A Cold Treachery ir-7

by Charles Todd

  It seemed to echo around the room.

  G reeley was thunderstruck. “You can't believe Paul Elcott killed his brother! I know you've considered him from the start, on the spiteful word of Miss Ashton, but I never dreamt it would come to this!”

  “No? Then perhaps you've got a better solution to these murders?”

  “Miss Ashton. I've never been completely satisfied why she was on the road to Urskdale in such a storm. For my money, she was on her way back to Carlisle when you found her in a ditch! But you refuse to consider that.”

  “I haven't refused. I've slowly come to the conclusion that she's been lying from the start.” For according to the farmer Jim Follet, Janet Ashton had been crying inconsolably even before she'd been told that her sister was dead. But had she reached the Elcott house? If she hadn't, what was it that frightened her away? Aloud he said only, “But we can't prove that at the moment.”

  “Speaking of proof, where's Theo's revolver? If that's what Paul was supposed to have used.”

  “Truthfully? I don't know. Out in the snow somewhere. Flung there by the killer or dropped there by the child. Or still hidden in the barn to keep it out of the hands of an inquisitive boy. Elcott may well have taken it off to war with him, for all we know.”

  “Well, then, you have precious little reason to take Paul Elcott into custody.” Greeley got up from his desk and began to pace the small office, studying the thin, tired face of the man seated in his extra chair. “I tell you, I don't understand you. It's all very well to come here from London and give assistance. I grant you, I needed your help to see beyond this crime. But to judge a man on so little evidence-it smacks of desperation! Is there something you've been keeping from me?”

  “Just do as I ask, if you will.”

  Greeley's mouth tightened. “Then you're grasping at straws.”

  “It's true. But if I don't have better answers for you in twenty-four hours, you have my permission to release Elcott.”

  And with that Greeley had to be satisfied.

  News swept through Urskdale with the speed of wildfire. Belfors was one of the first to storm into the police station and engage in a shouting match with Greeley.

  Janet Ashton, on the other hand, was irritatingly quiet when Rutledge told her the news. He had expected her to be smug.

  “I'm glad it's over with,” was all she said. “Grace and the children can rest in peace.”

  “And Gerald?”

  “Gerald.” She said the name with sadness. “I did love him, you know. I never understood why he couldn't have loved me as well. It broke my heart. And I was very foolish to think I could change his mind.”

  He said, “It could be that you were too strong for him. Grace was vulnerable. He may have found that attractive. Many men do.”

  “Yes. I've watched you fall under the spell of Elizabeth Fraser. She's stronger than you think. The difference is, she knows how to conceal it.” It was a bitter admission.

  He tried to disregard her accusation. “What was your first thought, when you saw they were all dead? That Paul had killed them?”

  Stunned, she stared at him. “When I saw- What are you saying! ”

  “I think you knew what had happened. Before Jarvis told you.”

  “Be damned to you!” She got up swiftly and swept from the room, slamming the door behind her.

  P aul Elcott's rooms were an indication of his condition. A man on the brink of failure, with nothing to show for years of hard work while his brother was in the war, nothing to show for his attempt to strike out on his own.

  Rutledge went through his possessions with distaste. How envious had Elcott been of his brother? he wondered as he searched.

  Hamish said, “It's in the nature of a child to be envious.”

  Had Henry Elcott, the father of the two boys, always found Paul lacking, and had his mother always made excuses for him, protecting him? The incident with Theo Elcott's revolver, when a young and rebellious Paul had tried to sell it, was a reflection of the knotted relationships. And the fact that Paul hid on the fellside when he was unhappy at home told its own story.

  He should have been sympathetic to Josh, another lonely boy…

  Thorough as he was, Rutledge could find no boots without heels. They might already have gone to the rubbish heap. There was no hidden revolver, although Rutledge searched the bar and the saloon and the kitchen as well as the rooms upstairs. Only a coat with a missing button-but there was only Janet's word that she'd found the button in the hut above High Fell Farm.

