A cold treachery - Charles Todd [64]
“And how do you intend to go about that?” Greeley retorted. “Watch for ravens collecting around the body?”
“We can begin by finding out whether or not anyone in the valley might willingly hide Josh Robinson. Protect him. After all, as far as anyone knows, he's been orphaned, and they might take pity on him. A classmate, a friend of Gerald's. It might tell us which direction he tried to take.”
“There's not a soul in Urskdale who wouldn't have told me as soon as they heard we were searching for him!” Greeley protested. “They were told he'd likely witnessed the murders and we wanted him safe. No, I have to say you're barking up the wrong tree with Josh.”
It was an hour later when the schoolmaster presented himself at the hotel.
A tall, thin man with graying hair and an air of the cleric about him, he introduced himself to Rutledge as Rupert Blackwell and said, “Inspector Greeley tells me you wish to speak to me.”
Rutledge led him into the chilly sitting room and offered him a chair. “It's about the boy, Josh Robinson. Elcott's stepson.”
“Ah, yes, I thought as much. I was with one of the search parties. It was discouraging. We tried hard, believe me!”
Interested, Rutledge answered, “Indeed? Where did you search?”
“I was with Cummins and two other men. We went to the east of the farm, and then swung a little south, to come full circle.” Blackwell added dryly, “I was already in my bed when you sent for me!” The chapped skin of his face stretched in a wry smile.
“Then I'll make this as brief as I can. Tell me about Josh.”
“He's a bright child—was—” He paused, as if unwilling to use the past tense yet. “Quite clever with his hands, eager to learn. It's my view he needed better schooling than we can offer here. He'd grown up in a very different world, you see, with wider horizons. Most of our youngsters have always been content to follow in their fathers' footsteps. They learn what they can, and as their schoolmaster, I'm not ungrateful. Of course, those same horizons made Josh something of an outsider. His stories about living near London sounded like boasting to the other boys. As a result he made few friends.”
“Was he a troublemaker?”
“That implies a certain quality of leadership, doesn't it? The outcast is troublesome, unable to understand why he isn't popular, lashing out because he's hurt and lonely. Wanting to stop the pain he feels. I saw none of that. But I gave him books to read—about explorers and the like, men who accomplished great things alone. The sort of thing a boy with a lively imagination should have relished. But there was something more—I could see that it wasn't only his unhappiness at school. These last few months he's been distracted, and his schoolwork had begun to suffer. He was more inward-looking. More—worried. When I asked him outright if all was well at home, he answered that he was content. But you could see that he wasn't.”
“. . . men who accomplished great things alone . . .” Had that well-intended reading matter made it possible for a boy to contemplate killing his family? It was a chilling thought.
“How did he get on with his stepfather?”
“Sad to say, I don't know the answer to that.” There was a pause. “He missed school more than usual this term. His mother would bring him to me and make excuses. It was outright truancy, but I welcomed him back, hoping to smooth over whatever it was that was disturbing him. I did wonder—and I made a point to bring it up with Mrs. Elcott—if he would be happier with his father, and schools in the south. If he was torn, you see, between his duty to his mother and his love for his father.”
“How did she answer you?”
“That he was her son, and she wouldn't let him go. I don't think it occurred to her that it might be better for Josh. And in my opinion—well, that's water over the dam, you might say. If Josh survives, he'll go to his father after all.”
Hamish was saying something. Rutledge realized