Free Hunting Shadows: An Inspector Ian Rutledge Mystery by Charles Todd

through my mind that it would be unthinkable to die on my wedding day.”
    “I still don’t understand why you were so certain Hutchinson was not the target.”
    He paced away again, too agitated to sit down. “I suppose I never quite believed my luck. I survived France. Barbara was waiting. She waited for me .” He turned back, his expression deprecating. “You see, Barbara could have had her pick of suitors. I’ve never quite understood why she accepted me.”
    “Is she—I’m sorry, but I must ask—is she wealthier than you?”
    “Oh, not at all. I’d say we were about even. But her family goes back to the Domesday Book, and mine made its money in the previous century. In South Africa, with Cecil Rhodes. Hardly an aristocratic background, is it?”
    “And you saw nothing, there by the Cathedral?”
    “I saw Hutchinson start to fall, just as I heard the shot. I was nervous, for God’s sake—I daresay anyone is, under the circumstances. Will everything go off well, will I muddle what I’m to say, will Barbara’s little goddaughter be sick halfway down the aisle? It’s a very long nave, you know. Especially for an anxious child. What if I drop the ring? What if it rolls under someone’s feet and I’m down on all fours, scrambling after it? I wasn’t thinking about murder. If anything I was feeling grateful that it hadn’t rained all day.”
    “Your best man?”
    “Harry saw Gordon fall. He thought he must have tripped, and then the report followed almost at once.” Fallowfield smiled wryly. “Harry went down flat on his face. He’s done that before, when a motorcar backfired. He’s more than a little ashamed of that. I can’t fault him. I’d have done the same, if I’d had my wits about me.”
    Rutledge smiled. His first Guy Fawkes Day after the war had been a nightmare, with fireworks going off right and left. “What can you tell me about the artillery Major—Lowell, his name is—who was so helpful when the police arrived?”
    “I hardly know him. He’s older, you see. His father and Barbara’s father went to Eton together. Nice enough chap, career officer. He spent most of his time talking to Barbara’s parents. His father isn’t well, he must be into his late seventies now. I expect he was asked in place of the elder Lowell for the sake of an old friendship.”
    “What did he say to you after the shooting?”
    Fallowfield frowned. “He hustled me into the building next to where I was standing, and I didn’t see him again until the reception. The usual congratulations then, rather subdued, of course. Harry told me I mustn’t go to Barbara. She’d just arrived, I could hear her crying. He told me I must stay where I was. Bad luck, you know, to see the bride before the wedding. It seemed so silly, in light of what had just happened, but I was terrified the police or the Bishop might not let the wedding go on. Even so, it was a near run thing. If the police had had their way, everyone would have been sent home. Barbara’s father persuaded them that it was unfair to the guests who would be leaving on Sunday.” His voice was wry as he went on. “They remembered to fetch me when Inspector Warren allowed the ceremony to continue. I did hear Barbara’s father say that he was grateful Lowell was there, he’d been a sane voice in the chaos. To tell the truth, I think that my father-in-law would have been glad to see Barbara marry the man, if Lowell had been closer to her age. For the sake of the friendship.”
    It was an interesting comment.
    And interesting too that the groom hadn’t taken charge in Lowell’s place. If only to impress his future father-in-law.
    Fallowfield said into the silence that followed, “Is there nothing you can tell me about who did this murder?”
    Rutledge gave him the usual answer: “I’ve only just arrived. It’s too early to know where the inquiry will take us.”
    “But Inspector Warren has had nearly a fortnight.”
    “He hasn’t been idle, I