Hunting Shadows: An Inspector Ian Rutledge Mystery (8 page)

It was an interesting comment.

And interesting too that the groom hadn’t taken charge in Lowell’s place. If only to impress his future father-in-law.

Fallowfield said into the silence that followed, “Is there nothing you can tell me about who did this murder?”

Rutledge gave him the usual answer: “I’ve only just arrived. It’s too early to know where the inquiry will take us.”

“But Inspector Warren has had nearly a fortnight.”

“He hasn’t been idle, I assure you.” Rutledge rose. “You’ve been very helpful, Mr. Fallowfield. And I appreciate your assistance. It can’t have been easy to relive that afternoon.”

“God, I can hardly put it out of my mind. I try for Barbara’s sake.” Fallowfield saw him to the door and closed it after him, Rutledge thought, with sheer relief.

But there was nothing here to be going on with. In some respects it had been a wasted hour. Fallowfield had been absorbed in the wedding, and rightly so. Rutledge doubted, in all fairness, that the man would have noticed much of anything until his vows had been said and he could walk up the aisle with his bride.

He went next to call on the Sedleys, hoping for more useful information.

They lived one street over from the bride’s family, and both came into the drawing room to speak to him. They were a handsome couple. Sedley had an air of the successful man about him, and he looked the part: of good height, distinguished, with the first threads of gray showing in his dark hair. His wife was still an attractive woman, and the dark green scarf she wore in the neckline of her paler green dress was just the color of her eyes.

Rutledge asked more or less the same questions as he had before, and got much the same answers. Neither of them had seen anything except Hutchinson crumpling at their feet. And neither of them could suggest any reason why the Captain should have been a target.

In fact, Sedley’s view was that his death was related to something in London. “I can’t quite believe that someone followed him all the way to Ely to kill him. I mean to say, whoever it was took a dreadful risk. Still, there you are. The other possibility is that someone in the town had it in for the Captain, but he mentioned at some point that he’d never been to Ely before.”

Mrs. Sedley added, “We ran him by the Cathedral after we met him at the railway station. He was interested to see it.”

Both Mr. and Mrs. Sedley answered freely, with as far as he could tell nothing to hide. The shock of death arriving so close to them still had not quite worn off, and they appeared to be glad to help in any way they could.

“What can you tell me about Major Lowell?”

“Surely, you can’t believe—” Sedley began in some consternation.

Rutledge smiled. “Not at all. He offered his assistance to the police, and Inspector Warren was grateful. I wondered what his background might be.”

“Artillery, of course. Career officer. I didn’t have much opportunity to speak to him, but he was quiet, competent, a good man in an emergency. You must remember that Eugenia and I were there with the Captain. Within touching distance when he was shot. Fallowfield and the best man were just behind us and as stunned as we were. Lowell had been standing by the entrance to the Galilee Porch, and so he was not immediately involved in what happened to Hutchinson. He ran to help me, saw that it was hopeless, and then he got the groom out of there as quickly as possible. There hadn’t been other shots, but of course who knew? We were all targets in that moment, and I was worried for my wife. I couldn’t leave the Captain, not lying there dead, and Eugenia refused to leave me. Lowell simply dealt with everything quietly and efficiently.”

“No one challenged his right to take charge?”

“One of the other guests, Colonel Rollins, spoke briefly to him, and then left him to it. I did see that exchange. When it was perfectly clear that there was no further danger, people were converging on the Cathedral. The Colonel got all the wedding guests back inside and shut the doors to the nave. I didn’t know where the bride and her father were taken, but I learned later that the chauffeur had had the presence of mind to drive on as fast as he could until they were certain it was clear. Very sensible of him.”

Eugenia Sedley added, “It didn’t take the police very long to arrive, but not in sufficient numbers in the beginning to make a dent in the confusion. It was fortunate that Major Lowell was there.”

Rutledge had been watching her. From the start she had answered without apparent reservations. And yet there was a niggling feeling that she was holding something back. He wasn’t sure what was behind that feeling, except for the fact that Hamish had noticed it too. Eugenia Sedley was too well-bred to speak ill of the dead. Was that it?

