A cold treachery - Charles Todd [116]
He should have been sympathetic to Josh, another lonely boy . . .
Thorough as he was, Rutledge could find no boots without heels. They might already have gone to the rubbish heap. There was no hidden revolver, although Rutledge searched the bar and the saloon and the kitchen as well as the rooms upstairs. Only a coat with a missing button—but there was only Janet's word that she'd found the button in the hut above High Fell Farm.
Above the hearth on a corner of the mantel was a pretty vase, out of place in such dreary lodgings. The sort of thing a woman might buy, for the sake of the roses that clambered up to the neck. Pink roses like those in the kitchen and on Grace Elcott's frivolous hat.
Rutledge had seen it there before, but hadn't given it more than a passing thought. It was something Grace might have given Elcott. Or that he might have planned to give her.
He looked at it, and then lifted it down from its place of honor. Something inside rattled.
With Hamish already alive in his mind, Rutledge turned the vase upside down and spilled the contents out into his hand.
A black button rolled into the palm of his hand. A black button, like the one that Janet Ashton had claimed she'd found in the ruined hut. But there was no sign of the broken cuff link that had once belonged to Josh Robinson.
Rutledge went to the cell where Elcott sat morosely staring at the floor. Unshaven, wearing the same clothes he'd had on climbing the fell in the night, he looked both pitiable and exasperating. A man without spirit who seemed to prefer to wallow in his defeat than strive to overcome it.
The gray walls, the cot to one side, and the slop jar in one corner seemed to reflect the stale, colorless atmosphere of prison.
Holding out the vase with the clambering roses, Rutledge asked, “Can you tell me where this came from?”
Paul glanced at it and resumed his study of the floor. “Grace gave it me. She thought it would brighten my rooms. She liked roses. Flowers of any kind.”
Tilting it, Rutledge let the black button slide into his palm. “Is this from your coat? It's missing a button.”
“I wondered where that had got to.” He frowned, sticking out a finger to touch the button almost as if to see whether or not it had reality. “That button was loose at the funeral. I was going to sew it back on and never got around to doing so. What was it doing in the vase?”
“And this?” Reaching into his pocket, Rutledge held out the cuff link. It was the second of the pair, retained for interrogation purposes.
“That belongs to Josh. A birthday gift from his father.”
“Gerald?”
“No, Hugh, of course. It's broken.” Elcott turned it in his fingers. “A pity. It's gold. Grace would have been angry if she knew Josh had been so careless.”
“Did you find it up there in the hut?”
“I never found it anywhere. It was too dark, and then you came at me before I could light my lantern. Are you now reduced to manufacturing evidence against me?”
It was hard to tell if he was lying or telling the truth. Rutledge let it go. “I've a feeling Janet Ashton reached High Fell the night it snowed. And something made her turn around and go back the way she'd come. Do you know what it was?”
“Ask her! I've told you until I'm tired of telling. I never killed them!” But there was undeniable wariness in his voice.
“If you know anything about her movements, then you'd be better off answering my question.”
Elcott sat there, stony-faced and silent.
“Did she reach Urskdale at the beginning of the storm? Did you see her or her carriage?”
“Ask her!”
Hamish said, “It may be he doesna' want to gie away too much!”
Rutledge left, taking the vase with him and setting it on Greeley's desk, with its contents. But he kept the cuff link in his pocket.
CHAPTER THIRTY
He cornered Janet Ashton in the kitchen. She looked up in alarm when he strode in, closed the door at his back, and leaned against it.
“Enjoyed