A cold treachery - Charles Todd [53]
Elcott paused, staring at him. “I don't know whether I kept it or not—”
“It would be helpful, if you could find it.” Rutledge kept his voice neutral.
“What I don't understand is why Gerry ever believed that Janet was moving to Carlisle for her sister's sake. Particularly after she wouldn't stand up for Grace at the second wedding ceremony. It was as clear as the nose on your face that she'd begin to meddle the first chance she got. And she's still doing it, damn her! I don't know why she's pointing a finger at me! She had a better reason for hating Gerry than I ever did.”
“Why didn't she attend the second marriage?”
“What do you think? If Grace was forced to go back to Hugh Robinson, someone would have to console Gerry. But that wasn't how Janet put it, of course. She said she felt it wasn't right—that she believed it was her sister's duty to go back to her true husband.”
“Did your brother tell you that?”
“He didn't have to. Grace was so disappointed you could see it in her expression when I carried the letter to her. Why else would Janet stay away, when her sister needed her to help put the best face on what had happened?”
“Did you stand up with your brother?”
“Of course I did! In my view, it was a God-given excuse to change his mind, dropped into his lap. But he loved Grace, the twins were his flesh and blood, and there was an end to it. I wasn't about to shame him in public.” He turned aside, pulled back into his own misery. “I'd give anything to turn back the clock and find out it was nothing but a bad dream. That I could make it right again.” His voice was so low Rutledge could barely make out the words. “I wish I'd left it to someone else to find them!”
Hamish said, “There's something on his conscience. It's no' giving him any peace.”
Paul Elcott wouldn't be the first man to have killed in hot blood and regretted it when the passion of the moment had passed.
As an excuse to linger, Rutledge made a pot of tea. When it had steeped, he left. Paul Elcott, whether hiding secrets or telling the truth, had said all he was going to say.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Hamish remarked as Rutledge made his way back to the inn, “Jealousy sees what it wants to see. . . .”
It was true. Janet Ashton and Gerald . . . Hugh Robinson and Grace . . . Elcott and what? The family's land?
If Gerald's twins were killed, Paul Elcott would have clear title to the farm. It would be worth his while, if murder was his intent, to wipe out the entire family.
But what did Janet or Hugh have to gain? Why kill the object of one's love?
And the answer to that was all too simple. Love spurned turned easily to hate.
Had Inspector Greeley's supposition of events in the bloody shambles of the Elcott kitchen been wrong? Had he and Inspector Greeley seen it backwards from what actually happened? Had Gerald or Grace been the last to die, as a final punishment? But Gerald had done nothing to defend his family . . . Why?
“There's no proof,” Hamish pointed out, “how it happened.”
And small chance of finding answers until or unless they managed to find Josh Robinson.
But Janet Ashton had had a revolver in her possession. . . .
Rutledge tried to picture her murdering the Elcotts. The slim, pretty woman he'd rescued from the snow didn't seem to be strong enough physically or emotionally to fire shot after shot into children—however managing she'd appeared to Paul Elcott.
“There's the sulky girl in the framed photograph,” Hamish reminded him. “And you didna' ask Elcott if he owned a handgun.”
It was true. The murder weapon was missing. Unless Rutledge himself had taken charge of it in the barn at the Follet farm. But there was no way—yet—to prove it.
Janet Ashton was waiting in the sitting room, where someone had got the fire going. Her ears must have been attuned to the sound of the front door opening and closing, for she was in the passage to meet Rutledge as he took off his coat.
“Well?” she demanded. “What did he have to say for himself?”
“He was hardly awake enough to defend himself,” Rutledge answered. “The doctor had filled