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

make a dent in the confusion. It was fortunate that Major Lowell was there.”
    Rutledge had been watching her. From the start she had answered without apparent reservations. And yet there was a niggling feeling that she was holding something back. He wasn’t sure what was behind that feeling, except for the fact that Hamish had noticed it too. Eugenia Sedley was too well-bred to speak ill of the dead. Was that it?
    Rutledge acknowledged her comment and then, keeping his voice pleasant, more inquisitive than pressing, he said to her, “Often a hostess notices more about a houseguest than anyone else. I wonder if you saw anything that would be useful?”
    Mrs. Sedley glanced at her husband, then answered Rutledge. “As a houseguest, he was charming and agreeable and no trouble at all. The servants were shocked that he’d been killed.” Hesitating for only a moment, she added, “But Barbara’s family has a long history, and over the centuries there have been quite a few distinguished members. Among the wedding guests was the Bishop, of course, and Colonel Rollins, and then someone from the Foreign Office, a man named Tuttle. I began to think that Captain Hutchinson was—seeking to make powerful new friends.”
    Her husband said impatiently, “We should not speak ill of a man who died while he was a guest in this house. I can’t think your remarks have any bearing on what happened.”
    She sighed impatiently. “No, of course not, I can’t imagine that they would have done. But, my dear, it’s precisely because he’s dead I must tell Inspector Rutledge what I think. He must be the judge of whether it’s helpful or not. We want the Captain’s murderer found, don’t we? It will do no good to pretend he was perfect.”
    “Did anyone seem to take offense at his attempt to impress the more important guests?”
    “I don’t know that anyone realized precisely what was happening. It was a very busy few days. And he was quite good at it, you see. But as I was his hostess, I was sometimes anxious that he might be becoming a little obvious, ingratiating himself. Just happening to find himself next to the Bishop or the Colonel or Barbara’s rather influential father a trifle more frequently than was usual in a guest who was not of the immediate wedding party. I must say, he was interesting. They seemed to enjoy his company, but I witnessed the maneuvers that made it possible for him to stand or sit next to one of them. And I wondered if someone else might have noticed. Barbara’s mother, for one. She doesn’t suffer fools lightly. And she wouldn’t care to be used in that way.”
    Sedley said, “That’s a little harsh.”
    “Yes, I suppose it is,” his wife responded. “But if the Captain was behaving like this in Ely, perhaps he had behaved in the same way in London.”
    “I appreciate your honesty,” Rutledge cut in, before Sedley could say more. “It’s something to bear in mind. Jealousy is a powerful emotion.” He hesitated, then added, “I know it will be very painful, but could you tell me what happened as you walked across the grass toward the Cathedral?”
    She turned slightly to look toward the drawing room window, and at first he didn’t think she intended to answer him. Then she said, bringing the moment back in her mind, “I had just turned to Captain Hutchinson—I can’t even tell you what I was about to say. Something trivial, it’s completely gone from my mind now—when his face changed. I’ve never seen anything like it. Shock? I don’t think it was pain. Just—surprise that something was happening to him. And suddenly noise was everywhere, and the front of the Captain’s white shirt was turning red. All this before he began to fall. As if time had stopped, somehow. To my surprise, I was screaming for help, and my husband was on his knees, trying to stem the flow of blood. But there wasn’t much of it after all.” She shuddered, and her husband put his hand over