'I'll take a look, identify him formally, if ye like. He'd want to be buried in Crathie and I can arrange that. Any sign of his sister?' Brown added. 'Rumour had it she'd gone to Edinburgh. Mebbe he'd come to look for her.'
Faro did not relish having to tell that Bessie McNair was also dead, killed in a road accident.
Brown tut-tutted. 'Is that a fact now? Man, man, that's terrible. Although it's mebbe better that way. I mean them being so close. I've often heard tell that with twins, one doesnae' long survive the other.'
Reading Faro's doubtful expression, he said hastily, 'You're not hinting that these unfortunate happenings were anything else but accidental Inspector? A rare coincidence—'
A lifetime's association of dealing with highly suspect alibis had left Faro with no great faith in amazing or rare coincidences. The most amazing, he had found, were frequently the result of human agency.
Brown sighed. 'I can pay my last respects to Bessie too, then. Arrange a decent burial for them both. Someone'll need to do it, them having no kin.'
As Faro thanked him, he said, 'Just a matter of decency, man. Common decency, that's all.'
But as they parted, Faro decided that the swift change in Brown's manner from wariness to eagerness to be accommodating was a matter to give pause for thought. It was an attitude with which he was sadly familiar.
In anyone less important, such behaviour would have indicated the workings of uneasy conscience. And his interview with Brown served only to confirm the identities of the dead man and woman. He was no further forward in the matter of solving the mystery of the two deaths, which were being written off by the Procurator Fiscal as unfortunate accidents.
Superintendent Mcintosh's attitude was unsympathetic. Within a year of retirement and nursing secret dreams of a knighthood, he was determined that the Central Office should present a good clean tidy appearance to his successor. Most important of all, it should be seen that Edinburgh City Police had an amazing record where violent crimes were concerned. He was anxious to portray Edinburgh as a safe city where men and women could go about their business in a kind of urban paradise: God fearing, true to Queen and country.
'Will you never give up, Faro,' he sighed wearily, 'and accept accidents without wasting your time and mine searching for some sinister motive? Can't you content yourself with the minor crimes that plague us? There's plenty of fraud and burglaries and crim. cons, that you could get your teeth into if you are ever out of a job.'
Faro was mortally offended at such a suggestion. 'Crim.con.', or 'criminal conversation', was the law's quaint description of adultery. It was also the kind of investigation he considered beneath the attentions of a detective who had dedicated his whole career to murder investigations.
Vince was more understanding. He knew his stepfather of old and, listening patiently as he had done so often in the past, reminded him gently, 'Mcintosh is right, you know. It isn't anything to do with you really—'
'Wait a moment. Two murders in Edinburgh and nothing to do with me,' Faro exploded. 'If that isn't my business, then I don't know what is!'
'Look, Stepfather. If John Brown and Balmoral are involved, thieving servants and so forth, then it is the business of the Aberdeen branch to sort it out. You know that perfectly well and you can be sure they already have it in hand.'
Pausing, he placed his fingertips together and regarded Faro over them, once more the doctor whose soothing manner was meant to inspire confidence in a particularly stubborn patient.
'From what you've told me, one thing is puzzling. Why did brother and sister live apart, when she already had a rented cottage in Duddingston?'
'Exactly what Constable Thomas observed!' said Faro. 'The answer is fairly obvious, lad. They had information so dangerous it was vital there was no connection between them.'
Vince considered for a moment. 'Blackmail, do you think?'
'Before I can answer that, I'd like a lot more details, particularly about that pilfering Brown mentioned.'
'If it was jewels, something of that sort, McNair's remaining in his sordid lodging could have indicated that he was trying to contact a fence,' said Vince.
'We have no idea of what was taken. Brown was very vague. All we know is that it was of sufficient importance to have cost two people their lives. So far,' Faro added grimly.
'About Bessie McNair's Irish visitors. Could it be that the Fenians are busy again?'
Faro nodded. 'That thought had crossed my mind. Although they could have been innocent enough. There's plenty of Irish folk in Edinburgh.'
