[Inspector Faro 14] - Faro and the Royals Read online

  He picked it up. His fascinated re-reading of it was interrupted by Miss Crowe's arrival.

  Then she saw what he held and pointed an accusing finger.

  'No!' He forestalled her accusation with one of his own. This is, I believe, the property of Miss Halliday.'

  'It is. She lent it to me. To make a copy.'

  Faro laughed. 'Oh, did she indeed? And do you know where she is at the moment?'

  Miss Crowe shrugged. 'Across the road in her house, I expect.'

  Faro leaned on the table. 'Then you expect wrong, miss. Someone broke into her house last night. She was attacked -'

  There was a shocked exclamation as Miss Crowe asked: 'Is she all right?'

  'She is unconscious.'

  'Where is she? I'll look after her -'

  'No need to trouble yourself, the minister's wife is more than capable.'

  Miss Crowe clenched her hands. 'Will she recover?'

  'Who knows?'

  'But how did it happen - I mean -'

  'We gather she intercepted a burglar.'

  'A burglar?' whispered Imogen Crowe.

  'That is so, miss.' And, laying down the letter, he tapped its frame. 'I suppose you know you could go to gaol for that.'

  He had the dubious satisfaction of seeing her face turn deathly pale, white as the cloth on the kitchen table, as he turned on his heel and left her.

  Chapter 22

  At the inn, Faro found Vince looking forward to supper. Refreshed and bathed, in a good humour, he was eager to listen to his stepfather's latest experiences.

  'You had better get it all off your chest,' he said, 'then you can consider the case finally closed and we can begin to enjoy ourselves.'

  'First of all, there's this visit to the Castle. They don't know I'm a detective and it's bound to come out.'

  'Ah, I'm well ahead of you there. I've explained to the twins and Miss Gilchrist that you are on a secret mission of national importance. They were very impressed and you can rely on them not to give the game away. Now, what have you found out?'

  As Faro went through the details, item by item, Vince listened carefully: 'One thing is obvious, those missing paintings are tucked safely away somewhere in the attics of the Castle. To be brought out and discreetly restored to their original places, once Her Majesty has forgotten all about them. I think it will be safe enough for I doubt whether Bertie will make any more incognito visits to Elrigg, don't you agree?'

  'Indeed. Two unfortunate fatal accidents should be enough to cool even his ardour,' said Faro.

  'And you can certainly remove from your mind that he had any part in the bull's horn business. That is hardly his style. I understand he is not even passable with a rifle.' Vince paused to take a second helping of game pie. 'I'd hazard a guess that Philip Gray's death was an accident. As for the laird's - that comes into the dubious area of "might-have-been-murder". Trouble was you arrived far too late to be of any use proving anything to the contrary.'

  'True enough, even if they had wanted my help,' said Faro. 'With the blessing of Sergeant Yarrow and the Northumberland Constabulary, the trail was cold.'

  'Worse than that, Stepfather. As far as I can see there isn't a shred of real evidence against anyone. As for your suspects. Well, I'd be prepared to bet a great deal of money that it wasn't Lady Elrigg in the classic role of husband-murderer. I'm sure she had enough experience of the wicked world not to get rid of the goose that was laying the golden eggs for her.

  'As for Mark. I'll tell you more when I meet him, but I'd be surprised because it doesn't sound likely, from what I've heard of him through the Gilchrists. And from what you've told me, there is no real evidence of guilty lovers.'

  Vince gestured with his fork. 'I wonder why there are no children to the Elrigg marriage. As a doctor, that intrigues me most. Not only the first marriage to Mark's mother, which proves she could bear children, but what about the second to this nubile young woman? Could it be, do you think, that Sir Archie was impotent? That he knew it and that's why he was prepared, even eager, to make his stepson, who had a dash of the genuine Elrigg blood, his heir?'

  'You could be right, Vince lad. That possibility had never occurred to me, and it's certainly an interesting one. Explains a lot of things.'

  'Who else have we?' Vince looked down at Faro's notes lying beside his plate. 'You do this uncommonly well, Stepfather. You are to be congratulated on a masterpiece of clarity. Sergeant Yarrow will be grateful, I'm sure. Let's see...

  'Hector Elrigg, the disgruntled archaeologist who believes that he was cheated out of his inheritance by a reprobate father. He would be my best bet, he has the most impressive motive, a wound festering over the years. I realise you haven't much in the way of evidence, but still - there may be something important we've missed.'

  As Vince flicked back through the notes, Faro shook his head. 'You may be right, yet I have a feeling - no more than that - just a feeling that we're dealing with the dedicated historian who is keener on getting on with his work of digging the hillfort and the standing stones, than being laird of Elrigg.'

  'Meanwhile, of course,' said Vince, 'we may have a number of dissatisfied tenants whose activities as well as their names are unknown to you, since there has been neither time nor opportunity to conduct a thorough investigation. I appreciate that distances to be travelled single-handed are somewhat daunting.'

