A cold treachery - Charles Todd [94]
Sergeant Miller added his voice to the fray, demanding to know what Belfors had done.
Rutledge could hear him. “Surely he's not our murderer, sir? Mr. Belfors?”
Hamish scolded, “It wasna' necessary!”
Rutledge didn't answer him.
After a time Greeley opened the door to his office and said as he came in, “Are you satisfied? This is irregular behavior!”
“Irregular, perhaps, but I don't like being lied to. In half an hour, we'll see if Mr. Belfors has decided to cooperate.”
In the event, Belfors was still seething when Rutledge went back to the single holding cell to speak with him.
“I'll have a word with the Chief Constable about this, see if I don't.”
“When you're charged with being an accessory to murder, he may take a different view.”
The words sobered him instantly. “I've killed no one!”
“Perhaps not. I'd prefer to let the courts decide.” Rutledge started for the door.
Belfors said, “Look, you've got it wrong! I haven't seen that weapon in years. And I'm not about to cause trouble for other people on the basis of some boyhood prank!”
Rutledge paused at the door. “Mr. Belfors, I only wanted to know under what circumstances you'd last seen that revolver. If you feel your conscience won't let you answer my questions, I have no choice but to let a judge ask them.”
“Damn you! Henry Elcott was my friend. His sons were my friends—”
“Curiosity killed the cat, Mr. Belfors. You asked Henry Elcott to show you his brother's revolver. Did you stand there at the counter in your shop and hold it in your hands? Did you sight down the barrel and rest your finger on the trigger? It's what most men would do. Vicariously reliving someone else's exploit. No one else from Urskdale had killed a Boer. It was exciting. You could picture the man striding into Theo Elcott's railway station, to shoot him before he could use the telegraph to warn of the commando's whereabouts. Or perhaps he was plotting to take over the station and use it to ambush a train. It was a favorite Boer tactic, to disrupt British lines of communication. And Theo Elcott, who was train mad and not the sort to shoot anyone, had done what neither you nor Henry nor any other man from Urskdale had had the chance to do.” He paused. “And that's why you knew the weapon when you saw it again.”
Belfors stared at him.
“Who was it?”
“I tell you, I won't betray him—”
“Was it Josh Robinson who had brought that gun in to sell to you? Knowing you might like to have it, because you'd known Theo better than most?”
“It wasn't the boy!”
Rutledge remembered Belfors and his wife standing beside Paul Elcott as the bodies of his brother and his brother's children were lowered into the earth.
“It was Paul, wasn't it? He reminds you of Theo. Quiet, not the sort to dazzle the world as Gerald had done. You're fond of Paul. And you've kept an eye on him since his father, Henry, died.”
Belfors stood there, saying nothing.
“You're a bastard, did you know that?” he finally snarled.
“It's not going to help either of us if I run out of patience, Mr. Belfors. I think it might be wise for you to tell me the rest of the story now.”
Silence. At last Belfors answered grudgingly. “He was only fifteen. He knew I'd liked Theo. He brought me the revolver and told me his father wanted to sell it but not to a stranger. Did I want to buy it? I suppose he thought I'd believe him, but I went to Henry and asked if it was true, if they were selling the revolver. And Henry told me it wasn't true.”
“Why did Paul want to sell the handgun?”
“He'd had an argument with his father. Paul was angry and hurt, and I expect he was selling the one thing of value his family had, in order to run away.”
“Was the argument over who was to inherit the farm?”
“He never said. I don't know. Henry was furious about the weapon and took Paul out behind the barn. I felt responsible for getting the boy in trouble, and I kept the revolver for a time. But Paul didn't hold what had happened against me; he realized I'd have had to ask Henry before I bought the handgun. Gerald came in one day and