  Above the hearth on a corner of the mantel was a pretty vase, out of place in such dreary lodgings. The sort of thing a woman might buy, for the sake of the roses that clambered up to the neck. Pink roses like those in the kitchen and on Grace Elcott's frivolous hat.

  Rutledge had seen it there before, but hadn't given it more than a passing thought. It was something Grace might have given Elcott. Or that he might have planned to give her.

  He looked at it, and then lifted it down from its place of honor. Something inside rattled.

  With Hamish already alive in his mind, Rutledge turned the vase upside down and spilled the contents out into his hand.

  A black button rolled into the palm of his hand. A black button, like the one that Janet Ashton had claimed she'd found in the ruined hut. But there was no sign of the broken cuff link that had once belonged to Josh Robinson.

  R utledge went to the cell where Elcott sat morosely staring at the floor. Unshaven, wearing the same clothes he'd had on climbing the fell in the night, he looked both pitiable and exasperating. A man without spirit who seemed to prefer to wallow in his defeat than strive to overcome it.

  The gray walls, the cot to one side, and the slop jar in one corner seemed to reflect the stale, colorless atmosphere of prison.

  Holding out the vase with the clambering roses, Rutledge asked, “Can you tell me where this came from?”

  Paul glanced at it and resumed his study of the floor. “Grace gave it me. She thought it would brighten my rooms. She liked roses. Flowers of any kind.”

  Tilting it, Rutledge let the black button slide into his palm. “Is this from your coat? It's missing a button.”

  “I wondered where that had got to.” He frowned, sticking out a finger to touch the button almost as if to see whether or not it had reality. “That button was loose at the funeral. I was going to sew it back on and never got around to doing so. What was it doing in the vase?”

  “And this?” Reaching into his pocket, Rutledge held out the cuff link. It was the second of the pair, retained for interrogation purposes.

  “That belongs to Josh. A birthday gift from his father.”

  “Gerald?”

  “No, Hugh, of course. It's broken.” Elcott turned it in his fingers. “A pity. It's gold. Grace would have been angry if she knew Josh had been so careless.”

  “Did you find it up there in the hut?”

  “I never found it anywhere. It was too dark, and then you came at me before I could light my lantern. Are you now reduced to manufacturing evidence against me?”

  It was hard to tell if he was lying or telling the truth. Rutledge let it go. “I've a feeling Janet Ashton reached High Fell the night it snowed. And something made her turn around and go back the way she'd come. Do you know what it was?”

  “Ask her! I've told you until I'm tired of telling. I never killed them!” But there was undeniable wariness in his voice.

  “If you know anything about her movements, then you'd be better off answering my question.”

  Elcott sat there, stony-faced and silent.

  “Did she reach Urskdale at the beginning of the storm? Did you see her or her carriage?”

  “Ask her!”

  Hamish said, “It may be he doesna' want to gie away too much!”

  Rutledge left, taking the vase with him and setting it on Greeley's desk, with its contents. But he kept the cuff link in his pocket.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

&nb
sp; H e cornered Janet Ashton in the kitchen. She looked up in alarm when he strode in, closed the door at his back, and leaned against it.

  “Enjoyed your walks, have you?” Rutledge asked. The tone of his voice was pleasant enough, but his eyes were hard.

  She opened her mouth to say something, and then shut it firmly.

  “They've been very useful,” he went on. “Everyone was sympathetic. You were injured, grieving, the waiting was too much for you, and so you did what you could to keep your spirits up. Elizabeth even saw you at the churchyard. Paying your respects to the dead.”

  “They are my dead!” she told him flatly.

  “And the churchyard is close enough to The Ram's Head that you could see when Paul Elcott left for the farm. It was easy enough to put the broken cuff link in the vase on the mantel. He seldom locks his doors.”

