by Charles Todd
He listened, but said nothing. She was beginning to wonder if he was mute.
But when he had eaten his porridge and scraped the sides of the bowl, he got up and went to the sink, pouring water into the bowl and scrubbing at it.
Maggie took that as acceptance of her hospitality.
That done, he came warily to the table and took away her dishes, to scrub at them and upend them in the rack.
Satisfied, she got to her feet and limped towards a bin by the door. “Here's what I've been feeding the sheep in the shed. There's a coat belonged to my father in the room you came from. The sheep get a measure each. You'll have to carry a pail with you, with enough to feed all of them. I'd take it as a favor if you'd see to them. I'm still done in from last night.”
She turned to find him staring at her injured leg. “I broke it once. It's stubborn and won't heal.”
He had the grace to blush.
“Well, go on! They're as hungry as you were!”
He found the coat, shrugged into it, and buttoned it snugly although it swallowed him, the cuffs well over his hands. The boots he found under the coat were twice his size, but he laced them up. When he came back to the kitchen, Maggie stared at him.
“That'll never do!” She moved towards him, expecting him to run, but he stood his ground. Still, his eyes widened anxiously as she reached out, lifted his arms, and roughly turned back the cuff on first one and then the other. Satisfied, she stepped back. “Go on, then!”
He filled the pail he found inside the bin, stuffed the measure in one pocket, and then with both hands gripping the handle lugged the heavy container out the door without asking for help. The boots slapped at the floor like a clown's.
He must have found the shed without difficulty, for he was back in a quarter of an hour, boots caked with snow, and his cheeks red from the cold. He came scuttling through the door as if afraid that out on the fells in the cloudy morning there was something ominous waiting for him. Maggie saw him surreptitiously bolt it.
She had tea waiting, hot and sweetened with honey. He drank it eagerly, and then washed up for both of them. After that he went to sit by Sybil, his hand smoothing her rough coat.
“Ever had a dog of your own?” Maggie asked, scrubbing at potatoes for the noon meal.
He shook his head.
“Well, Sybil's never had a boy of her own.”
It was not ten minutes later when Sybil growled deep in her throat, rising to stare at the door. The boy dove like a terrified rabbit towards the room he had slept in, casting a pleading glance over his shoulder in Maggie's direction.
“It's a neighbor, wanting to know if I'm alive. He won't stay,” she answered quietly, and then dragged herself painfully to the door.
But when she opened the door, there was no one outside. The yard was empty.
Maggie stared at the tracks, gave the matter some thought, and then made up her mind. She came inside, called through the bedroom door to the cowering boy that the neighbor's cat had caught herself a rat.
“She keeps the shed free of the wretched things, else I'd take a broom to her!”
R utledge found his fellow guests in the kitchen when he arrived at the small hotel some hours later. He had dropped Greeley at the police station, aware that the inspector was not happy with the lack of results. The boy alive, witness to murder, was one thing. The boy dead, frozen to death, left the investigation to go nowhere. It was a daunting prospect, and Greeley let it be known, as he stepped down from the motorcar, that he had done what he could.
“I'll help however I can. Everyone will. But it's up to you now. I've run out of opinions, and I've asked enough of the people here. You'd have to be a wizard to settle this business. All I can say is, I hope you are.”
And with that he disappeared through the station door without inviting Rutledge to follow him.
A n air of gloom hung over the kitchen, and the silence could be felt. Robinson was sitting with his head in his hands, as if in the depths of despair. Janet Ashton, her face pale with pain and grief, stared out the window at the fell behind the house. Miss Fraser was finishing the dishes, setting them to drain.
She looked up as Rutledge came through the passage door but didn't ask the question he could read in her eyes. He shook his head slightly, indicating no news, and she went back to the last of the pans, rubbing at it industriously as if to keep herself from feeling anything.
She said, “There are sandwiches under that tea towel. If you're hungry.”
He was, and nodded with gratitude. Hamish, sensing the atmosphere, said, “She's glad to see you. It's no' been easy, this morning.”