'And they don't fit the description of your two attackers on the Mound,' said Vince. 'As for a tall, slim woman concealing a pretty face under a veiled bonnet. It could fit almost any well-off Irishwoman living here.'
As he spoke he watched his stepfather's expression change. He hadn't the heart to suggest what was in the forefront of his mind: someone like Imogen Crowe, the Irish writer they had encountered during one of Faro's earlier cases on the Borders at Elrigg Castle.
He guessed that Faro had been a little in love with her. She was to get in touch with him when her travels brought her back to Edinburgh. But when time passed without any letters or communication, Vince presumed that Faro had dismissed her from his mind as she had apparently dismissed him from hers.
Oddly enough, it was Olivia who had brought it all back to Vince. Just a week ago she had been shopping with the maid May and was certain she had seen Imogen.
'Imogen or someone very like her, sitting in Princes Street Gardens. I was tempted to go for a closer look, but she was obviously waiting for someone and as I was trying to make up my mind, a young man came along and greeted her. He sat beside her and took her hand. They were obviously well acquainted. So I turned May round, made some excuse and hurried in the opposite direction.'
'Why on earth—!'
'My dear, I simply didn't want to intrude. How embarrassing, especially if she wasn't Imogen or, worse, was—and didn't remember me!'
'But you were friends, for heaven's sake.'
Olivia sighed. 'We did exchange a letter or two after Elrigg. I liked her very much, I even read her books and told her how much I enjoyed them—'
As Vince listened he thought that Imogen had perhaps written back only in politeness, answering a fan letter. But tactfully he refrained from mentioning it. Not for the world would he disillusion his darling Olivia.
'I sent her an invitation to our wedding, which she never even acknowledged.' Olivia sighed. 'Such a shame. The perfect opportunity for her to be reunited with your stepfather. I was vexed they hadn't kept in touch after Elrigg.'
'You are a wicked little matchmaker,' said Vince, smiling at her tenderly.
'I know,' she laughed shamelessly. 'But I do wish and you know it would be a good thing—if the dear man remarried. All those good looks, that kind heart, going to waste.'
'He'd hate to hear you saying that about him. It's not how he sees himself at all. Anyway, Livvy, I don't think marriage is for him. He's married already—to the City Police. If only you knew how he reproached himself for neglecting my mother—'
'That was quite a long time ago,' Olivia reminded him. 'And it wouldn't have saved her life, poor soul. After all, she didn't exactly die of his neglect, having his baby.'
Now remembering Olivia's words and regarding his stepfather's remote expression, Vince quickly changed the subject to Rose and Lachlan Brown. He and Olivia had invited them to the Café Royal for lunch the previous day.
'We were sorry you couldn't be with us. It was quite an eye-opener. The two of them, I mean, quite besotted with each other I'd say.'
Faro's face clouded. The reason he had declined the invitation was precisely that. He dreaded seeing the young couple falling in love.
'There's definitely something in the air. Livvy's very good at spotting that sort of thing. I have learned that she's seldom wrong, so we can take her word for it.'
'Early days, surely?' Faro interposed. 'After two or
three meetings.'
Watching him solemnly, Vince said, 'You don't look as if you welcome this new suitor, Stepfather.'
Faro did not reply, his expression enigmatic. Vince sighed. 'I'll be frank with you, I thought the idea was always that she should also forgo and forget Danny.'
Again Faro was silent and Vince continued cautiously, 'Any further developments there that we don't know about?'
'Rose doesn't talk about him,' Faro admitted reluctantly. 'It's the one point of disharmony between us. She knows that I cannot conceal my feelings about this relationship, the nearest we have ever come to a quarrel. So now his name is never mentioned on her visits.'
Vince shook his head. 'So you are both being quite ostrichlike about the whole thing. That's not always a good sign.'
Personally he could not understand what his stepfather had against Danny. He had always liked the young policeman.
True, he was Irish and a Catholic, but Vince knew that was not the real reason for Faro's opposition.