  “I don't know what you're talking about,” she retorted. “You're saying, I think, that I've tried to make Paul Elcott look guilty. It's true. But I took back the button I'd twisted off his coat after the funeral. It was hanging on the coatrack in the hall while everyone was in the dining room. I thought I could use the button. Afterward I felt ashamed of myself. Grief does strange things sometimes. And I was so angry that you'd done nothing.”

  “And the cuff link?” He took it out and showed it to her, as if he'd found that in the rose-twined vase as well.

  “No, you can't blame that on me as well!” she snapped indignantly.

  “Where did you run into Paul Elcott, the night you arrived at High Fell in the early hours of the storm?”

  The switch in subjects caught her off balance. “I never saw him!”

  “But you did, that's why you're so certain he's guilty. You saw him leave the farm-you'd heard him arguing with Gerald. There in the barn? Or in the yard? Where you could see them and not be seen by them. But you heard something, didn't you? Loud voices, words both of them must have wished later that they could take back?”

  It was a shot in the dark, but she was staring at him as if he'd just produced a crystal ball. A small change in the line of her jaw, a sudden tension around the eyes, told him he was on the right track.

  “Paul saw you. Or the tracks of your carriage. You might as well tell me the truth. It might go a long way towards proving he was there, and angry enough to kill. A witness, since we don't have Josh to tell us what happened afterward.”

  The temptation was there, he could feel it. But she was wary, thinking through what could condemn her and what would surely put the noose around Paul Elcott's neck.

  “He will use it to convince his lawyers that you should be in the dock in his place. And in turn, they'll use what he knows to cast doubt on his guilt. A reasonable doubt… that's all the jury is required to feel. He'll go free, and there's no possibility of trying him a second time.”

  He had to admire her for having the courage to stand there and resist him. He remembered how little she'd cried out as he'd pulled her from the overturned carriage. In spite of the pain…

  “On the other hand,” he carried on, “there're a good many pieces of evidence against you.” He began to tick them off the fingers of his left hand. “James Follet will testify that you possessed a revolver. The police at the barrier in Keswick can testify that you never passed them-going in either direction. When I asked if you wanted us to contact any family you might have in the vicinity, to let them know you were safe, you told me you had none. If you hadn't killed your sister, how could you know she was dead? Fourth-the button you took-” But she stopped him before he could finish.

  “ I didn't know! I came here to talk to Grace. Not to kill her! I wanted her to go back to Hugh, now that the twins were born and she'd finished her duty to Gerald. My leave was nearly up. I had to make a decision. Either stay in Carlisle or return to London. I couldn't put it off any longer!”

  “If you were only expecting to talk to her, why bring a revolver?”

  She turned away. “I have told you.”

  “Gerald had a weapon. Grace could have used that if she'd needed it. Your story doesn't hold.”

  She said nothing.

  “Then tell me. What happened at the farm?”

  The tension in the room was so great that Hamish seemed to be there, just behind him, and yet his back was touching the door. Then, before he could stop himself, he stepped away from the door, so that he was no longer crowding the voice that was always there.

  She must have thought he had given up, and was leaving.

  “It had just begun to snow when I got there.” Her voice was muffled. “They were still alive. And you're right, Gerald was just outside the barn, and he was talking to Paul. I left the carriage in the lane and walked towards them. I could hear Gerald very clearly. I could see his face. He was absolutely furious. He was saying, ‘Get out of here. Get off my farm and never come back. I don't want to see you here again, do you understand me?' And then Paul said something I couldn't hear. But Gerald answered, ‘Blood ties be damned! That can never excuse what you've done. Be clear on this. I love my wife, I love my children. And I'll guard them if I have to. You stand in far greater danger from me than we do from you. So there's an end to it, before you do something you'll always regret!' At that stage I went hurrying back to my carriage, for fear Paul would turn to go and on his way find me there eavesdropping. And Gerald was not in any state for me to come riding up unexpectedly! I turned the carriage and drove to the church, pulling the horse around to the back where no one could see me. And I sat inside for a good hour, before venturing back to the farm.”

