The woman opened the house door and went inside, shutting it firmly behind her. Shutting out Rutledge and his questions. Unwilling to gossip—to speculate—or to defend.

Chapter 9

9

RUTLEDGE DROVE BACK TO TREVOR’S HOUSE RATHER than take a room at The Ballantyne, unwilling to move himself into Duncarrick until he’d spoken with Oliver. It was a courtesy, but often small courtesies lubricated the wheels of change. The long drive gave him time to think. That evening over dinner, he told David Trevor how he had spent his day.

Trevor smiled. “Once a policeman, always a policeman.”

Rutledge grinned in return. “Blame human nature. Curiosity is man’s besetting sin.”

“The Garden of Eden,” Trevor agreed. “Eve is always blamed for offering Adam the apple, but it’s my view that he had been looking for an excuse to see how it tasted. He would have bitten into it on his own in a day or two.

“What I find interesting about the situation you described,” Trevor went on, “is that I know the Chief Constable in that district. Robson. A good man. So is the fiscal, by reputation. I can’t quite see Robson railroading a young woman if there was no real evidence against her. You know that Scotland is different from England in that we don’t have a coroner’s inquest. The procurator-fiscal and the Chief Constable, together with the officers involved, discuss the evidence and come to a decision as to whether or not there should be a trial. It isn’t based on a coroner’s jury that might be prejudiced for or against the suspect. And it’s often decided on several levels—whether, for instance, the woman would be better off having a jury establish her innocence for all to see. Have you considered that aspect of a trial, Ian?”

Rutledge finished his soup and set down his spoon. “I have, but it seems to me that bringing her to trial—assuming of course that she’s innocent of the charges—has hardened feelings against her. In the upshot, the jury might prefer to hang her.”

Trevor nodded to Morag to take away his empty soup plate and said, “They’ll work it out, Ian, but I’d watch my back if I were you. I’ve never met this Inspector Oliver, but he’s certain to resent your interference—that is, if he’s still smarting from his encounter with Lady Maude. And she could be trouble, come to that. There’s a very complex relationship between parent and child, and I have a feeling you’ll be damned if you do—and damned if you don’t— prove conclusively that Eleanor Gray has nothing whatsoever to do with this business.”