Human-eyed, beseeching, curious.
A seal.
The sea claimed him again.
So this was death.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Baubie Finn had been restless all that day. In the morning she had asked Inga to take her back to South Ronaldsay, her voice urgent, explaining that, although she had been so happy in Spanish Cove, she could wait no longer to return to her own home.
And then while Inga, always willing to help her friend, was discussing the arrangements, Baubie had shaken her head. ‘Not today, my dear. I find I must stay here today.’
Inga made no comment. The discovery of the drowned man, whom she had never met, distressed Baubie, made her even more ill at ease, and as the day drifted towards evening, she wanted to go along the shore and watch the fireworks at Scarthbreck.
A curious request, thought Inga, and remembering how slowly Baubie walked, she would hire a gig from the stables.
Baubie was pleased. But with Scarthbreck in sight she decided no, she wanted to go further, on towards the old dwellings.
Inga was puzzled as she drove further along the shore, the seals keeping pace, their heads bobbing up and down in the water. Far from any fireworks now, the shore was empty except for the passing of a carriage bearing Thora with a companion, who, although she could not see him clearly, Inga assumed to be Josh, accompanied by the Frenchman Emil on horseback.
She called out a greeting. They turned away and pretended not to see her.
‘Did they know about the fireworks?’ she began, but Baubie wasn’t listening. She didn’t want to stop here after all.
Shaking her head she said, ‘This isn’t the place. Further, further along.’
Utterly confused, Inga drove on until Baubie seized her arm and said, ‘Here. Stop here. This is it.’
She got out of the gig and walked, quickly and steadily, towards the water’s edge. Inga followed, afraid that her friend would get her feet wet, and that it would bring back the pneumonia, sure as life.
‘Baubie. Come back,’ she called, but Baubie didn’t seem to hear or care. The seals had moved nearer, clamouring, barking, and Baubie was holding out her hands towards them almost in supplication.
‘Come back,’ Inga called.
This time she heard her, turned round and said, ‘Jeremy is out there. He’s drowning.’
‘What …? How do you …?’ Inga stopped.
‘The seals tell me. You must save him.’
‘But where?’
Baubie pointed. ‘Over there – where the waves are breaking … a rock.’
Inga shaded her eyes. ‘But I don’t see—’
‘He is there. Go – please go.’
Inga waited no longer. She slipped off her gown and dashed into the sea. And it seemed, in case she was in danger of losing her direction, the seals were around her, guiding her ahead. Their presence was no consolation: she had never been so scared in her life before. She was an excellent swimmer but the undercurrent was strong.
At last, with the seals’ heads bobbing in a circle around her, she saw the large rock and a still shape, spreadeagled and face down.
It was Jeremy. She pulled herself up the slippery surface and turned him over. He was alive. His eyes opened.
‘Is this heaven?’
‘You bloody fool,’ she swore and wrapping an arm around him, managed to dog-paddle him to the shore.
Baubie was waiting.
Inga regarded her anxiously as Faro climbed into the gig. She looked worse than he did, as if all the life had been drained out of her, and there were no words for any of them as Inga drove swiftly back along the shore.
When they reached Scarthbreck, Faro had observed the change in Baubie. She looked small and pale, and with an arm supporting her, he said, ‘No, Inga. Don’t stop for me. Let’s get her home first.’
At Spanish Cove, Inga bustled Baubie inside while Faro went across to join the group gathered by a couple of carriages.
Stavely was there with a man being carried on a stretcher.
Amos Flett.
‘Yes, he’s alive, lost a lot of blood,’ Stavely said. ‘But he’s young and strong enough to hang, if he doesn’t turn Queen’s evidence against the others.’
‘Who shot him?’ Faro asked.
Stavely nodded towards the police carriage where Emil sat statue-straight alongside the Claydons. All three handcuffed while Mr West issued instructions to the policemen in charge. ‘Got to get this lot behind bars. We got Latour too. Attempted murder among other things. Yes, he shot Flett when they decided he knew too much.’
‘There’s your smugglers, Faro. Been after them for a while now. And thanks to West’s lookout and his homing pigeons we got them red-handed, and Latour as well. There’s a French ship offshore there, waiting to take them to Marseilles.’
‘The artefacts, too?’
He shook his head. ‘All in good time. We’re waiting to find out.’
And taking in Faro’s bedraggled state, ‘You look like the next casualty. Better get into some dry clothes.’
They didn’t have long to wait. While Faro had been wrestling with angels in the unlikely shapes of grey seals, back in Scarthbreck, Beau, in one of his boisterous chases, skidded across the floor and knocked down a couple of Emil’s pictures.
In a panic Mary Faro rescued them and heard something rattling inside. Removing the torn backing, a shower of gold coins rolled across the floor. The missing doubloons, treasure trove from the wreck of the El Rosario, waiting to be loaded on the French ship arriving in Spanish Cove that evening.
Regarding Latour’s arrest, Mary said sadly, ‘Never thought much of his paintings. I mean, not nearly as good as those prints in our parlour,’ she added, referring to the Millais reproductions. ‘I never really believed I would go to Paris, that was too good to be true.’
Faro put an arm around her and kissed her.