  And rubbing his chin thoughtfully, 'What about the good Dr Brand whose daughter drowned in the ornamental lake? If she was seduced by the laird, he would have good reason for killing him off.'

  'But since you've suggested the impotence factor, the pregnancy fits in with the lover who was sent away in disgrace.'

  'True,' said Vince. 'Then who are we left with? The unfortunate poacher, Duffy.'

  'No, but I do think he knew something, or had seen something.'

  'Perhaps he gossiped and was overheard?'

  Faro agreed. 'Not a man of discreet habits, I gather from Bowden. Blackmail would be a profitable business for him.'

  Vince consulted the list again. 'I think we can safely cross off the Reverend Cairncross in spite of his daughter's odd reaction to the Elriggs. And, as a victim, Miss Halliday.'

  'I can't see any reason why she would want to murder Sir Archie,' said Faro.

  'But there's always Miss Imogen Crowe and your latest foray into a different sort of crime. What was her motive for stealing the portrait?'

  'It wasn't the portrait, Vince. It was Sir Walter Scott's letter.' Faro frowned. 'I keep going over that scene in Miss Halliday's kitchen. There's something there, if only I could remember. Something I saw.'

  'It'll come, I'm sure,' said Vince soothingly. 'The only link I can see is that she is Irish and so was Philip Gray - But that's a bit tenuous.'

  Vince was aware that he no longer had his stepfather's attention. 'What's wrong?'

  Faro shook his head. 'Just an idea I've had.'

  He was silent so long that Vince laid aside the papers and said: 'By the way, the carriage is coming for us in the morning. There's to be a Maytime pageant at Branxton, with a celebration of Miss Gilchrist's birthday among other things. There'll be floats, so I'm told, with the children performing scenes from history, a monologue written about the Battle of Flodden. What do you think, Stepfather?'

  'Think?' Faro came back to him with a start. ‘I don't know,' he said lamely. 'What was it you were saying?'

  Patiently Vince repeated the programme of the day's activities and Faro shook his head very firmly. 'No, Vince lad. Absolutely not. I'll save my energies for the festivities at the Castle. I just might have to have my wits about me then.'

  Vince considered him. 'Anything you'd like to share, Stepfather? Some new observations?'

  Faro smiled. 'Only when I can give them substance and that may take some time.'

  * * *

  Next morning, having seen Vince off, Faro was deciding how he could most profitably spend his day when Sergeant Yarrow arrived at the inn. After a perf
unctory greeting he saluted Faro gravely and said: 'Sir, I owe you an apology.'

  Faro smiled vaguely. 'Ah, you have decided to remove me from your list of suspects?'

  Yarrow looked contrite. 'Dewar has just told me who you are, sir. I cannot tell you-'

  Think nothing of it, Sergeant. It's the sort of mistake any policeman worth his salt might make. You are to be commended for that.'

  Yarrow smiled wryly. 'It's the lesson we all learn, isn't it? First on the scene most often is the prime suspect.'

  'And a stranger in the neighbourhood, too,' said Faro.

  Yarrow held out his hand. 'May I take this opportunity of welcoming your assistance, sir? Anything at all you may have observed during your time here might be of considerable help to us.'

  When Faro didn't reply immediately, Yarrow continued to regard him quizzically. 'You think Sir Archie was murdered? Political, maybe. Equerry to the Prince of Wales and that sort of thing?'

  Faro remained silent, and Yarrow shrugged. 'Come now, sir, that is obviously the real reason why you are here. We do know something of your background -'

  'Not in this instance, Sergeant. Such matters - crimes or political investigations, if you wish - in Elrigg are entirely the province of the Northumberland Constabulary or the Metropolitan Police, you know that. And Edinburgh City Police would have no right to interfere.'

  Yarrow's eyebrows raised mockingly. 'I can hardly believe that a man as important as yourself would have been sent down here to investigate some missing paintings.'

  'You must take my word for that. Let us say I was here on behalf of a very important client. That is all I can tell you, I'm afraid.'

  Sergeant Yarrow looked thoughtful. 'I wonder if you have any ideas about Miss Halliday's attacker.'

  'None at all. Living here you must know a great deal more than any stranger about likely suspects.'

  'True. There aren't many, I can assure you. Take the man Duffy, he's the nearest we get to criminal activities, he's well known as a petty thief, but we never have been able to pin anything big on him, he was too wily for that.'

  Faro remembered Dewar's words. 'You think he might have attacked Miss Halliday first - before his accident?'

  Yarrow nodded eagerly. 'I'm positive that's the way of it. Miss Halliday's homemade wine was famous. He couldn't resist drink of any kind. Might have sampled a bottle with dire effects. She caught him at it - and we know the rest.'

