Looking up, he saw the house where Meredith Channing had lived, slowing as memories came back to him.
Would she have lived, if she had decided not to go to Belgium to help the wreckage of her husband find some peace? But then it wouldn’t have been Meredith, would it, to turn her back on the man she had married?
“She turned her back on you,” Hamish said.
“She turned her back on happiness,” Rutledge told him, driving on.
But would it have been happiness, if she’d remained in England? Would she have blamed him, in the end, when her husband died, alone and in pain?
Rutledge pushed those thoughts aside. He’d learned not to dwell on what might have been. Jean had taught him a hard lesson there.
He felt the stares as he walked into the Yard and down the passage to the Chief Superintendent’s door.
Knocking, he waited for the grunted “Come.”
Markham was in a foul mood. He would have to be very careful.
He opened the door and stepped inside.
Markham looked up, his frown turning to a scowl as he snapped, “Where the hell have you been?” Before Rutledge could frame an answer, he added, “Your case is closed. Where’s your report? Or am I expected to take Constable Henderson’s in place of it?”
“There have been loose ends,” Rutledge said, choosing his words. “As a result, I’m afraid Constable Henderson’s is premature.”
“It appeared to be sound enough to me.”
“’Ware!” Hamish said softly in warning.
Rutledge didn’t need it. Keeping his tone of voice level and unchallenging, he said, “As far as it goes, yes.”
Markham searched among the files on his desk, found what he was after, and said, “He and Constable Benning of Stokesbury conferred. This Corporal Raleigh—a Devon name, I’m told—is not only the man who broke into a house in Stokesbury, he encountered a woman between Stokesbury and Avebury, killed her, took her purse. He was later found in the Long Barrow—whatever that is, when it’s at home—where he died of gin and exposure. Appears to be sound enough to me. What’s more, Chief Inspector Leslie identified the gin bottle as one from his house.”
“And when was Chief Inspector Leslie in Avebury?”
“He stopped in Stokesbury on his way back to London from Yorkshire, to see if there was any news. Constable Benning described the gin bottle. He has been to Avebury to view the body of Corporal Raleigh.”
“It wasn’t on the original list of missing items,” Rutledge said. “And I’ve identified the dead man. His name is Radleigh, not Raleigh, and he lived with his mother and his sister outside Manchester.” Then before Markham could object, he added, “I have seen his photograph. There’s no doubt of the identification. He had come to London to look for work, found none. He was most likely on his way back to Manchester.”
“Yes, I see. Henderson did say that the name in his pocket was hard to make out.”
“What’s more, Corporal Radleigh was not a man who drank. His family is Chapel, and his mother is in the temperance movement.”
“That’s enough to make a man take to drink,” Markham retorted sourly.
“Dr. Mason believes he was forced to drink the gin. There was a wound at his temple.”
“According to Constable Henderson, the man’s face was already half missing. Hard to be certain of that.”
“I trust the doctor’s judgment.”
“He’s quite elderly, as I understand it,” Markham said, stubbornly holding to his position. “And the dead man had Mrs. Leslie’s earrings in his pocket. How did you explain that?”
“They were put there by the dead woman’s killer. On purpose, so that suspicion would fall on the Corporal, when he was found. There must have been far more valuable possessions in that house. Why hadn’t they been taken? I don’t believe someone did break in. Despite the broken latch. I’m of the opinion it was a false alarm.”
Markham smiled grimly. “That’s all very well, Rutledge. Where’s the proof?”
“Constable Henderson is a good man. But he neglected to backtrack Radleigh. I’ve just set that in motion. The Chief Constable has asked for reports of any sightings, with dates and locations. It’s very likely that the Corporal was nowhere near Stokesbury when the break-in occurred. Or the murder of the woman in Avebury.”
A gamble. He couldn’t be sure of that. But Radleigh wouldn’t have been killed if he’d been the culprit in either crime. He’d have been hauled before Benning and charged.
Markham considered him. “You’re thinking that this is one of Dr. Allen’s other victims. Is that it? It could make sense.”
Rutledge shook his head. “Allen couldn’t have killed the dead Corporal. He was in custody—”
Markham interrupted. “Do you or do you not know who killed the victim in Avebury?”
“I do. I’d like to finish what I started, and make an arrest as soon as possible.”
Closing the file in front of him, Markham said, “See that you do that.”
“Thank you, sir.” He got out of the office and down the passage, finally breathing a sigh of relief.
There was Corporal Radleigh’s body to deal with. He’d promised the family their brother and son would come home. He didn’t think it would help them through the days ahead, but he intended to keep that promise.
He found an undertaker in Marlborough, gave them his instructions, and asked that the body be removed within two days. A Mr. Beech promised to see that all was carried out as he’d wish, and Rutledge left for Avebury.
Arriving in time for a sherry before dinner, he found that Dr. Mason wasn’t at home. There had been an emergency in West Kennet, and he had been called away.
Rutledge drove on to the inn, went up to his usual room, and stowed his valise in the wardrobe before going down to his meal.
He was halfway through the parsnip soup when the doctor came through the door and crossed the room to Rutledge’s table by the window.
“I saw your motorcar,” Mason said, removing his coat and draping it over the nearest empty chair. “Mind if I join you?” he added, taking the other place at Rutledge’s table. “I’m more than a little surprised to find you here. According to Constable Henderson, your inquiry is finished.”
“So he’s informed the Yard,” Rutledge answered him. “Why the rush?”
Mason frowned. “Constable Benning came to see if the dead man was the same ex-soldier wanted for housebreaking in Stokesbury. They conferred—the two Constables—and they were of the opinion that the Corporal was the man Benning was looking for. It wasn’t a giant leap to conclude that he must have met the dead woman on the road that same night and killed her for what was in her purse.”
The woman who usually served them came to collect Rutledge’s empty soup plate, and when she had gone away again, he said, “If that were true, why did Radleigh come back here? When he was well away, and no one could identify him?”
“It was Henderson’s view that he was making his way back toward London, not having found any work to speak of west of here.” The woman came back with a menu for the doctor, but he shook his head, ordering the mutton stew instead. When she was out of hearing, he went on. “He was careful not to show himself, traveling at night, and sleeping where he could. He must have remembered the Long Barrow from before, and he believed he’d be safe there. He may even have hidden there while the manhunt was going on. There are people who won’t even go into the forecourt. They claim the barrow is haunted.”