Faro's thoughts as to how this success might also influence his daughter's future relationship with Lachlan were dismissed by the insistent ringing of the front doorbell.
Voices were raised in the hall and he ran downstairs to see the police carriage outside his door.
Constable Lamont leaped out and rushed up the steps.
'It's Charlie Thomas, sir. He's in Leith. Been stabbed. He's asking for you. Come quickly, sir. He's dying.'
Chapter 20
As the police carriage raced towards the scene of Constable Thomas's attack. Faro felt numbed by this totally unexpected development.
Casualties among policemen were not unusual, there were hazards in plenty, his own father had been a victim. Many had died in accidents and fights during his thirty years' service with the City Police. Some were young men at the beginning of promising careers but few he had encountered were like Thomas, born policemen. Thomas, Faro was certain, by dint of hard work and high intelligence would have risen very soon to the rank of sergeant-detective and ultimately to that of inspector.
And now his short life was at an end. He knelt by his side and took hold of his cold hands.
'Such a waste, such a terrible waste,' he said, his eyes filled with tears.
The elderly constable who had discovered Thomas cleared his throat and said, 'He died just minutes ago, sir. He asked for you, trying to ask you something or other.' He sighed heavily. 'He was a good man, sir, he didn't deserve this.'
As they put Thomas into the carriage Faro was aware of Lamont sobbing, wiping his eyes with a large handkerchief.
'He was my friend sir. My friend' he said. 'I'll kill the bastard who did this—if it's the very last thing I do.'
'We'll find him, Lamont, we'll find him.'
Trying to calm the young constable helped Faro deal with his own grief. He was aware that the stabbing had taken place just yards away from the boarding house, where they had gone together to interview Mrs Carling who now gazed cautiously over a neighbour's shoulder. Her son Andy was nowhere in evidence.
This wasn't Thomas's beat. He had no right to be in this area unless he was on official business. Staring hard in the woman's direction, he wondered did that business concern the Carlings and their possible connection with the McNair murders?
('I think I've cracked the case for the chief.')
Thomas's excitement and Lamont's reported words came back to him. Messages left at Sheridan Place and the Central Office could only concern the McNairs, the case they had worked on together and the only reason for Thomas being so far away from Newington.
Faro would no doubt find out once the constable's killer was caught. Meanwhile there were the practical matters concerning sudden death to be dealt with.
'Had he any family?' he asked Lamont.
'Yes, sir. His mother lives in Crail.' Lamont's surprised look indicated that he expected Faro to know that.
Faro was guiltily aware how little he knew of Constable Thomas. He had just learned that his first name was Charlie. For all the young man's reliability and worth, Faro realized that he had never made the effort to know him better. He had no curiosity regarding his private life beyond an amused tolerance that the constable was courting the maid in his own household.
This situation was by no means unique. It had characterized his entire association with Danny McQuinn, despite years of working together. On more than one occasion McQuinn's prompt action had saved Faro's life, but all he knew of him was that he came from Ireland and had been brought up in the Catholic orphanage of an Edinburgh convent.
Rose had added information regarding McQuinn's relatives in the United States but not until their unexpected meeting in Stirling had he learned the significant facts of McQuinn's upbringing.
Faro considered this deficiency in the character of a man whose whole life was involved in tracking down clues. A man who saw himself as one who cared deeply for his fellow men and would fight any injustice on their behalf. Did this grave omission exist in his personality alone or were all senior officers so afflicted with indifference, regarding their policemen as little more than soulless drones to drive carriages, carry messages, smooth out the dull and exhaustive patches of criminal investigations.
And it struck Faro as despicable to learn only after the young man was dead that he had a private life.
He turned to Lamont. 'I had better inform Mrs Thomas.'
'No need for that, sir, unless you particularly wish to do so.' There was an embarrassed silence 'You see, sir, I've visited her with Charlie several times.' He paused. 'It'll come easier from me sir, seeing I was his friend.'
