Legacy of the Dead by Charles Todd Read Free Book Online Page A

the time she had reached the small room where the telephone had been put in, she had made her decision.

5

    RUTLEDGE TURNED OUT OF THE DRIVE BACK ONTO THE main road.
    Hamish, reacting to the lessening of tension, spoke after a long silence. “It wasna’ a verra useful interview. But sufficient. A formidable woman, that. I wouldna’ care to grow up in her shadow.”
    Was that how Eleanor Gray had felt about her mother?
    “My own grandfather was her match,” Hamish was saying, “he could have led the clan into battle, anither time and place. But he had anither side as well, he could recite in a voice that kept the room silent. Verse, and the Old Testament. When it came to the Prophets or Robert Burns, there was none to hold a candle to him. I ken many a night when I lay awake in the loft, listening. Does this one have anither face?”
    Thinking it over, Rutledge came to the conclusion that Lady Maude did. If she had been mistress to Queen Victoria’s son, her husband had been willingly, knowingly, cuckolded. Unlike Henry VIII, Edward had chosen his married lovers with great care, to prevent gossip or scandal. And his friends had known which woman to invite to which social engagement. Or had been quietly informed of royal wishes. Still, it must not have been easy for Edward’s wife, Alexandra, or the current favorite herself to live with such an open secret. Or for the favorite to return to her marriage when the Prince’s fancy moved elsewhere.
    The problem was, a child seldom recognized a parent’s strength; it saw only stern discipline that couldn’t be easily manipulated by childish whims or caprice. Rebellion was natural—and sometimes dangerous.
    Wherever Eleanor Gray might have gone, if she was determined to punish her mother for whatever it was she felt she’d lost or lacked in that grand and cold house, it became a police matter only if she died.
    Rutledge found himself hoping that she had not, though Hamish was of two minds about it.
    Retracing his route to the town where he had spent the previous night and left his luggage, Rutledge considered his choices. If he made the journey directly back to London today, it would be late when he arrived, far too late to report to Bowles. And this was a Friday. It might be best to find a telephone and make his report orally so that it could be passed along. Inspector Oliver would also be waiting to learn what had transpired.
    There was a telephone in the hotel and Rutledge put in his call to London.
    Bowles was not in his office, and the sergeant answering the line said, “Rutledge, is it? A moment, sir, I think there’s a message that I’m to give you. Ah! Here it is. You’re not to return to London, sir.”
    “Not to return?” Rutledge asked blankly. Hadn’t he finished his business here?
    “No, sir. The message reads ‘Tell Rutledge to stay where he is. He’s to call me at nine o’clock on Monday morning.’ That’s all, sir. The Chief Superintendent didn’t explain.”
    Even for Bowles it was an odd message. But Hamish was quick to remind Rutledge that the man was vindictive and often intentionally bloody-minded. Rutledge asked the sergeant to repeat the message to be sure he’d been given the whole of it, and then said, “Meanwhile, will you put some men to finding out if an Eleanor Gray is enrolled in any of the teaching hospitals? It’s likely she’s chosen one in London, but be as thorough as possible, will you? I’m told she had a strong interest in becoming a doctor, but if she’s studying anywhere, it’s important that we find her.”
    The sergeant laboriously wrote down the particulars and promised to get someone on it right away. Rutledge had a feeling he’d just spoiled the weekend for several unfortunate constables who were on the sergeant’s blacklist for some minor infraction or another. But they’d be more likely to pursue their inquiries with diligence, if only to see their names removed from it.
    Rutledge thanked him and hung