Right from the beginning, although Faro would have been the first to praise McQuinn as a policeman and a splendid, reliable colleague, Vince guessed that he had never considered him good enough for his daughter.
Now Vince was puzzled by the fact that Lachlan, who was eminently suitable, a famous concert pianist, young, handsome, a composer with a great future ahead of him, should meet a similar reaction.
Maybe his stepfather just didn't want his elder and, he had to admit, his favourite—daughter to marry at all.
'If you had seen her with Lachlan, well, I'd make a pretty good guess that the signs indicate that she has outgrown her childish infatuation for Danny McQuinn. I'd suggest that a few hints about Lachlan Brown might not come amiss.'
Faro looked at him quickly. Could it be that Vince was deliberately ignoring or had never known or never guessed his deeply personal reasons for disquiet?
Or the reason why he deliberately avoided spending time in Lachlan's company when Rose was with him, certain that he would not be able to contain his secret knowledge?
Chapter 10
Faro realized with dismay that Rose's visit would soon be over. As always he was consumed with guilt at having spent so little time with her. For once this fact did not seem to trouble her. She had Olivia—and Lachlan, yes, Lachlan too.
Petted and spoilt by Mrs Brook, she touched her slender waist and groaned. 'A few more days is all I can afford—I don't know how the people in this house can keep their figures intact with dear Mrs B's cooking.'
She had just returned from one of Olivia's charitable sales of work in Duddingston. 'I wish you could have seen it. It was as well we took May with us to help carry round all the things Olivia bought. We shall have enough antimacassars to furnish a regiment.'
Faro only half listened to the conversation around the table as a jar of Gentleman's Relish was put before him.
'I only went because I had promised two of my pupils I'd look up their great-aunts who live there. Thank goodness they were very much in evidence in the tombola department. They had met May before—it's a small world,' she said, smiling across at her sister-in-law.
Olivia was oddly silent, she had eaten little and was looking pale.
'I hope you're not overdoing it,' Vince whispered, taking her hand.
'Oh, hush,Vince.'
Rose turned excitedly. 'Livvy—is it—I mean, are you—'
Olivia smiled wanly. 'Well, you might as well all know. It's early days and I would rather have waited a little longer—'
'Come, my dear, you have a doctor for a husband after all,' said Vince, grinning broadly as he looked round the table. 'We have reason to believe that we will be proud parents come Christmas.'
Rose squealed with delight and hugged them both. Everything else was forgotten in the joy that greeted their news. Faro was particularly delighted as he had been hoping for such an announcement since, two weeks earlier, he'd discovered Olivia looking distinctly unwell and refusing the Sunday roast on the one occasion each week when all three shared a midday meal together.
'Things are changing in Sheridan Place, our numbers growing,' said Rose happily. 'Though I wouldn't bank on Olivia having May much longer. Romance is in the air,' she added mysteriously.
'You mean Constable Thomas,' said Faro.
'I might have guessed you knew about that too,' said Rose. 'I don't think Mrs Brook will grieve to see her go, although she will certainly need extra help. Isn't it exciting, Pa?'
'It's great news,' said Faro. 'I hope a new baby will mean we'll see you more often.'
'Often as I can,' said Rose vaguely. 'Depends on a lot of things.'
In the silence that followed it was his chance to ask about Danny and he let it go.
The following day Rose went to Lachlan's final concert, which coincided with her return to Glasgow. Lachlan's tour had been a tremendous success. Edinburgh had indeed welcomed him with open arms, every performance had been sold out, leaving Faro to ponder whether the warm reception owed as much to the notoriety of his connection with John Brown as the young pianist's undeniable talent.
It was with some disquiet that he learned from Rose that Lachlan had a free week before returning to London to prepare for a tour of European cities.
'He is coming to Glasgow,' she said dreamily.
‘You'll be teaching, of course,' said Faro.
'The girls are on holiday next week—fortunately.' She laughed. 'So we'll have the days together at least.'
Realizing how deeply they were attracted and aware of the power and passion of love, Faro dreaded what might happen away from the restraining influence of Sheridan Place.