'Thank you, Lamont. I appreciate your action. I will of course send an official letter, and so will Superintendent Mcintosh.'
As he said the words, Faro was aware of his own hypocrisy, of being overwhelmed with feelings of relief that he had been spared the ordeal of breaking tragic news to a bereaved parent. He was also guiltily aware that he had been secretly hoping Lamont would make the offer.
There was a little pause, then Lamont cleared his throat and said, 'Someone will need to tell his sweetheart, sir. It'll break the poor lass's heart. They were hoping to wed, you know.'
‘I’ll tell her, Lamont,' said Faro, wondering how on earth he would convey such dire news to a girl who could not even speak.
At the Central Office, a full investigation into Thomas's death was set in motion. Witnesses in the area would be questioned, policemen alerted for information regarding suspicious persons and guilty behaviour.
Thomas had been struck in a main artery, his killer could not have escaped without his clothing being considerably stained with blood.
It was late afternoon before Faro returned home, anticipating the dreaded interview with May.
His arrival coincided with Mrs Brook bustling along the road with her basket of groceries. 'Quite a stir we had, sir, getting them away.'
Faro stared at her. Getting who away? The events of the early morning and his speedy departure had swept from his mind that Vince and Olivia were leaving for the wedding at Dunblane.
'You'll be needing something to eat, sir—'
'No, not now, Mrs Brook, thank you.'
'A nice cup of tea, then?'
He felt in dire need of something much stronger than tea but followed her downstairs, rehearsing the words he was going to say to break the news to the maid. He was greatly relieved to find her absent, doubtless out on some errand for Mrs Brook.
His wan appearance hadn't escaped the housekeeper's vigilance. She was curious about the Inspector's appearance in her kitchen since he usually went straight up to his study.
'Is there something I can get you, sir?'
When he shook his head, she said, 'If you'll go upstairs, I'll bring you a tray directly.'
Faro sat down heavily at the table. 'Mrs Brook, I have some bad news—'
She turned to him anxiously, her hands holding the teapot trembled. 'Oh, sir, what is it? Oh dear—not one of the family?'
'No, Mrs Brook. Not the family. Now, please do sit down.' And when she did so, he said, 'It's Constable Thomas, he's been stabbed in a fight.'
'Oh, poor Charlie.' She looked at him. 'May will be worried about him. He's not seriously hurt, is he?'
'I'm afraid so. He died earlier this morning.'
Mrs Brook gave a little scream and covered her face with her hands. 'Oh, not that nice young man.' She regarded him tearfully. 'How we are going to break this to May when she gets back, I don't know.'
'Will she be long?'
'Long, sir? Why, she's away to Dunblane with Dr Vince and Mrs Laurie. Rushes in at the last minute, hands me a note that the young mistress wants her with them.' Pausing she shook her head. 'I don't know what this house is coming to, really I don't. All these notes. And now poor Charlie killed. He was sitting just where you are—'
She put a hand to her mouth. 'I've just remembered something. Oh dear—' She went over to the sideboard and took a large envelope out of a
drawer. 'This was for May. Charlie left it for her. How do I give this to her now? It'll break the poor lass's heart.'
She placed the envelope on the table. 'It's for her birthday. That's tomorrow. I should have remembered and given it to her before she left. But with all the confusion, it went clean out of my mind.'
Pausing, she looked across at Faro. 'Charlie wanted it to be a surprise. Poems he'd written, that sort of thing. A bit of nonsense I thought for, bless the poor dear lad's heart, he's the romantic one—she's the practical kind. While he was explaining that he wanted it to be waiting for her at her bedside when she woke up, she came in, back from the shops. So he tipped me a wink and said sternly, "This is for Inspector Faro, Mrs Brook. Very important. You see that he gets it. Put it on his desk right away. Understand?" And off they went together.' She sighed. 'What'll I do now, sir?'
Faro shook his head. 'Explain it all to her when she comes back. Maybe she'll understand and it will be something for her to remember him by.'
On the following day, Thomas's killer was apprehended.
