Deadly Beloved (An Inspector Faro Mystery No.3) Page 11

  As Mrs Brook came in with the supper, Faro reminded Vince about the Beethoven concert at the Assembly Rooms. "It's Hallé conducting and the divine Neruda playing the Beethoven violin concerto."

  "Oh, Stepfather. I can't. It's Rob's twenty-first and there's a celebration arranged. I am sorry."

  "Oh, don't worry about it, lad. I dare say I'll find someone at the Central Office to accompany me." But Faro doubted that. His taste in music was considered a little bizarre.

  Instead of being content with promenading in Princes Street Gardens and listening, or rather only half-listening, above the constant chatter, to the military brass bands, Faro parted with a precious shilling for the luxury of sitting down in the Assembly Rooms and listening with rapt attention to a full orchestra. He knew that such activity caused much whispered comment among his colleagues.They regarded frequenting concert halls as a recreation belonging to the higher strata of Edinburgh society and, as such, not quite the thing for a detective inspector.

  "How are the rest of your enquiries going. Stepfather? Where next?"

  "I called in at Solomon's Tower."

  "Ah, my favourite suspect." Vince's grimace warned Faro that he was not going to be greatly impressed at having to set foot in Solomon's Tower to examine Sir Hedley as a patient.

  Faro was right and Vince swore.

  "Sorry, lad, I let you in for it."

  "I suppose such a challenge is good for my soul. Having to remember the Hippocratic Oath and all that sort of thing. Even when wicked old devils are concerned."

  "Look, you make up a bottle of medicine for his cough and I'll hand it in, explaining that you're busy."

  "Oh no, you won't. Stepfather. It's good of you to offer but very soon seeing patients is going to be my daily bread. I can't afford to be choosy and whether I love them or hate them will be a matter of total indifference. All my concern will be trying to make a damned good job of curing them. I dare say I'll get many just as offensive — worse, although I doubt that's possible, than I find the Mad Bart."

  He grinned. "This will be a good first lesson in humility and I might as well get used to it. Besides, I'd feel terrible, knowing he's ill, if he died and I hadn't had a look at him."

  Once again Faro found Vince's attitude to the old man, without rhyme or reason, very hard to understand.

  "Just natural antipathy to the ruling classes. And the fact I can never forget or overlook that I am some nobleman's by-blow. The enormity of such injustice," he continued bitterly, "that I should have had aristocratic birth. Gates of privilege that were closed upon my mother and myself for ever. And what my poor mother suffered. I care more about her deprivation than my own."

  Faro didn't answer. Vince had never stopped to think whether his poor mother was fitted by her own humble upbringing to step into the role of a nobleman's wife. Lizzie hadn't often talked to Faro about the past after the early days of their marriage when she said, "Once a servant, always a servant. I would never be able to enjoy myself, thinking about washing the dishes and clearing up after the guests had gone."

  "Come now, Stepfather, be honest. Wouldn't you feel the same if you were me?" Vince demanded.

  "I don't know much about noble blood, lad. I'm of good solid farming stock as far back as any of the family can remember."

  "Only as far as Lord Robert Stuart and his Royal bastards."

  Faro laughed. "Everyone in Orkney claims descent from Mary Queen of Scots' wicked half-brother. Rather too distant to get bitter about, don't you think? Just another romantic myth."

  "Myth or no, I'd much rather be a poor peasant and have some respectable humble ploughman for a father, or a man like you, Stepfather," he added softly, "who loved my mother and married her, even if she did have a bastard son. She was used so cruelly, not even allowed the romantic illusion of love. The brutal savagery of rape begot me, let us never forget that."

  Suddenly he stretched his hand across the table, smiled tenderly. "I'm an ungrateful beast. All this prattle about an aristocratic life. We might both have been utterly miserable. After all, Mother would never have met you and neither would I."

  He paused and smiled. "And I have you to thank for giving us both such a truly happy home life, Stepfather. The fact that you could rise above regarding my mother as a scarlet woman, a social outcast. That was wonderful, but then, Stepfather, that's what you are."

