Charles Todd - A Bitter Truth

“At least I didn’t insist on rescuing Bluebell,” I retorted. Then I realized he didn’t know who Bluebell was. “Davis Merrit’s cat.”

He laughed in spite of himself, touching my face with his hand, then he said, serious once more, “Yes, all right. But there’s another problem. I just spoke to the Colonel. I’m needed in London straightaway. It will only be for twenty-four hours. At the most a day and a half. I can’t take you with me, Rother won’t allow it, I’m sure, and yet he’s in Wych Gate, not Hartfield. Much as I dislike saying it, you might be safer in Vixen Hill than staying here in the hotel alone. What’s more, I need the motorcar. If Rother wants to speak to you, he’ll have to come to you. I wish you had that little pistol I’d given you once before.”

“I couldn’t take it to France with me,” I reminded him.

Actually, I didn’t know whether I was pleased or not to be going to Vixen Hill. And I disliked losing Simon. Still, if my father had summoned him, even in these circumstances, it must be very important indeed.

“Yes, all right. I’ll go.”

His hand dropped to my shoulder. “Be careful, Bess. Promise me you’ll take every care.”

“I shall.”

With that he was gone, and I stood there in the parlor where I had waited once before with Lydia and listened for Simon’s footsteps as he returned with his valise and then strode out the door.

I was in my room, still undecided about whether to pack or not, when there was a knock at the door. Expecting Lydia, I opened it, saying, “I’ve decided-”

But it was one of the hotel maids. She bobbed her head, then said, “There’s someone to see you in Reception, Miss. Could you please come down?”

Which sounded very much like Inspector Rother, commanding my presence.

“Yes, all right. Thank you.”

After she had gone, I stood there in my room and counted slowly to one hundred. It wouldn’t do to appear to be anxious.

But when I came down to Reception, there was no sign of Inspector Rother, and when I asked at the desk for my visitor, the woman smiled and said, “I believe he just stepped outside.”

I went to the door and opened it. To my surprise, Roger Ellis was standing there, not Inspector Rother, and even from the back I could tell that he was not in the best of moods. His shoulders were stiff with annoyance.

“Captain?” I said.

He turned. “We can’t talk here. The parlor.”

And so I found myself back in the small parlor facing an angry man.

I thought it was my fault that he was angry. For keeping him waiting, even for making it necessary for him to drive in to Hartfield to beg me to come to Vixen Hill-or perhaps even to tell me not to darken his door.

But I was wrong on all counts.

Shutting the door behind him, Roger Ellis said, “The police, damn them, are talking to my mother again. I thought this business had been settled, that it was Merrit who’d killed George and taken his watch to prove it.”

“I’d thought the same thing-” I began.

But he cut across my words, adding, “It would explain why they sent for you. You were there with her when George was found.”

“I’m not sure why Inspector Rother wished to speak to me. But yes, he asked me to go over the same ground.”

“If Merrit is dead, the case would be wide open again.”

“I suspect you’re right,” I said. “I don’t know whether or not I should tell you this, but Dr. Tilton and his wife informed the police about the exchange between you and George on that last evening. He’ll be wanting to speak to you next.”

Roger swore under his breath. “I sent you upstairs with George and the doctor to prevent just this sort of thing.”

“I’ve told you, George wouldn’t talk to him. It was what was said in the drawing room before he went up that Dr. Tilton and his wife reported to the police. It probably didn’t seem relevant to the police when Davis Merrit was under suspicion, but now-it must loom large.”

“And that will be all over Ashdown before very long. I told my mother we shouldn’t invite George. But he knew Alan, there was really no choice in the matter.”

“You don’t think the police suspect your mother?” I asked, putting it all together. “That makes no sense whatsoever.” Unless it was an effort to make her son confess.

“No, it doesn’t. But who knows which way the wind will blow before this is finished.” He hesitated. “Did you tell Lydia about Rouen? I need to know.”

“I didn’t think it was my place.”

“Thank you. I’d just as soon she didn’t know. Are you coming with me to Vixen Hill?”

“I-didn’t know how you would feel about that.”

“As long as you don’t tell her about the child, or what I said to you that night in France, there should be no problem.”

“Very well then. I haven’t begun my packing. Give me ten minutes, if you will?”

“There’s someone I want to talk to. I’ll be back. My motorcar is just outside.”

I had finished packing and went to the window to see if Captain Ellis had returned. Instead I saw him speaking to someone outside the greengrocer’s shop. And the other man was Willy. They were in earnest conversation as far as I could tell, and just then Willy broke it off and walked away.

Captain Ellis turned back toward The King’s Head, his face like a thundercloud.

I carried my own valise down to Reception and was waiting there when Captain Ellis came striding inside, as if walking off his black mood. He saw me and without a word took my valise and went out to the motorcar. I followed, and he handed me into the seat before turning the crank.

When we had reversed and were heading in the direction of the Forest, I said, “From my window I saw you speaking to the man they call Willy. What sort of person is he?”

I thought at first he would take my head off for asking.

I added, “Once when I was passing by, he looked up, and there was an odd expression in his eyes. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was. But surely not that of a half-witted vagabond. Slyness? Calculation?”

“I’ve only spoken to him once or twice before this,” Captain Ellis said, driving far too fast for the condition of the roads after so much rain. “But I think you’re right. He’s not quite what he seems. I was asking him if he was sure that Davis Merrit had given him that watch. And he was unshakable on that subject.”

“Do you know the Lieutenant? From the war, I mean? Could he have been one of your men? Or someone you saw in a dressing station?”

“No. I’d have remembered. Merrit was wounded about the same time I was. Or so my mother has told me. But we weren’t in the same sector, apparently. He was with the Buffs, I think. The Kent regiment. So far I’ve never served with them.”

“Did Lieutenant Hughes know Merrit? Or Willy?”

“If he did, he never mentioned it. Why?”

“I’m not sure. I expect I’m looking for some connection that might explain what happened. As in an old quarrel resurfacing.”

“Ridiculous.” And then he said slowly, “Yes, I see what you mean. If there was bad blood, encountering each other again might have meant trouble. Trouble that had nothing to do with the Ellis family. I wish I knew. It might help take attention away from Vixen Hill.”

We drove on in silence then, and finally ahead of us was the turning for the house. But Roger Ellis didn’t turn. He drove straight on, and I said, “Where are we going?”

“To St. Mary’s. I want you to tell me precisely what you’ve told Rother. Will you do that?”

I was suddenly wary. “I don’t know if that’s wise.”

“What harm can it do?” he asked shortly, and a silence fell again. He broke it this time.