Even in the downpour, Rutledge could see that there was something on the ground where they were standing, although most of their attention was riveted on the climber still inching his way up the cliff face. Rutledge realized that what had appeared to be two bodies actually were two men stretched out on the wet grass anchoring the climber's ropes, their heads hanging over the precipice. Two more men held their ankles, to keep them from being dragged over. Rutledge could see that the grass was bruised and slippery as hell, and the wind in this unprotected spot was whipping in off the sea, rushing upward to buffet the knot of figures.
He pulled off his hat to keep it from blowing away, and felt the rain driven against his face.
The men didn't turn as Rutledge came to join the group. He saw that Walker stopped a little to one side, trying to speak to the constable who had come to the funicular to fetch them. He had to shout in the man's ear to be heard.
Everyone looked thoroughly miserable, but they were intent on the drama unfolding at their very feet. Rutledge heard a shout of pain as the wind slammed the climber into the wall he was trying to ascend, and one of the men on the ropes cried, "Are you all right, Ben?"
If he answered, Rutledge couldn't hear him. Others, aware now that someone else had come out here, looked up to stare briefly at Rutledge, but Norman waited without turning as more and more rope was hauled up. And still the climber hadn't crested the top.
Looking out to sea, Rutledge was hard-pressed to tell where the horizon ended and the water began, and he could see heavier clouds forming a line that darkened the sea and sky as it headed his way. He knew without being told that the men here were racing that line.
All at once the men stretched out on the ground scrambled back, and the teams heaved on the ropes with all the strength they could muster. Then, like a jack-in-the-box, a man's head and shoulders popped up, followed by his torso and legs, and he made it to the bruised grass at the edge.
The climber flopped down where he was, flat out, exhausted. His hair was dripping rainwater, his clothes wet through. Someone came forward and draped a tarpaulin over him, but he was sweating from exertion and asked them to pull it away again.
Only then did Inspector Norman turn, as if he'd known Rutledge was there all along. His hair was also plastered to his skull, his face red and raw from the rain and the wind. He shouted to Rutledge, pointing down the cliff face, "One of yours?"
Rutledge made his way to the brink, gripping the shoulder of one of the men who had been pulling in the climber, to keep himself from being blown over.
Below, crumpled on the rocks that were being lashed by the sea, was a body.
The climber had been down there, attaching a sling of sorts to it, with ropes he brought back to the top tied to his belt.
It had been one hell of a climb down there, and even worse conditions trying to work with the body on such a narrow ledge, barely big enough for one man. And then the climb back had been even more hazardous.
Norman, somewhere behind Rutledge, called, "Look out," and he turned to see four men pulling hard on ropes.
He stepped back from the edge and watched as the men-he learned later that they were from the lifeboat station below-began to haul the dead man to the top.
"What makes you think he's one of mine?" Rutledge shouted.
Norman grinned at him, his long thin face seeming to split in two, but there was no humor in it. "When the climber got down there, he said the man's throat had been cut. Took him forever to get those ropes down and attached properly. We didn't want to drag the body against the rocky face. The sling should offer a little protection. But I have a feeling his throat wasn't cut. I have a feeling he's been garroted. That's when I sent for you."
"Why?" Rutledge demanded, feeling a surge of anger at the man's gloating. "Why should it be one of ours? If the killer has moved on, that's a Hastings man lying down there."
"Call it instinct," Norman told him and then turned back to watch the men straining against the dead weight on their ropes. "And these." He drew a pair of field glasses from his pocket. "We had to know if he was dead or alive. I can tell you, the doctor didn't relish going down after him. You could almost see him praying it was a corpse."
He gestured to a middle-aged, balding man with a growing paunch, standing to one side, waiting.
Someone crawled to the end of the cliff and then called over his shoulder, "Easy, lads, easy." The men on the ropes slacked off, caught their breath, and when the signal was given, this time they brought the body up to the top of the cliff and then with a last effort, pulled it over the edge onto the grassy slope. For an instant, it appeared to be on the point of sliding into the abyss again, teetering there until it was finally pulled to safety. Rutledge heard Norman swear.
Two other men ran forward, caught the rope handles on the sling, and gently urged it back to higher ground while the lines were kept taut. When all was secure, the rescuers squatted where they were, heads down, almost overwhelmed with exhaustion.
Rutledge and Norman reached the body in three long strides, kneeling in the rain to slip the sling back and examine the man. The doctor hurried forward to join them.
"He's dead," he said after a cursory examination. "As we thought. I'll tell you more when I can examine him further. This isn't the place for it."
Constable Walker had come up behind them, hands on his knees as he leaned forward to see over Rutledge's shoulder. Rain had soaked Rutledge's dark hair, and rainwater was nearly blinding him as it ran down his face. He wiped it with his hands then considered the body.
The victim lay on his stomach, his clothing dripping water. It was clear to everyone who could see the back of his neck that he'd been garroted, as Inspector Norman had suspected. The deep line of the wound was black in the gloomy light of the stormy day.
The rocks had also taken their toll, his trousers muddy and ripped, a tear in his shirt, signs on the exposed skin of his hands of scrapes and cuts. Still, it was evident to Rutledge that he hadn't used them to protect himself when the wire had come around his throat.
With a glance at Rutledge, Norman reached out and turned the body over, and behind him Walker's sharp intake of breath was audible.
Norman looked up. "Know him?"
Walker said, "Yes, sir-it's Theo Hartle. He and his father work in the furniture-making firm in Eastfield."
"Are you sure? His face is rather battered."
"There's no doubt in my mind," Walker told him. "I've seen him every day of his life, near enough."
"Well, then," Inspector Norman said. "He is in fact one of yours. And on my patch."
The doctor, conducting a swift inventory of visible injuries, said, "No other wounds apparent, just those consistent with his fall and with the attempt to bring him back from the ledge. And it was damned lucky he struck that ledge, or he'd have been taken out to sea and we'd never have found him."
"It wasn't a matter of luck," Inspector Norman told him. "If you know these cliffs, this was the only place along the rim where it was sure that he would be stopped before he went into the sea."
Hamish spoke, startling Rutledge. "Aye, and did yon murderer ken the ledge was there?"
Rutledge looked down at the dead face. Hartle appeared to be in his middle twenties like the other three victims, fair, taller than most, and of heavy build, which had made the task of bringing him up from the rocks even harder.
The doctor was turning away.
Norman gestured to his men. "All right. Get him to the doctor's surgery." He went over to thank the men of the Life Boat Service for their help, giving them a handful of coins as he spoke. "Get yourselves something to warm you. I'll have a statement later, when you're off duty."
Norman had brought a motorcar to the top of the headland, and as they walked through the rain toward it, he said, "It was sheer chance that he was spotted. The fishing boats coming in reported seeing something on the ledge, a leaper they thought, and when we came up to look, I had a bad feeling about it. We got the lifeboat men up here, and began rescue operations, but the ledge wasn't wide enough for more than one man to climb down to it. The way the sea was crashing over those rocks, it's a wonder they weren't both swept away."