  "Oh come, lad," said Faro uncomfortably. "It wasn't just one way, you know. You turned out to be a fine son." He shook his head sadly. "The best a father could have, thank God."

  And turning the subject on to a lighter vein, he added teasingly, "I haven't noticed you exactly avoiding the rich life when it comes your way."

  "Not at all. Some of my best college friends are rich and bone idle and I number a couple of baronets among them. I have nothing against the rich life, if you're lucky enough to land in it. But as I'm doomed to be for ever on the other side of the fence, I intend to succeed, prove to the world that I can rise above my bastard birth."

  Chapter 11

  Despite Vince's conjectures, the lack of any real motive for Mabel Kellar's murder continued to trouble Faro. What had Kellar to gain? He did not have long to wait for an answer. Mrs Brook brought him up a card as he was about to leave for the Central Office.

  "A Mrs Findlay-Cupar wishes to see you, Inspector. I've put her in the drawing-room." The housekeeper's hushed voice and deferential manner suggested that the Inspector need have no fears. This was quality, a 'real' lady. "Mrs Findlay-Cupar." As Faro took the hand of Mabel Kellar's sister, he realised the cruelty of fate that distributed astonishing good looks to one sister and none at all to the other. Laetitia Findlay-Cupar and Mabel Kellar were alike as sisters, their features almost identical. And there all similarity ended, for poor Mabel's pale colouring, lacklustre eyes and hair had been a faded watercolour, a mocking travesty of the vividly attractive woman before him.

  "Forgive me calling on you informally, Inspector. My reason will be made clear directly. I won't beat about the bush. I have received news that may have some bearing on my sister's disappearance."

  Taking the seat he offered, she smiled. "Mabel talked a great deal about your stepson and he talked to her, I understand, a great deal about you."

  "I had the pleasure of meeting your sister, ma'am. On the night before she er, left, there was a dinner party at the Grange."

  Mrs Findlay-Cupar brightened. "Oh, that is such a help. It makes the favour I have to ask so much easier." Pausing, she searched his countenance anxiously and then taking a deep breath, said, "Inspector Faro, I am taking the liberty of asking if you would personally take on this case."

  "I am already doing so, ma'am."

  Mrs Findlay-Cupar looked first relieved and then afraid. "Dare I ask you to tell me then, quite frankly, if you have the least notion where she is or what has become of her?" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Is she still alive and well?"

  "We are making exhaustive enquiries, ma'am." Faro hoped he was succeeding in expressing those reassurances he was far from feeling. "Dr Kellar asked us to investigate immediately and we are inclined to take cases of missing persons very seriously."

  Mabel's sister leaned back in her chair. "Oh, so he asked you. That is interesting." She sat up again hastily and withdrew an envelope from her reticule. Frowning indecisively, she tapped it against the chair's arm.

  "I think you ought to know, Inspector, that all was not well with my sister, there was something troubling her deeply. When I spent a few days at the Grange recently she was very tearful."

  "How recent was this?"

  "Between Christmas and New Year. At first I thought it was because she was having problems finding a new housekeeper. Dr Kellar had been very disagreeable and they had lost a very valued old servant."

  "Yes, there were some problems at the dinner party. I gather from the new housekeeper that Dr Kellar is not the easiest of employers," said Faro.

  This visit from Mabel's sister was most opportune, he tho
ught, having already made a shrewd assessment of the woman before him. She was eager to talk and the more hooks he threw in her direction the bigger fish he might land.

  "Dr Kellar has always been a very difficult man to live with but, amazingly, Mabel could find no fault in him. After twenty years of marriage, she still blindly adores him."

  Her mocking expression indicated that she found this astonishing. "It is such a pity she never had a child. There was going to be a baby, but it came to nothing. I'm afraid that Dr Kellar disliked children intensely. He was not enamoured at the prospect of being a father and persuaded her that it would be in their best interests to remain childless ..."

  "May I ask you, was there good reason for his decision?"