Rutledge acknowledged her comment and then, keeping his voice pleasant, more inquisitive than pressing, he said to her, “Often a hostess notices more about a houseguest than anyone else. I wonder if you saw anything that would be useful?”

Mrs. Sedley glanced at her husband, then answered Rutledge. “As a houseguest, he was charming and agreeable and no trouble at all. The servants were shocked that he’d been killed.” Hesitating for only a moment, she added, “But Barbara’s family has a long history, and over the centuries there have been quite a few distinguished members. Among the wedding guests was the Bishop, of course, and Colonel Rollins, and then someone from the Foreign Office, a man named Tuttle. I began to think that Captain Hutchinson was—seeking to make powerful new friends.”

Her husband said impatiently, “We should not speak ill of a man who died while he was a guest in this house. I can’t think your remarks have any bearing on what happened.”

She sighed impatiently. “No, of course not, I can’t imagine that they would have done. But, my dear, it’s precisely
because
he’s dead I must tell Inspector Rutledge what I think. He must be the judge of whether it’s helpful or not. We want the Captain’s murderer found, don’t we? It will do no good to pretend he was perfect.”

“Did anyone seem to take offense at his attempt to impress the more important guests?”

“I don’t know that anyone realized precisely what was happening. It was a very busy few days. And he was quite good at it, you see. But as I was his hostess, I was sometimes anxious that he might be becoming a little obvious, ingratiating himself. Just happening to find himself next to the Bishop or the Colonel or Barbara’s rather influential father a trifle more frequently than was usual in a guest who was not of the immediate wedding party. I must say, he was interesting. They seemed to enjoy his company, but I witnessed the maneuvers that made it possible for him to stand or sit next to one of them. And I wondered if someone else might have noticed. Barbara’s mother, for one. She doesn’t suffer fools lightly. And she wouldn’t care to be used in that way.”

Sedley said, “That’s a little harsh.”

“Yes, I suppose it is,” his wife responded. “But if the Captain was behaving like this in Ely, perhaps he had behaved in the same way in London.”

“I appreciate your honesty,” Rutledge cut in, before Sedley could say more. “It’s something to bear in mind. Jealousy is a powerful emotion.” He hesitated, then added, “I know it will be very painful, but could you tell me what happened as you walked across the grass toward the Cathedral?”

She turned slightly to look toward the drawing room window, and at first he didn’t think she intended to answer him. Then she said, bringing the moment back in her mind, “I had just turned to Captain Hutchinson—I can’t even tell you what I was about to say. Something trivial, it’s completely gone from my mind now—when his face changed. I’ve never seen anything like it. Shock? I don’t think it was pain. Just—surprise that something was happening to him. And suddenly noise was everywhere, and the front of the Captain’s white shirt was turning red. All this before he began to fall. As if time had stopped, somehow. To my surprise, I was screaming for help, and my husband was on his knees, trying to stem the flow of blood. But there wasn’t much of it after all.” She shuddered, and her husband put his hand over hers.

“That’s enough,” he said. “You’ve upset her enough, Rutledge. We’ve told you we saw nothing. How could we, we didn’t even know where to look.”

But Rutledge had got what he came for—a first insight into the dead man. And from that he would have to build a case.

There was time for two other interviews in what was left of the afternoon. First was a young man who had been behind the barricades. One of the several dozen people who had collected to watch the spectacle of a fashionable wedding.

The reason this witness had been of interest to Inspector Warren was because he was deaf. He hadn’t heard the shot, he hadn’t been distracted by the screams.

His name was Teddy Mathews. He had come to the barricade wondering why people were gathered there, to see what had drawn them—what was happening.

Rutledge found him at the house where he lived with his sister. It wasn’t far from the Cathedral, and it was Mathews’s custom to walk there on the grounds every day for exercise.

When Rutledge arrived, it was the sister, Sadie, who admitted him. He asked to speak to her brother and added, “I’m not sure how to manage the interview.”

“I’ll translate for you, of course. And he can read lips as well.” She led him through to a sitting room where Mathews was reading by the window, and made the introductions as her brother rose to greet their visitor.

