was staying for luncheon . . .”
Rutledge took her hand and said gently, “I’m afraid it must be another day,” he told her. “After your grandson and I have conducted our business, I must return to the Yard.”
“Yes, of course,” she said smiling and shaking Rutledge’s hand. “I shall look forward to it.”
And she took her leave, with the dignity of a woman who had all her life been accustomed to the niceties of social interaction. Business was business, and women were not a part of that world.
As the door shut behind her, Edwin said through clenched teeth, “What the bloody hell do you mean, coming here and interrogating my grandmother when I’m not present?”
Rutledge said, “Your wife was present during today’s interview.”
“But not last night’s. Walter is in Essex, where he is supposed to be. The search for him is over. He did nothing during the period when he was missing that would interest Scotland Yard. You have no business here. I’ll take this up with your superior, if you continue to harass my family.”
“Hardly harassment. I’ve come to ask if you could help me locate one Peter Teller.”
“You’ve met my brother,” Edwin said shortly. “As far as I know, he’s in Bolingbroke Street, where he lives.”
“This Peter Teller,” Rutledge said, “is being sought because we can’t find the last will and testament of one Florence Marshall Teller, his wife. Or I should say, his late wife. She was murdered several days ago.”
Edwin opened his mouth and shut it again. After a moment he asked in a very different tone of voice, “Where was she murdered? Here in London?”
“In Lancashire. Where she had lived almost all of her life.”
Teller was making quick calculations. He said, “The day Walter returned to the clinic?”
“Two days before that. Someone came to her door and, when she answered it, struck her down and left her lying there. A passerby finally saw her lying there, and summoned the police.”
Edwin Teller said, before he could stop himself, “My God.” And then he continued quickly, “I don’t see why any of us should know anything about this murder. Walter was missing. The rest of us were searching for him.”
“I wasn’t suggesting that you might know anything that would help the police,” Rutledge responded mildly. “Lieutenant Teller wasn’t from Lancashire. He came from Dorset, or so he said. We’re trying to trace his family. We’ve been unable to find Mrs. Teller’s will. The police are always interested in who inherits property. Greed can be a powerful impetus to murder.”
“A pity we can’t help you. My brother is the only person in the family whose Christian name is Peter.” Edwin was doing his best in a rearguard action, but he was not the strongest of the three brothers.
“We aren’t sure that the murderer knew Mrs. Teller was dead,” Rutledge persisted. “But it appears that all her husband’s letters—which she kept in a box in her sitting room—were taken at the same time. He stepped over her once, walked into the house, and stepped over her again, on his way out. It suggests a rather cold-blooded person, in the view of the Yard.”
Teller cleared his throat. “What—do you know what sort of weapon was used in the murder?”
Rutledge said, “We aren’t releasing that information at the moment.” Then, changing his line of questioning without warning, Rutledge asked, “When was your brother promoted to captain?”
“I—as far as I remember, it was shortly before war was declared. They were bringing the regiment up to strength in the event the Kaiser caused any trouble over the situation in the Balkans. You said that Mrs. Teller’s husband was in the war?”
“He never came home from France. So I’ve been led to believe. Which is why we must find his family. His wife’s will could very well be among his papers or in the hands of his solicitor.”
“We would have no way of knowing who that might be,” Teller said shortly. “A pity we can’t help you,” he added a second time, as an afterthought.
“Which is why I was speaking to your grandmother, in the event she might know more about other branches of the Teller family.”
“You didn’t tell her of the murder, did you? Damn it, she’s nearly eighty years old.”
“There was no need to tell her about the murder. She understood that we were looking for information on the other Peter Teller, who is believed to have come from Dorset.”
“Make certain you leave it that way.” Edwin got up from his desk