A False Mirror - Charles Todd [75]
By the same token, what if someone else had been taken into custody, in error? And the Yard knew nothing about Fields?
But Rutledge had been ordered off that case. In no uncertain terms. It had nothing to do with him now.
Aye, Hamish retorted, duty before conscience. It’s what got me shot.
Frances was saying, “Ian? Are you still there? Ian?”
“Yes, just digesting the news. I’d been dealing with the Green Park inquiry, just before I was sent down here. If there’s a name given, will you let me know?”
He told Frances how to reach him and then rang off.
He sat there for a moment, trying to reorder his thoughts.
Melinda Crawford’s wide-ranging correspondence spanned continents, and if Hamilton had kept in touch with anyone in England during his years abroad, it might well have been with her. She had traveled most of her life and knew the world as few did. Her mind was razor sharp even in age, her wit was dry and entertaining, and her charm hadn’t diminished with time. He himself had treasured her letters in France, reading them over and over because they took him away from the war for a little while.
Rutledge stood up and stepped into the passage, considering what to say to her. She would demand to know what his interest in Hamilton was. And she could spot a well-intentioned lie before he’d finished uttering it.
The respite from the cramped confines of the telephone closet was a relief, and he went as far as the front windows of the inn, flexing his shoulders. One glance at the sky showed him it was now much lighter, as though the worst of the squalls had passed. If he was going to risk taking a boat out to the landslip, he must do it while he could.
Melinda Crawford could wait. Miss Cole could wait. He had to know what was in the cottage that had gone down with the cliff face. If Hamilton was dead—and Rutledge was beginning to feel he was—then there were two murders to deal with. He set out briskly for the harbor, to look for the fisherman who had been cleaning his catch earlier. He’d gone, but another man was standing on the Mole, staring out at the sea.
Rutledge came to stand beside him and said, “It appears to be a little calmer out there.”
The man turned. “Aye. I was thinking the same.” He looked at Rutledge. “You’re the man from London?”
“Yes. Rutledge.”
The man nodded. “Perkins,” he said in response, his weathered face deeply wrinkled from exposure to the sea and the sun. It was difficult to tell his age, but Rutledge put him down as close to fifty.
“Do you have a boat, Mr. Perkins?”
“That I do. You aren’t of a mind to take her out, are you? I don’t let my boat to any man.”
“I was thinking of hiring you to row me out to where I could have a good look at the landslip this morning.”
“It’s a crazy thought. What for?”
“I’m sure it is. Nevertheless, I have a sound reason. We don’t know if anyone was in that cottage when it went over. And Dr. Granville is missing one of his patients.”
“He’d be a fool to take himself out to the cottage. It was derelict before, and will be matchwood now.”
“A policeman can’t write that in his report,” Rutledge answered.
“It’s Mr. Hamilton you’re looking for?”
He nodded.
“It’s not a thing he’d do. I don’t know him well, mind you. But we’ve talked a time or two. He was used to the sea, serving as he did on that island. Malta. He’d take a boat out of that harbor, just to see it from the sea and then sail back through. He said it was built by knights who knew what they were about, and even the Turks couldn’t take it by water.”
“I understand the fortifications are formidable,” Rutledge agreed. “Did you talk about anything else?”
“He said there were ruins there that were older than the Pyramids. I had a hard time believing it, but he said it was true. And I never knew him to be a liar.”
“Will you take me out today? If it isn’t safe, I won’t press. But I need to see for myself that there’s no one there.”
“There’ll be no one there now,