A cold treachery - Charles Todd [137]
Mickelson wheeled on Greeley and demanded, “What's Rutledge doing here!” Robinson, as the inspector's back turned to him, flung out his hand and lifted the flatiron from the shelf along the wall. He swung it hard.
Mickelson went down, blood bubbling out of the cut on his cheekbone where the edge of the iron had caught him.
Greeley shouted, “Here—!” and barely had time to duck as Robinson hurled the iron at him. It struck the dresser, sending chips of wood flying in every direction. Vera Cummins had begun to scream in terror, but Janet Ashton was already advancing on Robinson with the knife, her face twisted in murderous fury.
Sergeant Miller came through the door and stopped short.
Rutledge called to Janet Ashton to stop where she was, and Miller, seeing the knife, lunged forward to pin her arms to her side.
Robinson, seeing the sergeant between himself and escape, reached under his coat and drew a revolver. He swung the barrel from Rutledge to Miller, and all movement stopped abruptly.
“If you want to die, I'll oblige!” he told the room at large, and then the barrel steadied, pointing directly at Elizabeth Fraser. Then, his eyes on her, he demanded, “Where's your motorcar, Rutledge? Speak up! I don't have much to lose by shooting her!”
Rutledge said, with far more self-possession than he felt, “It's by the church. Take it and go. I won't stop you, and I'll see to it that no one else does. You'll have reached the road to London before we can get word out. There's petrol in the tank, and money in my luggage in the boot. You can go anywhere you please and disappear.” He watched the barrel of the revolver.
Greeley said, “You can't let him go! It's your duty—”
“I've given my word. Step out of his way, Greeley. If Sergeant Miller will open the door and let the ladies leave? Robinson, I'll even offer myself as hostage for the good behavior of the rest of them. I won't give you any trouble.”
Robinson said, “Where's the boy? I'm not leaving without the boy.”
“He's dead,” Rutledge lied. “There's nothing more you can do to him.”
“You couldn't have known I was there, unless you'd talked to him!”
“We don't need his evidence. Elcott survived, you see. He told us what you'd done. There's only one reason you'd try to hang him—”
“That's impossible—he couldn't have lived!”
“Oh, but he did. You left him teetering on a chair back. A note on the bed. After half smothering him with a pillow. I walked in just in time.”
Robinson swore. “All right, then. The motorcar. Greeley, get out of my way. Faster, man, I'm impatient!”
Greeley backed against the wall, keeping his hands in plain sight.
Robinson glanced around the room one more time. Then he made to step over Mickelson, who was groaning as he began to regain his senses. For a split second Robinson took his eyes off Rutledge to glance at the man on the floor, making certain he wouldn't be tripped up. But the revolver was still pointing steadily at Elizabeth Fraser.
And then she spoke for the first time.
“Hugh?” She called to him, standing up from her chair and taking a step in his direction. “I hope you never close your eyes in peace again!”
Robinson had never seen her on her feet before. His attention was riveted on her. She had given Rutledge his only chance to act, but before he could move, Mickelson rolled on the floor in a desperate attempt to catch at Robinson's leg. Robinson was too swift for him. He sidestepped the clutching hands and fired.
The shot was deafening in the room, and Elizabeth Fraser gasped and spun as the bullet caught her.
With a roar of rage, Rutledge launched himself at Robinson, pulling him down with the strength of two men, and Miller was leaping over the table, crashing into both of them.
Greeley stooped to retrieve the flatiron, his eyes on the struggling men. But before he could use the iron, the revolver went off a second time, and then Rutledge had wrenched it out of Robinson's grip and flung it across the room where it skidded to a stop almost at Vera Cummins's feet.
Rutledge had his