A False Mirror - Charles Todd [98]
“You believe he couldn’t have beaten Hamilton nearly to death. But I’ve been informed he attacked another man in London, nearly as severely.”
“I know my husband. He wouldn’t have touched Hamilton. And as Mr. Hamilton has no way of knowing the role he’s played in my life, he’s not likely to give George any satisfaction.”
“Matthew Hamilton is probably dead, Mrs. Reston. And you can’t be sure that your fantasy hasn’t driven your husband to murder. After all, the last indication we have of Hamilton’s whereabouts was in that cottage that went over in the landslip.”
“I remind you that anyone could have found a way inside. It was known to be abandoned. We had no reason to lock it or board it up. There was nothing inside of any value.”
Except, Hamish roused himself to point out, a small vase painted with lilacs.
“Was the man your husband attacked in London another of your fantasy love affairs?” Rutledge’s voice was harsh, and he meant it to be.
Stung, she said, “That was a matter of business, Mr. Rutledge. I knew nothing about it until George told me that he was taking a position here, in Hampton Regis, and why. His partner, fool that he was, had been using client funds improperly, and George lost his temper when he found out. I never liked the man, I felt he was responsible for our leaving London, and I am sure that he deserved what he got after badgering my husband publicly to help him make restitution in time.”
“You seem to have a very callous disregard for human suffering, Mrs. Reston.”
“Yes. I was taught by masters. No one ever stepped forward to protect me, Inspector. I wonder why I should feel any driving sense of duty to protect anyone else. Let me tell you something about love. It can be very cruel and very greedy. I’ve had done with it. And that has given me a freedom that I cherish.”
Rutledge, walking through the inn doors, saw someone rising from a chair set to one side of the Reception desk.
It was Stratton, striding forward with his hand proffered.
“I say, Inspector Rutledge? Robert Stratton, Foreign Office. Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”
Rutledge led him to a sitting room beyond the stairs and closed the door behind them.
“I’ve been sent down with a watching brief. Mr. Hamilton is one of ours, and naturally we feel some concern for his welfare.”
“Mr. Hamilton, as I understand it, has retired.”
“As indeed he has. But he’s suffered rather severe injuries and his wife is under duress. I’m here to act on his behalf in any way that’s useful. For instance, to see that he receives adequate medical attention and is moved to hospital if the local man isn’t up to the task.”
“I have no doubt that Dr. Granville is a good doctor. The problem is, Mr. Stratton, that we seem to have mislaid Mr. Hamilton. He was not in the surgery this morning when Dr. Granville returned from an emergency.”
Stratton frowned. “I don’t quite understand.”
Rutledge took off his overcoat and sat down. “I’m at a loss myself. How did the Foreign Office learn about events in Hampton Regis? I wasn’t aware that the attack on Mr. Hamilton had received widespread attention.”
“An ear to the ground—”
“I’m a policeman, Mr. Stratton. I’m afraid that won’t do.” Rutledge waited grimly. “Who contacted the Foreign Office? And who sent you to Hampton Regis? I’d like to clear this with the Yard before I give you any more information. For all I know, you’re the man who attacked Mr. Hamilton while he walked by the sea four days ago. If you’ve lost him, so have we. And I’d like to know why.”
Stratton took the chair on the other side of the small table at Rutledge’s elbow. Looking up at the painting above the hearth showing the Duke of Monmouth standing on a battlefield, banners