As if she had heard him, Miss Fraser went on. “Mrs. Cummins has one of her headaches. She won't be joining us for the midday meal.”
Janet Ashton said, “I saw her on the stairs an hour ago. She'd been drinking. I could smell it.”
“Yes, well,” Elizabeth Fraser began, trying to smooth over the encounter, “I expect she's worried about her husband.”
Robinson lifted his head out of his hands and said to Rutledge, “He's dead, isn't he? Josh? If you're trying to find a way to tell me, I'd rather know straight out.”
“We haven't found him,” Rutledge answered. “But yes, perhaps it's as well to prepare yourself for the worst.”
Janet Ashton bit her lip and looked down at her hands. “I know what it's like to lie there in the cold, praying help will come. It's a wretched way to die!”
Hugh Robinson exclaimed, “Don't-”
Rutledge sat and reached for the plate of sandwiches. “The men are still out searching. At least there's that. I wish I could have brought better news.”
Robinson said wearily, “That's kind of them. It can't be easy.” He took a deep breath. “What about the person behind these murders? Have you found any evidence-anything that will help you find him?”
Janet Ashton asked, “Have you spoken with Paul Elcott? Dr. Jarvis says he's better today. If you're going to take him into custody-”
“Elcott?” Robinson demanded, staring from her to Rutledge.
“Early days for that,” Rutledge answered her.
But before he could answer Robinson, Janet had turned to him and said, “Perhaps you can persuade the inspector, if I can't! Grace was terrified of Paul! Did she say anything to you about-”
Robinson cut across her words, his attention on Rutledge. “Nobody told me Elcott was under suspicion!”
“He isn't. Any more so than anyone else,” Rutledge replied curtly.
Miss Fraser turned her chair to face them. “No, I can't believe-surely-!”
“Tell me who else would have harmed those poor children?” Janet Ashton demanded. “He's the only one who had a reason to kill the twins. Helpless babies, hardly old enough to know their mother's face-even a madman would have pitied them!” Spinning to accuse Rutledge, she said, “At least tell me why you're protecting him? Is there something you know that we haven't been told?”
Robinson said, “I went out this morning, before first light. Looking for anything, a sign-I thought if Josh saw me, heard my voice-”
Miss Fraser protested, “That wasn't very wise, was it? If you'd been lost, a search party would have had to hunt for you! And they're nearly at the end of their strength.”
“I couldn't sleep,” Hugh Robinson answered bluntly. “I lay in a warm bed, and all I could see was Josh, frightened, not knowing where to turn-no one to help him. It's worse than a nightmare! I'm not sure I want to live with that image for the rest of my life! Or can-”
“If you would only speak to Paul Elcott!” Janet Ashton interrupted. “Ask him if Josh was there-if he knows which direction Josh took! You're wasting precious time, time Josh can't afford! Don't you see that?”
Her voice was urgent, forceful. Rutledge could see in her face now a similarity to the sulky girl in Hazel Robinson's framed photograph.
He got to his feet, sandwiches untouched, and immediately Elizabeth Fraser put out a hand to stop him
. “You've been out all morning-”
“Miss Ashton's right,” he told her. “I've got to speak to the man. Better sooner than later. Can you tell me where to find him?”
“He has rooms over the licensed house-The Ram's Head-you'll see it just before the church, a two-story building with a sign over the door. The next one to that goes up to his rooms.”
Rutledge thanked her and left. Janet Ashton half rose, as if she intended to follow him, but Elizabeth Fraser said quietly, “No, it's best if you don't.” And she sank down again in her chair. The expression on her face was hard to read.
“Neither of you believe me,” she said. “But I'm right, at the end of the day, I'll be proven right!”
P aul Elcott came to the door looking like a man who had spent the last three days drunk as a lord. But the reek of alcohol was missing, and Rutledge realized it must be the sedatives that Dr. Jarvis had given the man.
