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Outside the church, Hamish said sourly,  He prefers riddles to
plain speech.
 No. I think he s uncertain of his duty, and passed the problem on
to me.
 Or knows a truth he willna own up to.
It was a cogent remark.
No one answered Rutledge s knock at Number 14, the Shaw home.
He left, walking back to the motorcar, deep in thought. He had no excuse
to call on Cutter, and no right. Henry Cutter would be well within his
rights to complain to the Yard of harassment if he found a policeman on
his doorstep asking questions about an old murder, and his wife s possi-
ble role in it. But there was another source of information. . . .
Back at the Yard, Rutledge called Sergeant Bennett into his office.
Bennett had been a constable when Ben Shaw was tried, and he d
known the people on Sansom Street better perhaps than they knew
themselves. A sharp mind and a sharper memory had brought him to
the attention of the Yard and seen him promoted.
Bennett was in early middle age now, of medium height and with
nothing to set him apart from the ordinary man on the street he inter-
viewed time and again. It had been his hallmark, this ability to fit in.
a fearsome doubt 65
Rutledge had seen it at work often enough. The question was, where did
Bennett s loyalties lie at the Yard? There was no way of guessing.
Hamish warned,  Then you d best walk carefully.
Rutledge began circumspectly,  This is in confidence, Bennett. But
I ve been looking back at the Shaw case. It seems one of the missing
pieces of jewelry may have come to light.
Bennett s bushy eyebrows rose.  Indeed, sir! Curiosity was bright
in his eyes.  I d a feeling he d chucked them in the river!
Rutledge was not about to enlighten him.  I want you to think back
to the investigation before I came into the picture. Philip Nettle was
in charge of the case. Was there any suspicion that someone other than
Shaw had had access to the murdered women? Mrs. Winslow. Mrs.
Satterthwaite. Mrs. Tompkins.
 There was a charwoman who did for two of them, Bennett said
slowly, digging back into his memory.  Not likely to smother anybody,
frail as she was. No old-age pension for the likes of her she worked un-
til the day before she died. The victims went to the same church St.
Agnes, that was when they could get about on their own. We looked
at that connection closely, sir, but it went nowhere. Nor did they seem
to have more than a nodding acquaintance with each other. But as it
turned out, Shaw came to meet them through the church, after a fash-
ion. The rector asked him to make some repairs for Mrs. Winslow, and
on the heels of that, Shaw was contacted directly about the other two.
Which, as Hamish was pointing out, might explain the rector s un-
willingness to involve himself in the past. . . .
 Shaw was a member of the same church?
 He d repaired the vestry door after a storm warped it, worked on
the footing for the baptismal font when it cracked. But he wasn t local,
you know. Grew up in Kensington, and still had ties there, even
attending services there in preference to St. Agnes. Mrs. Shaw was said
to like that very well; she d not cared for the local church, seeing herself
as above it. His mouth twisted. It was apparent he had not been among
Nell Shaw s admirers.  But after his marriage, Shaw appeared to have
severed ties with his family. Or they severed theirs with him.
 Mrs. Shaw must have been a member of St. Agnes at some time. As
I recall, she d grown up two streets over from Sansom.
66 charles todd
 Had been a member as a girl, yes, sir. There s a story that was set
about, that she went into service in Kensington, and married the son of
the house. The truth was, she worked in a corset shop and took a pur-
chase round to the house one day, for his mother. The mother wasn t at
home. When Ben told his future wife that, bold as brass didn t she claim
she was feeling faint and could she come in and sit for a few minutes?
Intrigued, Rutledge asked,  How did you discover all this? It
hadn t been included in the written reports.
 It was told me by the neighbor s wife, Mrs. Cutter. I discounted it
until I spoke to a neighbor of Shaw s mother she was still living in the
same house and she confirmed the corset version. Bennett looked
pleased with himself, rocking back on his heels.  Still, that had no bear-
ing on the murders. It was an afterthought, the policeman overriding
the man.
 What was your opinion of the helpful Mrs. Cutter?
 Now, there was a deep one! Butter wouldn t melt in her mouth, but
she d just let slip a bit of the story, see, and then wait for you to pry the
rest out of her. As if she was reluctant to finish what she d begun.
Rutledge had met others of Mrs. Cutter s ilk in his career.
 Did she know the three dead women?
 Odd that you should ask that, sir, Bennett answered, scratching
his dark chin.  She swore she didn t. But she went to that same church,
didn t she? Had done, for twenty or more years.
Rutledge smiled.  Any chance that she might have been tempted to
murder them? After all, her situation was hardly better than the Shaws.
Bennett considered the question as he studied Rutledge.  As to that,
I can t say. But Mr. Nettle, God rest his soul, remarked once,  I d not care
to be in Mr. Cutter s shoes, if he strayed too far from hearth and home! 
Interested, Rutledge asked,  And had he strayed? Or been tempted
to stray, do you think?
 He was the only one defended Mrs. Shaw. Most of the street [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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