He was slim, with dark hair and very bright blue eyes, and his handshake was firm.

As they were seated again, Rutledge explained why he was there, and the young man nodded.

“I’ll help in any way I can,” he replied as his sister translated his signs. “But first I must ask. Do you know who it was who did this thing? I’ve found it hard to sleep, thinking about it.”

“We’re hoping to make an arrest soon,” Rutledge answered. “Anything you tell us will be useful.”

“Yes, I can see that being deaf might have its uses here.” He smiled, but his sister couldn’t quite bring herself to answer it with one of her own.

“I saw people at a barrier, and wondered what was happening. There was obviously going to be a wedding, judging from the guests who were arriving on the other side of the Green, and I stood there for a moment or two, enjoying watching like everyone else. I had no idea who the bride or groom was, mind you. It was just a way to pass the time. There was a lull in arrivals, and I was about to turn away when another motorcar pulled up and three people got out. A very beautifully dressed woman and two men. I was staring at her when two other men arrived just behind them and started toward the Cathedral as well. I couldn’t ask anyone, but I rather thought one of the two men with the woman must be the bridegroom. The tall one, perhaps thirty or so, fairly handsome. It was something in the way he carried himself. As if he knew his worth. I was looking directly at him when he was hit.” He broke off, then went on more slowly. “I didn’t know what was wrong. He just stopped short for the briefest moment, and then fell backward. I wondered for an instant if his heart had given out.”

“You couldn’t hear the shot at all.”

“No, not at all. I’m totally deaf. But I could very quickly see from the faces around me that something was badly wrong.”

“What happened then?”

“I turned to the man beside me, asking for an explanation. But he was very upset, and I couldn’t read his lips.”

“You were turned to face the Lady Chapel at that moment?”

“I was.”

“Did you see anyone near the wall or the gate into the Cathedral grounds?”

“I don’t think so. I was struggling to understand what the man was saying, why people were jostling us now, pushing to get away as fast as they could. I couldn’t tell why they were so frightened. Still, if something had been going on in that direction, something unusual, I think I’d have noticed. Inspector Warren has already asked me the same question, and I keep trying to remember anything that might help.”

“Have you remembered anything?”

He shook his head, unhappy. “Sorry. No.”

“Go on.”

“When I turned back, I realized that the man was hurt, was even possibly dead, and people were rushing out of the Cathedral just as the bride’s motorcar was turning into the street and starting in our direction. An Army officer and another man were bending over the fallen man, and then the officer stood up and began to look at the buildings on either side and then up at the Cathedral, as if searching for something. I realized then that nothing more could be done for the man on the ground. It was shocking. I couldn’t begin to imagine what the bride must think, seeing all this turmoil. I left shortly afterward, because it was distressing not to know what was going on. It wasn’t until later, when the police came to our door, that I realized the man had been shot and that I’d been mistaken in thinking he was the groom.”

“How did the police know to find you?”

“I believe someone there at the barrier recognized me. I hadn’t stayed long enough to see the police arrive. They wanted to know why I’d left, but my sister explained about my deafness. I think they understood.”

Mathews was, Rutledge saw, a very good witness, clear about what he’d seen, even though he’d only partially understood it at the time. It explained why Warren had suggested that Rutledge speak to him.

“When you left, how did you make your way home?”

“I turned away from the barricade, walked straight to the next street, and made my way home from there. On foot.”

“Did you see anyone or anything unexpected as you turned away from the Cathedral? Workmen with their tools, a priest carrying anything unusual, a person with a large bundle or package?”

Mathews watched his sister’s busy hands, then nodded. “By that time, other people were hurrying toward the Cathedral. There was a sweep, I remember, his tools over his shoulder, and a priest, and then there was the man with a barrow. He’d been going in my direction, but he turned and hurried back toward the Cathedral, leaving his barrow standing in the road. A number of people stopped me to ask questions. I couldn’t tell them what I’d seen. By the time I reached my house, I was shaken, I admit it. I wouldn’t go out at all the next day. I don’t like to feel—different. But this brought it home to me very clearly that I was.”