Blood Line: An Inspector Faro Mystery Page 11

  And as they took a dram together, Faro studied his companion with new interest. Could it be that his mother's 'remarkable' qualities were the secret of her attraction for Sir Eric? And for the first time he realised that such a marriage would have made good sense, since his host was much too intelligent to wish for a merely decorative adornment to his drawing room.

  Misinterpreting his thoughtful look, Sir Eric asked, 'I've noticed you looking rather ill at ease, lad. Anything troubling you?'

  Faro shook his head. 'Not really. Except that I was hoping to see Mace.'

  'Mace? Of course. I'd forgotten. The reason for this very welcome visit.' He frowned. 'Come to think of it, I didn't notice him at dinner, did you?'

  'No.'

  'To tell the truth, it completely slipped my mind.' Sir Eric thought for a moment. 'His fellow officers are usually seated at the far end of the Mess and in such a crowd it's difficult to pick anyone out. But he should be back in the main barracks now if you care to go and search for him.'

  'If you'll excuse me, sir.'

  'Of course. You know the way.'

  Faro walked across the now dark quadrangle, where a rather lopsided moon seemed to mock at mortals. Its jaunty angle annoyed him, like a picture hanging askew on a high wall that he longed to set straight. When it suddenly vanished behind a cloud he shook his fist at it. 'All right, old moon. You're safe enough now but don't let it happen again.'

  Suddenly he laughed out loud at his own absurdity, chiding an untidy moon. How many glasses of claret had he drunk? After the first two his glass had been constantly replenished by attentive servants, and he must have consumed at least the better part of a bottle. At the barracks he was told that Lieutenant Mace had come off duty before dinner.

  'You've just missed him,' said the young officer, giving directions. 'Room 223. Down the corridor, turn right. No, he wasn't at dinner. Bit under the weather, I imagine,' he added with a grin. 'We had a birthday celebration for one of the lads last night.'

  Following directions, Faro tapped on the door, waited and receiving no reply looked inside. The room had an air of general untidiness with a dress uniform spread out on the bed, as if waiting for its owner who was going to need it in a hurry when he came off duty.

  His way back to the Mess led him past the royal apartments. He stopped outside. Perhaps that was where Mace expected to meet him. But the doors were locked, the corridor empty.

  'Where on earth can Mace have got to?' he said, returning to Sir Eric.

  Sir Eric shook his head. 'The most likely thing is that having missed you and not knowing that you were dining here he has gone down to Sheridan Place.'

  'You are probably right.'

  'In that case, he'll be back directly.' Seeing Faro's look of preoccupation, he said, 'All right, lad, if you're worried, take the carriage. Roberts came back while we were at dinner.'

  'That's very good of you sir. Will you tell my mother and Vince, please? They'll understand, they're used to my sudden arrivals and departures.'

  Mary Faro, who had been watching them, came over. 'What's wrong, son?' When Faro explained about missing the Lieutenant, she nodded. 'Then we'll come with you. It's getting late.'

  Sir Eric looked over her shoulder to where Vince and Lucille had their heads together deep in conversation. 'Shame to break up the party, Mary my dear. It's early yet. Besides we see so little of you,' he added, his hand coming to rest tenderly on her shoulder.

  She smiled up at him and seemed to have no objection to his air of possession. 'But you're coming to tea tomorrow, Eric, aren't you?'

  So it was Eric and Mary now, thought Faro. Well, well.

  'And it really is late for me. I go to bed with the birds in Orkney and rise with them in the mornings.' Suppressing a yawn in evidence, she added, 'There you are, see - maybe that was the wine.You must forgive me, Eric, I'm very sleepy, all of a sudden.'

  She paused to glance approvingly in the direction of the young couple. 'I'll just go with Jeremy, leave Vince to make his own way home.'

  Sir Eric sighed. 'If you must go, then I'll see you down to the carriage.'

  But there was no concealing their departure. Vince drew himself reluctantly out of the circle of Lucille's magic web.

  'How boring that you must go, Inspector,' she said, pouting prettily. 'We were having such a lovely party.' At the door her whisper and the warm glance that accompanied it were for Faro alone. 'We have had so little chance to talk together. I do hope we are going to meet again very soon.'