  "Good reason? You mean family traits, insanity and so forth." She looked at him narrowly. "Oh Inspector, I can see that you are thinking of our uncle. Well, his family have always had the reputation, well-earned alas, of being a fairly disreputable lot and Uncle Hedley disassociated himself with them long ago. I can assure you they have got all their wits about them. And Uncle Hedley too. But we are related only through marriage."

  She laughed. "As for myself, I've had eight children and they are all fine in wind and limb. Mabel and I were the youngest of thirteen." She sighed. "No, it was nothing like that influenced Melville."

  "Could there have been something in his side of the family?"

  "The Kellars have been respected in Edinburgh for many generations." She smiled. "I imagine your police are fully aware of their police surgeon's impeccable background. Besides people who love each other and want children desperately will always believe in God's goodness, that in their case the worst won't happen."

  There was a rather long silence as if Mrs Findlay-Cupar was reliving Mabel's unhappiness, before she resumed. "Over the years, apart from the unhappy business over the baby, I have always found Mabel loyal and uncomplaining, quite content and happy in her life. She was a dutiful obedient wife and she readily came to terms with her husband's wishes in every respect, even to remaining childless.

  "Yes, I would have said she was happy with Melville. Until very recently." Again she looked away from him, cautious, hesitant. "When I last saw her she was very upset, prone to tears on the least provocation. I had never seen her in such a state. It seemed, Inspector, that she had reason to believe that her beloved Melville was being unfaithful to her."

  And a pity it was that she had ever found out at all, thought Faro grimly. He was one of many at the Central Office who entertained shrewd suspicions that Kellar would not restrict his amorous activities to one rather plain prim wife.

  Kellar was a handsome man who basked in female adulation and, like many professional men, found that opportunities for infidelity often came his way. He could afford extra-marital relations carried on with utmost discretion. Apparently this time he hadn't been clever or discreet enough.

  As if she read Faro's thoughts, Mrs Findlay-Cupar continued, "I tried to assure her that this was nonsense, and even if it wasn't nonsense, men like Melville do not risk scandal by leaving their wives for other women. I said all the things expected in the way of comfort from one sister to another. Bear with it, be patient, it will pass and so forth."

  She thrust the letter towards him almost reluctantly. "This came from my sister. It was deposited with our family solicitor with instructions that unless he heard from her to the contrary this was to be delivered to me at North Berwick on February 4th. As February 5th is my fortieth birthday, and Mabel is always extremely generous, I presumed that this was some gift of bonds, a legacy of some kind. Please read it, Inspector." She smiled wanly. 'Tiz is my pet name."

  My dearest Tiz: I write to you because I am at the end of my tether. I have found out something so awful I can hardly bring myself to believe it or put it into words. I was right — there is another woman.

  Melville whom I love with all my heart, whom I have trusted with all my being, has a mistress. I have definite proof of this — they have been seen together. What is worse, I know her. Not only is she his mistress but there is a child. His child, whom he dotes upon.

  Dearest Tiz, I am in agony. He has asked me to leave this house — my only home — as he no longer has any use for me. He no longer wants me for his wife. Our marriage is over but I am to say nothing, he says, until the knighthood is safe, otherwise it will be the worse for me. Dearest Tiz, what am I to do? I love him — love him — he is my whole life, but my life is in his hands and I fear that if I don't agree to his wishes that he will do away with me. Once he gets an idea nothing —nobody — is ever allowed to stand in his way.

  What he really wants now is to marry this woman and legitimise their child. Everything is for the child, this bastard he worships. His only talk is about securing his son's future. I think I could share him with a mistress, bear with the ignominy as I know so many other wives do, if only he had let me keep our baby, then there would have been some comfort. But now I have nothing, no one to turn to.

  I think if I do not agree then he will kill me. Do not laugh, dearest Tiz, he could dispose of me so easily, so cruelly and he has told me so many times, even laughing, how easy murder would be for a police surgeon. And I would rather he cut out my heart, the heart that is and always will be his, rather than live without him.

  Your heartbroken sister, Mabel.

