Betrayal at Lisson Grove - Anne Perry [108]
Why would Talulla kill him? He was her uncle. But then how often was murder a family matter? She knew from Pitt’s cases in the past, very much too often. The next most likely answer would be a robbery, but any thief breaking in would have set the dog into a frenzy.
But then why would Talulla kill Cormac, and why now? Not purely to blame Narraway, surely? How could she even know that he would be there to be blamed?
The answer to that was obvious: it must have been she who had sent the letter luring Narraway to Cormac’s house. She of all people would be able to imitate his hand. Narraway might recall it from twenty years ago, but not in such tiny detail that he would recognise a good forgery.
But that still left the question as to why she had chosen to do it now. Cormac was her uncle; they were the only two still alive from the tragedy of twenty years ago. Cormac had no children, and her parents were dead. Surely both of them believed Narraway responsible for that? Why would she kill Cormac?
Was Narraway on the brink of finding out something that she could not afford him to know?
That made incomplete sense. If it were true, then surely the obvious thing would be to have killed Narraway?
She recalled the look on Talulla’s face as she had seen Narraway standing near Cormac’s body. She had been almost hysterical. She might have a great ability to act, but surely not great enough to effect the sweat on her lip and brow, the wildness in her eyes, the catch in her voice as it soared out of control? And yet never once had she looked at Cormac’s body, as if she could not bear to – or she already knew exactly what she would see? She had not gone to him even to assure herself that he was beyond help. That must be because she already knew it. There had been nothing in her face but hate – no grief, no denial.
Charlotte was riding through the handsome streets of Dublin as if it could have been any city on earth. She was oblivious of the sights and sounds, except for a moment of sudden surprise as cold rain spattered through the open window, wetting her face and shoulder.
How much of this whole thing was Talulla responsible for? What about the issue of Mulhare and the embezzled money? She could not possibly have arranged that.
Or was someone in Lisson Grove using Irish passion and loyalties, old wounds opened up again, to further their own need to remove Narraway? If that were possible, not just a part of her fevered imagination, then who else was involved? Who could she ask? Were there any of Narraway’s supposed friends actually willing to help him? Or had he wounded or betrayed them all at one time or another, so that when it came to it they would take their revenge? He was totally vulnerable now. Could it be that at last they had stopped quarrelling with each other long enough to conspire to ruin him? Did they hate him more than they loved any kind of honesty? People justified hate in all sorts of ways. It could suspend normal morality. She knew that.
Perhaps that was a superficial judgement and one she had no right to make. What would she have felt, or done, were it all the other way around: if Ireland were the foreigner, the occupier in England? If someone had used and betrayed her family, would she be so loyal to her beliefs in honesty or impartial justice? Perhaps – but perhaps not. It was a question she could not answer except with hope that was meaningless without reality.
But Narraway was still innocent of killing Cormac, and, Charlotte realised as she said that to herself, she thought he was no more than partially guilty of the downfall of Kate O’Neil. The O’Neils had tried to use him, turn him to betray his country. They might well be furious