A False Mirror - Charles Todd [100]
“The truth is, I’m calling to ask if you knew one of his friends, a Miss Cole.”
“Ah. Miss Cole. How did you come to know about her?”
20
Nothing that Melinda Crawford said or did surprised Ian Rutledge—he had grown used to her ability to leap ahead of a conversation or catch at a single word or phrase and divine what the speaker wished most to avoid.
Her question now was heavy with shadings. As if by asking him point-blank, she could somehow deflect his curiosity.
Rutledge said, “For a start, who is she, and where does she live?”
“She’s a young woman Hamilton knew many years ago. Why don’t you ask him about her?”
“I can’t lay hands on him at the moment. You’ll have to do.”
“I expect she lives where she always has, in Exeter. With an aunt, although the elder Miss Cole may have died long since. In that case, your guess is as good as mine.”
Exeter was not that far from Hampton Regis—in fact, along the west road to Devon.
“How did Hamilton come to know her?”
“As so many people came to know each other before the war. As you met Jean, at a weekend party. There were a goodly number of young men and women there—the host’s son had just come down from university and there was tennis, boating on a small lake, dancing on the terrace, even croquet. Quite tame by modern standards, no doubt. Terribly Edwardian.”
He smiled. She was deliberately trying to distract him.
“And why did our Miss Cole and Matthew Hamilton even recall each other long after this uneventful weekend party was a memory?”
“You must ask him that. I recollect a lovely girl, very well mannered and quite pretty.”
“And so they became friends?” he urged.
“I expect Matthew thought he’d fallen in love with her. But nothing came of it.”
“In what sense? That they were unable to make a match of it? That she wasn’t in love with him? Or it was no more than a summer’s romance?”
“She went back to Exeter with her family, and Matthew found himself offered a position in the Foreign Ser vice.”
“And who was behind that offer? Was it you? To get him clear of her clutches?”
He could almost hear her snort down the line. “You’ll not put words into my mouth, young man. It’s rude,” she said tartly.
“I offer my sincerest apologies. Melinda, why should he describe her as the most completely honest person he knows?”
“I’m delighted to hear you at last use the present tense with Hamilton. I was afraid he was dead.”
Rutledge swore under his breath. “Will you at least tell me how to reach Miss Cole?”
“I truly don’t know. We never corresponded. You’re a policeman, Ian, you’ll find her if that’s what you wish to do. Exeter isn’t that large, as I remember.”
And with a brisk good night Melinda Crawford was gone, the line echoing emptily behind her last words.
He sat there with the receiver in his hand, until the operator spoke in his ear, rousing him from his thoughts. He gave her the number for Scotland Yard.
In fact it was time and past for him to confer with the Yard. Indeed, he found that Bowles had left a message with the switchboard for any telephone call from Hampton Regis to be put through at once.
Rutledge considered that as he was waiting for Bowles to pick up at his end. Not from Rutledge—from Hampton Regis.
Hamish said, his voice seeming to echo hollowly in the small closet, “No’ a good sign.” He had been quiet for some time, and Rutledge jumped at the sound so close to his head that he could have sworn he felt Hamish’s breath on his ear.
But Bowles was speaking now and he needed all his wits about him. “Rutledge? I’d expected to hear from you sooner.”
“Yes, sir. We’re shorthanded and I wanted to be the one to break the news of Mrs. Granville’s death in certain quarters.”
“Good. And as for shorthanded, the Chief Constable is arranging for more men, at Inspector Bennett’s request. Didn’t he tell you?”
“I haven’t been to the station since midmorning.”
“Time you did. These men will be called in from outlying towns, and Bennett is arranging accommodation for them. Expect them tomorrow morning, no later than six-thirty. Bennett tells