“Who are you?” Elcott asked, frowning. “What do you want?”
“Inspector Rutledge, from Scotland Yard. I'd like to speak to you if I may.”
“They've got the Yard here? Good God! Greeley never mentioned that. Nor Jarvis.” He held the door wide and Rutledge stepped in.
Paul Elcott was wearing trousers that appeared to have been slept in for days, and a rumpled shirt to match. His feet were bare, and he hadn't shaved. A dark growth of beard shadowed his features, and his hair hung over his eyes.
“I'm parched dry as a desert,” he added. “We'll step into the kitchen, if you don't mind. I need something to drink.”
But the fire was out in the stove, when they had climbed the stairs to the rooms over the licensed house. From the temperature there, Rutledge suspected the fire hadn't been stoked for days. Elcott stared at it, standing like a man lost, as if he had no idea what to do about it.
Rutledge said, “Sit down. I'll see to it.” And he set about cleaning the ashes and laying a new fire. As he worked, he talked to the dazed man in the chair by the table. But Elcott didn't appear to hear him.
“I can't get that room out of my mind,” he told Rutledge finally. “I tried, but as soon as I shut my eyes-Jarvis gave me something, and it fairly knocked me out.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “Any news? Is that why you've come?”
“Not yet. How well did Josh know the countryside around the farm? Where could he have gone?”
“Josh?” Elcott said, as if the name was new to him. “I expect he knew it well enough. Boys explore-”
“Where would he choose to go? Which direction? Did he know anyone, play with other children in that part of the valley? Would he have come here, to you, if he escaped?”
“I doubt he'd come to me. I never liked him. I thought Gerald was a fool to take on a wife with two children by another man. And told him so to his face!”
“What did he say to that?” Rutledge turned as he finished washing his hands and drying them on a towel by the sink. The fragrance of wood starting to burn filled the room, but no heat reached them yet.
Elcott shrugged. He didn't seem to be able to focus his mind. “Have you seen the house?”
“I've been there. Yes.”
“God! You should have been there before Miller and Jarvis took them away!” He shivered, and it had nothing to do with the cold room.
“How are you managing, getting this place back on its feet?”
“It's not going to happen,” Elcott said harshly. “I've tried, but there's precious little money, and no hope of business picking up until late in the spring. I'm worn out with the effort.” He had the air of a defeated man who had lost the ability to believe in himself. Or was it assumed?
“Will you inherit the farm, now your brother and his children are dead?”
Elcott looked at him in surprise. “I hadn't even thought about that-”
“It gives you a motive for murder,” Rutledge pointed out mildly. He was watching Elcott's eyes. But they seemed more annoyed than unsettled by his words.
“Yes, well, I'm sure a hangman's noose would put an early end to that, if it were true,” the other man answered sourly.
“Did Jarvis tell you? Miss Ashton, Grace's sister, is at the hotel. If you'd like to call on her. Do you know her well?”
Elcott's glance sharpened. “Oh, dear God, I never thought to send word to her! Or to Robinson. It never occurred to me. I expect I've Jarvis to thank for attending to it. Or was it Inspector Greeley?”
“She was already on her way here when she had an accident on the road. It was Dr. Jarvis who broke the news to her.”
“I wonder what went through her mind when he did.” Elcott rubbed his face with his hands. “She and Grace were as different as two sisters could be. It always struck me that if they hadn't been related by blood, they'd have nothing to say to each other.”
“She told me that Grace was afraid of you. And she believed that you were jealous of her and her family.”
“Well, there's a blood lie!” Paul replied. “I never liked Janet, and she never cared much for me. The ne'er-do-well brother who needed bucking up to make a man of him. She'd even told Gerald that in her opinion I was malingering, that the Army would set me straight. I never told her it was the Army's doctors who turned me down. Janet's the sort of managing woman I never cared for. Always wanting her own way, always seeing what she wished to see. But I never expected her to go this far!”
“Did Grace get along well with her?”
