The Seal King Murders

by Alanna Knight

  Amos stared at Faro, whose mind was obviously elsewhere. ‘Josh? Josh is upstairs in his bed.’ He added, ‘One of his bad days, I’m afraid.’ Faro nodded sympathetically but he found it odd that the room was full of recent cigar smoke, a very expensive and exclusive brand Faro recognised as prevalent in the gentleman’s clubs and best restaurants in Edinburgh, and Amos had declared emphatically that he was not a smoker. At their first meeting on the ferry, Faro was lighting a pipe and Amos had smilingly declined the fill of tobacco he offered. Then, with an impish glance, ‘Not one of my vices, but I have plenty less virtuous to make up for it.’

  Now following him to the door, Amos said, ‘I hope you will have a storm-free voyage. Have you enjoyed your holiday?’

  ‘Yes, indeed. Although I also had a mission from a relative of Dave Claydon.’

  He paused and Amos said rather brusquely, ‘You told me about it.’ His bleak expression said that he did not want any further discussion on that topic. ‘Look, I told you all I know,’ he added desperately. ‘Is this an official investigation?’

  All friendliness had vanished as Faro replied, ‘Of course not, but I have heard that it was not the Leith ship he was attempting to board.’

  Amos shrugged. ‘So I gathered later, but that’s what he told me. It made no difference whether he was going to Leith or Timbuktu. He had hired my boat, handed over the money. That was all I needed to know.’ A weary sigh indicated that he had told this story many, many times and was heartily sick of yet another reiteration. ‘I told you what I told the police, the divers and anyone else involved. He fell in the water and I couldn’t rescue him. That was the end of it.’

  Faro didn’t want to end his visit on this sour note. ‘I’m sorry to have troubled you, Amos. I wish you well … and your brother,’ he added hesitantly, aware of the odds facing Josh.

  Amos smiled again. ‘I just wish I could have been of some help. Anyway, I expect you’ll be coming back next year to see your mother again.’

  ‘Possibly. I’m always trying to persuade her to come and visit me.’

  Amos smiled wryly. ‘It must be nice having a mother – or a father. Ours went long ago, hardly had time to get to know them or remember them,’ he added sadly.

  Then came the unexpected: ‘We are related you know, the Faros and the Fletts. On your next visit, perhaps we’ll have the opportunity to spend a little more time together.’

  And as an afterthought, ‘On Tuesday, I am to take a small group of visitors on a cruise of the islands. Come with us, if you can spare the time.’

  Faro was pleased, remembering how the friendly Amos had distanced himself at their second meeting on the ferry to the Hope. Without knowing the reason for his displeasure, he had now been reinstated, presumably on the grounds of distant relationship.

  Amos smiled and held out his hand. ‘Fare ye well.’ A handsome young man with a devil-may-care attitude to life which Faro guessed led to his success with the island women, who he wooed ruthlessly while skillfully managing to evade the responsibility of any relationship crossing the boundary into marriage.

  It was a progress most men would have envied and Faro had felt pangs of jealousy where Inga was concerned. She had been evasive about Amos and he now wondered if, a declared free spirit, who could indulge in brief love affairs, she had also been one of his conquests and fallen for his undoubted charms. She had certainly been very vinegary, perhaps guilty, regarding Faro’s remarks.

  In Amos’s social strata, he would remain free of domestic ties as long as gullible girls would accept that he could not commit himself, with the responsibility of an invalid brother, which few young lasses would wish to share. Once Josh was no longer an excuse, however, it would be a very different matter.

  And Amos had almost been hoist with his own petard, in the wooing of Celia Prentiss-Grant. He must have concealed the vital excuse from his agenda with her until the full horror of his domestic situation was revealed in her brief few days under his roof.

  Faro was glad that Amos had not been her kidnapper and could understand his shock at a young woman taking advantage of what had seemed a perfectly normal brief infatuation, which no island girl would have taken seriously. Amos had been the first lover of the heiress of Scarthbreck and she had presumed from her sheltered life that this was to be the prelude to marriage.

