as soon as he was behind the wheel. Without turning on his headlamps he continued down the dark road until he was certain that neither the rector nor the Major could see his rear light.
Hamish said, “Ye didna’ think to search yon ruins.”
It was an accusation. But there was barely cover enough to conceal a human being. He hadn’t expected it to hide a stray sheep, much less a grown man.
“More to the point, how did he get there?”
“Ye must ask him.”
“I intend to.”
He drove for more than a mile past the gates of River’s Edge, then left the motorcar at the verge, as far into the heavy grass as he dared. Walking back toward the house, he considered where best to set his ambush.
Just past the gates?
But then if Russell knew a shorter way across the marshes-and Rutledge was fairly sure now there must be one-closer to the house would be wiser.
He chose his spot under the windows at the side of the house, leaned against the wall under the drawing room windows, and waited. How long would it take a man to bathe and shave, perhaps drink a cup of tea? An hour then, before Russell appeared.
But an hour passed. And then another.
Had Morrison taken pity on Russell after all, and allowed him to stay the night in the Rectory?
He’d been certain that Morrison wouldn’t change his mind.
Hamish said, “Ye could ha’ confronted him in yon kirk.”
“If Russell had put up a fight, Morrison would have had every reason to raise the question of sanctuary. No, it was better to wait for him here, alone.”
By half past two, it was clear that Russell wasn’t coming.
A wild-goose chase.
“Then go to yon Rectory now and ye’ll have him.”
It was the only option left to him. By morning Russell could be miles away from this part of Essex. The roads were rutted but flat, and a bicycle could make good time, given an early start.
It was a long dark walk back to his motorcar.
But when he reached the Rectory, there were no lights, and no one came to the door.
A fter an early breakfast the next morning, Rutledge drove to the Brothers farm. He found Nancy cutting flowers for the house, a basket over her arm and secateurs in her hand.
She looked up as she heard the motorcar come up the farm lane, straightening to stare warily at Rutledge as he got out and walked across to the garden. He was beginning to understand why she had been eager to see him go yesterday before her husband had come in from the fields. She was afraid her husband might learn that she was harboring the son of her late mistress, a man wanted by the police. And yet out of her feelings for the family she had served so long, she’d taken the risk.
“Good morning. I’ve come to ask you about Major Russell.”
She set the basket of zinnias and marigolds to one side, trying to decide whether he knew the truth or was merely looking for information. He could read the uncertainty in her eyes.
Rutledge said, “I’ve learned you’ve been taking food to him at the old church. Did your husband know?”
Flushing, she said, “Who told you?”
“You did. Looking back, I should have guessed you were hiding something. Or in this case, someone.”
She made no attempt to deny the truth. “He doesn’t know-Samuel. He was glad the house at River’s Edge was closing just as I was marrying him. That was my old life, he said, and this was the new. He didn’t want me keeping up any acquaintance with the others. Mrs. Broadley, the cook, and I were friendly, and Mrs. Dunner, the housekeeper, helped me sew my wedding gown. They told me they wouldn’t mind hearing from me from time to time. But Samuel told me he’d rather I didn’t. They were in service still, you see, and I was a farmer’s wife now. And so I never wrote to them. When the Major came, I hardly recognized him. I couldn’t turn him away, could I? And I couldn’t take him in, neither. I didn’t know what Samuel would have to say about it. Instead I agreed to feed him. I’d take sandwiches and fruit and a jug of tea to him, whatever I could spare that wouldn’t be missed.”
“That was rough living for a man like the Major.”
“Don’t I know that? But he said he’d learned to do without while in the trenches. That he’d be all right. And I couldn’t go as far as River’s Edge without taking the cart.”
He could see her quandary.
“Was this the first time you’d seen him since the war?”
“Since my wedding, in fact. He gave me away. I was that grateful. I couldn’t turn him away, could I?” she asked again.
“What did he tell you? How did he get out here to Furnham?”
“He came with the van from Tilbury that brings the meat to the butcher’s shop. It comes twice a week. He’d remembered that.”
“Didn’t you wonder why a Russell would be reduced to traveling in the butcher’s van? He owns a motorcar, I’m told.”
“I did wonder, but he told me that the doctors wanted him to stay in hospital, and he’d left instead. He said it would be all right, they’d stop looking and he could go his own way. I believed him. Why should I not? He’s not one to lie. I never remember him telling a lie to anyone at the house.”
“It’s true. What he told you. As far as it goes.”
“He’s not done anything wrong. He just didn’t want to be found and made to go back to hospital. He said he’d heal better on his own, if they’d leave him to it. I could understand that.”
“Did you ever see Russell come to blows with Justin Fowler?”
“Mr. Justin?” She was surprised at the shift in subject. “They weren’t as close as Mrs. Russell had hoped. But there was never any hard feelings between them. There was a time when Mr. Wyatt was jealous over Miss Cynthia, and all that. But it was silly nonsense. Like two cockerels discovering the new hen. I’ve seen it happen before and since.”
“Did Russell blame Fowler for his mother’s death?”
She stared at him. “What did Mr. Justin have to do with that?”
“I must depend on you to tell me.”
Shaking her head, she said, “I never heard any such thing.”
“Then what happened to Mrs. Russell?”
“You asked me that before, when you showed me the locket. The good Lord knows. I don’t. Samuel said once there must be a murderer in that house, but that’s nonsense. I don’t believe it for a minute. Who could do a thing like that?”
“Yet she disappeared.”
“I know. It troubled all of us. The Major most especially, as you’d expect. I never knew a suicide before that. But it was the most likely thing.”
She glanced over her shoulder, and Rutledge knew she was anxious that her husband not see her speaking to the man from Scotland Yard. Then, looking back at him, she said, “I thought you came here about Ben Willet’s death. Not about the Major. Unless you’re looking to take him back to hospital.”
“I’m more concerned about his welfare than returning him to hospital.”
“Then you should know he wasn’t there when I went to the church this morning early. I didn’t know what to make of it, unless he decided that he’d be better off going back. He hadn’t said anything last evening about leaving. He just said he’d give much for hot water and a razor. I asked if he wished me to buy a razor for him, and he said, best not.”
He thanked her and left, intending to go directly to the Rectory now. Instead as he came through Furnham, he was hailed by a furious Sandy Barber, standing outside the door to The Rowing Boat. He looked haggard and out of patience.
Reluctant to take the time to soothe Barber’s ruffled feathers, Rutledge weighed putting him off, then decided against it. Until now they had maintained a workable truce, and that had to be considered. He pulled up in front of the inn and got out. Barber said almost as soon as he was in hearing, “Why the hell did you take my wife to see her brother’s body?”
