Legacy of the Dead - Charles Todd [49]
He was on the point of asking if Fiona MacDonald’s child could have been Dorothea MacIntyre’s, and then stopped himself. Mr. Elliot’s housekeeper was no guardian of secrets, her own or anyone else’s.
12
THE BEDROCK OF POLICE WORK WAS THE STATEMENT, A record of every witness questioned, scrupulously preserved in evidence.
Rutledge walked back to the station and asked Constable Pringle if he might read statements taken down when Inspector Oliver interviewed everyone who had received one of the letters denouncing Fiona MacDonald.
Pringle handed him a thick file box and said tentatively, “They’re in proper form, sir.”
“I’m sure they are.” He smiled, took the box, and moved one of the chairs nearer the door, giving himself a semblance of private space. Sitting down, he untied the red string. Pringle went back to his own work, glancing up from time to time. As if, Hamish growled, Rutledge were not to be trusted.
Ignoring that, Rutledge lifted out the papers inside and began going through them.
Mrs. Turnbull, laundress. “I’m a respectable woman. I don’t have anything to do with the likes of her.” Question: Have you ever done her washing? “No, I have not, and I thank God for it!” Question: Why, then, would someone send you such a letter? “Because they know I’m a good Christian, that’s why. And I’d lose custom if it got around that I was taking in washing from whores!”
Hamish, incensed, swore.
Mrs. Oliphant, neighbor. “It was a warning to mind where my husband was of an evening. But I didn’t need it, did I? Hadn’t I seen her slipping out of the inn late at night, while her aunt was still alive?” Question: Did you speak of this to Miss MacCallum? “I did not. She was ill, dependent on Fiona. It seemed a cruelty.” Question: Do you know where Miss MacDonald went when she left the inn so late? “I’m a decent woman, I don’t go prowling about in the dark.” Question: How often did she do this? “I saw her with my own eyes four, or maybe even five times.” Question: What direction did she take? “It was always the same, away from the town.” Question: How can you be so sure it was a lover Miss MacDonald went to meet? “Because I went out to that pele tower the very morning I found the letter on my doorstep. To see for myself if it was true. I found a bed of straw where a part of the roof had tumbled down and left a dry corner behind a heap of stone. And it smelled of lavender—that’s her scent!” Question: But you wouldn’t have thought to go to the tower if the letter hadn’t suggested it. “Oh, I’d wondered, right enough! Where else might a whore have some privacy?”
Hamish said bitterly, “Can ye no’ see that it’s what they want to believe?”
Or someone had been a step ahead of Mrs. Oliphant, and set the scene she was expecting to find. . . .
Mrs. Braddock, neighbor. “I’ve seen how my husband looks at her! He’s often offering to do work at the inn. But he isn’t eager to keep up his own house, is he? I’ve been after him to paint the kitchen for six months.” Question: So you believed the letter you found? “When it said my daughter was playing with a bastard and learning nasty things at the inn? Yes, I did. I had sometimes watched Ian while Miss MacDonald was out, and she’d returned the favor. He’d been no trouble at my house, but how was I to know what went on in hers?”
The silence from Hamish was thundering.
Mr. Harris, shoemaker. “She’d come in for her shoes, and was polite as you please. I never guessed, until the letter came! I’d known Ealasaid MacCallum for fifty years—she was a good woman, a good Christian. She wouldn’t have allowed such things to go on. It’s a disgrace, that’s what it is!” Question: Had you visited the inn? Before the letter came? “Aye, that I had. It was a respectable place for a pint of an evening. There was always good company, and a man could sit and talk with his friends. The Ballantyne, now, it’s all well and good, but crowded. You can hardly hear a