Charles Todd - Search the Dark

It was a tangle of jealousy and envy, with no reason behind it but a woman’s need to retaliate, to strike out at the interloper.

“Are you saying that I should arrest Mrs. Wyatt for murder? On what evidence? And the murder of whom?”

She lifted an impatient hand. “Miss Tarlton, of course. Mrs. Dixon swears she saw Mrs. Wyatt in the car driving Miss Tarlton to Singleton Magna. I’m sure she’s not the only one to notice the car, if the truth be told. And I’ve just explained to you why I believe Mrs. Wyatt could have done such a terrible thing. I don’t speak up lightly, Inspector! I came to you after considerable thought and prayer. But if a person breaks one of the commandments, it isn’t such a great step from breaking others, is it?”

“But you’ve no proof that Mrs. Wyatt has betrayed her husband?”

She smiled tightly, then drank her tea. “What proof do you need? If that woman they found just the other day is Betty Cooper, then you ought to consider that Mr. Wyatt was thinking of taking her on as a second maid. Edith is rather plain, but Betty had a way with her. Mrs. Wyatt wouldn’t have liked her about the house, flaunting herself! It was not long afterward that Betty disappeared. No one remarked it at the time, but it’s very likely she met the same fate.”

“The woman found at Stoke Minster has been dead for only three months or so. Betty Cooper left Dorset long before that.”

“Did she? She left Mrs. Darley, right enough! She may even have gone to London for a time. But in the end she came back, didn’t she? And wanted that job Mr. Wyatt had promised her. If she came to the Wyatt door on Edith’s day off, and Mrs. Wyatt answered, what do you think could have happened?”

It was an interesting theory.

“Let me get this straight,” he said. “If Mrs. Wyatt has, as you say, an eye for the men in Charlbury, why should she object if her husband took a fancy to Margaret Tarlton or Betty Cooper? I should think that would provide Mrs. Wyatt with more opportunity to indulge in her own affairs.”

“But I just told you!” Mrs. Forsby said. “She wants to hoard them all, Mr. Wyatt, my Harold, any man with eyes in his head to see her-even you. I’ve watched her with her hand on your arm, smiling up at you like Miss Innocence herself! Even a London inspector from Scotland Yard is fair game for that one!” She finished her tea, her face pink with a sense of righteous triumph. “Mrs. Wyatt got her hands on Mr. Wyatt in the war, even when he was engaged to Miss Napier. It’s not right, it’s not proper. And if she had no respect for a man already promised to someone else, then she won’t let marriage vows stop her.”

It was Hamish who put the thought into his head. That Aurore Wyatt had escaped a war-ravaged country by marrying Simon.

“Did you or anyone else see Betty Cooper after she disappeared six months ago? Did anyone see her come back to Charlbury? Hearsay won’t do, we need hard evidence. The body wasn’t found in this village, after all. It could be unrelated to Margaret Tarlton’s death. It may not have anything to do with Aurore Wyatt.”

She touched her lips with the serviette in her lap and folded it neatly before laying it beside her empty cup. “Nobody said she was a fool. And she’d have to be, to leave bodies lying about on her own doorstep! What I ask myself is, who else had any call to harm Betty Cooper? Or this Miss Tarlton. Can you tell me that? No, I didn’t think so! And where’s it ail to stop? I ask you.”

Rutledge walked with her to the door of the Wyatt Arms. Denton nodded to him as he passed, but Daniel Shaw was nowhere to be seen. Mrs. Forsby was still talking about how difficult it had been to come forward, as if she wanted his reassurance that she’d done the right thing. But the air of triumph was still there.

He thanked her and watched her walk back the way she’d come, with a neck stiff with righteousness beneath her summery hat.

But Hamish was pointing out, with some force, that Aurore had tried her charms on him, and it had worked.

“You canna’ fault a woman like yon, for wanting her own back on the foreigner who takes her husband’s eye, when she has a husband of her own.”

He was angry all the same. Defensive, for Aurore’s sake. Surely Wyatt had some inkling of the feelings that were rampant in Charlbury! Or was the man so blinded by his own pain that he couldn’t see what was happening?

“You’re no’ her champion,” Hamish reminded him. “You’re a lonely man who’s lost the one woman he thought cared for him. You see the loneliness in her, and it turns your head. But it’s no’ the same-your Jean walked away and is marrying anither man in your place. Yon woman already has a husband!”

“I’m not in love with her!”

“No,” Hamish said thoughtfully, “I’d no’ say you were. But she can pull the strings, and you dance like a puppet at the end of them! Because she’s hurting as much as you are. And like calls to like. It’s no’ love, but it Can light fires all the same in a man!”

Rutledge swore, and told Hamish he was a fool.

But he knew that Aurore cast spells. Except over her husband. Whatever he’d felt for his wife in France when he’d married her, it was quite different now. And for all he, Rutledge, knew of it, Aurore herself had changed as much as Simon had. That was the centerpiece of their marriage-change-and it might not have been all on one side.

If Aurore’s marriage was empty, she might well be frightened of other women catching Simon’s eye. If Simon neglected her, she might well be driven to having an affair, to point out to him that others wanted very badly what he chose to cast off.

Which might explain why the husbands of Charlbury were besotted and the wives were prepared to see Aurore Wyatt hang, if it took her away from there.

Rutledge was halfway to his car when he saw Hildebrand coming out of the Wyatt house. The Singleton Magna inspector saw him as well and signaled Rutledge to wait. When he reached the car, there was a nasty gleam in Hildebrand’s eyes. For a moment he studied Rutledge, and then said, “Well, you can pack your bags tonight and leave for London in the morning. I’ve got the Tarlton murder solved. Without the help of the Yard, I might add. You’ve been precious little help from the start, come to that.”

“Solved? That means an arrest, then.”

“Of course it does. Keep my ear to the ground, that’s what I do. Truit tells me what he doesn’t tell you-well, no reason why he should, is there? You were here to find the children. And they’ve been found, haven’t they?”

He was gloating, his face gleaming with it, his manner offensive but just short of insulting. He paused to let Rutledge respond.

“That’s good news,” he answered.

Hildebrand still waited and, when Rutledge had nothing more to add, went on with malicious pleasure. “I’m having a search warrant brought. We’ll find the murder weapon and that suitcase you were so fond of throwing in my face. And when we do, I’ll have my murderer. Ever seen a woman hang? Delicate necks, over swiftly.”

Rutledge felt cold, not sure whether Hildebrand was telling him the truth or trying to rouse him to anger. “Stop beating about the bush, Hildebrand!”

He held up a square hand, the back of it toward Rutledge, and began to tick off the points, bending down each finger as he went. “Witnesses saw Mrs. Wyatt driving the victim to Singleton Magna, even though she denies it. Mrs. Wyatt wasn’t happy about the Tarlton woman coming here. Jealousy, I’m told. Mrs. Wyatt could wash up after the murder at that farm of the Wyatts’, and nobody was the wiser. Handyman didn’t see her leave and didn’t hear her return. That’s where she tucked the murder weapon and probably the suitcase as well, out of sight into the hay or under one of the sheds. Who’d notice a worn spanner or an old hammer in that yard full of rusting junk?”