tension, sometimes raised voices?'
'I-yes, I think everything was all right. I rode on my father's shoulders when my legs were tired, and Becky held on to his coat- tails. Mama laughed, calling us a dragon, three heads, six arms, six legs. And we made up stories about the dragon, how he could run faster than anyone else, and lift twice as much and see before him and behind him at the same time, and my father made silly noises, while Becky laughed so hard she fell down and the dragon came apart.'
She looked away, seeing a day she had buried in the past. 'I loved my father more than anything, then. I had forgotten.'
'And later?'
'We went to Kent when I was six, to visit an aunt. She told us there was a ghost in her house, but it was only mice behind the walls. The next summer, Mama was very ill and kept to her bed. I remember we had to be quiet, and there were nurses coming in to look after her. My father was worried, he sat in his study and I think he cried. His face was wet when I came in to kiss him good night.'
Her gaze came back to Rutledge, startled and confused. 'I had forgotten. It frightened me to see Mama like that, pale and helpless, and I didn't want to think about it. I don't remember her laughing for a long time even after the nurses had left and she was well again. That was after my father had begun to use the laboratory in the garden. He said he had more freedom there than at Cambridge. She railed at him once, calling him a murderer. She was so distressed, and she threatened to burn down the laboratory. And he told her that if she did, he would leave her.'
Sarah Parkinson put her hands to her face, reliving that scene. 'It was never the same after that. Never. There were no more holidays. Mama told me that it was because my father refused to leave his precious laboratory long enough to take us anywhere. That it meant more to him than we did, and because he spent so much of his time there, I knew it to be true. Sometimes he had his meals brought to him there. And I'd hear him come up the stairs at night long after we were in bed. I always waited for him to come in and say good night, but he didn't. I thought perhaps he'd stopped loving Becky and me.'
'Why was your mother ill? Do you know?'
'I was never told. I have no idea.'
'But it changed her-and her feelings toward your father.'
Sarah Parkinson bit her lip. 'I can't answer that. Although she must have been happy when we were in Kent. She and my father took long walks together, and I watched them from the windows. I was a little jealous, I expect. I know I felt left out. Why are you asking me these things? I've worked hard to forget most of it.'
Rutledge didn't want to tell her that he'd come to find out if her father had struck her mother in arguments over the laboratory. Sarah at least had no memory of that. Or had suppressed any she did have. 'I never had the opportunity to meet your father. The man who died in Yorkshire is a mystery to all of us.'
'Why do you keep telling me that my father died in Yorkshire?' There was an element of defensiveness in her question. 'How do you know where he died?'
'All right. The man who was found dead in Yorkshire. He's your father, whether you wish to acknowledge him or not.' He rose to leave. 'No one wants to claim his body. He'll be buried in a pauper's grave, without a marker.'
'You can put the name he used in those cottages on his stone. It was the one he chose, and it shut us out completely. Why should I care about him now?'
'You came back to the cottages,' Rutledge said as he walked to the door. 'Why?'
Her eyes were bright with tears. 'I'm looking for something I lost. But I can live without it. I learned the hard way to do that.'
She didn't see him out. He closed the door as he went.
Hamish said, as the motorcar turned toward the cottages at Uffington, 'She willna' change her mind. But when she's old, she'll have regrets to overcome.'
'Unlike her sister.'
'Aye, the elder. She learned to hate at her mother's knee.'
'Her mother's child. As Sarah might well have been her father's favorite.'
'Looking into the past hasna' given you a solution.'
'Not yet.'
Rutledge arrived at the cottages and walked down the lane separating them, turning in at Mrs. Cathcart's door.
She was reluctant to open to him, but in the end, her innate politeness won. She said, 'That other policeman has been here, asking me what I've seen, what I know, how Mr. Brady struck me. I don't spy on my neighbors and I didn't know Mr. Brady well enough to answer him.'
'Do you think Mr. Brady spied on his neighbors? I'm told he spent most of his time sitting at his windows, looking out.'
'I expect he was lonely. Most of us are, you know. He did seem more interested in Mr. Partridge than he was in the rest of us, but then it was Mr. Partridge's cottage he could see best. Of course Mr. Willingham was always accusing Mr. Brady of staring at him. I can't believe either of them is dead. Do you think Mr. Partridge is as well? If I had anywhere else to go, I'd leave this place. I don't feel safe here, I'm terrified of being murdered in my bed.'
He wished he could tell her that she had little chance of that. 'Keep your door locked. Don't open it at night to anyone, no matter what he may say to you.'
'I'd ask Mr. Slater to be sure my locks couldn't be tampered with. But he's hurt his hand, and it must be very painful. Will you look at my door and windows?'
He agreed and followed her through the rooms of her cottage testing the latches on windows and the main door. 'If you're afraid, keep a light on. It will be a comfort.'
'Do you think Inspector Hill is capable of doing anything about these frightening events? I've not been impressed by him. He's a local man, after all. And he doesn't know anything about us.'
'He's making every effort.'
'I'm not sure that's good enough.' She tugged at her earlobe, clearly upset. 'For a very long time, now, I've been afraid of dying,' she confessed. 'I always believed my husband would see to it that I was quietly disposed of. Now it may be a complete stranger who makes him the happiest man in England.'
Rutledge said, 'Would you prefer to stay at The Smith's Arms for several nights, until this business is finished? You're the only woman here. You might be more comfortable.'
She said, the strain apparent in her voice, 'I've considered that. I'd do it, if I could afford it.'
'Let me have a word with Mrs. Smith. I think it might be possible to arrange.'
Mrs. Cathcart said, 'Please? Let me go with you? I've only to put a few things into my overnight case. When the sun begins to set, I can hardly breathe for fear.'
Rutledge took pity on her and said, 'Yes, of course. I'll wait.'
It took her less time than he'd expected. She came out of her bedroom with a worn leather valise and handed it to him. 'I'm so grateful. You can't imagine. There's no one I can turn to. I could smell the smoke at Mr. Quincy's cottage in the night, and at first I thought it was mine. Even so, I sat here, wondering what would be worse, burning to death or walking outside into the arms of someone with a knife. They say he prefers a knife. I thought Mr. Brady confessed.'
She paused on the threshold, stricken by a thought. 'It isn't Mr. Partridge, is it? Coming back here and attacking us? I've heard people can be struck down by a brainstorm, and not know what they're doing.'
'You don't have to fear Mr. Partridge. I don't think he'll be coming back to the cottages.'
She locked her door behind her but didn't look back as he helped her into the motorcar. He could feel her worry drain away until she was light-headed from relief.
It took him five minutes to convince Mrs. Smith that he had no ulterior motive in paying for Mrs. Cathcart's room. He also made her promise to say nothing about who was taking care of the account.
Then, as Mrs. Cathcart stepped into the inn, Mrs. Smith smiled at her and welcomed her, saying, 'I'll bring up a cup of tea after I've shown you your room.'
Mrs. Cathcart cast a grateful glance at Rutledge and followed Mrs. Smith up the stairs, answering questions about the two deaths as they climbed.
He went into the pub, sat down in the window seat, and tried to shut out Hamish's voice. The large room
