A cold treachery - Charles Todd [92]
It was an unexpected question from a man who ordinarily had little to say. And he waited, as if wanting an answer.
Rutledge looked at the yard, the shapes of the outbuildings, the peak of the house roof, the shadow of the fell behind.
“Anticipation. He couldn't know how it would turn out.”
“No. I think it must have been hunger. A wanting so deep he could taste it.”
And Drew Taylor climbed into the motorcar, without looking at Rutledge.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Rutledge woke to Hamish's voice.
“The heel of a shoe isna' evidence of anything.”
The voice seemed to be there with him in the room, and he kept his eyes tightly closed against it.
“It proves someone was there at the rock fall.”
“Aye, I grant you that. But a heel canna tell you when it was lost. Or fra' whose shoe. Or if the wearer walked sae far out of curiosity or murderous intent. Yon rock fall is in plain view. It's the old drover's road that climbed to it and passed on beyond it that's been lost.”
Rutledge had left the motorcar idling long enough to put a message under the knocker on Greeley's door last night, asking him to contact the police along the coast.
Tell them to question hotels and shopkeepers about any holiday- maker who had shown an unusual interest in an old drift road coming down from Urskdale—or who was curious about other ways to reach the dale.
“It's a wild-goose chase.”
“It's a beginning,” Rutledge retorted. “If we don't get to the bottom of this, a clever barrister for the defense will.”
Hamish made no answer.
After a time Rutledge opened his eyes to an empty room.
It had slipped his mind that Harry Cummins was eager to speak to him. It was brought home again when Cummins waylaid him in the passage as Rutledge was on his way to the kitchen for tea and a late breakfast.
Cummins was pressing, and took him into the empty dining room where Rutledge could see that he'd been waiting for some time. A dish of half-smoked cigarettes sat by the one chair pulled out from the table.
Without preamble, the innkeeper said, “It's about the names of people to investigate that you sent to the Yard.”
“Yes?” Rutledge answered warily, thinking of a name he had not given to Greeley or anyone else.
To his surprise Cummins asked directly, “Am I on that list?”
“Why should you be?” Rutledge countered.
“Because you've had your suspicions. I've read them in your face.”
“Not all the answers have come back,” Rutledge replied evenly. “Is there anything you want to tell me before they do?”
“I—I just need to know if my name is there! I haven't done anything—not to the Elcotts. But I'm used to—it's—something personal—I'd rather not have it talked about. Not here, where everyone knows one's business before the day is out.”
“It might be best, then, to tell me what you're hiding.”
“I'm not hiding—at least nothing to do with murder. It's a very private matter. You don't understand what it's like, sometimes. Surely you've done something you're not especially proud of!”
The expression on Rutledge's face tightened, and Harry stepped back, his hand on the chair behind him.
“I didn't mean— Look, forget I said anything. It's just that everyone's nerves are on edge. You can feel it. Even Elizabeth isn't herself. She snapped at me this morning, and she's never done that. Never. If she can be unsettled by all this, it isn't—surprising—that others should be.” He turned away, towards the window. “If only you could take into custody whoever it was killed the Elcotts! We could be at peace again.”
“How long have you known Miss Fraser?” Rutledge asked.
He turned so quickly he nearly knocked over the chair. “Elizabeth? For about four years, at a guess. Why?”
“How did she come to Urskdale?”
“I—I offered her a position here. To be company for my wife while I was away fighting. Elizabeth had just recovered from her accident. She wanted to get away from pity; she wanted a quiet place where no one cared how or why she was bound to that chair.