‘You are too good to be true sometimes, Ma. Always trusting folk, taking them at face value.’
As they sat down at the table, she sighed. ‘Emil seemed a nice enough fellow, if a bit flashy, and I felt guilty, thinking what if he asked me to marry him? I’d never be able to care about him that way. There could never be another man like your dear pa.’ Smiling, she leant over and kissed him. ‘Except you, Jeremy. You get more like him every day.’
And, Jeremy thought, what a reputation to live up to.
Stavely arrived looking pleased with himself. West, the retired botanist, was a government agent who had had the smugglers under surveillance for some time, his homing pigeons a fast and efficient means of communications with the Orkney Constabulary.
‘You can’t expect to win every time, Faro,’ Stavely crowed. ‘The lads in Kirkwall have to have some of the glory. Can’t deny them that.’
So saying, he darted a resentful look in Beau’s direction, wishing he could say the same about being upstaged by the mongrel pup who had accidentally discovered the smugglers’ secret hiding place.
On the day of his departure for Edinburgh, Faro realised that Jimmy Traill would get his sensational story, an abridged version. The most sensational part of it would remain Faro’s secret: how Inga had rescued him from drowning and Baubie had used her selkie power over the seals.
There was one final moment, a last word shared between himself and Baubie, a final mystery that had lacked a solution.
As he thanked her yet again, she said, ‘This is for your ears only, Jeremy. We may never meet again, but you wanted to know what became of Sibella Scarth.’
He took her mittened hands and held them. ‘I know. I think I have always known since that very first meeting.’
She smiled, leant across and kissed his cheek. ‘Aye, and you’re a grandson to be proud of. But this must be our secret, remember.’
‘But why?’ Even as he said the words, Faro remembered Mary Faro and the conversation he had overheard between his parents so long ago.
‘There are some things, like selkies, t
hat ordinary folk, even the best of families living in small communities, are not able to cope with. Selkie blood, let’s just leave it at that.’
Faro smiled. ‘Never. Something to be proud of, and what goes with it.’
Before he left he had a final visit from Stavely.
‘How did you find out about Josh Flett?’ Faro asked. ‘I seem to remember you didn’t believe a word of my theory.’
Stavely smiled wryly. ‘It seemed too far-fetched but it set me thinking, and the more I thought … Then a chance meeting with the local doctor over a pint in the Lamb & Flag. Just back from holiday, he was astonished to find the patient he had left on his deathbed had made a miraculous recovery. Naturally he went to visit him and see for himself, but Amos turned him away. Josh, he said, refused to see him.
‘I also heard that various other folk, intrigued by this miracle, had caught glimpses of this new Josh who always took avoiding action.’
He paused and said, ‘Suddenly your absurd theory began to make sense. Too many coincidences.’
As he turned to leave, Faro said, ‘Before you go, Sergeant, there’s another one for you.
Remember Thora, the seal king’s bride? Here’s what really happened.’
Stavely listened this time. At the end, Faro said, ‘I solved that mystery, but I’m afraid it’s left you another corpse to unearth.’
About the Author
ALANNA KNIGHT has written more than fifty novels, three non-fiction titles on R.L. Stevenson, two true crime books, numerous short stories and several plays since the publication of her first book in 1969. Born and educated in Tyneside, she now lives in Edinburgh. She is a member of the Scottish chapter of the Crime Writers’ Association, a founding member of the Scottish Association of Writers, and Honorary President of the Edinburgh Writers’ Club.
www.alannaknight.com
By Alanna Knight
THE INSPECTOR FARO SERIES
Murder in Paradise
The Seal King Murders
THE ROSE MCQUINN SERIES
The Inspector’s Daughter
Dangerous Pursuits
An Orkney Murder
Ghost Walk
Destroying Angel
Quest for a Killer
Deadly Legacy
THE TAM EILDOR SERIES
The Gowrie Conspiracy
The Stuart Sapphire
If you enjoyed The Seal King Murders,
read on to find out about Inspector Faro’s recent case …
To discover more great fiction and to
place an order visit our website at
www.allisonandbusby.com
or call us on
020 7580 1080
MURDER IN PARADISE
The year is 1860 and Inspector Faro has been transported back to one of the darkest moments of his career – the chase of the notorious Macheath across the Scottish border to the Kent countryside. Whilst there, Faro meets an old school friend, Erland Flett, who is working alongside the artist William Morris and the Pre-Raphaelites whose unconventional lifestyle is a startling revelation.
Erland is about to marry a beautiful but mysterious young lady, Lena Hamilton. Faro recognises her as the famous Madeleine Smith, accused of murdering her lover, but never convicted. Now Faro realises that he must apprehend Macheath and save his friend from certain death at the hands of the ruthless Miss Smith … and time is running out.
Copyright
Allison & Busby Limited
13 Charlotte Mews
London W1T 4EJ
www.allisonandbusby.com
Hardback first published in Great Britain in 2011.
Paperback edition first published in 2012.
This ebook edition first published in 2012.
Copyright © 2011 by ALANNA KNIGHT
The moral right of the author is hereby asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All characters and events in this publication other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent buyer.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978–0–7490–1102–4
The Seal King Murders Page 23