Legacy of the Dead - Charles Todd [72]
Hamish had spent most of Rutledge’s hours behind the wheel earnestly pulling apart the evidence against Fiona MacDonald and quarreling over the role Eleanor Gray might or might not have played.
It had been exceedingly difficult for Rutledge to explain Hamish’s existence, the reality of his voice, to the doctor at the clinic. He was not a ghost—ghosts could be exorcised. Nor was he a disembodied voice repeating Rutledge’s thoughts like a parrot. What was there was vivid—the nuances of thought and tone demanded answers. And Rutledge in 1916, broken in spirit and mind and nearly in body, had found it easier to answer the voice than to challenge it. He had known Hamish through two years of war— his memory was filled with conversations that had shaped new conversations—new thoughts—new fears.
In the five months since returning to the Yard, Rutledge had slowly found the courage to argue, to refute—to take on the voice in verbal battle. A painful step toward sanity, he told himself again and again—not away from it. But challenging it went beyond his courage still.
Hamish was saying, “It’s those bones in Glencoe that gave Oliver an excuse to bring a charge of murder against Fiona. He wouldna’ care about them, else. It’s no’ even his jurisdiction! It doesna’ matter to him whose they are.”
“True enough, but until we know how that woman died, we’re bound to take them into account,” Rutledge argued. “As long as her shadow—whoever she may be—falls over the evidence, it will obscure everything else.”
Hamish still disagreed. And said so. Rutledge shook his head.
“Eleanor Gray’s disappearance gave the police in Duncarrick a name to put to those bones. Identify the corpse— that’s the first rule of a murder inquiry. And Oliver is convinced that he has. Once that’s established, he has to find a clear connection between the two women. If Eleanor Gray was pregnant and came to Scotland to wait out her term, then the link begins to take shape. If that’s not true, then there has to be another explanation for her presence in Glencoe. And if it can be proved that the bones aren’t Eleanor Gray’s after all, Oliver is simply going to search for another identity to give them. Named or nameless, the woman is a stumbling block.”
“Aye, I grant you. But can you no’ see that named or nameless, it’s happenstance that connects these bones with Fiona in the first place. What if Oliver proves they belong to the Gray woman? What if he proves she was pregnant when she disappeared? It’s still a giant leap to prove Fiona killed her!”
“Or any other woman. I agree. But finding Eleanor Gray alive will eliminate her from the list. If she’s dead, and Oliver does have her body, then we’re back to the problem of how she died where she did. Murder—natural causes—even suicide. Whether the answer will clear Fiona or damn her isn’t the issue. We have to look for it. By the same token, if it turns out that Eleanor Gray was murdered, then we have to prove that Fiona was the only person who might have had a reason and opportunity to kill her. Oliver may be content to jump to conclusions, but the truth is, Lady Maude won’t be as easily satisfied.”
“Who’s to say that in the end those bones are no’ their own mystery—and no’ ours?” Hamish countered stubbornly.
“Then you’d better pray that Eleanor Gray left the child with Fiona while she secretly went off to finish her studies. It’s the only way to convince Inspector Oliver that he’s got no case. Which brings me back to what I’ve been saying all along. Right now Eleanor Gray is the key to the investigation.”
“I canna’ say I like it!”
It was odd, Rutledge found himself thinking at one point, how Hamish had coped with the unexpected and sudden confrontation with Fiona MacDonald. He was vigorous in her defense, and he had never questioned her innocence. But far deeper