Rutledge nodded. “Makes sense. All right, thank you, Greene.”
“Anything come up about Furnham? I can’t say I’d mind going there to see it for myself.”
“Some mention was made of the airfield over lunch. I was curious,” Rutledge said easily and went to his office.
He debated whether to initiate an official inquiry into the murder that Russell had confessed to, and then decided against it. He wasn’t completely certain about the man’s motive in coming to the Yard.
But his own curiosity had been aroused, and it would do no harm, he told himself, to look into it unofficially. If more information turned up, he could bring in the Yard.
Two hours later, the reports on his desk finished, he went to Somerset House to look up Justin Fowler and Wyatt Russell.
Chapter 3
Set on the banks of the Thames below The Strand, Somerset House had become the repository of records for births and deaths and marriages in England and Wales. Named for a Tudor palace long since demolished, it had been designed with the intent to collect in one place offices of government formerly scattered across London, from Inland Revenue to the Admiralty. Nelson was said to have had rooms there, although it was unlikely.
Rutledge spent three-quarters of an hour looking for Justin Fowler. The name had been passed down through three generations in one family, and there were six more unrelated Fowlers who could also have been the murder victim.
Finally settling on Justin Arthur Ambrose Fowler, who was only two years older than Russell appeared to be, he discovered that there was no date of death registered. And no marriage.
Wyatt Russell was easier to find, again with no date of death. But he had been married to a Louisa Mary Harmon, who had died barely a year later in childbirth.
There appeared to be a connection between Fowler and Russell-their grandmothers shared the same maiden name-Sudbury. And from what Rutledge could determine, going back through records, the women were cousins. Fowler’s parents died in the same year and within two days of each other, when Fowler was eleven.