A False Mirror - Charles Todd [112]
“He was here. There’s no other explanation. And he’s killed Nan Weekes!”
They stood there staring at him, their faces blank with astonishment.
Rutledge, the first to recover, said, “How did he get in?”
“I don’t know. I’ve only just found her. If you’ll give me your word that I’m safe with you in the house, I’ll let you both inside. If not, it’s Rutledge only.” He moved slightly, and they could see the revolver in his right hand, half hidden by the doorjamb.
“Where’s Mrs. Hamilton?”
“In her room. She’s going to need something. I’ve never seen her so distraught.”
“That can wait. All right, then. My word,” Bennett told him.
“And mine,” Rutledge assured him.
The door opened wider and Mallory let them pass by him. He nodded to the door behind the staircase that led down to the kitchen passages. “That way.”
They walked briskly down to the kitchen, and to the small room that had been the maid’s prison.
Hamish, behind him, seemed to be telling him something, but Rutledge couldn’t make out the words for the thunder in his head.
She was in her bed, one arm dangling over the edge, the other flung awkwardly above her head. A pillow lay on the floor.
“Suffocated,” Bennett said, bending over her. “We’ll need the doctor to come and have a look.”
Rutledge, at his shoulder, remembered Chief Superintendent Bowles’s voice on the telephone: “That’s two murders…and I don’t want to be hearing of another.”
“Have you touched her?” he asked Mallory, who was waiting by the door, leaving the room to them.
“I called to her. When she didn’t wake up, I came in and snatched up the pillow, thinking she was playing at something. Pretending to be ill. She’s dead, I know the dead when I see them. You don’t need Granville to tell you.”
“Was the door to this room locked?”
“Yes. But the key’s on the outside. Anyone could have used it and still locked it behind him.”
“When did you last see her?”
“About eleven o’clock last night. I came to ask if she needed anything before I went to—where I spend the night. As I always asked, mind you. She was not feeling well, she said. Dinner hadn’t agreed with her. I told her, it’s the best we can do. But she thought the meat had gone off. She said the butcher hadn’t given us the best cut.”
Bennett, straightening up, turned to look at him. “My wife ordered that food. She’d not have sent bad beef.”
Mallory said wearily, “I don’t know whether it was good or bad. I was very tired, I told her we’d deal with it in the morning. And in my view, she’d eaten enough for two, it was probably nothing more than indigestion. I think I may have said as much, and she called me callous. I told her that if she’d agreed to cook it for us, we’d have all been better served.”
“So you were quarreling?” Rutledge asked.
“Not quarreling, it was no more than the long-running tongue-lashing we were greeted with, morning and night. But she surprised me then, telling me that she’d spoken to the rector while he was here, and if I’d call her in the morning, she’d be willing to prepare breakfast. I told her I’d have to watch her like a hawk and wasn’t sure if it was worth the trouble. And she answered that as long as Mrs. Hamilton was here, she wasn’t leaving.”
“That was an about-face,” Rutledge commented.
“Yes. I didn’t know if it was a trick or not. I didn’t care. I said I’d consider it, and I made sure she had water for the night. And then I shut the door and turned the key.”
“And she didn’t pound on the door or scream or cause any other disruption during the night?”
“If she did, I didn’t hear it. We’ve learned to shut it out, actually.”
“Has Mrs. Hamilton seen her?”
“To my sorrow, yes. She heard me shouting for the constable out there. And she came at once to ask what was wrong. Before I could stop her, she’d run down here. I heard her scream, and then she was up the back stairs into her room and wouldn’t open her door.” It was there in his eyes. She thinks I’ve done this.
“We’ll need to speak to her in good time,” Rutledge told him. “If it was Hamilton, how did he