Constable Bevan, on duty at Waverley Station and, on the lookout for a sneak thief operating on the railway, had noticed a man in a great hurry, his clothes covered in bloodstains, heading towards the platform where the London train was about to depart.
He had no ticket and when the guard refused to let him through the barrier, he hurled the unfortunate man to the ground and, running along the platform, flung open a compartment door and jumped aboard as the train gathered speed.
Constable Bevan ran to the Telegraph Office and alerted stations along the line. The man's bloodied appearance, his suspicious behaviour, had been observed by a frightened passenger who pulled the communication cord. He thereupon leaped from the compartment and tumbled down the steep embankment.
By the time the policemen reached him, he was unconscious, badly injured and unlikely to live.
They took him to the City Hospital where the contents of his coat revealed Thomas's pocket watch identified by Lamont. Also a purse containing twenty sovereigns. The man, Jack Byrne, was well known to the officers.
The surrounding policemen eyed it grimly. Such a sum of money was practically a confession that he had been paid to kill the constable.
And by a person or body of persons who had plenty of money and were very anxious that Thomas and his precious information should go no further, thought Faro as he elected to sit by Byrne's bedside in the hope that he might survive long enough to reveal the present whereabouts of the constable's official notebook. Its absence from his possessions suggested that it might hold vital clues to his murderer's employers.
As he took up his vigil Faro regarded Byrne's brutal countenance with distaste and despair. It was of little comfort to know that a 'wanted for murder' notice had long been posted for this habitual criminal who lived in the thieves' kitchen at Causewayside. He had been in and out of gaol since his youth, having known nothing as refined as schooldays, a paid killer, a man who would maim for a shilling and kill for a couple of sovereigns.
And this was Thomas's killer. Thomas had apparently tried to arrest him in Leith. If Byrne lived, he would go to the gallows, denied the claim of self-defence, that the constable had charged him in connection with a crime he knew nothing about. Resisting arrest, Byrne had fought him off, drawing the knife he always carried as a deterrent whereupon Thomas had somehow fallen on it.
Byrne never had the chance to put it all into words this time. Sometime during Faro's vigil, he opened his eyes and asked for water. Holding the glass to his lips, Faro asked, 'Who paid you to kill the policeman?’
Byrne shook his head. 'Don't know—nothing.'
'What do you know of the McNairs?'
'The McNairs.' The man shook his head. He closed his eyes with a heavy sigh and any hopes of further information were over for good. Blood bubbled through his lips and Jack Byrne was dead. He had escaped the hangman's rope.
But the questions remained unanswered. It had been presumed that Thomas was trying to arrest him, but Faro guessed that most likely Thomas had been lured to Weighman's Close on some pretext of information and that Byrne had been waiting ready to knife him.
Faro remembered seeing Mrs Carling as he knelt by Thomas. He was certain there was a connection with the McNairs and that it centred on Mrs Carling and her son Andy.
'I think I've cracked the case for the chief.’
His words continued to haunt Faro as he set off to interview the Carlings.
He was unlucky. The door was locked.
'Away for the day,' was the laconic answer from a neighbour with as little desire as Mrs Carling for any dealings with the police, especially when one of their colleagues had been killed in the vicinity. The woman and the other members of her household had already been closely questioned as possible witnesses.
'Tell her I'll be back,' said Faro.
Chapter 21
The coolness of Faro's reception by Mrs Carling when he arrived at the close next day confirmed his suspicions that she and her son probably knew a great deal more about Constable Thomas's death and the events preceding it than they were prepared to admit.
He was not unexpected. The neighbours must have warned her.
'Is your son at home?'
'No he isn't.'
'When are you expecting him?'
'I don't know. He's away—to Glasgow—looking for work,' she added defensively. 'A good lad, keen to get on, you know.'
Faro regarded her sternly. 'You are aware that the constable who was with me last time was stabbed almost outside your door.'
She winced. 'Everyone in the close knew about it.'
'And yet no one went to his assistance.'
