A False Mirror - Charles Todd [51]
“Tell me about Miss Esterley,” he began as they sat down, Mallory anxiously watching Felicity Hamilton.
She said blankly, “Miss Esterley? But surely you don’t think—I mean, it wasn’t Matthew’s fault that she was injured.”
“I’m not suggesting anything. Still, she has come in contact with your husband under difficult circumstances, and I must ask what effect her accident might have had on their relationship.”
“There was no ‘relationship,’ as you put it,” Felicity replied irritably. “He felt responsible for her, he saw to it that she had every care. And she has no problem with her knee now, she still uses that cane because she’s grown accustomed to it.”
Or to make sure Hamilton didn’t forget. He could feel Hamish’s presence behind him, the thought leaping across the space between them as if it didn’t exist.
“That may be true.” Rutledge hesitated, trying to choose his next words carefully.
Felicity was there before him. “If you’re asking me whether she read more into Matthew’s attentions than he intended, I shouldn’t be surprised. It doesn’t trouble me. Matthew is mine, he always will be—” She broke off in embarrassment, casting a quick glance over her shoulder at Mallory, standing behind her chair, and was suddenly rattled. “I meant to say, his affections aren’t likely to stray in that direction.”
But Rutledge wondered if she was protesting too strongly. A man could love one woman very deeply and still be unfaithful to her in his mind. As Felicity Hamilton herself could have loved Matthew and still dreamed of Stephen Mallory.
“Wi’ the right weapon, a woman could ha’ knocked Hamilton doon,” Hamish reminded Rutledge softly. “It doesna’ have to be a man.”
“Do you by any chance know a Miss Cole? I’m not sure if that’s her name still, or if she’s married now.”
“Cole?” She shook her head. “Should I?”
“The name had come up in another interview. I had the feeling she might live nearby.”
“Ask the rector, he should know. I haven’t heard of any Coles in Hampton Regis. Have you?” She turned to Mallory.
He said, “No, I don’t recognize the name either. Although there are a number of Coles in Kent, I think. I was in school with a Hugh Cole.”
Rutledge posed his next question. “What do you know about the Restons?”
She smiled grimly, her pretty face suddenly cold and hard. “He’s not what he seems, I can tell you that. He raised such a fuss about the goddess. As if he’d never set foot in a museum. And the rest of Matthew’s collection as well. Obscene and disgusting, those were his exact words. Insufferable little man. He thinks he’s the arbiter of morality here in Hampton Regis, but I happen to know for a fact that when he was an officer in a London bank, he had a vicious temper and nearly—”
She stopped, her hand over her mouth. “Gentle God. I’d forgotten. He struck down a man during a disagreement outside his London club. It was hushed up, of course, but the man was in hospital for days. He could have attacked Matthew! Over that stupid, stupid clay figure.”
“How do you know about this?” Rutledge asked her, breaking in.
“The mother of a friend of mine. When I told Clarissa I was coming to live in Hampton Regis, her mother said, ‘But that’s where that awful man went, the one your father saw, Clarissa, outside his club. Shocking to say the least.’” Her voice unconsciously took on the tones of the older woman speaking, giving force to the words.
“What weapon did he use in this beating?”
“He had a weighted cane. For protection, he claimed, since he often carried large sums of money for the bank. The other man wouldn’t press charges, he’d apparently said some very inflammatory things to Mr. Reston that he didn’t wish to be made public. But there’s your murderer, Inspector, you’ve only to arrest him, and our ordeal will be finished.” There was an expression of such hope on her face.
Behind her, Mallory’s lips tightened and his eyes met Rutledge’s in mute appeal.
“It isn’t that simple, Mrs. Hamilton,” Rutledge told her. “But thank you. I’ll look into this and see what