  Handing Mary Faro into the carriage, Sir Eric bent down and kissed her check. 'Good night, my dear. Sleep well.'

  'Good night, Eric'

  Far from giving continued evidence of weariness, Mary Faro prattled happily all the way back to Sheridan Place with quite as much energy as Miss Haston had shown on a previous occasion. At last, asked a question, her son failed to respond.

  'I'm sorry, Mother - what was that?'

  She sighed. 'Nothing important, dear. You're very silent tonight.'

  'I thought you were very tired, Mother.'

  'You're a silly boy sometimes, son, but you're my very own.' She kissed his cheek, and he put his arm around her and with her head resting against his shoulder, they arrived at the locked gates of Sheridan Place. Dismissing Roberts and the carriage, Faro took out his key while Mary Faro looked up at the drawing-room windows. 'I wonder why Mrs Brook hasn't closed the shutters. And the girls' bedroom too, the early sun wakes Rose. She's always been a light sleeper.'

  A sickness erupted in the pit of Faro's stomach as he unlocked the door. He knew only too well the unmistakable aura of an empty house.

  'Mrs Brook! Hello - we're back,' called Mrs Faro, slipping out of her cloak. 'Shall we ask her to make us a pot of tea?' she whispered.

  'She's probably gone to bed,' said Faro carefully. And trying not to alarm his mother unnecessarily, he added, 'You go on upstairs. I'll be with you in a moment.'

  'No. I'll come downstairs with you. I must make a cup of tea. I'm so thirsty, I'll never sleep.'

  Mrs Brook's basement kitchen was empty of all but the ghostly shapes of furniture, the phantom smells of cooking. He tapped on her sitting-room door.

  'Mrs Brook?'

  'Where can she be?' asked Mrs Faro anxiously.

  But Faro was already across the room, tapping on the door of Mrs Brook's bedroom. As he expected, there was no answer. Looking inside, the bed was neatly made, still with its crocheted daycover undisturbed.

  In a curious way, he realised that the deserted room struck a familiar chord of approaching disaster, a feeling of dread that he had been unable to shake off since he had opened the door of Mace's empty room in the Castle barracks.

  Mary Faro looked over his shoulder. 'She'd never go out and leave the girls in the house alone, surely. Would she?' And before he could utter any reassuring words, she cried out, 'The girls, oh, the girls, Jeremy!'

  Leaning weakly against the table, Faro heard her swift footsteps echoing up the staircase.

  A second later, her shrill scream rang through the house. 'Jeremy, Jeremy, come quickly.'

  And even as he tried ineffectively to leap up the stairs, she screamed again.

  'Rose, Emily. They're not here. They've gone!'

  Chapter Ten

  The girls' bed was empty. The sight made Faro sweat. Pristine, neat as it should never have been at this hour, it conjured up the same sinister vision as Mace's bed with its sprawled dress uniform. If he hadn't been so damned desperate to see the Lieutenant none of this would ever have happened.

  Even as his horrified realisation checked up the dreaded facts - that his daughters, who had left the Castle three hours ago, had never returned home - his mother was crying.

  'Oh, my precious bairns. Where are they? 1 knew it, I knew it in my bones - that maid.' And with the certainty of hindsight, 'I never liked the looks of her, sly, sleekit, she was. I knew we shouldn't have trusted them to her. Oh dear God, Jeremy. Something must have happened to the
m. An accident, like your poor dear father - that's what. . . ' she whispered and, a hand over her mouth, she leaned against the bedpost, moaning and looking ready to faint.

  Faro caught her as she swayed and held her to his side. 'Calm yourself, dear, do be reasonable now. If there had been an accident, Sir Eric's coachman - or the maid - would have reported it when he came back to the Castle - while we were still there. Mother, please, listen to me. He brought us home here in the very same carriage, remember?'

  Mrs Faro dabbed at her eyes, tried to regain her composure. 'Of course, son, of course, you must be right. And he would have seen them safely into the house here first, surely?'

  Faro hoped so. Sheridan Place was a public thoroughfare for vehicular traffic during the day. After ten thirty the gates were locked by the lodge keepers and each resident had to use his own key.

