A cold treachery - Charles Todd [63]
It was true enough. And Hamish was reminding him of the revolver in Miss Ashton's carriage. There was only the woman's word for the fact that she hadn't made it as far as the Elcott's farm—she might well have been on her way back to Carlisle when Rutledge found her.
Rutledge said aloud, “I'm told Janet Ashton helped her sister care for the children, when Robinson went to France. She knew Elcott. She might know if Elcott had other enemies. I must ask her that.”
“Oh, yes? Enemies who come in the middle of a storm to butcher his family in front of him?” Greeley responded scornfully. “Unless there was something that happened in the war. He served in France. Artillery.”
“I don't see how the killer could have anticipated such a ferocious storm. Still, it covered his tracks as well as the boy's. The question then becomes how long had the murders been planned? Or had something happened to precipitate events?”
Greeley shook his head. “I don't know what to think. I wish to God this hadn't happened on my patch!”
The outside door opened, and they could hear a man scraping his boots on the threshold. Greeley opened the sitting room door, expecting to find one of his men reporting. The newcomer looked up at Greeley. “Any news?”
“None, unless you've brought it.” Greeley indicated Rutledge. “Scotland Yard, come to help us. Rutledge, this is Harry Cummins. You've met his wife.”
The owner of the hotel. The Egyptian sun had darkened his skin, and a little gray threaded his dark hair. Rutledge shook his hand and thanked him for putting him up for the duration.
Cummins, staring at Rutledge, seemed at first not to hear, and then said quickly, “We're not exactly overflowing this time of year. Er—what's the Yard's interest in our problems?”
“The Chief Constable felt the local people needed help.”
“I see.” He seemed to shake off the mood that had distracted him. With false heartiness, he added, “Yes, of course, I should have thought of that. I'm sorry, I'm still asleep on my feet!”
“There are two other guests,” Greeley told Cummins. “Robinson, Grace Elcott's first husband. And her sister, Janet Ashton.”
“A good thing Elizabeth is here to see to them. Vera would never have managed!”
There was an awkward silence. Then Cummins indicated his snow-wet coat. “I'd better be getting out of these clothes. We've done our best, Greeley. There's no sign of the boy anywhere out there. I never thought he would have turned east anyway. If so, why not come directly into town and to you?”
“Good question,” Greeley agreed. “Well, go and change. I was just finishing my conversation with Rutledge here.”
“How long will you be staying?” Cummins asked, looking at the man from London.
“Until I find some answers,” Rutledge responded.
“He's no' happy to see you . . .” Hamish pointed out.
Cummins nodded, and went off up the stairs, trudging heavily. The slump of his shoulders spoke volumes.
Greeley, following him with his eyes, sighed. “Well, where do we go from here?”
“Ask your men to canvass the village. We want to know about any strangers they've seen. About any trouble the Elcott family may have had with their neighbors—or any quarrels. We also want to know what the relationship was between Josh Robinson and his stepfather.”
Greeley's glance swung back to Rutledge and sharpened. “What's that in aid of?”
“Robinson admitted over dinner that he's afraid his son killed the Elcotts. That Josh was angry with his stepfather—or was jealous of the twins. It might be best if I speak to Josh's schoolmaster.”
“My good God!” Greeley whistled under his breath. “That couldn't have been an easy admission! I didn't know Josh well enough to tell you if it could be true or not. But I'll send the schoolmaster to you. Tonight!”
“I give Robinson credit for being honest.