A Fine Summer's Day Read Online Free Page A

scene.
    â€œThe dead man had connections,” Bowles pointed out as he went over the file. “And it won’t do to ignore that fact. I depend upon you to act with discretion and to take great care in conducting your interviews, so as not to upset anyone. I don’t wish to hear complaints from the family or the Chief Constable.”
    Rutledge had received similar instructions before, and he accepted them with a wry understanding of their source.
    For Bowles, Rutledge was a useful tool. Even as he resented the man’s social presence and his education, he had profited from both. Cases such as this one required finesse, and he knew all too well that he and more of the Yard than he’d cared to count still had the rough edges of someone who’d come up through the ranks from lower-middle-class origins, and however high he rose, he would never shake those roots nor the occasional slip in accent that exposed them for all the world to see. It galled him to admit that Rutledge could move easily in circles closed to him. Still, what made Rutledge palatable was his ability to collect sound evidence that saw to it a case stood up in a courtroom. The reflected glory that accrued to the Chief Superintendent when Rutledge successfully closed an inquiry was recompense enough. For the moment.
    As Rutledge packed his valise, his mind already occupied by the details forwarded by the Chief Constable, he found himself distracted by the thought that in less than six months’ time, he would be a married man. That brought a smile to his face as he walked out the door.
    He was halfway down the walk when he found himself thinking that he had smiled often in the past four and twenty hours. It was, in a way, the measure of his happiness.
    Despite the distance to Dorchester, southwest of London almost to the coast, he had taken the time before he left the Yard to write to Melinda Crawford, to David Trevor, and to Ross, giving them his news. He owed it to them to see that they learned of the engagement from him rather than the Times . It occurred to him as he put stamps on theenvelopes that he would like to ask Ross to stand up with him. There would be an opportunity for that later.
    He was glad to find Frances at home, and when he came into her sitting room, he told her, quite simply, “There’s an inquiry in Dorset. I have to leave straightaway. But before I go, I wanted to tell you. I spoke to Jean and to her father. She’s accepted me, with his blessing.”
    Later, on the road to the West Country, he still wasn’t sure how she’d taken it. She had turned away for a moment. “I thought perhaps you’d say something to me first. To let me know what was in your mind.”
    â€œI thought I had,” he’d replied.
    â€œIn general terms.” She’d turned to face him. “Well. I want you to be happy, Ian. More than anything. You know that.” And she had come forward to kiss him on the cheek.
    He had put his arms around her, saying lightly, “I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”
    It would have been better, he thought now, if he could have spent the evening with his sister, perhaps taking her out to dine, giving her a chance to talk to him about the future. But he was expected in Dorset as soon as possible. There was no time for such consideration.
    T en days later, Rutledge walked into the Yard and encountered Chief Inspector Cummins on the stairs.
    â€œJust in from Dorchester?” Cummins asked. “I’ve been reading the early reports. Well done.”
    â€œThank you,” Rutledge answered. “I can’t say I’m particularly happy with the outcome, but there you are. The evidence was overwhelming.”
    Cummins smiled. “Even nice people kill, Ian.”
    â€œSadly, yes. It will be up to a jury now, of course, but I rather think in the circumstances I might have done the same as Mrs. Butler. Hewas a right bastard, that man.