The Confession - Charles Todd [89]
“What was he?”
“I don’t know. We weren’t her solicitors. The truth was not something we had need of.”
“She had no children?”
“According to Mr. Fowler, she was not pregnant when she left him.”
“And no family?”
“A sister. I’m afraid I don’t know her name. She was with Gladys Mitchell when she died. It was she who arranged the burial.”
“Do you know where she is now?”
“If I’m not mistaken, she died in 1910.”
“Thank you.”
The senior clerk appeared like magic to escort Rutledge to the street door, deferentially bidding him farewell.
Hamish said, “Yon sister couldna’ ha’ murdered the family.”
“We’ve come to a dead end. Just as the original inquiry into the Fowlers’ deaths had done.”
He collected his valise from The Rose and Crown, settled his account, and drove out of Colchester for the road south.
The first call Rutledge made when he reached Furnham was on Nancy Brothers.
She was preparing dinner when he knocked at her door. Wiping her hands on her apron, she hesitated, then let him into the house.
“My husband will be coming in from the pasture where he was repairing a broken fence, and he’ll be wanting his dinner,” she told him anxiously.
“I just have two questions for you,” he told her. “I won’t keep you from your work. I’d like to know if Mrs. Russell ever told you what had happened to Justin Fowler’s parents?”
“She told me he’d lost his just as Miss Cynthia had lost hers. I took that to mean they died of an illness. I thought Mr. Justin consumptive, for that matter, he was so pale and thin when he first came to River’s Edge. I said something to Mrs. Russell, but she told me he was grieving. And it must have been true because he filled out that summer.”
“And did Mrs. Russell ever tell you why she didn’t approve of her cousin marrying Mr. Fowler?”
“She never said, not directly, but I heard her tell Mr. Wyatt that he was too old.”
All of which corroborated what he’d learned in Colchester.
He thanked her and left the farm just as Brothers was walking in from the pasture, his shoulders stooped with fatigue and his face red with sweat and smeared with dust. He saw Rutledge turning out of the gate and lifted a hand in greeting.
Nancy Brothers had done well for herself.
He was just turning around to go back to the farmhouse, a thought tickling at the back of his mind, when he saw Constable Nelson coming toward him on his bicycle.
“Found the missing mare?” he asked.
“We did. T’other side of River’s Edge, some five miles down the road. I notified the owners. No, I’ve come to find you. Abigail Barber is that upset. She wrote to her brother in care of that family in Thetford, to tell Ben that his father was ill. And then again to tell Ben that his father died. Now a letter’s come from them saying they haven’t seen Ben since the start of the war. Sandy Barber is beside himself, trying to think what to say to her.”
“The truth would be best,” Rutledge said. “It wouldn’t have been possible to keep the news from her for very much longer. Others have seen the photograph I brought with me.”
“Yes, well, Barber wants you to come and tell her.”
And explain as well why no one had told her before this.
He followed Nelson into Furnham and went alone to the Barber house.
Abigail was sitting in the front room when he knocked and then opened the door.
“Mrs. Barber?” he called from the entry, and when she replied, he joined her. Constable Nelson had been right. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face blotched by tears. There was a crumpled handkerchief in one hand.
“They’ve sent Scotland Yard to me?” she asked, looking at him as he took the chair she offered. “He said you were an Inspector. Sandy. It can’t be good news.” Her voice was thick, husky.
“I’m afraid not. But first I think it best to tell you what I know about your brother. He didn’t go back to Thetford after the war. He was afraid to tell his father what he really wanted to do. And apparently, from what I’ve learned from Miss Farraday—”
“Oh,