Murder on the Moor - C. S. Challinor [62]
“Shut up, Bertie.”
Rex addressed the guests. “Flora may have guessed her brother was involved, so she tried to cover his tracks by mentioning the shadow on the stairs. She embellished her story by saying she saw a weapon. First she said a knife. Then, realizing she might be implicating her brother who carries a sheath knife, she insisted it was a rifle. Everybody had access to Cuthbert Farquharson’s gun.”
Hamish’s face caved in as he spoke. “I suspected what had happened when I saw Donnie staring at Moira’s body in the stable and mumbling, ‘I’m sorry’ and checking her all over to see if she was really dead. Flora told me she saw Donnie on the landing last night. Frankly, I was aboot to tell you,” he told Rex. “It’s just that—well, my family has been through so much already.”
“I know, and I’m right sorry, but Donnie will get the care he needs.” Rex raised his eyes to the policemen as a signal that they could take the boy into custody. He had confessed voluntarily.
There was no more Rex could think of to say. He left the room and went through to the kitchen. Outside he lit his pipe. The sky showed vague patches of blue above the dark-capped hills, but the promise of good weather the next day failed to cheer him. He could not rid himself of the niggling sensation that he had missed something important.
Helen, slipping through the door behind him, wrapped a consoling arm around him. “I know how you feel about exposing Donnie, but maybe Flora can have a life of her own now. You did what you had to.”
Rex sucked thoughtfully on his pipe and exhaled a swirl of smoke. “But for Moira’s death, I would never have found out that Beardsley was the Moor Murderer. It was when I was examining the footwear in the hall for traces of soil and vine from the flowerbed under the window that I discovered the Rannoch Rush on his boot.”
“You caught a child killer, Rex! The entire police force was out looking for him and you found him. Imagine the relief of every parent now that the face of the sexual predator has been unmasked. The—”
“Wait … What did you just say?”
“I said, imagine the relief of parents now that the face of the killer has been unmasked … What is it, Rex? You’ve gone pale. Are you ill?”
He put his hands to his temples in a penny-dropping moment of insight. “I think I have just made the biggest mistake of my life,” he told her, rushing back into the house.
Rex tore after the police car as it made its way up the hill. Waving his arms, he yelled at it to stop, though it was unlikely the driver could hear him from this distance. Flora turned her head and looked out the back window. Finally the car came to a halt. Rex ran to the front passenger side and motioned for the inspector to lower the window.
“What is it, Mr. Graves?” Strickler asked.
“I need to ask Donnie something. It’s important.”
The inspector pointedly glanced at his watch. “Go on.”
Leaning into the car, Rex peered through the partition cage at the boy who was sitting handcuffed between his mother and sister.
“Donnie,” he gasped, striving to regain his breath after his charge up the muddy hill. “Think carefully now before you answer. What did you do with the ladder after you climbed up to the window and spoke to Moira?”
“Nothing. I ran oot through the bathroom door, down to the kitchen, and then back to the stable.”
“That’s right. And your sister saw you.”
“Aye. But she never told.”
“No, she did not. She thought you might have murdered Moira. Tell me aboot the face in the mirror. Here,” Rex said, taking the notebook from his pocket. “Draw it. I need you to free his hands,” he told the officers. “Can you let him oot?”
“Mr. Graves, this is highly irregular,” Strickler objected.
“I know, but believe me when I tell you Donnie Allerdice is innocent of the crime of murder.”
With a gruff sigh, the senior officer got out of the vehicle and, bidding Flora get out too, helped Donnie onto the road and unlocked his handcuffs.
“Try to draw exactly what you saw,” Rex encouraged the boy.
Donnie took the