A False Mirror - Charles Todd [70]
“Yes, alas, it’s true. Still, a good man underneath.”
Was that what he truly felt? Or was it only a priest’s need to believe that no man could be wholly evil?
As Rutledge started to walk on, Putnam said, “You aren’t going to be foolish enough to take a boat around to the slip in this weather, are you? You’ll be lucky to reach the slip without swamping, much less be able to clamber about what’s left of the cottage.”
Rutledge stopped and said over his shoulder, “Yes, well, perhaps someone was lucky. The question is, who?”
“Would you mind if I asked Dr. Granville to come with me to the rectory? I don’t care for the idea of leaving him here, with so many reminders of his wife everywhere he looks. He’ll be better able to cope with them later.”
Remembering the threat Granville had made against Mallory, Rutledge said, “By all means. I’d ask Bennett as well, if I were you.”
Putnam smiled. “Indeed,” he said, as if he had felt the tension between the two policemen.
Bennett, waiting for them in the kitchen, agreed at once to the suggestion, with the caveat that he didn’t think Granville would leave his surgery.
But the persuasive rector was able to convince Dr. Granville to stay in the rectory for a few days, “away from here. Until you can come to grips with all that’s happened.”
Granville got to his feet, looking around as if he barely recognized his own kitchen. “It’s raining,” he said. “I’ll need my coat. And my bag.”
He was less pale now as the nausea faded, but his features were slack with exhaustion, and he had asked twice to Rutledge’s knowledge what had become of his wife’s body, as if he’d failed to take in the answer the first time.
Indeed, whatever was proposed to him was accepted without question, and Rutledge thought, “If we asked him to walk into the sea, he might well do it.”
Rutledge found the doctor’s coat and helped him into it, then handed him his hat.
At that point, the trained medical man came to the fore, and Granville said, frowning, “I have hours this morning. And Will Joyner is quite ill. I intended to look in on him again this afternoon.”
“Your patients will be taken care of,” Putnam said soothingly. “If there’s anyone in dire need, like Joyner, we can send again for Dr. Hester. I’ll ask Miss Trining to post a note on your door, and people can come to her to be sorted out. She’s very trustworthy.”
“Yes.” Granville stood there as if unconvinced.
Bennett said, “Best go with him, sir. At least for the present.”
When Putnam and Granville had left for the rectory, Bennett turned to Rutledge. “Well, then, what do you expect to do now? We’ve Hamilton missing and Mrs. Granville dead.”
Rutledge considered taking the boat around the headland, and then dismissed it. The rain was heavier, although the wind, shifting to the south, was considerably warmer.
He said now, “Is there a gate from the back garden to the street behind the house?”
“In fact there is. Look, you can just glimpse it where the ash tree overhangs it.” He led Rutledge to the window and pointed. “Ornamental, not meant to keep people out. The Granvilles had a little dog once, I expect that’s why they put in the fence. You can also see that the distance from the surgery door to the gate is not that great.”
“What’s on the other side?”
“A lane used to bring horses and carriages round from the stables.”
Rutledge stood looking out the window, his back half to Bennett. “Apparently Granville didn’t see fit to lock his doors. Which tells me the gate wasn’t locked either.”
“I don’t think most people lock up, even at night. Why should they?”
“But Granville knew Hamilton could still be in danger. He should have taken a few precautions.” He remembered what Putnam had said—that there would have been two dead in the surgery, not one. Bennett ought to have posted a constable at the door, but he’d complained of being shorthanded.
“You can’t blame him more than he’s already blamed himself. There was a nurse, set to come tonight. She was to sleep in the room next to Hamilton