  Approaching Thora’s door, he found it hard to understand that the widow would prefer the frail invalid to his handsome virile brother, and his thoughts drifted to that lover’s meeting in the cathedral. Had it been Amos and Thora he could have understood. He tapped on the door and waited. There was some delay and he was considering that the lady was not at home. Then the sound of footsteps. The door opened to a repetition of the scene at Amos’s house. She did not look pleased to see him – aghast was perhaps too strong a word for her expression, but puzzlement and anxiety were mild descriptions.

  For the last time, he hoped, he was bringing out the excuse, worn deplorably thin, of the Macfie connection. Each time it sounded more feeble, even to his own ears, as he said, ‘I am leaving for Edinburgh soon, and as I was in Kirkwall I thought I might call on you in case you have a message for Mr Macfie.’

  ‘Mr Macfie,’ she repeated, frowning, looking at him as if she had never heard the name before.

  Faro smiled politely. This time he was being kept on the doorstep regardless of the rules of the island’s hospitality. And there was a reason. Once, twice, she glanced over her shoulder and he was certain she had a guest and that this was an inconvenient intrusion.

  He began, ‘I am sorry to trouble you—’

  ‘Not at all. It is quite all right. I am usually alone at this time of the evening.’

  Dismissal implied, and anxious to extend the moment, he said, ‘I was in the Hope last week and visited Mrs Traill.’

  ‘Mrs Traill,’ she repeated, and with something akin to fear in a nervous laugh, ‘I was not aware that you were acquainted with Mrs Traill.’

  ‘I am not. But she is Jimmy Traill’s aunt, and I was to convey a message from him.’

  Thora nodded vaguely as he said, ‘She has few visitors but she spoke very warmly of yourself.’

  Thora studied him intently. ‘Indeed.’

  Her voice was expressionless and Faro went on, ‘A worthy lady, thought highly of by the locals. I gathered she had been a foster mother to you and your sister Elsa.’

  Thora’s eyes searched wildly. There was panic in her face as she bit her lip and leant against the doorpost as if she might fall down.

  Faro felt ashamed that he had caused such distress. Obviously any mention of her sister opened old wounds and renewed bitter grief. He wished he had not mentioned Elsa at all, but now felt that he could not leave it on that unhappy note.

  ‘She talked about you both most fondly and how sad it was about Elsa leaving.’

  The panic in her eyes was clear now. She closed them tightly and abruptly, as if to cut off some unbearable vision, and Faro realised he could no longer prolong this conversation, fast becoming a monologue. He ended lamely, ‘She was anxious for your welfare and would much appreciate a visit some time,’ he added, thinking there was little hope of that. ‘I promised I would pass on the message should we happen to meet.’

  Thora recovered, straightened her shoulders and said lightly, ‘That was very kind of you, Mr Faro. I am grateful. Thank you for coming to see me.’ A brief smile and she closed the door firmly, but not before Faro was very aware that the same pungent smell he had encountered in Amos’s house was again in evidence.

  The smell of very expensive cigars. In the unlikely event of Thora being a cigar smoker, his guess was that the unseen visitor she was so anxious he should avoid meeting was, in fact, her lover, Josh Flett.

  As he closed the garden gate, had he been gifted with eyes in the back of his head, he would have seen the curtain twitch and two heads staring out, watching his progress.

  ‘He knows,’ she whispered tearfully. ‘He knows!’
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br />   And without a word, only a sigh, he took her in his arms and held her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  On his way back to the stables to ride the mare back to Spanish Cove, Faro walked through the kirkyard and looked at the raw, upturned earth of Dave Claydon’s grave, not yet prepared for a headstone.

  If only Dave had been alive, he doubtless could have obliged with solutions to the mysteries that were troubling Faro, in particular what was contained in the artefacts he was carrying at the time of his drowning and perhaps, also, the secret of his wife Thora’s missing year.

  Finding a shop still open on the main street, he bought chocolates and a couple of carrots, rewarded for the latter by a whinny from the mare who, he was gratified to observe, recognised him again. She munched happily as the saddle was set upon her, while Faro signed the documents. The stableman grinned.

  ‘She’s a good, gentle beast, knows people who are kind to her. Never forgets a face this one, and she enjoys a gallop along the road to Kirkwall. Nothing like a good workout for keeping the beasts happy and in fine condition.’

