A False Mirror - Charles Todd [49]
Inspector Bennett was waiting for him, demanding to know why Mr. Reston had been questioned like a common suspect. “He’s respected in these parts,” Bennett pointed out. “A man of business.”
“Even men of business commit murder,” Rutledge said blandly. “More to the purpose, he might well have been walking to the bank that morning and passed someone hurrying away from the Mole. I’d have thought a prominent citizen would be more than happy to help the police with their inquiries. Instead he complains to you.”
“That’s as may be. I’ve already put my men to questioning the fishermen and the loungers who hang about the Mole. They’re a more likely source of information.”
“Have they had anything to tell you, so far?”
“They saw nothing, worst luck,” Bennett admitted. “There was a mist that morning. Some people like walking in mists. I don’t see it myself, quickest way to lose your bearings and find yourself in trouble.”
“Yes, well, set your men to questioning the shopkeepers along the Mole, the man who sweeps out the pub, the milliner who comes early to work—anyone who might have seen Hamilton before he reached the Mole. Or noticed someone following him on Monday morning.”
Sourly, Bennett said, “This isn’t London, with limitless resources.”
“If someone was going to come forward of his own accord to tell us what he saw, he’d have done it by now. What we’re after is what people don’t realize is important.”
“And what’s more,” Bennett went on, moving to his next grievance, “I’m told you woke Hamilton up, questioned him, and then summoned the doctor to him. What was that about?”
“It was hardly questioning him. He came to his senses on his own, spoke a few words that indicated he was only just aware of my presence, and that was the extent of it.”
“So you say. How do I know that was all that took place?”
Irritated, Rutledge said, “Good Lord, Bennett, why should I keep such information from you?”
“If it didn’t look good for your friend, you might not wish to tell me.”
Rutledge let it go, aware that anything he could say would only make matters worse. “How was Hamilton? Did you see him after I did?”
“We were there, Granville and I, in the room, trying to rouse him again.” It was a reluctant admission.
“Any luck?” Rutledge wondered just how they’d gone about it.
“None. It looked to me as if he was in a deep sleep. What’s to be done now?”
“I don’t know,” Rutledge confessed. “Until Hamilton can talk to us, we’re at an impasse. It might be just as well to set a watch over him. Did Dr. Granville mention that to you? Not only to write down anything he may say. It’s possible someone might decide it was prudent to finish what began yesterday morning.”
“Hamilton’s no danger, with Mallory clapped up in the house with the women and under guard himself.”
“But what if it isn’t Mallory who attacked him?”
“How many men do you think I have? Two are watching the house in turns. I’ve got two more questioning the loungers and fishermen along the harbor, and now you want to set a watch on the doctor’s surgery. He’s calling in a woman to sit with Hamilton. That will suffice.”
But would it, Hamish was asking as Rutledge left the station.
“It will have to” was the clipped reply.
The afternoon was unproductive. Rutledge went to find the rector to learn more about Miss Cole, but there was no answer to his knock.
He was walking back to his motorcar when he saw Miss Trining coming out the door of a neighboring house. She lifted a hand in recognition.
Hamish said, “She watched you go to yon rectory.”
“Very likely,” he murmured in reply, and waited for her to reach him.
“Good morning, Inspector. Are you in need of the rector? I’m afraid he’s been called away. Mrs. Tomlinson is not well.” She stood there, as if expecting