A Test of Wills - Charles Todd [20]
“Did you meet anyone during your walk?”
“Two people. A farmer’s child who had lost her doll and was sitting on a stump crying. I spoke to her, told her I’d keep an eye open for the doll, and asked if she knew her way home. She said she did, she often came that way to pick wildflowers for her mother. Later I saw Helena Sommers. She was on the ridge with her field glasses and didn’t stop, just waved her hand.”
“What about the Colonel’s man of business, Royston? He went down to the stables looking for Harris and got there just as the horse came in without its rider. In time, in fact, to direct the search. Do you think he’s honest? Or is there the possibility that the meeting he was expecting to have with the Colonel at nine-thirty might have been one he had reasons to prevent?”
“Do you mean, for example, that Royston may have been cheating Charles, embezzling or whatever, had been caught, and expected to be sacked at nine-thirty, when Charles came in?” He frowned again, considering the possibility. “I suppose he could have reached the meadow ahead of Charles, shot him, and made it home again before the horse arrived in the stable yard. Assuming he took the shortcut over the stile and the riderless horse stuck to the track. But you can’t count on horses, can you? Not if they’re frightened.”
Rutledge thought, No one has mentioned a shortcut—
“But Charles never spoke to me about any trouble with Royston,” Wilton continued, “and of course there’s the shotgun. He hadn’t taken one from Mallows. Forrest checked those straightaway.”
“I’ve heard someone say that it would have been less surprising to hear you were the victim, not Harris.” Across the room Rutledge saw Sergeant Davies stir as if to stop him from betraying Lettice Wood.
But Captain Wilton was laughing. “You mean Lettice’s other suitors might have had it in for me? I can’t see either Haldane or Carfield lying in wait to murder me. Can you, Sergeant?” The laughter died suddenly and a shadow passed over the Captain’s face. “That’s foolishness,” he added, but with less conviction.
Rutledge left the questioning there and took his leave.
Mark Wilton waited until he had heard the front door close behind the two policemen, then sat down again in his chair. He wondered if they had spoken to Lettice, and what she had said to them. What would she say to him, if he went to Mallows now? He couldn’t bring himself to think about Charles Harris’s death, only what difference it might make. He closed his eyes, head back against the chair. Oh, God, what a tangle! But if he kept his wits about him—if he was patient, and his love for Lettice didn’t trip him up, it would all come right in the end. He had to believe that….
As Rutledge and the Sergeant let themselves out, they saw Mrs. Davenant coming toward them with a basket of cut flowers, roses and peonies with such a rich, heavy scent that Rutledge was reminded of funerals.
“I’m sending these to Lettice, to cheer her a little. Have you talked with that man Mavers? I wouldn’t put anything past him, not even murder! We’d be well rid of him, believe me. He was haranguing people in the market square on Monday morning. Nobody really paid any attention to him—they seldom do. Making a nuisance of himself, that’s all he thinks of!”
Rutledge thanked her, and she went back to her flowers, humming a little under her breath in quiet satisfaction.
As the car pulled away from the gate, Hamish said unexpectedly, “The Captain’s a right fool! And too handsome for his own good. If a husband didn’t want him dead, a woman might.”
Ignoring the voice, Rutledge turned to Davies and said, “Where can I find Daniel Hickam? We might as well talk to him and get it over with.”
“I don’t know, sir. He lives in his mother’s cottage at the edge of the village—just ahead there, that ramshackle one beyond the straggling hedge.