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

fired a shot in their lives.
    “Boring duty?” Kaz asked as we drove off.
    “It can be,” Quick said. “But the worst of it is turning people back when all they want’s to check on their homes. That’s why I’m there, to provide a local face for the poor souls from the South Hams. Some try to sneak in, so we have to patrol the whole area. Sad business, really.”
    “Are you from the South Hams yourself?” I asked.
    “No, I come from Newton Abbot. I’m assigned to the Dartmouth division; we work with the army quite often.”
    “What’s the W.R. stand for?” I asked. Quick was wearing a British Tommie helmet with W.R. CONSTABLE painted on the front.
    “War Reserve Constable,” Quick said. “I was a regular constable before the war, then I joined the RAF in ’39. Served as a gunner on a Lancaster until I took some shrapnel in my leg. They invalided me out, even though it only gave me a slight limp. The police are undermanned enough to overlook a minor injury, especially if it gets them an experienced officer. Temporary duty only, though, until the end of the war.”
    “I was a cop myself, before the war,” I said. “Back in Boston.”
    “Thought you might have been,” Quick said.
    “Why?” Kaz asked, turning to face Quick.
    “Because he asks a lot of questions. A good copper never stops asking questions, does he, Captain Boyle?”
    “No,” I admitted. “Once you get the habit, it’s hard to break. So I expect you asked some questions yourself after you found the body.”
    “Indeed,” Quick said. “I didn’t think he was a serviceman, and the Yank MPs were quick to agree. They had no reports of anyone missing, and the last thing they wanted was a case they couldn’t solve. Besides, he’d been in the water a long time, probably since before the whole American army descended on the South Hams. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but it’s been a handful, let me tell you.”
    “Dr. Verniquet said he’d been in the water a month or more,” I said, confirming his hunch. “And keeping the peace among thousands of GIs while guarding the border around the South Hams sounds like a huge job.”
    “It is, and the force is shortstaffed. A lot of the pensioners who came out of retirement at the start of the war have had to leave, and most of the younger lads have joined up. So it’s up to the lame and elderly most of the time, but we manage, even with the black market to add to our woes. Which brings us back to our friend from the Channel.”
    “You think he was a criminal?” Kaz asked.
    I slowed as we entered Stokenham, one of the villages emptied out by the government. It was a ghost town. Shops and homes along the main road stood with broken windows, open doors, and bits and pieces of furniture on the ground as if the buildings had spewed them out.A curtain fluttered in the breeze, a frayed token of surrender. One house had burned, its roof caved in. At the center of town, dozens of GIs sat around a First World War monument, eating K-Rations. More came out of the Church House Inn by the side of the road, tossing their empty ration packs on the path. The village looked like it had been plundered.
    “What’s this?” I asked, shocked at the sight. I knew the residents were gone, but I had never imagined their homes and businesses would be treated like dump sites in their absence.
    “Criminal, really,” Quick said. “But the lads who come through here aren’t the only ones to blame. At first we patrolled the area, but there weren’t enough of us. Vandals and thieves had their chance before the army. So when the first troops came ashore, they found the homes wide open. The live-fire rounds they sometimes use for realistic training have only added to the destruction, as you can see. A house full of bullet holes is ripe for desecration. Most of these men probably think the entire area’s slated for destruction.”
    “Or don’t care,” I said as I watched a large rat scurry into one cottage.