To Kill a Queen (An Inspector Faro Mystery No.6)

by Alanna Knight

  'You were very lucky, Auntie,' Faro said.

  Her smile was pure content. 'The Good Lord looks after his own. I have every faith that ma prayers will be answered and I'll be home for ma birthday.' And with a tender look, 'I prayed that ye would manage to come as well, Jeremy lad. And Vince too. I am blessed. It wouldna' be the same without you. If only your dear mother and the wee bairns—'

  She listened to Faro's explanation with concern. 'Those puir wee lambs. Let's hope they dinna have their bonny faces marked—'

  'No, dear. That's smallpox not chicken-pox.'

  That assurance came from Vince and she looked at him gratefully. 'Afore I forget, Jeremy, ye'll be sad to hear—'

  There followed a gloomy recapitulation of all the people who had died since Faro's last visit. Again he listened, holding her hand and squeezing it encouragingly as he put in the occasional exclamations of concern that were required of him.

  This splendid show of interest was quite beyond Vince whose face, except when Bella's glance fell upon him, set in an attitude of confusion and growing despondency.

  But Faro was prepared to be patient. One casual question was guaranteed to bring forth full life histories for the whole district. With Aunt Bella he knew that he had on hand a fount of more valuable information than Inspector Purdie, with headquarters at the Crathie Inn, walking or riding up miles of farm roads with his exhaustive enquiries, would gain in a whole week of painstaking detection.

  'What about this murder, Auntie?' Faro asked.

  'I was just coming to that. Kin to Nessie, the puir lass,' she said rather loudly.

  This had the required effect. As if awaiting her cue, Nessie opened her eyes, looked at the two men and struggled into a sitting position, picking up the conversation with such alacrity that Faro wondered how much she had already overheard.

  'Aye, Mr Faro. An awfa' tragedy. Ye ken, the lassie was my niece,' she added dramatically.

  'Only by marriage, Nessie,' said Bella sternly, as if resenting this role of importance bestowed on her neighbour. 'Nessie, as ye'll recall, used to be an upper servant at the Castle—'

  'Aye, and ever since I retired I've been sewing for the Queen, petticoats, and alterations to her gowns.'

  'And she's good at it too,' said Bella, reluctant to relinquish her part in the story.

  'Had to be, Bella. Especially as the Queen's grown stouter and it's been no easy matter keeping in step with all the extra inches without drawing her attention to it.'

  'One would have assumed that the Royal coffers would run to new linen for such a contingency,' said Vince.

  'True, true. But the Queen is well known to have her head turned fast against wastefulness.'

  Faro suppressed a smile. It was common knowledge from his experiences at the Palace of Holyroodhouse, that she kept a tight hold on the Royal purse strings.

  'Anyway, getting stout would depress the poor lady, especially as she likes her food—'

  'And her drink too, I hear,' said Bella in a cautious whisper. 'After all, she hasna' much else to console her, puir lady, being a widow and having sic' responsibilities.'

  'You were telling us about this unfortunate lass,' said Faro in a kindly but determined effort to direct the conversation.

  Nessie frowned. 'From Aberdeen way. Must have been on Dave's side o' the family. He left home when he was thirteen, and I was fair flabbergast when Morag walked in six months ago. Or was it seven. Let me see—'

  With Bella's help this was at last sorted out to Nessie's satisfaction. The flow of duelling words was interrupted by a nurse with the information for Dr Laurie that Dr Elgin had learned of his unexpected arrival and would be delighted to receive him.

  Vince accompanied her willingly, kissing his great-aunt and promising to take care of both patients.

  Goodbyes were said and Faro, looking at the momentarily speechless ladies, urged them on: 'You were saying. About Morag. Do go on.'

  Nessie needed no further encouragement. 'Seems she was orphaned long since and had found some letters. When she saw that we lived on Balmoral Estate, she had heard so much about Ballater being a great place for holidays, she decided to see if she could get work in one of the hotels. She came to me first, and I did better than that for her.

  'Bonny, a wee bittie wild, but I kenned they were needing kitchen servants at the Castle and Johnnie Brown put in a word for her. He took a right shine to the lass. So did Lachlan.'

