Todd, Charles - Ian Rutledge 21 - The Black Ascot by Todd Charles

Author:Todd, Charles [Todd, Charles]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2019-02-05T00:00:00+00:00

When he got to the village where Belmont Hall stood, it was pouring rain, and the roads were awash with puddles, concealing the worst of the ruts. In no good mood, he stopped for a few minutes in front of the churchyard gate. It was late for a call, and far too wet to investigate the folly on his own, although he was sorely tempted, in case he might catch Barrington there, unsuspecting.

Hamish said, “He’s no’ there. She must ha’ warned him off, after you came to the house.”

Rutledge answered, “Or she might have believed that it was now the safest place for him to hide. That I wouldn’t be back. Her mistake was taking me there in the first place. I wasn’t aware of the house, I wouldn’t have connected it with Barrington.”

“Ye were asking questions about Mark Thorne.”

“Still. She took quite a risk.”

There was nothing for it but to spend the night somewhere and come again in the morning. He was tempted to drive on to Melinda Crawford’s house, knowing that however late it was, she would welcome him.

Instead he drove on to the next village, took a damp and dreary room above a pub, and slept restlessly, listening to the busy mice in the walls where the pub’s marmalade cat couldn’t reach them.

Breakfast was on a par with the accommodations, the eggs overdone and the toast cold. But the rain had stopped sometime before dawn and a watery sun was coming up as he set out once more for Belmont Hall.

The walls were streaked with rain, and a puddle the size of his motorcar blocked his way in to the house itself. Splashing through it, he thought about the father and daughter living in such a decaying pile. Had Barrington paid well for his safety there? Or had there been a connection that hadn’t come to light in the earlier reviews—and had only come to light now because of that sketch of the tree house?

Avoiding the worst of the rivulets running downhill from the doorway, he lifted the knocker and let it fall. There had been a bell pull here, the black iron ring still connected on the side, but very likely it was disconnected wherever it had rung inside.

He was examining it, wondering if he should use it after all, when the door opened.

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