  It was an uneventful return journey, and although Faro’s muscles were showing signs of reaction to this unusual activity, having mastered trotting and galloping over the long, empty stretches by the peat bogs, he decided horse riding was an exhilarating exercise on a fine summer evening. Especially with an agreeable mount who seemed to enjoy responding to his commands.

  What would it be like to ride in Edinburgh? He toyed with the thought. There were fewer horsemen in Princes Street these days, mostly country folk too poor to own or hire carriages, while farmers continued to use carts to deliver and collect supplies from town and sea. For the ordinary citizens, the convenience of the horse-drawn omnibus combined with railway trains, no longer a novelty, promised to extend services to the ever-growing suburbs.

  Clattering through the twisting streets of Stromness against a darkening horizon, Faro decided to stay close to the coast road. Below, a glimpse of sea shone in the mellow evening light, with seals heads bobbing in the waves or reclining on rocks. He noticed once again how their numbers increased as Spanish Cove came in sight. The divers and foreign fishing boats were not the only enthusiasts for its safe waters.

  Leaving the mare with another carrot, he patted her nose and was rewarded by having his cheek nuzzled. He felt pleased: this was a new experience as he had never been drawn to horses. Now he realised that, from childhood, he had been a little afraid of them, a feeling doubtless intensified after the death of his father under the wheels of a horse-drawn carriage.

  Settled ideas and prejudices can change quickly, and after a couple of hours riding hard, Faro felt as if he was parting from a friend and understood the attachment folk had to domestic pets, something he could never hope to enjoy in his police lodgings. But one day he would love to own a dog, a very big dog, that he could take for walks on Arthur’s Seat.

  Before heading for Scarthbreck he would look in on Inga. She was at home. And contrary to his two visits in Kirkwall, he was greeted with no long delay, no frown of dismay. The door opened promptly and, delighted to see him, Inga stood on tiptoe and hugged him, giving him a fond kiss.

  ‘Good to see you, Jeremy. What an unexpected pleasure. Come in, come in.’ When he told her he had been in Kirkwall and proudly boasted about his horsemanship, she laughed.

  ‘There’s a first time for everything, even for an Edinburgh policeman who avoids horses.’ Head on one side, she asked, ‘Have you time for a cup of tea or are you in a great hurry to get back?’ She paused, smiling. ‘Baubie’s still with me.’

  Following her into the parlour, he decided that this was one guest whose presence did not require being kept secret from visitors.

  Baubie was seated in the Orkney chair and stretched out a mittened hand. ‘I am glad to see you again.’

  ‘Baubie’s going back to South Ronaldsay soon. I shall miss you,’ said Inga, giving the older woman an affectionate glance.

  ‘You’ve looked after me long enough, my dear. I can’t impose on you any longer.’

  ‘It’s no imposition,’ Inga protested.

  Baubie shook her head. ‘I am quite well now. Well enough to go back to my old life again, thanks to your good nursing.’

  ‘Thanks to your herbs,’ said Inga.

  ‘All the herbs in the world can’t take the place or make up for one person’s loving care,’ said Baubie, taking Inga’s hand and laying it against her cheek.

  Inga smiled and planted a kiss on the smooth, unfurrowed forehead. ‘You are so good for me.’

  And suddenly aware of Jeremy again, she said, ‘Do sit down. You’re not a stranger here.’

  In the tiny kitchen, he watched while she prepared a pot of tea. Through the window the sound of seals barking drifted upward from the bottom of the cliffs far below.

  ‘They are very noisy tonight. How do you ever sleep through that racket?’

  She shrugged. ‘I can sleep through anything.’

  Faro found that hard to believe. ‘They’re very loud – and shrill.’

  ‘Very excited. I expect they know that Baubie is about to leave. And they’re planning to follow her.’

  As Faro’s eyebrows raised at this extraordinary explanation, she said, ‘I shouldn’t have to tell you that. Forgotten your folklore, Jeremy? Remember, the seals always follow a selkie, keep as close a watch as they can from the sea. At least that’s the popular belief,’ she added hurriedly at his quizzical expression.