  Pausing, she sighed. 'We all had hopes there. And we were, well, surprised when she told us she was to marry a footman.'

  Suddenly she began to cry. 'It's awful, awful. I can hardly believe it. I blame myself, Mr Faro. Really I do. When she didn't come home, I thought nothing of it. She was often kept late at the Castle. And now for this to happen. I canna believe such wickedness.'

  'Murdered,' Bella said to Faro. 'Stabbed she was. Body found over Crathie way, in a ditch. Just up past the signpost to Tomintoul.' She sighed. 'Twa-three days after she nearly drowned, too—'

  'I was coming to that, Bella,' Nessie interrupted reproachfully. 'Aye, it wasna' the first time that devil had it in for puir Morag. When she was crossing over on the Abergeldie cradle wi' her footman—the quickest way o' getting to Crathie, all the servants use it,' she explained to Faro—'they both fell into the water.'

  'Everyone was a bit fu', ye ken,' said Bella, 'but Brown's laddie dived in and saved her, Puir James—'

  'The footman, Jimmy Lessing,' put in Nessie.

  'Oh, he was drowned, puir laddie,' Bella continued rapidly, in case this interruption should divert the telling of the tale to her companion. 'His body smashed to bits at the mill race. Terrible it was. Terrible.'

  'And our puir Morag only knew him from the ring she'd given him—'

  'Dreadful, dreadful,' said Faro sympathetically.

  'Then Nessie's cottage burnt down,' said Bella, her voice heavy with significance. 'The night after the Ghillies' Ball.'

  'A Saturday it was. I hadna' seen Morag that week. She mostly came by on a Thursday to bring me the Queen's sewing, or she'd look in on a Saturday for a wee chat. But she never came that week at all.' Nessie sounded bewildered, her voice fretful with anxiety.

  'I'd never ha' managed the twa o' ye the night o' the fire,' said Bella. 'But as luck would have it Morag wasna' there.'

  Faro felt cynical about luck being involved. It seemed that the girl had been singularly unlucky. Even through the frantic retelling of the story pieced together by the two women, his mind worked fast sifting the unimportant from the significant.

  'I ken one thing fine,' Bella said mysteriously. 'The lass was probably expecting. Matters are different in the country. Nature will have its way wi' young folk. I used to be a nursemaid and I ken what I'm talking about. Most marriages hereabouts are from necessity. With so little siller about couples tend to delay until there's a bairn on the way. No one thinks ony the worse of a lass for that. Except the Queen, of course.'

  'What has the Queen to do with it?'

  'She's that firm and respectable, lad. Covering up the legs of the piano and talking about a limb of chicken or lamb. Maids and footmen are no' supposed to meet in the grounds either. That wasna' much help to poor Morag, bless her.'

  'He'll try it again,' said Nessie. Her voice suddenly excited, she put her hands to her face. 'They'll get her yet. And she'll no listen to anyone. Morag knew. She told me,' she shouted and stabbing a finger in Faro's direction began to sob noisily.

  'Nessie, Nessie, dinna' take on so,' said Bella and to Faro she whispered, 'Tak' no heed of her, puir tormented soul. It's that dunt on the head did it to her. She has nightmares. Thinks someone's trying to harm the Queen, but no one will believe her.'

  Faro felt an ominous chill at the words. He regarded the patient in the other bed thoughtfully, alarmed at the sudden change from normal conversation into hysterical denunciation. Perhaps her mind was wandering. That must surely be the medical and the logical explanation.

  But—was it? Was there s
omething far more sinister, a link between the killing of the pet dogs and the girl who called regularly at Nessie's house to deliver the Queen's sewing?

  Was he on the threshold of a plot of much greater magnitude, one that might threaten the life of the Queen herself?

  But there was no possibility of further questioning. Nessie's head had sunk on to her chest and the bell for the end of visiting hour having already rung, he gave his aunt a farewell hug.

  In the entrance hall he saw Vince, now accompanied by Dr Elgin, whose rotund figure and rosy complexion testified to good living and belied his seventy summers.

  He greeted Faro with a charming friendliness that must have been a boon to his patients.

  'We have a room in readiness for Dr Laurie.'

  'And an early start tomorrow,' said Vince.

  'Six o'clock,' added Dr Elgin cheerfully.

