Charles Todd - A test of wills

Behind him he heard limping footsteps-Redfern bringing up his lunch. He straightened and turned to meet him.

Redfern carried a tray covered with a starched white napkin, a pot of coffee steaming to one side, cream and sugar beside it, the sandwiches a large and uneven mound.

Rutledge gestured to the woman in the garden. "Do you know who that is, down in the private garden? The woman with her back to us."

Redfern handed the tray to Rutledge and looked out. "That's-aye, that must be Miss Sommers. The Netherbys brought her into town for the morning services. But she's worried about her sister with a storm coming, doesn't want to stay for lunch after all. Jim-that's the stable boy-went to see if Mr. Royston or the Hendersons or even the Thorntons might take her home."

He reached for the tray again, going on into Rutledge's room to set up the table. Rutledge stayed where he was for a moment longer.

He'd have sworn it was Catherine Tarrant. The small table by the window overlooking the street was ready for him when he followed Redfern to his room. "If you don't mind, sir, you can just leave the tray in the hall when you go. I'll be back to pick it up when the dining room is closed. We're not all that busy today, but you never know; if it starts to rain, we could be full."

He was already out the door when Rutledge stopped him. "Redfern. Did the Colonel come here often to dine? Or did Captain Wilton bring Miss Wood?"

Redfern nodded. "Sometimes. But I think they went into Warwick as often as not, if they wanted a dinner. Lunch, now, that was different. If the Colonel had business in the town, he'd often stop in. Always left a generous tip. Never fussy. Mrs. Haldane, Simon's mother, was the fussiest woman alive! There was no pleasing her! The Captain's not one to demand service, but he expects you to do a proper job, and he knows when you don't. Miss Wood"-he smiled wryly- "Miss Wood is a lady, and you don't forget that, but she's a pleasure to serve, never makes you feel like a wooden post, with no feelings. Nicest smile I've ever seen. I enjoy having her come in."

"How did she and Wilton get on?"

He thought about it for a moment. "Comfortably. You could see that they were happy. Never holding hands or anything like that, not in public, but the way he held her coat or took her arm, the way she'd tease him-the closeness was there. I was sometimes-envious, I suppose. My own girl married another chap while I was in hospital and they thought I'd soon be having my foot taken off. When you're lonely, it can hurt, watching others in love." There was a wistfulness in his voice as he finished.

Hamish, in the back of Rutledge's mind, growled. "You'd know about that, then, wouldn't you? How it hurts? And all you've got to ease your loneliness is me… If there's a more dismal hell, I haven't found it."

Rutledge almost missed Redfern's next words.

"The last time I ever saw the Colonel, he'd come here for lunch."

"What? When was that?"

"The Tuesday before he died. It was another day like this one. Overcast, you could feel the storm coming. Everyone was jittery, even the Colonel. Didn't say two words to me all through his meal! Frowned something ferocious when Miss Wood came in looking for him. He left his pudding and took her into that garden where you saw Miss Sommers just now. I came up here to fetch some fresh linens for the maids, and they were still there. He had his hands on her shoulders, saying something to her, and she was shaking her head as if she didn't want to hear. Then she broke away and ran off. As I came back down the stairs, the Colonel was just walking in from the garden, looking exasperated, and he said, 'Women!' But I had the feeling there was-I don't know, an exhilaration there too, as if in the end he expected to have his way. I brought him another cup of coffee, but he was restless, and after drinking half of it, he was gone."

"You don't know what had upset Lettice Wood? Or the Colonel?"

"It mustn't have been too important," Redfern answered. "I saw her the next day, looking radiant. Walking down to the churchyard with Mr. Royston. I ought to be back in the dining room-"

Rutledge let him go with a nod of thanks.

He sat there, biting into the thick beef sandwiches, not even aware of the taste or the texture, absently drinking his coffee. There was a slice of sponge cake for dessert.

Wilton had motive, he had opportunity, and he had access to a weapon. All that was left was to clear up loose ends and then make the arrest. And to explain to Bowles on Monday morning the reasons behind the decision.

Was Tuesday the day that the Colonel had told his ward what he was planning to do? To call off the wedding?

But why? It was an excellent marriage from any point of view, as far as an outsider could tell. Wilton and Lettice were well matched in every way-socially, financially, of an age. Unless there were things about Wilton that Charles Harris knew and didn't like. Then why allow the engagement to take place seven months ago? Because he hadn't known at the time? What could he have learned in the last week that would have made him change his mind? Something from Wilton's past-or present? The only other person who could answer that question was Lettice herself. Rutledge drove out to Mallows in sunlight that poured through large cracks in the heavy black clouds, bringing heat in waves with it. Lettice agreed to see him, and he was taken up to the sitting room by Johnston. There was a little more color in her face this afternoon, and she seemed stronger. As he came into the room, she turned to him as she'd done before and said at once, "Something's happened. I can tell." "It's been a rather busy morning. Mavers was on the loose as services ended at the church. He raked most everyone there over the coals, as vicious a display of hate as I've ever seen. Royston, the Captain, Mrs. Davenant, Miss Sommers, the Inspector-even people I don't know." Lettice frowned. "Why?" "Because he'd just discovered that his pension from Charles Harris ended with the Colonel's death. And he was furious." She was genuinely surprised. "Charles paid him a pension?" "Apparently." Lettice gestured to one of the chairs and sat down herself. "It's the sort of thing Charles might do. Still-Mavers!" "And a very good reason for Mavers not to kill him." "But you said Mavers didn't know the pension would end." "That's right. He stopped Royston as he came out of the church and asked if the Will had made any provision for the pension to continue. All those months when he agitated for Harris's death, Mavers doesn't seem to have considered the fact that he might lose his own golden goose."

She sighed. "Well. You said there were witnesses who claimed Mavers was haranguing everyone on Monday morning. He wasn't in the running anyway, was he?"

"I've discovered that he could have been. With a little planning. But he isn't high on my list. Tell me, what did you and Charles Harris argue about on Tuesday at the Inn? Or rather, in the garden there?"

The swift change in subject caught her unprepared, and her eyes widened and darkened as she stared at him.

"You might as well tell me about it," he said gently. "I already know what Harris and Mark Wilton quarreled about on Sunday evening after dinner. And again on Monday morning in the lane. Harris was planning to call off the wedding. I have a witness."

Her color went from flushed to pale and back again. "How could you have a witness," she demanded huskily. "Who is this witness?"

"It doesn't matter. I know. That's what's important. Why didn't you tell me before? Why did you pretend, when Mark Wilton came to the house, and I was there to overhear, that you were calling the wedding off because you were in mourning? If Charles had already ended your engagement?"

She met his eyes, hers defiant, challenging. "You're fishing, Inspector. Let me meet this witness face-to-face! Let me hear it from him-or her!"