Free A Lonely Death by Charles Todd

me.”
    Rutledge was surprised in his turn. “Daniel?”
    “Yes, Daniel. His father is too stubborn to try, but I expect he’d like to know where his other son is.”
    “I take it you don’t care for Daniel.”
    “Not particularly. He’s the sort of person who leaves responsibility to others. I believe in responsibility and self-discipline. I try to make certain that my students understand that these are virtues to cultivate. They will lead happier lives if they do.”
    It was an interesting perspective on duty.
    Hamish interjected, “Aye, but is it the reason she’s so set against yon brother?”
    Rutledge said only, “How long have you been in charge of the school?”
    “Since before the war,” she answered, without giving a date. And then she added reluctantly, “It was after my husband died that I came here.”
    “You must have been very young to take over a school. It would have been a grave undertaking at any age.”
    She lifted her chin, as if in denial. “I didn’t have any choice. And I have made every effort to live up to what my family established. I don’t think I’ve given them any reason to regret their decision to entrust this school to my keeping.”
    He changed the subject. “Did your husband know Daniel Pierce?” It had been a general question, looking for an explanation for her dislike of the younger Pierce. But much to his surprise, it had struck home.
    “I don’t see that that’s any of your business,” she replied curtly.
    “Which tells me that he did. Was it before you married him? Or after?”
    “He was an older boy at the school where both Anthony and Daniel were sent.”
    “Then you didn’t know them.”
    “No.” Crisp and unconditional.
    Rutledge considered her for a moment. She had married a man with a hyphenated name. As a schoolboy would he have despised the upstart—but well-to-do—Pierce brothers? Trade and old money often clashed. Or perhaps there had been very little old money. And the widowed Mrs. Farrell-Smith was now headmistress at a small school in a Sussex village where there was almost nothing that could be termed Society. It would explain why she was willing to accept Anthony Pierce’s attentions. Trade or not, there was a comfortable life in store for the brewery heir’s wife.
    Again, he changed the direction of the conversation. “Did Anthony Pierce have any enemies? From the war, most particularly.”
    “Why the war years?” she asked, her mind nearly as quick as his to spot anomaly. “Did something happen there that might have had to do with his death?”
    In his mind’s eye he could see again the identity discs found in the mouths of the dead men. “We have some reason to believe it could have a connection. Yes.”
    “If there was anything untoward that happened in France, Anthony never confided in me. I don’t believe he would have, if you want the truth. He knew I didn’t care for unpleasantness.” She must have realized how selfish that sounded and added in spite of herself, “We had a number of students over those four years who marched away to war and never came back. There’s a list of their names on a board in the school parlor, for all to see and remember. Anthony knew how much this had saddened me.”
    He thought her self-control remarkable for a woman who had just lost a man she cared for. For that matter, her eyes showed no signs of crying herself to sleep, even though it was only two days ago that Pierce’s body had been discovered.
    And as if she had read his thought, tears welled in her eyes. “If there’s nothing more, Inspector? I find this a very painful subject.”
    Hamish said, “She’s afraid yon brother killed him.”
    It would explain her very first question to him: not about Anthony’s death but in regard to Daniel’s whereabouts.
    But he left it there. “If anything occurs to you, Mrs. Farrell-Smith, will you speak to Constable Walker? He’ll see that the message reaches me.”
    “Yes, of course.”