Ashcroft, I thought, why the hell not? It’s got to be a classy place, since Kaz only has classy friends.
    Not counting me, of course.
    We paid the tab and got into the jeep, Kaz unfolding the map to figure the best route to North Cornworthy, where his buddy’s family estate was. Martindale’s in-laws, to be precise. As Kaz studied the map, I noticed Tom Quick exit the police station. He caught my eye, then looked away. As he did, I realized something odd. He had said his injury left him with a limp. I hadn’t paid much attention to his gait before, but as I watched him stroll away, I didn’t see that he had any trouble walking. Kaz caught my look and saw it as well.
    “It seems our Constable Quick has secrets,” Kaz said.
    “Or miraculous healing powers,” I said. “He wouldn’t be the first guy to exaggerate an injury to get out of combat. I can’t imagine what it’s like in a bomber at night, loaded with high explosives, as every gunner in Germany tries to blow you out of the sky.” I pressed the starter and tried to put Quick out of my mind. He bothered me. The wedding ring, the sudden change in mood, the supposed limp—it all added up to something more than malingering. But what? And