The Confession - Charles Todd [136]
“He’ll kill him!” Barber exclaimed. “He’s that angry.”
Rutledge looked up the street. A grocer’s van was stopped in front of the tea shop, its motor running, and he sprinted for it, Barber at his heels.
Rutledge swung himself inside, realizing as he did that he’d damaged his elbow fighting to hold on to the motorcar’s door. Ignoring the pain, he began to roll and heard Barber swear as he struggled to join him, sprawling across the stack of boxes in his way. As Rutledge reversed the van and started out the London road, they could hear the van’s owner screaming at them from the tea shop door.
Barber said, almost out of breath, “I don’t think he’s ever killed anyone. Jessup. But it’s been a near run thing, a time or two.”
“I want Morrison alive.”
“But how did you know?”
“A curate by the name of Morrison tried to visit young Fowler in hospital. An alert constable kept a list of all callers. They were afraid the killer might come back. And he did. Only no one guessed. Later he wrote an anonymous note.”
“But Morrison was here, wasn’t he?”
“No. He accepted St. Edward’s when he learned somehow that Fowler was going to be sent to River’s Edge. He’s cagey about the time he arrived in Essex. But I’ll have London document the date and his background, now that we know where to look.”
“Why did he kill the others?”
“Morrison had killed the Fowlers out of jealousy. But when Justin survived and came to River’s Edge to live with a new family, it must have seemed doubly unfair. Two families when he had none. He made certain that Mrs. Russell died first, a warning to Fowler that he would be next. And when Russell finally came back to River’s Edge, another opportunity presented itself. The man was clever enough to be patient. He’d got away with murder before and he intended to get away with it again. Look—Jessup is just turning into the Rectory drive! We’re in time.”
But Morrison saw the motorcar, came to the cottage door, and then frowned when he realized that Jessup was driving.
“What’s happened?” he called. “Where’s Rutledge?” He turned to stare at the van barreling toward them.
Jessup was out the motorcar door, and Rutledge saw that he had the heavy torch that lived under the passenger seat.
Rutledge brought the van to a skidding stop and raced to intercept Jessup. Morrison, looking from one to the other as Rutledge used his shoulder to slam into the older man, took himself inside the Rectory, slamming the door shut.
With a roar of rage, Jessup recovered his balance and ran the short distance to the cottage door, hitting it with his own shoulder and bursting inside. Rutledge and Barber were just behind him, but he’d already cornered Morrison, who was standing with his back to the wall, glaring at Jessup. It was impossible to tell if he was armed or not. Rutledge prayed all three revolvers were still at River’s Edge, safe in the gun case.
“What’s this all about?” he demanded, looking to Rutledge for his answer. “I thought—”
“I’m arresting you for the murders of Justin Fowler’s parents,” Rutledge broke in, putting himself between Jessup and Morrison. “He’s my prisoner,” he said, turning to Jessup, “you can’t touch him.”
And then everything happened at once. Barber yelled something and then there was a deafening explosion almost in Rutledge’s ear. He was momentarily back in the trenches, stunned into memory. Only vaguely aware of Jessup swearing and Barber racing past him, he fought to hold on to the present. Then Morrison fired again, and Barber was stumbling backward, his hands outstretched, as if to ward off a blow.
The third shot, meant for Rutledge, went wild as he shook off the war and grappled with Morrison for the revolver. Morrison fought with all the violence of a cornered animal, growling incoherently as Rutledge reached out for the weapon. It went off again, and Rutledge heard