The Red Door

“Yes, it does, because he still has to come to terms with it and choose. I think it has to do with Harry, with Walter’s insistence that the boy be sent away to school. It was as if he didn’t want him anymore. I couldn’t for the life of me understand why. And then he recanted on Harrow, telling Jenny it would be all right to wait a few years. But now, this morning, he told me he thought it would be best for Harry to go after all, because he’s motherless. I’d already promised to take him and look after him for a bit, but Walter is adamant. Harrow it is to be. I knew Walter long before Jenny met him. As a brother-in-law, he was kind and thoughtful and always willing to help me with the house where Jenny and I grew up. I couldn’t have asked for better. And I could share Harry with them—they were always asking if I’d take him for a night or for a few days. I really care for the boy, I’d do anything to protect him. But I’ve begun to realize that Walter uses people. Not wittingly, purposely, but most certainly conveniently. I’ve even begun to wonder if he married Jenny to have a son again, to replace that dead one. He’s capable of it, you know.”

Her bluntness was almost brutal. And he found himself thinking that Mary had understood what was behind the two marriages better than anyone else, because she was so alone herself.

“I don’t know, Miss Brittingham, what to say. But you may be right. As to what he intends to do, there’s no impediment. Walter Teller can do as he pleases. I’ve every intention of closing the inquiries here, and asking the inquests to bring in a verdict of accidental death in both cases.”

Before she could answer, Amy came to the door. “Inspector, Inspector Jessup is here. He wants to speak to you urgently.” She turned to Mary. “Have you seen Walter? And what’s become of Gran?”

“He must be in his room,” Mary said. “I don’t have the energy to go and see. Mr. Rutledge tells me he wasn’t in the study. Your grandmother is lying down. Leticia settled her half an hour ago.”

“Thanks. I’ll go and look for him.”

Amy closed the door again. Mary rose and said, “Needs must. I ought to join the others, whether I feel like it or not. I’m a guest, now that Jenny’s gone. And so I must fit in with the wishes of others.”

She went out of the room, and Rutledge followed her, in search of Jessup.

He was pacing the hall. When Rutledge came down the passage, he turned and said, “There’s been an accident. Can you come at once?”

Rutledge followed him out to the waiting motorcar. “What is it? What’s happened?”

“It’s Mrs. Teller. Captain Teller’s widow. She left here, I’m told with the last of the mourners, intending to drive to London. She’s had an accident.”

“Is she dead?” he asked, remembering the warning he’d given her.

“No. Badly bruised. And she wants to see you. She won’t let us fetch a doctor to her until she does.”

They drove on in silence, through the gray evening, and shortly after the intersection where the Repton Road and the one to Waddington met the trunk road to London they found Captain Teller’s black Rolls touring car with the bonnet having run up into an ancient hedgerow topped by a wooden fence that lead into a pasture. He was out of the Inspector’s vehicle before it had come to a halt and was striding to where Susannah Teller was sitting in the rain, the veil she had pulled to the back of her black hat drooping. Her coat sparkled with raindrops in the light of her motorcar’s headlamps.

He came and sat down beside her, then put his arm around her shoulders. She cried out in pain, then began to weep in earnest.

Jessup was saying, “Bruising where the wheel struck her, scraped knees—” He broke off as Rutledge silently shook his head to stop him, and he moved away to speak to his men.

“What happened? I didn’t know you’d left. Was the motorcar tampered with?”

“I couldn’t stand being there—every time I went past the stairs or saw someone stepping on the place where he was lying, it was more than I could bear. I wanted the garden doors open instead, but Mary told me that with the rain, the lawns were too wet. I went to Walter, but he wouldn’t open his door and help me. I left as soon as I could.”

“Did you tell anyone you were leaving?”

“Only Gran. You don’t know how much I miss Peter. It’s been worse than anything I could have imagined, coming here. The funeral. And I feel so alone.”

“How did this happen?”

“I was crying. I couldn’t see where I was going. I did to myself what you were afraid someone else might do.”

“Are you sure there was no problem with the motorcar—the steering or the brakes?”

She shook her head.

He sat with her a little longer, and then she agreed to let Inspector Jessup take her to Dr. Fielding.

He said to Jessup, “Go over this motorcar. If there is any reason for that crash other than her emotional state, I want to know.”

Jessup looked at him. “Are you saying someone would like to kill that woman?”

“I told her that if there was an attempt at a third accident, we would know that the other deaths were murder.”