  Faro saw Vince's eyes roll heavenward. A sluggish riser, he was never at his best in the early morning.

  'Since your time with us is short, Mr Faro, we must spare Dr Laurie to you as often as we can.'

  'Thank you, sir.'

  Then he added, 'Perhaps you would care to join us for a little light refreshment before we retire.'

  'Thank you, no, sir. It has been a long day.'

  As Faro tactfully made his excuses, Dr Elgin said, 'Please feel at liberty to visit your aunt whenever you wish. Our strict visiting hours do not apply to such an illustrious visitor.' He smiled. 'You have my permission to ignore them. I shall tell the staff that you are to be admitted at any time.'

  At the door he added, 'You have a vehicle to take you back to Easter Balmoral?'

  'Alas, no. But I am used to walking.'

  Faro, acutely aware of his new boots, was grateful when Dr Elgin continued, 'May I recommend the livery stables a hundred yards down the road. Willie keeps late hours and as the season is almost over, he may be able to accommodate you.'

  Thanking him, Faro left the hospital feeling much happier about Vince's prospects. He was sure there would be a rapport between the two doctors. Suddenly conscious of how tired he was, footsore and weary, the prospect of hiring a pony-trap for a few days seemed an excellent idea.

  At the stables the 'pony' turned out to be an ex-racehorse.

  'He used to be a good runner in the Abergeldie stables in his prime, belonged to the Prince of Wales,' said Willie proudly, explaining that he had been a jockey in his young days. 'We've both got too old for that, of course, but should you care to ride, there's a saddle. He's a biddable beast, ye ken.' And patting the horse's head affectionately, 'There's only one thing, sir, he needs stabling, a proper night's lodging.'

  'There's a barn at Mistress MacVae's—'

  'I ken it fine. There'll be no problem there,' said the stableman, throwing a bag of oats into the cart and giving Faro full instructions on the care of this valuable animal, whose name it seemed was 'Steady'. Or had he misheard. Faro wondered, when at first it refused to 'Trot on' as instructed.

  By the time they had reached Aunt Bella's cottage, however, Faro and his new companion had achieved a brisk pace plus a mutual respect and understanding. Steady seemed to have no complaints on being introduced to his new stabling and blew into Faro's ear affectionately.

  Faro slept well that night, and welcomed the almost forgotten sensations of waking sleepily to cock-crow, bird song and warring blackbirds outside the window. Even the raucous din of a full-going rookery was music to his ears.

  As he opened the casement window, distant sounds emerged, sheep bleating on the hill, indistinguishable from the white boulders, and a dainty herd of hinds following their lord and master down to the stream to drink.

  He sighed with pleasure. If only life could be always like this, if he could keep this moment and carry it with him like a letter, or a faded rose. For these scenes thrust him back vividly into the days of his childhood, now almost obliterated by years of city life.

  Breathing deeply, he filled his lungs with the pure air and hurried downstairs, lured by the appetising smells of cooking.

  Tibbie was taking bannocks out of the oven. She smiled a greeting and as he sat down at the table with sunshine flooding the room, life seemed very good indeed.

  It could be perfect, he decided, if only people stopped murdering one another.

  Chapter Four

  At the hospital he found Vince awaiting his arrival. Dr Elgin had been good to his promise and with few patients to attend, he had been given the morning off.

  Impressed and relieved to see his stepfather equipped with a pony-trap, he said, 'How clever of you. And invaluable in the circumstances. Should keep you one trot ahead and save wearing out the precious boot-leather. He moves faster who has a horse and cart.'

  'He also moves faster who can ride.' And as they set off Faro related Willie's tale of Steady's distinguished early days.

  They had reached Abergeldie Castle when Vince said, 'We will certainly be in good time for John Brown—perhaps even for a couple of Tibbie's excellent bannocks before he arrives,' he added wistfully.

  Faro smiled. 'How's it going, lad? Settling in all right?'

  'Yes, indeed, Stepfather. You know I think I'm really going to enjoy being here. Food apart.' He sighed. 'Dr Elgin is a splendid fellow, such stories to tell. You should have stayed to supper,' he added reproachfully. 'You would hardly credit what medicine used to be like in the old days. Makes me thankful I didn't take it up before the advent of chloroform. A course in butchery would have been more useful than a medical training.'