  'Then why aren't they in their bed?' she demanded tearfully.

  'I don't know, Mother, but I'm sure there must be a very simple explanation. Since Mrs Brook isn't here either, we can conclude that they are with her, safe and sound.'

  'Safe and sound. Two little girls who've never in their whole lives been out at this time of night? They should have been in bed asleep two hours ago, Jeremy Faro.' Eyes flashing angrily, she added, 'Don't be so stupid. I'm not an idiot, you don't fool me with your simple explanations. I can see it in your face, too, you're sick with fear as I am.'

  Then sobbing she threw her arms around him. 'Oh dear God, how I wish I'd come home with them. I knew I should never have let them out of my sight.'

  'You mustn't blame yourself. Nothing could possibly have happened to them between the carriage and the house . . . '

  'I know what's happened. One of your criminals has kidnapped them,' she said accusingly. 'That's what. Or one of those white slavers . . . '

  'Mother, please don't be ridiculous. White slavers wouldn't be interested in girls quite as young as those two.' It wasn't true and he knew it. He only wished that his mother hadn't put into words the terrible suspicion that had already crossed his mind.

  By way of consolation, he smiled wanly. 'You surely can't imagine slavers giving that dour, sour-faced maid a second glance?'

  'She's a woman, isn't she?' was the caustic reply. 'And that's enough for some men. Anyway, maybe she's in the plot too. In with the kidnappers . . . '

  'Listen . . . '

  At that moment, they heard the most welcome sound in the world. A key in the front door, and the next moment Mrs Brook let herself in.

  Mrs Brook. Alone.

  She looked up at them, their horrified faces staring down over the banisters. 'Good evening, Mrs Faro - Inspector sir ... '

  'Where are the children?' shouted Faro.

  'With you, of course - aren't they?'

  'Come upstairs, Mrs Brook.'

  'What's the matter? Has something happened to them?'

  'Where have you been, Mrs Brook?'

  'Me, Inspector sir? To the Women's Guild concert.'

  'Until eleven o'clock?'

  Mrs Brook drew herself up stiffly. 'I went to visit friends afterwards for a bite of supper. This is Saturday, Inspector sir, my evening off,' she added reproachfully. 'Or had you forgotten?'

  Faro had forgotten. At his side, clutching his arm, his mother began to whimper. 'The girls - they weren't with you?'

  'No, Mrs Faro. How could they be? They were with you.' And in a voice touched with panic, she whispered, 'Tell me - has something happened?'

  'We don't know. Please sit down, Mrs Brook. We have been at the Castle and we stayed to dinner, sent the girls home to be put to bed by Miss Haston's maid. They aren't in their bed. Or anywhere in the house.'

  It was Mrs Brook's turn to stifle a cry of horror as she looked from one to the other. 'But Inspector sir, they wouldn't be able to get in unless you gave them your key. Oh dear, if only you had remembered that it was my evening off.'

  'You're not to blame, Mrs Brook. I expect they have gone back to the Castle. That must be it - and we've missed them.'

  Faro tried to sound calm, watching them helplessly, the tears welling in Mrs Brook's eyes, his mother quietly moaning, and knowing he was only minutes away from having to deal with two distraught and hysterical women.

  He thought rapidly. If only he knew for sure whether the maid Bet was back at the Castle. She had not been in evidence when they returned to Sir Eric's apartment after dinner. But that was quite normal. A lady's maid would stay in her room unless - and until - summoned by her young mistress.

  If she had not returned, he could only conclude that she had let Sir Eric's carriage leave them at the entrance to Sheridan Place, presuming Mrs Brook to be at home. When they couldn't get in, she would have tried to find an omnibus to take them to Lothian Road. A stranger in the district, could Rose and Emily have helped her, have known about such things? And what if the maid had no money with her?

  With a sick feeling of disaster, he realised that if they had taken any kind of transport, then she and the girls would have been back at the Castle long before he and his mother left.

  Even if they had had to walk all the way.

  So where were they? Where were his two precious bairns, his little daughters that he had always sadly neglected, who played such minor roles in a life where his duties as a detective inspector came always first and foremost. So relentless at tracking down criminals, he was suddenly made vulnerable by the presence of two small girls; had crime come to roost on his own doorstep?