  She put her hand to her face. He couldn't tell if she was crying or not. But she managed to continue. “The church was dark. Quiet. Peaceful. I went back to the farm then, hoping Gerald might still be in the barn. The snow was worsening, and he'd stock to bring in. I looked, but he wasn't anywhere to be seen, and I assumed he'd gone to look for his sheep. So I went inside. Grace was nursing the twins. I don't know where Josh and Hazel were-I was just glad not to find them with her. She looked so happy, holding the babies.” Her voice broke on the last words.

  “Was she surprised to see you?”

  “Oh, yes. She hadn't expected me before Boxing Day. I asked her if there was any way that both of us could be happy. I asked if she felt anything at all for Hugh. After all, he was the father of two of her children. She must have cared once! I reminded her that in the eyes of the Church she was still married to him. And all she said was, ‘You're living in a dream, Janet. It has nothing to do with Hugh, don't you see? I told you when you wouldn't come for the wedding: I don't think I'd go back to him even for the children's sake-even if anything happened to Gerald. We fell out of love before the war, I know that now. We're strangers.' And then Gerald came in, and I asked him to his face if he could ever love me.”

  Her shoulders began to shake. “I went back to the church. The snow was heavier, and I left the carriage in the lee, where the horse was protected from the wind. I wanted to freeze to death there in the church, and have them find my body. I wanted my death to be on Gerald's soul. I wanted everyone to know he'd killed me.”

  “It was a cruel thing to do.”

  She whirled. “Not as cruel as his rejection of me! It was unbearable, and yes, at that time, I wanted him dead!”

  “And so, with your revolver, you went back…”

  “No! I was a coward. I raged and cried until I was exhausted, and then I set out for Carlisle. I got to Keswick and the horse couldn't go any farther. So I stopped in Keswick, at a small hotel I knew there. I must have come to my senses at some point. Finally, two days later, against all advice I started back to Urskdale. When the poor horse went off the road, and I couldn't move for the pain, I thought, I can't die without making amends! I must make it up with Grace somehow. And then, when I'd given up hope, you came.”

  “She's concocted a verra pretty story,” Hamish objected. “But she's lied before.”

  “We can find out if you really stayed in Keswick,” Rutledge warne
d her.

  “Then you'll learn I'm telling the truth,” she flung at him. “Why in God's name would I have come back to see them all dead? Even I can't hate that much!”

  If she'd stayed at Keswick, he told himself, it would explain why she hadn't seen the police barricades in the road… More to the point, why the police hadn't seen her.

  “And when you heard what had happened, you believed it was Paul who had killed your sister and her family.”

  “Oh, yes. If you hadn't found my revolver and taken it, I think I would have shot him myself. Don't you see? She-Grace-died not knowing I'd had a change of heart! And all that's left now is to be sure whoever killed her-them- hangs!”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  R utledge said into the sound of her weeping, “You are certain it was Paul Elcott you saw standing in front of the barn, talking to Gerald?”

  “I'd take my oath on it!” She found a handkerchief and dried her tears angrily, fighting for control. “In a court of law!”

  “Then why didn't you tell me this in the beginning? Why play games with coat buttons?”

  “Because I was there. And because you're right: Paul would just as happily see me hang, instead. Otherwise he wouldn't inherit that bloody farm, which is why he killed them in the first place! I've seen Inspector Greeley looking at me, I've read what was in his mind. I'm the outsider, I have no place here, and it won't disturb his precious valley if I'm taken off to trial. I'm expendable!”

  R utledge let her go then. It was Hamish's voice he could hear as he walked out into the yard and looked up at the fell.

  “You canna' believe both!”

  “She's willing to swear he was there. As he'll no doubt swear she was. In the end, they may well cancel out the testimony on either side.”

  “She had a revolver,” Hamish reminded him.

  It was a sticking point in the evidence against Janet Ashton- and a stumbling block in the evidence against Paul Elcott.

  And if Elcott was searching the heights, it could mean he hadn't found the boy the night of the murders. Indeed, had reason to suspect Josh hadn't died straightaway.