Rutledge turned to Walker. "Was there any trouble among these local men? Have you heard any rumors of hard feelings, of unsettled issues?"
"I have not," Walker said with confidence. "My own nephew served with them." And then his attention was focused on Rutledge. "My God. Are you suggesting that the killing hasn't stopped? Should I be warning my nephew and the others that they could be in danger as well?"
"If these murders have to do with the Eastfield Company, then why did my son have to die?" Pierce demanded, almost cutting across the constable's question.
"I can't tell you the reason for that. Not yet," Rutledge answered him, and then to Walker, he added, "It will do no harm to have a word with these men. But if the killer is a local man, why the identity discs belonging to these outsiders?" He paused, weighing the discs in his hand, then asked, "Was the Eastfield Company-or your son, sir-ever on burial detail?"
Pierce shook his head. "I'm sure Anthony wasn't."
"I don't believe so," Walker answered. "But I'll ask. Are you saying that's where these other discs came from?"
"It's possible. But we won't know until we find out who these men are. And why their names are connected with three murders here."
"I'd rather believe it was one of them than one of ours," Walker said.
Pierce took a deep breath. "I don't care who it is. I want it stopped. I want this murderer brought to justice."
"Then why did you refuse to let the Hastings police step in?" Rutledge asked.
"Ah, that. I've had words with Inspector Norman in the past. Oh, not over anything of this nature, not murder. But my younger son, Danny, was troublesome in his day, and Inspector Norman wanted him clapped up in prison until he'd learned the errors of his ways. I refused to let Norman bully me or my son. And in the end, Danny won a medal for bravery, presented by the King himself, at Buckingham Palace. The same arrogance, as Norman called it when Danny was fourteen, saved the lives of dozens of men. Danny charged a machine gun nest single-handedly, and held the German detail at gunpoint until he could be relieved. They were taken prisoner. If he hadn't stopped them from firing, God knows how many of our men would have been killed."
"Where is Daniel now?" Rutledge asked.
Pierce flushed. "I don't know. He came back from the war, spent two weeks with us here in Eastfield, and then disappeared one night. We haven't heard from him since. I blame Inspector Norman there. Not two days after Danny came home, Norman was on my doorstep wanting to know if Danny had been part of a group of men who had robbed the owners of a small hotel and their dinner guests. He claimed that the description of one of them could have fit Danny quite easily."
"Did your son have an alibi?"
The flush deepened. "He didn't need one. His word was good enough."
But once a troublemaker, always a troublemaker, in the eyes of the police.
Walker stirred uneasily, as if he'd been caught in the crossfire between Pierce and the Hastings police.
Dropping the subject of Daniel Pierce, at least for the moment, Rutledge asked who had found the bodies of the other two victims.
Walker said, "It was the housekeeper at the Roper farm. She thought Jimmy might still be sitting with Dandelion. Instead she found his body just outside the stall. And young Mr. Pierce was discovered by the foreman, coming in to work the next morning. He thought the killer might still be in the brew house, and sent his men to search, armed with whatever weapons they could lay hands to, while he stayed with the body and one of the other men came for me."
"But there was no sign of an intruder."
"No, sir. Whoever he was, he hadn't broken in."
"Who survives Jeffers and Roper?"
"Mrs. Jeffers, his wife. And Roper's father-he's old, frail."
Rutledge turned to Pierce. "Your son Anthony wasn't married?"
"The young woman he would have married at the end of the war died in the Spanish flu epidemic in 1918. Of late, Anthony had been friends with Mrs. Farrell-Smith. She's head mistress at the Misses Tate School. It's a well-established institution here in Eastfield. A good many people from outside the village-Battle, Hastings, as far away as Rye-send their children here. Anthony attended it himself until he was twelve. The Tate sisters were still alive then."
"Have you seen any strangers here in Eastfield? Has anyone asked for Jeffers, Roper, or Pierce?"
"I spoke to any number of people-in the hotel, the shops, the pubs, the restaurants," Walker said, shaking his head. "And there hasn't been anyone here that we didn't know. And that's what's most worrisome. I'd always thought of a garrote as being a French weapon. But the only Frenchman in Eastfield is in the churchyard, and he's been there these thirty years and more." T en minutes later, when Rutledge and Constable Walker had taken their leave of Pierce, Rutledge waited until they were well out of earshot of the brewery and any of its workers before asking, "What do you think became of Daniel Pierce?"
"Daniel?" Walker repeated, and then looked away. "I don't know. He just-left. In the middle of the night. If you want to know what I think, he didn't wish to be a burden on his father. The Pierces have enjoyed a fine reputation all through the years. And Anthony was a good man, best suited to being the heir in temperament. Not one to carouse and come home drunk in the middle of the night, singing bawdy songs as he walked down the street."
"Pierce seems to believe his son changed."
"Yes, well, a father would, wouldn't he? But I've made inquiries from time to time-on my own, sir, not officially. And there's been no word of him in the towns where I know the police. So perhaps he has."
"Why should you search for him?" Rutledge asked, his curiosity aroused.
Walker flushed, the question catching him unprepared. After a moment he said, "I've always had a soft spot for young Daniel, sir. I was not my father's favorite child either."
And yet Rutledge had gathered the impression that Daniel was his father's favorite. Something in the timbre of his voice had betrayed the elder Pierce. "Still, the question that has to be asked is, was he jealous enough of his brother that in the end, he would kill two innocent men in order to cover his tracks when he killed Anthony Pierce?"
Walker sighed. "I don't think Daniel was the sort to want to be tied to a brewery for the rest of his life. I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd made a career of the Army. I remember how excited he was just before the war about Shackleton's journey to the Antarctic, and how pleased he was that the King encouraged Shackleton to go on with his plans even after war was declared." Changing the subject without appearing to, he pointed toward an ornate four-story building ahead. "That's The Fisherman's Arms Hotel. A little grand to call it that, but it's comfortable. They're keeping a room for you. I took the liberty of asking them, after I was told the Yard was sending someone to Eastfield."
Rutledge thanked him. "I'll go and register. But as soon as possible I want to see the statements you've collected thus far, and then speak to Dr. Gooding."
"It's best to catch the doctor after his midday meal. One o'clock? Will that suit you?"
"Yes, I'll come for you then," Rutledge answered as they reached his motorcar. Walker turned the crank for him, and he drove on to the hotel. There was space to park in the small yard to the far side, and the woman at the desk smiled when he gave his name.
"We've been expecting you, Mr. Rutledge," she said, as if he were a valued guest and not a policeman in their midst. He rather thought that Pierce's name had been used to secure a better choice of room.
Hamish said as Rutledge climbed the stairs to the second floor, "Ye ken, Mr. Pierce doesna' want the Hastings police called in for fear they'll look for his ither son."