Boys will be boys…
Where else had he heard that? Was it Constable Walker who had said it?
Rutledge stopped, turning to face her. "Did he tease anyone else? Or were you his favorite target, because you were his sister?"
"Oh, they were always teasing one another," she said. "It could be cruel, sometimes, you know. But they didn't mean it to be. It's just that children see things that adults try to pretend don't exist. Jimmy Roper's ears stuck out when he was small, and they told him he looked like a jug. And Mary, Will's sister, stuttered. They'd mimic her something fierce, which only made it worse. This was in the school yard, when the schoolmistress wasn't in hearing. Or on the way home, sometimes. Miss Tate helped her overcome her stutter, but it must have been hard to do. And there was another boy, I forget his name. But they tormented him too, when no one was about. We never told. We didn't dare, although I said to Theo more than once that it was unkind." She shaded her eyes to look up into Rutledge's face. "Boys don't always think, do they? That words can hurt?"
"And the other boys-Jimmy Roper, Will Jeffers, even Anthony Pierce-went along with tormenting other children?"
"Anthony didn't like it, but he was too afraid to speak up. He was a little younger, and not as big then as the other boys. Could we turn back now? I really shouldn't have walked this far."
They had reached the churchyard. Rutledge said as they reversed their direction, "You've been very helpful, Mrs. Winslow. If you think of anything else, will you leave word for me at the police station?"
"Yes. I will."
She walked back into her house and closed the door on the narrow world that encompassed her life now. He thought how pity, mistaken for love, could ruin lives. It was what he hadn't wanted from Jean.
Which reminded him of Meredith Channing, but he shut his mind to that memory and went to find the constable.
Walker was glad to see him. "Speaking no ill of a man unable to speak for himself," he said after greeting Rutledge and asking if he was taking over the inquiry, "but Inspector Mickelson was not pleasant to work with. I can't think why the Yard would replace you."
"Mrs. Farrell-Smith complained of my conduct. She also believes I tried to murder Inspector Mickelson."
Walker smiled. "How would she think that? You weren't in Eastfield that night."
Had Walker said as much to Hubbard? Rutledge wondered.
"She claims she saw someone in a motorcar meet Mickelson by the churchyard and then take him up. If she's right, then that someone owns a motorcar very much like mine."
"Now that's odd," Walker said, the smile vanished. "As I remember, that's what Daniel Pierce drives. Only it's dark green. I didn't know he'd come back to this part of the world."
"It's not an unusual motorcar," Rutledge pointed out. "But I rather think Mrs. Farrell-Smith is afraid it did belong to Pierce."
"I didn't think she knew him."
"How well do you remember Daniel as a child? Was he bullied by the older boys? Or was he spared because he was Pierce's son?"
"If they did bully him, it never came to my ears. I do remember a time or two when Daniel came home from school bloodied, and his father was angry with Anthony for not protecting him. Anthony told his father that Daniel had deliberately started the fight."
Daniel as the aggressor didn't make sense. Rutledge said, "Did Pierce come to you?"
"I was young and green. I talked to Daniel, but he was stubborn even then. I got nowhere. But I told his father I thought he'd learned his lesson."
"I want you to bring in two or three of the men we incarcerated. I'll talk to them, see what they can tell me."
"Now?"
"Before dark. I'll see that they reach home safely afterward."
He left Walker and went to the hotel, where he was given a room. He asked if Inspector Mickelson's room was on the same floor, and the young woman behind the desk said, "He's-he was-in number seventeen. Constable Petty and then a man named Hubbard were here, asking about it."
"I'd expected as much," he said, smiling. He took his key and went up the stairs two at a time. It didn't take him long to discover that his key also fit number seventeen, after a little jiggling. He opened the door and stepped inside.
The bedclothes were turned down, but the bed hadn't been slept in. Mickelson's clothes were hung tidily in the wardrobe, and his razor, toothbrush, and soap were on the washstand. The towels on the side rack appeared to be fresh, untouched.
Where had Mickelson gone between his evening meal and that appointment at the rectory gates?
Rutledge opened the desk drawer. There was stationery inside, and a few sheets had been used to jot down notes. Rutledge read through them.
For the most part they consisted of brief references to what he, Rutledge, had done while in Eastfield: R to Pierce, R to rectory, R to F-S, K to R, as Mickelson retraced his predecessor's steps.
In London, Chief Inspector Hubbard had mentioned that Mickelson's method had been to revisit Rutledge's progress-or lack thereof-and draw new conclusions.
Under the list he'd already scanned there was a question mark, and then the comment, Kenton says Hopkins is obsessed. Lives alone, no witnesses to his comings or goings. Motive strong enough? Talk to him again.
And a later notation: Gave his permission to search premises. Not surprising, no garrote. Denies making discs. But good with tools. Could have stamped them out after hours, when other employees had left.
On a separate sheet were listed the names of the murder victims, and below that, another of potential victims-all of them the men Rutledge had kept in gaol while he was trying to locate the ex-soldiers whose names had been imprinted on the identity discs shoved into their mouths after death.
Near the bottom of the page was a larger question mark, drawn in heavy strokes.
Doesn't feel right, Mickelson has scrawled just below it. What if I'm wrong and the killing begins again after we've all gone away?
The final line was ambiguous.
Why Hastings? Ask R.
Rutledge set the sheets back inside the drawer and closed it.
Did the second sheet represent uncertainty on Mickelson's part before or after he'd arrested Carl Hopskins? They weren't numbered.
Why Hastings? Ask R.
Standing there, looking down at the street below, Rutledge considered that R.
He found it hard to believe that Mickelson would have contacted him about Hastings. Who, then, was the R? The rector?
Opening the door a crack, he listened, but the passage was quiet, and he stepped out of the room, shutting the door again. Glancing at his watch, he could see that he just had time to call on the rector before dinner.
But the rector wasn't at home, and his housekeeper, an elderly woman with a plain face, informed Rutledge that he was with the elder Roper, the second victim's father.
"He's been feeling rather down, since Jimmy's death. Rector takes a book and goes to sit with him from time to time. Poor soul!"
"Can you tell me if Inspector Mickelson called here at the rectory two nights ago? It may have been rather late."
"He's the one they just found in Hastings," she said, and shook her head. "I don't know what the world's coming to. Has he died, then?"
"He's still unconscious. Was he here, do you know?"
"I leave after setting out Rector's dinner," she said. "Unless he's ill. I live with my sister, and we sew of an evening. So I wouldn't know who comes to call later than seven."
He thanked her and left, walking through the churchyard as the sun's heat dissipated. Looking up at the church tower, and the weather vane swinging slightly west in the light breeze, it occurred to him that the rectory housekeeper often knew more about events in a village than anyone else-sometimes including the rector himself.