  His mood had turned sombre. Clinging to his seat as they negotiated the sharp bend, he asked, 'About this murder. Stepfather. Aren't you intrigued?'

  Faro related the version he had gathered from Nessie and Bella. At the end, Vince frowned.

  'A rum do, I'd call it, Stepfather. And everyone very keen to get the corpse off stage and the enquiry closed as quickly as possible. The fact that Lachlan Brown was sweet on the girl may be of some significance.'

  'My thoughts exactly.'

  John Brown was already waiting for them outside the cottage, the silent Lachlan at his side, whose presence Faro now considered with more attention than at their first meeting.

  Impressed by the Inspector's enterprise in arranging his own transport, Brown nodded approvingly. 'If ye'll just follow us, then.'

  The estate grounds were vast and towards the main drive, with a glimpse of the Royal residence across wide lawns, Lachlan led the way down a narrow path through the trees.

  In sight of the river, they alighted and walked to the path where only a footfall away, the Dee sparkled and burbled on its way to the German Ocean.

  Brown pointed with his foot to a stone. 'That's where we found the dogs.'

  Vince and Faro immediately crouched down to make a careful study of the area, parting the grass and examining it carefully. Brown watched this procedure with wide-eyed astonishment. To Faro's question he replied: 'Aye, this was exactly the spot. Isn't that so?'

  Lachlan, so addressed, merely nodded. Silent and withdrawn, Faro was beginning to wonder whether the lad was shy or had some vocal handicap.

  'Did it rain, by any chance, on the night the dogs disappeared?'

  Brown thought about that. 'No, not that night. But we had a storm the night before.'

  'And there has been no rain since?'

  'Nary a drop. A dry spell is usual for this time of year.'

  So the low water in the river had indicated. Faro was pleased with this accurate timing. There should have been imprinted on the dried mud paw marks, bloodstains and tufts of dog hair.

  There were none.

  The grass was undisturbed. No scuffle marks, no bruised grass, nothing to suggest that the dogs had been resting and had been surprised by their killer.

  Faro stood up, certain of one thing: that they had been killed elsewhere and their bodies carried to this spot for discovery.

  But why?

  Brown meanwhile watched the antics of the two men as if they
had taken leave of their senses. Consulting his watch gravely, he said, 'I must leave you, gentlemen.'

  Vince had walked a little distance away, stepping through a tangle of weeds to what had once been a handsome watermill, now falling into neglect and crumbling ruin.

  'Ye'll no' find anything there, doctor,' Brown called after him. 'It's here the puir beasts were killed.' And to Faro, 'I'll tell the Queen that ye're looking into it, conducting an enquiry. Isn't that what ye call it?'

  And with a flicker of amusement as Faro bowed in assent and made to follow Vince, 'That hasna' been used since the new mill was built the Crathie side o' the river. The Queen bought the miller's land here to add to the estate.'

  'Was it intended for some useful purpose?'

  Brown looked up at the empty windows. 'It was just in the way, ye ken. Untidy-looking. Buying it was almost the last thing Prince Albert did before he died. And somehow Her Majesty hadna' heart to do anything about it after that. Like everything else, it was left to lie exactly as it was on the day when she and Prince Albert looked it over together and decided to buy it.'

  Moving towards the path again he said, 'I'll need to go, Inspector.' Pointing to the pony-trap, he added, 'No need for ye to spend yer money on that. Tell Willie ye need it for yer investigations and the Queen will pay the bill.'

  'I'm most obliged to Her Majesty for her generosity.' Faro had already decided that the Royal task he had been set was doomed to failure and with it, any hopes he had been cherishing of a quiet fishing holiday.

  'Before you go, Mr Brown. Have there been any similar incidents reported?'

  'In what way similar?'

  'Anything like this business. Violent deeds, damage to property,' he said helpfully.

  Brown scratched his beard, frowning. 'Let me see. There was the fire at Mistress Brodie's croft. But that was an accident. The puir woman is in the hospital—'

  'Yes, I met her last night.'

  Brown frowned. 'That was how your auntie got injured, ye'll ken that. Nothing mysterious about it. Barns often go on fire.'