If only they could still talk together as they had done in the old days. As for McQuinn, she seemed to have forgotten his very existence. How that would have pleased Faro once upon a time and he was again reminded that one should take great care in what one asked the gods to grant, as they might well answer but in a manner quite unacceptable to the petitioner.
Fate, however, was on his side momentarily. Vince was summoned to the Caledonian Hotel in the early hours of the morning.
Lachlan had succumbed to the dreaded influenza which Vince and many other Edinburgh doctors suspected might reach epidemic proportions.
But Lachlan had youth and good health on his side. Vince decided to isolate him and hired a reliable nurse to take care of him.
'He should be fit to travel to London next week as planned,' Vince reassured them. 'But any ideas he might have had about going to Glasgow are definitely to be abandoned.'
Vince's stern instructions had made Lachlan groan but he felt too miserable and ill to do more than weakly protest.
When Rose was informed she immediately returned to Edinburgh prepared to take over the nursing herself if necessary. But Vince strongly opposed any such ideas.
'Influenza is not to be taken lightly. It is highly contagious,' Vince told her sternly. 'Besides, Lachlan is too poorly to receive visitors who will merely exhaust him and delay his recovery.'
Lachlan was not too ill to realize the dangers and absolutely to forbid Rose to come anywhere near him. He also had a young man's pride. The mirror held up for his shaving revealed that he looked far from the handsome, strong, virile man Rose was used to meeting and he disliked being seen when not at his best, especially by this woman he loved.
And so Rose had to be content to walk with her father on Arthur's Seat. It was an afternoon of soft sunshine dappling the hills, the gorse was now in bloom, the horizons stretching endlessly to where the River Forth joined the North Sea and was lost in shimmering haze.
They sat down together on a boulder and, leaning her head on his shoulder, Rose sighed comfortably.
'What a glorious day, Papa. We never have enough time together.'
He hugged her to his side. 'We never did have, lass. As you've grown up I regret more than anything that I lost so much of both my bairns' childhood.' He sighed heavily. 'Was I wrong not to keep you both here with me in Edinbur
gh after your mother died?'
She looked at him. 'I think Emmy and I always hoped that you might. We longed for the holidays and we used to count the weeks, striking them off the calendar. We always had such plans for where were going—with our Papa—'
And Faro remembered guiltily how often he had been unavailable on those visits, working on a case. Absorbed with some crime or other and only vaguely aware of his daughters' reproachful sighs, their need for him. Pretending not to notice how disappointed they were to be put in the charge of Mrs Brook, with all their splendid plans for him set at naught.
Dear, kind, good Mrs Brook, whose idea of entertaining children was giving them huge meals, filling the empty corners of their lives with loads of cakes and scones. But these two girls needed more than banquets to compensate for their ever absent father. Sadly he knew all too well that they would not have complained at plain bread and porridge if they could have shared it with him each day.
'I thought it was for the best, and that you were happy with Grandma in Orkney,' he said bleakly.
'We were, but we always hoped things would change.' After a moment she added slyly, 'We hoped that you might marry again. We used to say in our prayers, "And send Papa a good wife."'
Faro was taken aback by this confession. 'I thought little girls objected to wicked stepmothers.'
She laughed. 'Well, we knew we could rely on you to make a good choice. Life is such a great adventure, isn't it? Full of the unexpected.'
Looking at her smiling face, dreamy-eyed, staring over towards the coast of East Lothian where the prehistoric hillfort of Taprain dominated the horizon, Faro took a deep breath.
'The unexpected? Are we to presume that includes Lachlan?'
She turned, smiling at him. 'He is such a delight, isn't he? Imagine Inga St Ola being his mother and not able to keep him with her in Orkney, having to leave him with the Browns to grow up on Deeside. Life is very cruel.' She sighed and shook her head. 'Strange that I already feel as if I had known him all my life. That he has always been there, just around the corner, waiting.'
Murder by Appointment: Inspector Faro No.10 Page 6