A Fearsome Doubt - Charles Todd [51]
Mrs. Shaw had already answered his next question but Rutledge said quietly, “How did he die?”
He could feel Hamish stirring in the back of his mind.
“He drowned.” After a moment, looking down at his hands, Cutter added, “Lost his footing and fell into the sea while walking by the harbor one night. That was the official finding, accidental drowning. It saved his mother from the pain of learning it was suicide. According to the police, George had been drinking heavily, and there was a suspicion that he’d been despondent. At any rate, he was fully clothed, and it was after midnight. They put as good a face on it as they could. But I always felt Janet suspected the truth. She was never the same after that.”
“He was the first policeman on the scene of one of the Shaw murders.”
“Yes, that’s true. He came to his mother the night after Mrs. Winslow was found dead. Cried like a baby. Janet told me afterward that he had a horror of dead bodies. He didn’t like touching them.”
Hamish said, “It doesna’ ring true. He was a constable—”
As if he’d been a party to the conversation, Cutter went on, “I could never understand that—George had elected to go into the police force, he must have known what it involved!” He shifted the papers on his desk. “I could never understand him, for that matter. Janet told me he took after his father. She thought that might have something to do with it. But George and I never saw eye to eye.”
“Tell me about him.”
Cutter said sharply, “The man’s dead. You can’t be worried about anything he could have done!”
“I’m interested in the man who was constable when Mrs. Winslow was killed. I’ve only just discovered that he was related to neighbors of the Shaws.”
Taking a deep breath, Cutter replied, “Well. I don’t know that it makes any difference, now. He was the kind of child who ran headlong to do something he wanted to do, and only thought better of it later. He was never in serious trouble, but he was always unsettled and unpredictable. Never really good at anything. Janet thought the sun shone out of him, and that was that. I was glad when he left home. We had a happier life then.”
“Mrs. Shaw found a locket in a drawer belonging to Mrs. Cutter. Did she tell you that?”
“A locket? No, she never mentioned it. What kind of locket?” His eyes were suddenly wary. “Janet’s jewelry?”
“A piece of mourning jewelry, belonging to one of the dead women. It was missing at the time Shaw was arrested.” Husbands seldom rummaged in their wives’ lingerie, as Hamish was pointing out.
Cutter was saying, with rising alarm, “Here, she’s not trying to say my wife had anything to do with those deaths! I won’t believe that! Not of Nell! You’re trying to stir up trouble—”
“Nell Shaw brought the locket to me because it was missing evidence,” Rutledge replied without emphasis.
“I’d like to see it!”
“I’m sorry,” Rutledge answered, unwilling to tell Cutter that Mrs. Shaw had kept it. “I can’t show it to you.”
“Look. I can’t help but feel sorry for her, she’s had a rough deal. Shaw tried, but he wasn’t like us—he wasn’t used to hard work, his body wasn’t what you’d call strong. All the same, it’s far too late to save Ben or his family.”
The door opened and a man stepped into the office. From the look of him, and from Cutter’s sudden stiffness, Rutledge realized that he must be the owner. Holly? Was that what the Cutter maid had called him? The man stared from Rutledge to the account books Cutter had put aside, and he asked, “Something I can do for you?”
Rutledge rose. “Thank you, no. Mr. Cutter has kindly given me the directions I need.” Cutter shot him a grateful glance and rose also.