  Would he ever see them again? His mother hadn't been too far out with her speculations about white slavers. Every day small girls vanished from the poor streets of Edinburgh and Leith. Not for anything as exotic as white slaving, but for the thriving business of child prostitution.

  Although arrests were few and the guilty were ready to pay a great deal of money to keep such scandals from being made public, Faro was grimly aware of this particular method of child abuse. The prettier small girls were first stripped of their rags, bathed and fed, before being led naked to the bed of some elderly debauchee for 'initiation'. Those who were not virgins bypassed the handsome private houses in the New Town, and were sent direct to discreet gentlemen's clubs patronised by Edinburgh's wealthy decadents.

  Oh dear God.

  The two women before him, both in tears, were speculating on what might have happened, neither of them, thank God, with an inkling of what he knew of that other society where no corruption that money could buy was inaccessible.

  Numbly he stood, put out consoling hands, heard himself uttering platitudes, wildly untrue, as the doors of nightmare closed around them, while the ginger kitten Rusty the girls so loved demanded affection and a warm lap and was surprised and indignant at being denied them.

  'Listen . . . '

  'Someone at the door...'

  Two raced down the hall. Faro hobbled after them.

  This time the newcomer was Vince.

  Vince. Alone.

  Even as Mrs Faro threw herself sobbing into his arms, Faro looked at Vince's stricken face.

  'The girls?'

  'They aren't here?' whispered Vince. 'I had hoped . . . ' He followed them into the drawing room. 'Ladies, would you please make a pot of tea - very strong.'

  'Tell me what has happened . . .'

  'They are alive and well, so stop worrying.'

  'But...'

  'Tea. Strong tea, first.'

  As the door closed, Faro seized his arm, noticing how pale he was. 'Is it true - they're alive and unharmed - you've seen them?'

  Vince took his arm, attempted to lead him to a chair. 'Calm yourself, don't you go to pieces like those two. Stepfather, for God's sake . . . '

  'Then for God's sake - tell me...'

  Vince shook his head. 'All I know is that Lucille's maid - Betty or whoever she is - came back to the Castle just before I left. She was in a terrible state. They couldn't get into the house, Mrs Brook was out. . . '

  'Yes, yes - I know all that.'

 
'Then listen, for God's sake. The maid was in a state, wringing her hands. Rose was the only one to show presence of mind. She thought she knew the road where the omnibuses were. She had never been on one herself, but she was game to try it ... '

  'My dear, enterprising Rose,' whispered Faro.

  'They boarded the omnibus all right but one stop further on and the driver put them off. The woman had no money to pay the fares. And now they were lost, but Rose thought they were near the Meadows and a short cut might bring them out near the Castle. They began walking and a gentleman's carriage stopped and when they explained their predicament, the coachman offered to take them to the Castle. They thought this was a tremendous piece of luck . . . '

  'Luck, God Almighty!' said Faro. 'You know what all this implies, don't you, Vince, picking up children at night. . . '

  Vince held up his hand. 'I'm trying not to think of that, Stepfather. And I advise you not to either. The facts are bad enough without us being over imaginative. We need time...'

  Faro sank down on to a chair, buried his face in his hands. 'Time. We might already be too late, Vince. Even now your two stepsisters, my wee bairns, may have been violated by some rich pervert whose sexual impulses require . . . '

  'Stop it, Stepfather. Stop this, at once!' Vince banged his fist on the table. 'For God's sake, let's concentrate on what we know happened, not what we think might have happened.'

  There was a pause before the detective's alert mind gained possession over the distraught father. 'What else did this woman say?' he asked heavily. 'And how did she know it was a gentleman's carriage?' 'Because although it was empty, it smelt of cigars and pomade. She was quite definite about that.'

  'Was she now? By God, I could kill her. And I swear I will if anything has happened . . . '

  'She was guiltless, Stepfather. Gibbering with terror, I can tell you. She said that if it hadn't been for the presence of mind of one of the girls looking out of the window and noticing in the moonlight that Arthur's Seat was on the wrong side if they were travelling towards the Castle . . . '