“I’d expected you to call today,” Pierce said without greeting him. “Sad business about Inspector Mickelson. But I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t glad to have you back in charge. What happened, anyway? You were here, and then you weren’t. Walker wouldn’t tell me anything, so I had to assume he knew nothing to tell.”

Rutledge didn’t answer him directly. “Who do you think attacked the inspector?”

“I daresay it was the killer. I’m not particularly happy to be out at this time of evening myself.” As he reached Rutledge, light spilling from the windows was reflected in his face. There was tension around his eyes, a grimness to the set of his mouth.

“Then why didn’t he use the garrote?” Rutledge asked him.

“Yes, I wondered about that myself. I decided he must not have had it with him. Well, I shouldn’t care to be walking around with the damned thing in my pocket, in the event I was stopped because I was a stranger in town. Walker stopped someone just yesterday. Did he tell you? A man on his way to Hastings, as it happened. That’s what my foreman told me—he’d witnessed the incident. According to him, the man might have been able to handle a garrote, but he’d have been hard-pressed to use it on Theo Hartle.” He gestured toward the door. “Have you had your dinner? I was just going to the hotel hoping to find you.”

They walked in together, and as they paused on the threshold of the dining room, they saw Mr. Kenton sitting by one of the windows. He looked up at the same time, and beckoned to them. They joined him, and as Rutledge sat down, Kenton said, “I didn’t expect Carl to be taken into custody. I merely told you about him out of a sense of duty.”

He had ordered his dinner but it hadn’t arrived. The woman serving meals that evening brought over a menu, and Rutledge, after scanning it, made his selection.

While Pierce was considering his choice, Rutledge turned to Kenton. “I never passed on that information to Inspector Mickelson. Nor to Walker. Someone else saw you with me.”

He could tell that Kenton didn’t believe him.

“I should have thought that what happened to Mickelson proved beyond a doubt that Carl isn’t guilty.”

“We don’t know if that attack and these murders are connected—”

“Any fool will tell you that there aren’t two murderers running loose in a village the size of Eastfield! Carl is one of my best workers. I’m going to have to find a replacement soon. And I don’t want to do that. I wish I’d never come to you. I expected you to ask him a few questions, clear the air.” But that wasn’t the impression Rutledge had got when Kenton first approached him.