A False Mirror - Charles Todd [106]
A man could reconstruct his entire professional life from such a detailed account of twenty-odd years abroad. As an aide-mémoire the diaries were priceless.
Whether Matthew Hamilton had intended to use them in such a way, Rutledge had no idea. But there was enough privy information in them to ruin more than one career. Or to provide a rich vein of blackmail material for an unscrupulous reader. And Hamilton had not spared himself on the pages, either.
Robert Stratton had every reason to fear the existence of the diaries. Whether he had ever confronted Hamilton about them, on the strand here in Hampton Regis or in the narrow, dirty streets of Istanbul, or bribed ill-paid customs officials to find and confiscate them at port cities, it was certain that the Foreign Office knew nothing of Stratton’s presence in Hampton Regis today.
The door opened, and Rutledge looked up, expecting to see Mrs. Hamilton on the threshold. But it was Mallory who stepped into the room. “You should go. I’ve been patient long enough.”
“I was just coming to find you. What do you know about Hamilton’s financial dealings?”
“Precious little.” He closed the door. “Should I be interested in them? Is there something that will hurt Felicity?”
“Not that I can see. But there was some trouble early on, when Hamilton returned to England. Does Mrs. Hamilton know the details of how his money was managed when he was abroad?”
“I’ve heard her remark, since I’ve been here, that his financial advisers don’t care for her. She suspects there was some trouble over resuming control of his money, and although it’s settled now, the man couldn’t be counted on to do her any favors. She seems to think the man blames her for enticing Hamilton back to England and cutting short his career. In all likelihood, he may believe that if Hamilton hadn’t married, he’d have gone abroad again.”
“But Hamilton didn’t know Felicity before he came back here, did he?”
“Of course not. It was my misfortune that he met her at a dinner party in London, while I was still in hospital. But that wouldn’t matter to a man like Caldwell, caught with his hand in the till—it was easier to point the finger of blame at a new wife.”
“Were there discrepancies in the accounts, do you think?”
“Hamilton’s not one to be gulled. I expect there was a swift rearrangement of funds to cover any difference in sums. Otherwise, the police would have been brought in. Are you telling me that Hamilton’s banker has been stalking him?”
“I’m only saying that there may be another motive besides an affair with his wife.”
“I never—”
Rutledge cut him short. “I’m not accusing you. I’m telling you that it’s very likely that a good case could be made on your behalf, bringing up the issue of embezzled money versus your past relationship with Mrs. Hamilton.”
Mallory took a deep breath. “All right. Thank you. But it isn’t Hamilton’s man of business here in Casa Miranda with her. Bennett won’t give a curse in hell for him. And where is Hamilton, come to that? I’ve had a rough day of it, keeping what I know from her. Is he dead? Rutledge, damn it, tell me!”
“I don’t know any more now than I did this morning.”
“God help us. I thought Scotland Yard could walk us through this maze and bring us safely out the other side.”
“Scotland Yard,” Rutledge told him with an edge to his voice, “is only as good as the information given it. And so far, that’s been precious little.”
Rutledge was very tired when he reached the inn. Hamish, hammering at him, was a dull ache that wouldn’t leave him, a reminder that he had failed Mrs. Granville as well as Matthew Hamilton.
He stretched out on his bed in the dark and, hands behind his head, stared up at the ceiling. There was one more thing he had to do this night, and he wasn’t sure where to begin.
Would Miss Cole be expecting a policeman at her door? Not unless she’d learned of events in Hampton Regis. And that was unlikely—the newspapers still hadn’t got wind of the assault on Hamilton or the murder of the doctor’s wife.