A cold treachery - Charles Todd [75]
It was a telegram from Inspector Bowles in London.
REPORT FINDINGS AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.
CHIEF CONSTABLE ANXIOUS FOR RESULTS.
Rutledge read it and then shoved it into his pocket.
Easy enough to sit in London and demand solutions. Where was the evidence to bring anyone to trial?
Greeley said, “I'm told you were questioning people who have holdings closest to the Elcott farm. I'd been over that ground. It was a waste of time.”
Taking the chair across from Greeley, Rutledge answered him indirectly. “It was an excuse to see for myself what the obstacles were. For instance, none of the three farms was a likely place for Josh Robinson to seek shelter. He didn't get on well with the Haldneses' sons, and I don't think that even in desperation he'd appeal to their mother. The Petersons are older, and he hardly knew them, which means he wasn't likely to trust them. Miss Ingerson is gruff and keeps to herself. She'd probably seem more frightening than sympathetic to a child.”
“It's not likely he's in hiding,” Greeley agreed. “Even if the killer lived in Urskdale, and the boy had named him, a responsible adult would report to me. Everyone knows what happened—I could depend on that.” He paused. “This Miss Ashton. I've spoken to her a time or two, when she was in the village with Grace Elcott. I had the feeling she looked down her nose at us, that we didn't quite measure up to her London acquaintances. Have you spoken with her about her sister? It seems odd to me that Miss Ashton would choose to visit this time of year. Dr. Jarvis tells me she ran off the road near the Follet farm. If it wasn't urgent, why didn't she turn back long before Keswick, rather than risk life and limb? She might have been killed. There's an urgency there that smacks of knowledge.”
The outsider . . .
“She tells me Grace Elcott was afraid of her brother-in-law, Paul.”
“Well, there's nonsense right there! She must be covering up something!”
“If we can't find the child to tell us what he saw, we need to find the murder weapon and trace it back to its owner. Can you make me a list of all the people in Urskdale who own revolvers?”
Greeley said, considering, “With a little thought. I should have seen to that earlier, but there was the search on my mind. Let me see—” He pulled out a sheet of paper. “The Haldnes family. And theirs is all but useless, old as it is.”
“Is it possible that their sons would let Josh borrow it for a few days?”
“This one would probably blow up in his face. They found it on a strand outside Liverpool while on holiday, rusted and full of sand. I doubt they could even load it.”
Hamish grumbled, “Then it's no use on the list.”
But Rutledge answered, “We'll keep it in mind.”
“The Elcotts themselves had one.”
Hamish said, “Then why was the lass bringing one to her sister?”
“Gerald's?” Rutledge asked on the heels of Hamish's words.
“Actually, the revolver belonged to Gerald's uncle, Theo Elcott. He worked in South Africa for a number of years. Something to do with the railways. He never trusted the Boers, and the story was he'd shot one of them when a commando attacked his station. I don't remember him—he left when I was still a boy, and he died of a fever in 1906 on the boat back to England. But he was quite a local hero, and we all knew about the famous revolver. It came back in his trunk, I know, because Gerald's father showed it to me. I can't tell you what's become of it since. I hadn't given it a thought for God knows how many years. I don't suppose anyone else has. And Harry Cummins—”
Mrs. Peterson had said something about Gerald's uncle. Rutledge interrupted Greeley. “Where is this trunk now? I don't remember seeing anything like that in the house.”
“Nor do I. It could be Paul Elcott's got it.”
“Is there anyone who knew the family well enough to answer a few questions before we