Her laugh was shrill and unhappy and she looked at him as if he had taken leave of his senses to entertain such an idea. As with the rat-infested closes off the High Street, he guessed that at the first sign of trouble people swiftly withdrew into their own houses and closed the doors firmly until it was past.
Anyone accused of cowardice asked simply: What was to be gained by getting a knife stuck in you? or: We all have troubles enough of our own, mister, without going out looking for other folk's.
Mrs Carling, however, recovered her composure enough to say, 'A terrible thing to happen outside a respectable boarding house. How this will affect my gentlemen, I don't know. They'll be afraid to sleep in their beds. And my livelihood will suffer. I'll be in the workhouse in no time,' she added wringing her hands convincingly.
'Did you see Constable Thomas that day? Had he called at your house recently?'
Her eyes wavered uncertainly. 'He was around the close quite a lot lately. Very unnerving it was, a uniformed policeman sniffing about, as if we were guilty of some crime. Gives a respectable house a bad name.'
As she spoke Faro suddenly sprang across to the door. He moved so lightly and soundlessly that when he flung it open, Andy Carling catapulted into the room, his mother's warning scream a second too late.
'Back from Glasgow already,' said Faro amiably. 'No need to listen at keyholes, lad.'
'I wasn't—just came in. Heard Ma had a visitor. I was curious.'
'So we see. Well, now that you're here make yourself at home,' said Faro leading him to the table and pushing him into a chair. Sitting opposite, he said, 'Now what have you to tell me about Constable Thomas's visits?'
Andy exchanged an uneasy glance with his mother. 'It had nothing to do with us.'
'So you know what I'm on about,' said Faro. 'That's a relief. We're looking for reliable witnesses to the incident.'
'I don't know anything about him being stabbed. The man what did it, everyone knows he's a killer and keeps wide of him. They got into an argument, that's all we know.'
Mrs Carling put her hand on her son's arm. 'Will he need to go to the court?' she asked anxiously, her mind clearly dealing with many other crimes that might be unmasked.
'I don't think that will be necessary, seeing that the constable's killer is dead.
Jumped from a moving train.'
'Well, well,' said Mrs Carling in tones of obvious relief. 'At least my laddie is saved the ordeal. This sort of thing is so bad for a lad's reputation.'
Faro smiled grimly. And young Andy's shady activities were safe from exposure for a little longer.
'You'd better tell the Inspector what he wants to know.'
'I don't know nothing, Ma. You know that. I'd have told you.' Andy whined.
Faro stood up. There was nothing more he could do, except waste time trying to wrest information out of the Carlings.
'If you change your mind, or if your mother persuades you to do so, you know where to find me.'
Number 9 Sheridan Place was silent, empty. As Faro wearily climbed the stairs to his study he realized that Vince and Olivia would not return from the wedding in Dunblane until Wednesday.
But on Wednesday, Vince came home alone. He had persuaded Olivia to take a few extra days at the famed Hydro.
'Such indulgences are necessary in the early days of pregnancy, Stepfather. And she had May to look after her. They'll be back with Rose at the weekend. What's been happening to you in our absence?'
Vince listened intently as Faro brought him up to date. He too was shocked by Constable Thomas's death and the reverberations this would have on Olivia's maid, whom, according to Mrs Brook and Constable Lamont, he intended to marry.
'What a dreadful blow for that poor afflicted girl.'
As Faro laid a wreath on Thomas's grave overlooking the sea in Crail, his thoughts were with May.
Vince had sent a telegraph to Olivia, telling her of the constable's death, and Faro expected to see the maid among the female relatives and friends gathered in Thomas's home, since it was not the usual practice in Scotland for women to accompany the coffin to the graveside.
But May was not in evidence. Constable Lamont looked round and shook his head sadly. 'Shouldn't be surprised if she's had a complete collapse with shock, poor lass. 'Sides she's never met Charlie's mother or his family—'
Murder by Appointment: Inspector Faro No.10 Page 13