The Confession - Charles Todd [92]
Rutledge didn’t get out. But he waited until the Barbers had walked into their house and shut the door.
Driving on, he cursed whoever had killed Ben Willet.
“And it willna’ do you any guid to damn him.”
Still, he went to the Rectory to find Mr. Morrison, to tell him what had transpired, and to ask him to call on Abigail Willet. But the Rectory was dark and silent. No one answered his knock. At the church then? At this hour?
He came to the junction in the road and soon after saw the church just ahead. It was dark except for a dim light in the nave, just visible through the plain glass of the high windows.
Stopping the motorcar at the verge of the road but leaving it running, he crossed to the church door and quietly began to open it so as not to disturb the rector if he was at his prayers.
He had not swung it more than two inches wide when the sound of voices came to him, echoing in the empty church. He couldn’t see anything but the opposite wall without pushing the door wider. But he knew the voices and could put a name to both of them.
That was the rector, saying, “What is it you wish to confess, my son?”
And the response came from Major Russell.
Chapter 18
His voice was hoarse, but still recognizable. “Damn it, Morrison, there’s nothing to confess. I just need to talk to someone. The police are after me, I’ve left the clinic again, and I don’t know where to turn. River’s Edge is closed, there’s no refuge there. The house in London has very likely already been searched.”
There was a long pause. And then Morrison said, “Why do the police want you, Major?”
“I took a man’s motorcycle. Well, it was the only way I could get out of that clinic and reach London. Then I frightened Cynthia, which I didn’t mean to do. I just wanted to know—never mind that. I sometimes muddle things. It’s getting better, I think, but then there are days of torment, pure hell, when I can barely remember who I am.”
“They’ve come to Furnham. The police. I’ve been told that Ben Willet has been murdered. And possibly Justin Fowler as well. I don’t know what to think. And there’s your mother’s disappearance. Is River’s Edge cursed? Or is it Furnham? I grew up in a quiet village where murder was unheard of. I have no answers to give you.”
“They aren’t connected, if that’s what you’re afraid of. There’s no madman out there picking us off every year or two. It’s the war, people are different. The England I nearly died for is gone. I don’t recognize anything.” There was despair in his voice. “For that matter, I’m not the same either.”
“We must have faith that God in his wisdom—”
“I don’t know that I believe in God any longer. He damned well wasn’t there in the trenches when we needed him. Did you know that Willet has written a book? A novel? I saw something about it in a newspaper a year ago.”
“So it’s true, then. Gossip had it that the French believed it was his father who’d written a book. It caused a great deal of hilarity, I can tell you, among Ned’s friends. Were these books something he was ashamed of ? Is that why Ben never told his family about them?”
“I have no idea. Apparently one’s all about smugglers in Essex before the war. I suppose I should have read it. But I wasn’t ready to revisit Furnham. Or River’s End.”
Morrison was still concentrating on the books. “It’s just as well everyone thought it was a good joke. Otherwise it could have got him killed. Jessup hadn’t forgiven Ben Willet for becoming a footman. Putting Furnham into a book would have angered everyone.”
“I doubt it would have led to murder. I saw Willet in London quite recently. Twice, as it happens. The last time there was a crash on Tower Bridge, and I couldn’t get through.”
“What did you talk about?”
“I didn’t recognize him at first. But he knew who I was and spoke. He asked how I was faring, and I asked why he looked so ill. We commiserated on our war, and I told him I’d seen a mention of his book, asked him if he was still writing. He said he was just finishing another manuscript. And then he told me he