Search the Dark - Charles Todd [1]
—Orlando Sentinel
“A newcomer returns us to the essential pleasures of the well-crafted puzzle in this debut, the absorbing story of a young British WWI veteran returning from the war to his job as a Scotland yard Inspector … Todd, an American, depicts the outer and inner worlds of his character with authority and sympathy as he closes in on his surprising—and convincing—conclusion.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
“Strong, elegant prose; detailed surroundings and sound plotting characterize this debut historical.… Highly re commended.”
—Library Journal
“The 20th century hasn’t happened in Upper Streetham, which seems to have been cast out of REBECCA, or in first-novelist Todd’s deeply old-fashioned storytelling, which eschews the slightest impropriety in favor of the patient subtlety and circumlocution that held readers in thrall 70 years ago. A feast for the like-minded.”
—Kirkus Reviews
St Martin’s Paperbacks Titles
by Charles Todd
SEARCH THE DARK
WINGS OF FIRE
SEARCH
THE DARK
CHARLES TODD
NOTE: If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
SEARCH THE DARK
Copyright © 1999 by Charles Todd.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 99-13786
ISBN: 0-312-97128-1
EAN: 80312-97128-1
Printed in the United States of America
St. Martin’s Press hardcover edition / May 1999
St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / May 2000
10 9 8 7 6
For J.
For all those places on the map
and all the memories that went with them.
1
The murder appeared to be a crime of passion, the killer having left a trail of evidence behind him that even a blind man might have followed.
It was the identity of the victim, not the murderer, that brought Scotland Yard into the case.
No one knew who she was. Or, more correctly perhaps, what name she might have used since 1916. And what had become of the man and the two children who had been with her at the railway station? Were they a figment of the killer’s overheated imagination? Or were their bodies yet to be discovered?
The police in Dorset were quite happy to turn the search over to the Yard. And the Yard was very happy indeed to oblige, in the person of Inspector Ian Rutledge.
It began simply enough, with the London train pulling into the station at the small Dorset town of Singleton Magna. The stop there was always brief. Half a dozen passengers got off, and another handful generally got on, heading south to the coast. A few boxes and sacks were offloaded with efficiency, and the train rolled out almost before the acrid smoke of its arrival had blown away.
Today, late August and quite hot for the season, there was a man standing by the lowered window in the second-class car, trying to find a bit of air. His shirt clung to his back under the shabby suit, and his dark hair lay damply across his forehead. His face was worn, dejection sunk deep in the lines about his mouth and in the circles under tired eyes. He was young, but youth was gone.
Leaning out, he watched the portly stationmaster helping a pale, drooping woman to the gate, the thin thread of her complaining voice just reaching him. “… such hardship,” she was saying.
What did she know about hardship? he thought wearily. She had traveled first class, and the leather dressing case clutched in her left hand had cost more than most men earned in a month. If they were lucky enough to have a job.
There had been no work in London. But he’d heard there was a builder hiring down Lyme Regis way. The train was a luxury