“Grace was blind to her faults. But then Grace was sweet-natured and saw no wrong in anybody. Myself, I don't know how Gerald put up with the woman. But he did, probably for his wife's sake. I'd wondered a time or two if Grace realized Janet had had her eye on Gerry long before Grace met him. If anyone was jealous of Grace Elcott, it was her loving sister!”
Surprised, Rutledge said, “I hadn't heard anything about that.”
“No, she wouldn't have told you herself, would she? Well, she'd got to know Gerald when he was in hospital in London, recovering from surgery. She would come to write letters for the wounded, or read to them. And she fell in love with him. You didn't know my brother. Women liked Gerry; he had a way with him that attracted them whether he wanted it or not. Ask Elizabeth Fraser, she's had an eye for him, too! He did his best to discourage Janet, and was glad when they shifted him to the convalescent home in Hampshire. And there, quite by accident, he met the other sister.”
“How did you learn this? Did your brother tell you-or more to the point, write to you?”
“I'm not a fool. I could see for myself. And Gerry did write part of the story to me when he was considering proposing to Grace. He was afraid it might present a problem because of Janet. But as she was living in London and the doctors were expecting to release him to come home to Urskdale, he thought it could be worked out.”
“Do you still have that letter?”
Elcott paused, staring at him. “I don't know whether I kept it or not-”
“It would be helpful, if you could find it.” Rutledge kept his voice neutral.
“What I don't understand is why Gerry ever believed that Janet was moving to Carlisle for her sister's sake. Particularly after she wouldn't stand up for Grace at the second wedding ceremony. It was as clear as the nose on your face that she'd begin to meddle the first chance she got. And she's still doing it, damn her! I don't know why she's pointing a finger at me! She had a better reason for hating Gerry than I ever did.”
“Why didn't she attend the second marriage?”
“What do you think? If Grace was forced to go back to Hugh Robinson, someone would have to console Gerry. But that wasn't how Janet put it, of course. She said she felt it wasn't right-that she believed it was her sister's duty to go back to her true husband.”
“Did your brother tell you that?”
“He didn't have to. Grace was so disappointed you could see it in her expression when I carried the letter to her. Why else would Janet stay away, when her sister needed her to help put the best face on what had happene
d?”
“Did you stand up with your brother?”
“Of course I did! In my view, it was a God-given excuse to change his mind, dropped into his lap. But he loved Grace, the twins were his flesh and blood, and there was an end to it. I wasn't about to shame him in public.” He turned aside, pulled back into his own misery. “I'd give anything to turn back the clock and find out it was nothing but a bad dream. That I could make it right again.” His voice was so low Rutledge could barely make out the words. “I wish I'd left it to someone else to find them!”
Hamish said, “There's something on his conscience. It's no' giving him any peace.”
Paul Elcott wouldn't be the first man to have killed in hot blood and regretted it when the passion of the moment had passed.
As an excuse to linger, Rutledge made a pot of tea. When it had steeped, he left. Paul Elcott, whether hiding secrets or telling the truth, had said all he was going to say.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Hamish remarked as Rutledge made his way back to the inn, “Jealousy sees what it wants to see…”
It was true. Janet Ashton and Gerald… Hugh Robinson and Grace
… Elcott and what? The family's land?
If Gerald's twins were killed, Paul Elcott would have clear title to the farm. It would be worth his while, if murder was his intent, to wipe out the entire family.
But what did Janet or Hugh have to gain? Why kill the object of one's love?
And the answer to that was all too simple. Love spurned turned easily to hate.
Had Inspector Greeley's supposition of events in the bloody shambles of the Elcott kitchen been wrong? Had he and Inspector Greeley seen it backwards from what actually happened? Had Gerald or Grace been the last to die, as a final punishment? But Gerald had done nothing to defend his family… Why?
“There's no proof,” Hamish pointed out, “how it happened.”
And small chance of finding answers until or unless they managed to find Josh Robinson.
But Janet Ashton had had a revolver in her possession…
