A Test of Wills - Charles Todd [44]
And where had it disappeared, once Charles Harris had been cut down with such savage fury? That was the mystery he was going to have to solve before he could find the killer. So much passion…it had to be there still, banked like a fire…and aroused, it might kill again….
He fell asleep on that thought, and didn’t hear the bustle in the street at two o’clock in the morning.
7
Although Rutledge went out directly after breakfast in search of him, Hickam was nowhere to be found.
After a fruitless waste of time, Rutledge decided that the man probably didn’t want to be found, and gave up, cursing his own maudlin stupidity for not hauling him directly to the doctor’s surgery last night while he had the chance, and forcibly sobering up the poor devil.
Picking up Sergeant Davies at the station after giving Forrest instructions for the Inquest, Rutledge said as they got into the motorcar, “I’ve been to the cottage, checked every street in town, and the outlying lanes as well, not to mention the churchyard and the livery stables. Is there any place I haven’t thought of?”
Davies scratched his chin. “That about covers it, I’d guess. But there’s high grass, hedgerows, and any number of sheds about, and we could send half the army out looking and still not find him. Drunks have a way of vanishing, but when he’s slept this one off and needs more gin, he’ll surface soon enough.”
He glanced at the Inspector, and decided that he hadn’t slept well. Changing the subject, he said, “I checked with the dentist in Warwick. It’s true, Royston had an appointment on the morning of the murder, but he never came in. Of course that’s not surprising.”
“No. I think I should speak to Helena Sommers again, before she hears about Mavers’s shotgun coming to light. How do we get there?”
Davies had just had a very unpleasant discussion with Inspector Forrest about duty. It was his duty to assist London, and equally his duty to stay out of Scotland Yard’s way as much as possible, which seemed to his mind a simple contradiction of terms. Forrest hadn’t been pleased either that Rutledge failed to bring his own sergeant along, and before the interview had ended, a chastened Davies was beginning to feel that that was his fault as well. But there was no escape. Constable Reardon in Lower Streetham couldn’t be spared, and Warwick wasn’t about to send over one of their men, and Constable Miliken from Upper Streetham was still at home with a leg broken in two places from the kick of a half-wit horse that had accidentally poked its nose into a hornet’s nest and run amok afterward.
Trying to make the best of a bad situation and feeling uncomfortable in the lengthening silence that was beginning to sound very loud in the car, Davies cleared his throat and offered a suggestion that he had been mulling over while shaving that morning.
“I was thinking, sir, about who might have shot Colonel Harris, and it seems to me we’ve overlooked one thing. What if the killer hadn’t come from Upper Streetham at all? I mean, someone from Warwick, or London, or as far as we might know, from Canterbury or Liverpool?”
“It’s possible, of course,” Rutledge answered. “For that reason I don’t rule it out. But we’re short on motives, aren’t we?”
“Well, sir, it seems to me we’re short on motives for everyone else. I mean, the Colonel might have done something in the war, someone might hold him responsible for the loss of a leg or a son’s death or a wrecked career. Somebody we’d never heard of in Upper Streetham. And would have no way of knowing existed.”
“Before we could leave the case as ‘person or persons unknown,’ we’d still have to clear every suspect in Upper Streetham. Including the Captain.”
Davies sighed. “Aye, that’s true.”
Rutledge glanced across at him. “Tell me something. Why is everyone so determined to believe Wilton is innocent?”
Surprised, Davies said, “He’s a war hero, isn’t he? Admired by the King and a friend of the Prince of Wales. He’s visited Sandringham, been received by Queen