  He carried the tray of bannocks and cheese into the parlour where Inga served Baubie, buttering a couple and handing her the plate, saying reproachfully, ‘She eats very little, Jeremy, just enough to survive. I can’t get her to eat any animal flesh or fish.’

  Jeremy shuddered and Inga laughed, remembering that he wouldn’t touch fish either, despite it being the main source of food on the islands, caught in plenty. A daily catch fresh from the sea.

  ‘I would rather starve,’ he said.

  ‘Still? Even in Edinburgh?’

  While Baubie looked at him in silent approval, he said, ‘Even in Edinburgh. Or anywhere else in the world.’

  Inga glanced at them and shook her head. ‘You don’t know what you’re missing. Selkie blood, they say,’ she added casually, aware from days long gone of the rumour concerning his grandmother.

  Munching a bannock, she asked, ‘Have you ever learnt to swim by any chance?’

  He shook his head and Inga turned to Baubie. ‘An island lad who couldn’t – or can’t – swim,’ she said mockingly. ‘No one would believe it.’

  Baubie smiled. ‘I sympathise. I don’t like water much.’

  ‘What a pair! Missing all the good things on offer,’ Inga laughed, embracing them both in one affectionate glance.

  ‘I do eat meat now,’ said Jeremy defensively.

  ‘Good. That will keep you strong and in fine shape to fight off criminals,’ said Inga. As he drained his cup of tea, she turned to Baubie. ‘Can you tell his fortune, what is waiting for him on the mainland? And his future,’ she added teasingly. ‘Who he’s going to marry?’

  Baubie said nothing, but merely held out her hand for his cup, her face expressionless.

  Faro, he had no belief in fortune-telling and despised its rise to popularity, the fashion for seances which was sweeping through Edinburgh.

  Cross with Inga, he could hardly refuse. However, if Baubie Finn had supernatural powers, there were many hidden truths about this Orkney visit that he wouldn’t mind hearing, besides those more personal things he was not eager for her to discover.

  He prepared to listen. She touched on his childhood which Inga could have told her about, as well as other details of his life, while what he really wanted to know was what had happened to his grandmother Sibella and why his parents had steadfastly refused to talk about her, or how she had died. He often wondered if Sibella had gone back to the sea, a bit of a family scandal, very hard to explain to curious neighbours. Maybe they though
t they had the seal skin she shed hidden away safely and, as so often happened in the island’s folk tales, one day Sibella had discovered it in a cupboard and turned back into a seal and swam away to her own people.

  It was nonsense, really, and he tried to concentrate on Baubie, who was twisting the cup and studying the leaves intently. Shaking her head, she sighed and handed the cup back to him.

  ‘There’s nothing I can tell you about your future that you don’t already know, or any action that you haven’t already decided upon.’

  Inga looked disappointed. ‘Is that all? I thought you’d see something. Are you sure, Baubie?’

  Baubie was sitting back in her chair. She looked suddenly old, drained and exhausted.

  ‘It’s past your bedtime,’ Inga said, and Faro recognised the signal that it was time for him to go. He took Baubie’s hand, and feeling as if he was leaving an old friend, he leant over and said, ‘May I?’ She smiled and he kissed her forehead.

  She squeezed his hand. ‘Thank you, Jeremy. I shall remember that most gratefully.’

  And following Inga to the door, Faro was confused, for that kiss had triggered off a distant memory struggling to the surface of his mind. Sometime long ago, that same tender scene had been played out before.

  Inga was saying, ‘I’ll see you on your way,’ and they walked arm in arm along the cliff edge and sat on a boulder overlooking the watchful, noisy seals, all heads turned towards them.

  ‘She did see something in your cup, Jeremy,’ Inga said solemnly. ‘I know. I can tell. You will take care, back in Edinburgh, won’t you?’

  ‘As if you care.’

  ‘Of course I care, don’t be silly. I can’t help it if we’re destined to walk different roads.’

  ‘That’s nonsense. We can decide our destiny.’

  She shook her head. ‘No, we can’t. I would know, feel it somehow, if there was any prospect of a lifetime together.’

  Changing the subject, which was so painful, he took a packet of chocolates out of his pocket, and said, ‘Almost forgot, these are for you.’