A cold treachery - Charles Todd [50]
“It's a neighbor, wanting to know if I'm alive. He won't stay,” she answered quietly, and then dragged herself painfully to the door.
But when she opened the door, there was no one outside. The yard was empty.
Maggie stared at the tracks, gave the matter some thought, and then made up her mind. She came inside, called through the bedroom door to the cowering boy that the neighbor's cat had caught herself a rat.
“She keeps the shed free of the wretched things, else I'd take a broom to her!”
Rutledge found his fellow guests in the kitchen when he arrived at the small hotel some hours later. He had dropped Greeley at the police station, aware that the inspector was not happy with the lack of results. The boy alive, witness to murder, was one thing. The boy dead, frozen to death, left the investigation to go nowhere. It was a daunting prospect, and Greeley let it be known, as he stepped down from the motorcar, that he had done what he could.
“I'll help however I can. Everyone will. But it's up to you now. I've run out of opinions, and I've asked enough of the people here. You'd have to be a wizard to settle this business. All I can say is, I hope you are.”
And with that he disappeared through the station door without inviting Rutledge to follow him.
An air of gloom hung over the kitchen, and the silence could be felt. Robinson was sitting with his head in his hands, as if in the depths of despair. Janet Ashton, her face pale with pain and grief, stared out the window at the fell behind the house. Miss Fraser was finishing the dishes, setting them to drain.
She looked up as Rutledge came through the passage door but didn't ask the question he could read in her eyes. He shook his head slightly, indicating no news, and she went back to the last of the pans, rubbing at it industriously as if to keep herself from feeling anything.
She said, “There are sandwiches under that tea towel. If you're hungry.”
He was, and nodded with gratitude. Hamish, sensing the atmosphere, said, “She's glad to see you. It's no' been easy, this morning.”
As if she had heard him, Miss Fraser went on. “Mrs. Cummins has one of her headaches. She won't be joining us for the midday meal.”
Janet Ashton said, “I saw her on the stairs an hour ago. She'd been drinking. I could smell it.”
“Yes, well,” Elizabeth Fraser began, trying to smooth over the encounter, “I expect she's worried about her husband.”
Robinson lifted his head out of his hands and said to Rutledge, “He's dead, isn't he? Josh? If you're trying to find a way to tell me, I'd rather know straight out.”
“We haven't found him,” Rutledge answered. “But yes, perhaps it's as well to prepare yourself for the worst.”
Janet Ashton bit her lip and looked down at her hands. “I know what it's like to lie there in the cold, praying help will come. It's a wretched way to die!”
Hugh Robinson exclaimed, “Don't—”
Rutledge sat and reached for the plate of sandwiches. “The men are still out searching. At least there's that. I wish I could have brought better news.”
Robinson said wearily, “That's kind of them. It can't be easy.” He took a deep breath. “What about the person behind these murders? Have you found any evidence—anything that will help you find him?”
Janet Ashton asked, “Have you spoken with Paul Elcott? Dr. Jarvis says he's better today. If you're going to take him into custody—”
“Elcott?” Robinson demanded, staring from her to Rutledge.
“Early days for that,” Rutledge answered her.
But before he could answer Robinson, Janet had turned to him and said, “Perhaps you can persuade the inspector, if I can't! Grace was terrified of Paul! Did she say anything to you about—”
Robinson cut across her words, his attention on Rutledge. “Nobody told me Elcott was under suspicion!”
“He isn't. Any more so than anyone else,” Rutledge replied curtly.
Miss Fraser turned her chair to face them. “No, I can't believe