Highgate Rise - Anne Perry [84]
There had been a bleak look of defeat in Clitheridge’s face for an instant as she spoke, and Pitt had imagined a world of frustration, petty inadequacies and fear of other people’s raw emotion that must have been the vicar’s lot. He was not a man to whom passion came easily; rather the slow-burning, inner turmoil of repressed feelings, too much thought and too much uncertainty. In that instant he felt an overwhelming pity for him; and then turning and seeing Lally’s eager, self-critical face, for her also. She was drawn to Shaw in spite of herself, trying to explain it in acceptable terms of admiration for his virtues, and knowing it was immeasurably deeper than that and quite different.
They left having learned nothing that seemed of use, except Oliphant’s address, where they discovered that Shaw was out on a call.
At the Red Lion public house they ate hot steak and kidney pudding with a rich suet crust which was light as foam, and green vegetables, then a thick fruit pie and a glass of cider.
Murdo leaned back in his chair, his face flushed with physical well-being.
Pitt rose to his feet, to Murdo’s chagrin.
“The Misses Worlingham,” he announced. “By the way, do we know who reported the fire? It seems no one we know saw it till the engines were here, except Lindsay’s manservant, and he was too busy trying to get Lindsay out.”
“Yes sir, a man over in Holly Village was away from home in Holloway.” He flushed faintly as he searched for the right word. “An assignation. He saw the glow, and being in mind of the first fire he knew what it was and called the engine.” Reluctantly he followed Pitt out into the wind again. “Sir, what do you expect to learn from the Misses Worlingham?”
“I don’t know. Something about Shaw and Clemency, perhaps; or Theophilus’s death.”
“Do you think Theophilus was murdered?” Murdo’s voice changed and he faltered in his stride as the thought occurred to him. “Do you think Shaw killed him so his wife would inherit sooner? Then he killed his wife? That’s dreadful. But why Lindsay, sir? What had he to gain from that? Surely he wouldn’t have done it as a blind, just because it was—pointless.” The enormity of it made him shudder and nearly miss his footstep on the path.
“I doubt it,” Pitt replied, stretching his pace to keep warm and pulling his muffler tighter around his neck. It was cold enough to snow. “But he’s stayed with Lindsay for several days. Lindsay’s no fool. If Shaw made a mistake, betrayed himself in some way by a word, or an omission, Lindsay would have seen it and understood what it meant. He may have said nothing at the time, but Shaw, knowing his own guilt and fearing discovery, may have been frightened by the smallest thing, and acted immediately to protect himself.”
Murdo hunched his shoulders and his face tightened as the ugliness of the thought caught hold of his mind. He looked cold and miserable in spite of his burned face.
“Do you think so, sir?”
“I don’t know, but it’s possible. We can’t ignore it.”
“It’s brutal.”
“Burning people to death is brutal.” Pitt clenched his teeth against the wind stinging the flesh and creeping into every ill-covered corner of neck and wrist and ankle. “We’re not looking for a moderate or squeamish man—or woman.”
Murdo looked away, refusing to meet Pitt’s eyes or even guess his thoughts when he spoke of women and these crimes. “There must be other motives,” he said doggedly. “Shaw’s a doctor. He could have treated all kinds of diseases, deaths that someone wants hidden—or at least the way of it. What if someone else murdered Theophilus Worlingham?”
“Who?” Pitt asked.
“Mrs. Shaw? She would inherit.”
“And then burned herself to death—and Lindsay?” Pitt said sarcastically.
Murdo restrained an angry answer with difficulty. Pitt was his superior and he dared not be openly rude, but the unhappiness inside him wanted to lash out. Every time Pitt mentioned motive Flora’s face came back to his mind, flushed with anger, lovely, full of fire to defend Shaw.
Pitt’s voice broke through his thoughts.
“But you are right; there is a whole