Ian Rutledge 13 - A Lonely Death by Charles Todd

Author:Charles Todd [Todd, Charles]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Historical, Suspense, Thriller
ISBN: 9780061726194
Goodreads: 8639187
Publisher: William Morrow
Published: 2011-01-03T23:00:00+00:00

14

Rutledge drove to his flat, packed his valise, and shut the door just as the post arrived. He paused on his doorstep to sort through the handful of letters, and found one there from Chief Inspector Cummins.

He put that into his pocket and set the rest of the post inside on the table where he habitually kept it, then turned the key in the lock and walked out to his motorcar.

Hamish had been busy in the back of his mind for some time, and he tried to ignore the voice. But it followed him out of London and most of the way to Kent.

“Ye ken,” Hamish was pointing out, “yon inspector kept his eye on the main chance from the start. He was canny enough to study where you’d been before him, to appear he finished what you werena’ there to do. And so he got full marks for your work. All because ye let yon headstrong woman draw ye into a personal challenge.”

Mickelson had indeed done just that and would receive the coveted promotion. Aside from any personal feelings toward the man, Rutledge knew all too well that he was vindictive and shallow. Chief Inspector Cummins had been neither, and he was respected for leading by example, bringing out the best in the men under him. All the same, Chief Superintendent Bowles would cover any mistakes, if for no other reason than to make certain Mickelson’s failings didn’t reflect on his own judgment.

As for Mrs. Farrell-Smith, Rutledge hadn’t challenged her so much as he’d threatened her in some fashion. What was she so afraid of? Something she didn’t want him to know? Or something that she didn’t want to become public knowledge?

He couldn’t stop dwelling on events in London, and he knew that was because he was still very angry indeed. It was a lovely summer’s day in what many called the Garden of England, the road unwinding at what felt like a hideously slow pace, even though he was making good time. He had not telephoned Melinda Crawford. He had intended to surprise her. Now he realized that he should have been more courteous. Too late now. He’d have to rely on her joy at seeing him again. When his sister had gone there for a visit recently, along with his godfather, Rutledge had had his own reasons for not joining them.

The truth was, Melinda, like Meredith Channing, saw too much. Many years and a vast difference in experience separated the two women, but in their own way, they had much in common. Both had lost their husbands at a young age and had had to make peace with that loss.

Was that why he had come here? Because Melinda reminded him of Meredith?

Nonsense, he told himself sharply. Melinda had been friends with his own parents, and he’d known her most of his life. Hers was a story that had appealed to a boy’s sense of adventure. As a child she’d survived the Great Indian Mutiny and the bloody, vicious siege of Lucknow.

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