Watchers of Time - Charles Todd [52]
“There’s some truth to that,” Rutledge agreed. “But speaking of Walsh’s size—I’ve been thinking about the print of the shoe you found at the rectory near the lilacs.”
Brushing aside Rutledge’s words, Blevins said impatiently, “Yes, I’ve already come to the same conclusion. Walsh’s foot dwarfs that print. I had a drawing made of it, to match with the shoes of any suspects. You know what this means, don’t you?”
This time Rutledge let him have the pleasure of answering his own question.
“It tells me friend Walsh must have had an accomplice.”
Hamish, breaking a long silence, warned, “You ken, the sum stolen wouldna’ be enough for two. . . .”
“Did Walsh have an assistant at the bazaar?” There had been no mention of anyone else in the Strong Man’s act, to Rutledge’s knowledge, but that would make sense, if Walsh needed someone he could trust.
“No, no, he worked alone as far as we can discover,” Blevins answered. “I doubt he ever made enough to hire an assistant. Some months ago he had a woman with him, but I’m told she wasn’t good for business. The young ladies seemed to find her intimidating. Well, that’s not surprising! But breaking and entering is a different proposition. There’s often another man along to act as lookout. That’s why he was standing near the lilac bush. He was out of sight from the churchyard and the neighboring house.”
Blevins seemed convinced. For the time being, Rutledge left the subject and moved on.
“What about other towns where Walsh has made an appearance? Were there any crimes that could be traced to him? Is this a pattern?”
“I’d thought of that, too. We’re looking into it.” After a moment of silence, Blevins said, “We haven’t got more than curses out of Walsh so far. Would you like to try your hand at questioning him?”
“It wouldn’t do any harm.”
“We’ve put him in irons, to keep him manageable.” Blevins reached for a ring of keys and took Rutledge down the passage to the makeshift cells set in behind the offices. “He won’t be tried here,” the Inspector went on as he unlocked the door. “We’re moving him to Norwich by the middle of next week. We’re used to drunk and disorderly, petty theft, and the occasional wife-beater who won’t learn his lesson. And any murderers we’ve had to deal with over the years are generally more terrified of what they’ve done than they are a threat to the peace. But this man is dangerous.”
When Blevins unlocked the door of the cell, Walsh was sitting on the iron cot, his face bruised, his eyes defiant. Ankles and wrists were fettered, a heavy chain hanging between them.
Blevins said briskly, “You’ve met Inspector Rutledge before. Nearly knocked him down. I wouldn’t think about trying it again. He’s here from London.”
Walsh, surprise in his face, said, “Are they taking me to London, then?”
“That could depend on how cooperative you are. The Inspector wants to question you. About the priest’s death.”
Taking advantage of the man’s uncertainty, Rutledge asked almost conversationally, “Ever use an assistant in your act, Walsh?”
Eyebrows raised, Walsh answered, “I used a woman for some weeks. Thought it would make the ladies more willing to let themselves be lifted on the bench, if Iris went first. But she didn’t work out. Why do you want to know?”
“I should have thought a man would have been more useful, considering the bench and the weights you must haul about regularly in your cart.”
Walsh grinned. “I can lift them and you, too, and I’ll show you if you unlock these!” He raised his hands. The chain clanked unmusically, but its weight seemed not to cause him any distress.
Rutledge returned the smile. “Then why did you take someone with you when you killed the priest? Was that more dangerous than pulling a carriage against a team of horses? I’m surprised that you’d