A Test of Wills - Charles Todd [85]
She was a pleasant-faced woman, dressed well and carrying a small basket nearly full of parcels. But she grimaced as Rutledge asked his question. “You can’t miss him during one of his tirades,” she said. “More’s the pity!”
“Could you tell me if he was there, by the market cross?”
“Yes, he was, as a matter of fact.”
“All the time? Part of the time?”
She frowned, considering, and then called to another woman just coming out of the ironmonger’s shop. “Eleanor, dear—”
Eleanor was in her fifties, with short iron gray hair and a look of competence about her. She came across to them, head to one side, her stride as brisk as her manner.
“Inspector Rutledge from London, Eleanor,” the first woman said. “This is Eleanor Mobley, Inspector. She might be able to help you more than I can—I was here only very early that morning.”
Rutledge remembered the name Mobley from Forrest’s list of witnesses. He repeated his questions, and Mrs. Mobley watched his face as she listened. “Oh, yes, he was here by the market cross very early on. At least part of the time. He went down along the street there, closer to the shops and the Inn, for a while. Later I saw him near the turning to the church. But he came back to the cross, he usually does.” She gave him a wry smile. “I was trying to line up tables for the Vicar’s summer fete. A fund-raiser for the church. You know how it is, everyone promises to contribute something for the sale. All the same, you can’t let it go at that, can you—you have to pin them down. Not my favorite task, but this year I’m on the committee, and market day brings most everyone into town, I just catch them as I can. I must have been up and down this street a dozen times or more.”
“He moved from place to place, but as far as you know, he didn’t leave? To go to the pub, for instance, or step into the Inn?”
“Not as far as I know. But since I wasn’t paying him much heed, I can’t be certain that I’m right about that. He just seemed to be underfoot wherever I turned, putting people’s backs up, spoiling a perfectly lovely morning.”
Someone passing by spoke to the other woman, calling her Mrs. Thornton. She acknowledged his greeting, adding, “I’ll be along directly, tell Judith for me, will you, Tom?”
Mrs. Mobley was saying to Rutledge, “Is that any help at all?”
“Yes, very much so. What was on his mind that morning? Do you recall anything he might have been saying?”
Mrs. Mobley shook her head. “He was running on about the Russians, you can usually depend on that. Something about the Czar and his family. I remember something about unemployment too, because I was thinking to myself that he was a lovely one to talk! The strikes in London.”
“You don’t really listen, do you? He’s not a very pleasant man at the best of times!” Mrs. Thornton put in. “And riding his hobbyhorse, he’s—repellent. As Helena Sommers put it, any good he might do is lost with every word that comes out of his mouth!”
“Was Miss Sommers here on Monday?”
“Yes, just around noon, I think it was, buying some lace for her cousin,” Mrs. Mobley said. “I put her down for two cakes; I was glad to have them.”
Mrs. Thornton bit her lip, then said, “You’ll think it silly of me, but I don’t feel it’s safe for two women in a cottage in the middle of nowhere. Since the Colonel’s death, I mean. Since we don’t know—And Helena might as well be alone, her cousin is such a ninny! I went out there to call one afternoon, and Margaret was working in the garden. Well, that goose gave my horse such a fright, and she was absolutely too terrified even to drive the silly thing away with a broom!”
“I think they’re probably safe enough,” Rutledge said, refusing to be drawn.
“If you say so.” Mrs. Thornton seemed unconvinced. “Now, if there’s nothing else, Inspector?”
He thanked them both and went back to the market cross, threading his way between a buggy and a wagon piled with lumber.
If Mavers had moved from place to place that Monday morning, and given some forethought to the shotgun,