A Pale Horse - Charles Todd [140]
“And Quincy?”
“They got into a shouting match once, because Willingham called him a ne’er-do-well who had never worked a day in his life.”
“Who else took the brunt of his tongue?”
“Mr. Miller, of course. Willingham called him a liar and a scoundrel, and said he should be locked up.”
“What was that about?”
“I’m not really sure. Mr. Miller told Quincy it was because Willingham thought he’d seen Mr. Miller’s photograph in a London newspaper. Some scheme to defraud. It was Mr. Singleton he annoyed the most, called him a toy soldier, a disgrace to the uniform. Mr. Singleton ignored him, but I saw his face, sometimes, and it would be twisted with his fury.”
“Any truth to the charges?”
“I don’t know. It hurts most when they’re true, doesn’t it? Hearing them shouted about like the town crier. I don’t think anyone would have blamed Singleton if he’d taken on Willingham and beaten him until he took back every word.” She flushed at her own vehemence. “I’m sorry, I could never like the man, though I wouldn’t have wanted him killed.”
“It might have been the only way to stop him.”
“Yes, there’s that. A pity, wouldn’t you say? But I thought it was Mr. Brady who’d killed Willingham. Why are you interested in the rest of us?”
“Making sure we’ve got the right man,” he said, and thanked her.
Hill was waiting. “What was that all about?”
“Mrs. Cathcart had heard some of Willingham’s shouting matches. Did you find the Brady sketch in his cottage?”
“No, but then he’d have burned it, wouldn’t he? If he’d been guilty.”
“I don’t think Willingham drew any of them. There was no paper, no special ink, no pens in his desk. How had he done them without the proper tools?”
“Look, Rutledge, we’re doing our best. If you want to point a finger, then get on with it. If not, leave us to our work.”
“Start with Singleton. He and Brady were both in the army. There might have been something there. Singleton might not have known that in the beginning. Brady kept his past to himself, I should think. When the truth came out, Singleton might have thought that Brady knew more than he should.”
“Singleton makes no secret about being cashiered.”
“He didn’t, did he? Perhaps it was too late when he realized he’d been better off keeping his mouth shut.”
“Then why kill Willingham first?”
“Willingham irritated everybody. Kill two birds with one stone, and put the blame on Brady before setting up his death.”
Hill glared at him. “You’re not serious.”
“Do you have any better suggestion? Go talk to him, but watch your back if you’re going to make accusations.”
Hill looked at the cottages, the way they were set out, to give each one maximum privacy. “Willingham could have seen anyone going into Brady’s cottage, couldn’t he? A good soldier would have taken him out, then launched his main attack.”
Rutledge walked back to his motorcar and said as he took up the crank, “Good luck.”
Hill was dragging his feet. “I’ll ask the army for information,” he said. “I’ve been wrong once already. I don’t relish a second time.”
“Your decision,” Rutledge agreed, and drove off.
Hamish said, “He doesna’ believe you.”
Rutledge answered, “I think he does. He’s just covering his back.”
He turned the car and went to call on Sarah Parkinson, on his way back to London.
24
Sarah Parkinson was just leaving her house when Rutledge drove up. She was riding the bicycle today.
“Miss Parkinson—”
“No. Go away.” She mounted the bicycle and pushed off, leaving him there.
Rutledge turned the motorcar and caught up with her, slowing his speed to a crawl to match hers.
“I haven’t come to talk about your father.”
“I’m uncomfortable being hunted this way. Is this what the police do, drive you to distraction until you can’t sleep or eat or think?”
“Put your bicycle into my motorcar and I’ll take you to your sister, or to Partridge Fields. Wherever you’re setting out to go.”
He could see her hesitate. She wasn’t as skilled with the bicycle as her sister, and she had wobbled once or twice.
“I can manage very well, thank you.”
“You can’t. Get down