  P. S.: You may never receive this letter. I trust not. On the other hand, it and I may arrive on your doorstep without warning and, knowing the state of mind I will be in by then, I should like you to be in possession of a more articulate version of the true facts.

  Faro laid it aside. A heartrending, moving letter, written in haste and desperation. Some words were almost illegible, blotted and smudged by her tears. But it was the words heavily underlined that troubled him most, with their appalling significance, as if Mabel Kellar had indeed a premonition of the dreadful fate that lay in store for her.

  Mrs Findlay-Cupar declined to take it back. "Keep it, Inspector. I know I can rely on your discretion. And if Dr Kellar has indeed put away my dearest sister, then I want him brought to justice. And if this letter will help to put a rope around his neck, then let it be done."

  "One thing puzzles me," said Faro. "The baby Mrs Kellar mentions, that she wasn't allowed to keep. I'm not sure that I understand."

  "I'm not sure that I do either," said Mrs Findlay-Cupar hurriedly. "I believe that Melville with his medical knowledge could have averted a threatened miscarriage, but declined to do so."

  "I see. Your sister's statement does rather imply that the baby was born alive and then put out for adoption."

  "You have my assurance., Inspector, there was no child."

  Faro saw her into her carriage. She thanked him for receiving her so informally and he promised to keep her in touch with any events relating to Mabel Kellar.

  Vince was waiting for him. "Well, what news of Mabel?"

  Faro handed him the letter.

  Vince could hardly control his emotion as he read, his face grew pale with horror. "This is utterly appalling, Stepfather, appalling. The man is an absolute devil. This letter proves without a shadow of doubt that he planned to get rid of Mabel. It's all there in her own words, Stepfather. Why don't you go and arrest him?"

  "It certainly provides a new and damning aspect of the case against Kellar, lad, but without further evidence a court of law would dismiss it as the hysterical denunciations of a betrayed wife."

  "What about Mabel's bloodstained fur cloak, and the knife? What further proof do you need to put a rope around Kellar's neck?" demanded Vince angrily.

  "A body," said Faro shortly.

  Vince shuddered and gave him an angry look. "At least you are wrong about your motive this time, Stepfather. This hardly fits into your pet theory of gain."

  "That rather depends, lad. There are many aspects of gain and in this case it would appear that Kellar realised, almost too late, the benefits of fatherhood."

  "Of a bastard son," said Vince b
itterly. "One that he wanted so desperately that he was prepared to go to any lengths, even murder, to legitimise."

  "Thereby following the desperate example of kings and nobles who set the pattern in ancient times and got rid of inconveniently barren wives."

  "Like Henry the Eighth?"

  "If succession and a throne are in jeopardy then history is prepared to turn a blinder eye than Edinburgh society. I'm afraid as far as Kellar is concerned the scandal of divorce would have ruined him."

  Faro was silent, deep in thought. Have I been expecting something like this? Was this damning document written by a frightened wife the missing piece of the puzzle? Once you have that, the complete picture springs into view and leaves you wondering why on earth you hadn't seen the strikingly obvious.

  "I wonder," he said.

  "You surely can't have any further doubts that Kellar is guilty after this. There were plenty of veiled hints among the students that the ladies pursued Kellar and that he wasn't averse to walking slowly."

  Faro smiled. Even the shrewd Sir Hedley Marsh had hinted that Melville was a womaniser.

  While they were talking Faro had been mulling over the contents of the letter and had come to a rather obvious but very disturbing conclusion regarding the unknown woman's identity.

  In reply to his question., Vince shook his head. "No, Mabel never even hinted to me that she suspected Kellar of philandering. Misplaced loyalty, I suppose."

  "To whom?" demanded Faro sharply.

  "Why, to her husband, of course." He thought for a moment. "I expect it was the kind of topic she considered too indelicate to discuss with a man. It never occurred to me to ask, but now that you mention it, she might well have confided in her best friend. Mrs Shaw, for instance."

  "Ah yes, Mrs Shaw. I've been thinking about her. A young woman with an infant. A son," he added heavily. "Does that not strike you as a remarkable coincidence?"