  Faro looked at him. There had been no evidence of empty bottles or glasses in that disturbed room. 'You are seriously considering this theory?'

  'Except that we have no record of Duffy ever being violent, or of breaking and entering a private residence. A genial rogue rather than a genuine criminal.'

  'What about the gypsies? Have you considered that there might be less genial rogues among them and that their arrival coincided with Miss Halliday's attack and Duffy's death?'

  Yarrow shook his head. 'Assault and battery isn't their style at all. Like Duffy, it's more clothes off lines and a hen or two.' After a long pause, he added: 'There is, however, one matter which is perturbing me greatly at the moment. A matter that is well out of our province, but perhaps with your greater experience you could advise me.'

  'If I can.'

  Again Yarrow hesitated before continuing: 'It concerns the woman Imogen Crowe. Did you know, by any chance, that she has a police record?'

  Faro shook his head. This was a surprise - or was it?

  'What did she do?'

  'Went to gaol for harbouring Fenian terrorists. I've been keeping an eye on Miss Crowe's activities. I don't suppose you remember the case in Scotland. There was a Brendan Crowe - her uncle and guardian, so she claimed - who took a shot at the Queen riding in St James's Park.'

  Faro sighed. 'I vaguely remember the case. There have been similar incidents. About twelve years ago, wasn't it?'

  Yarrow regarded him admiringly. 'Correct first time, sir. Year after the Prince Consort died and Her Majesty had gained a great deal of public support and sympathy, her being a widow and so forth. Crowe was shot and wounded by us - we cornered him but he managed to escape to his lodgings. Topped himself before he could be arrested -'

  'And his niece - Miss Crowe?'

  'She was in the house with him, fought the arresting officers tooth and nail. Protested that she knew nothing about his political activities. We didn't believe a word of it, naturally, so she was sentenced as accessory. Lucky for her that he never stood trial or she might have been hanged.'

  'She must have been very young at the time,' said Faro.

  'Not all that young, sir, eighteen. Old enough to know right from wrong, I'd say.'

  It was a situation Faro knew well and one that he deplored. A public outcry means that the police are expected to produce a scapegoat, someone the mob could vent their anger on. An eighteen-year-old girl, terrified and confused, horrified by her guardian's death, would do excellently.

  'She was very probably speaking the truth,' he said.

  'Once a terrorist, always a terrorist.' Yarrow gave him a hard look. Clearly, he did not share Faro's sentiments. 'An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth,' he added grimly. 'The Bible got it right, you know.'

  When Faro said nothing, Yarrow added: 'We put her behind bars for a couple of years.'

  'What is she doing in Elrigg then?' asked Faro, already knowing the answer.

  'She writes books.'

  'Romances?'

  Yarrow laughed. 'Hardly, sir. About Women's Rights, the sort of thing females who have been in prison write if they are literate, encouraging other women to believe that they've been ill-treated - all that sort of nonsense. Shouldn't be allowed.'

  Faro felt a fleeting compassion for Imogen Crowe, knowing only too well the notorious conditions of women's prisons in London: verminous, ill-treated prisoners, starved and beaten. Unthinkable that she might have been innocent, as she claimed.

  Yarrow was regarding him shrewdly. 'When Dewar told me about you, my first thought was: is he here in connection with Imogen Crowe? And your very important client has confirmed that for me. You can rely on my discretion, of course, sir, and you don't need to say whether I’m right or wrong. I'll understand perfectly.'

  When Faro smiled, he continued: 'I'd hazard a guess that the authorities believe, with the Prince of Wales being a frequent visitor to the Castle, that there might be a Fenian plot and that she's here to spy for them.'

  As he waited for a reply, he scanned Faro's face carefully. 'You think she might be involved in something?'

  This was a new aspect of the case which had never occurred to Faro. Could Yarrow be right? There had been no mention of Fenian activities. Surely the Prime Minister would have known and the Edinburgh City Police would have been alerted in the interests of national security even though it was outside their province.

  He shook his head. 'It doesn't sound like a Fenian plot to me.'

  Yarrow looked disappointed. 'That actor fellow. The one who was gored by one of the wild cattle. He was Irish too, been on the boards in Dublin. Food for thought, eh, sir?' he said.

  'It is indeed.'

  'I'm about to look in and see how Miss Halliday is. I don't suppose...'

  'Yes, of course, I'll come with you.'

  As they walked towards the Manse, in the light of Yarrow's information regarding Imogen Crowe, Faro decided to err on the side of caution and keep his observations - and his notes - to himself for the time being.

  Chapter 23

  Mrs Cairncross's relieved expression as she greeted them at the Manse said that their worst fears had not been realised.

  'Yes, she's awake, the poor dear. Dr Brand's with her now.'

  At that moment the doctor descended the stairs, smiling and shaking his head when he saw Yarrow. 'You won't be needed after all, Sergeant. No need to put cuffs on anyone this time. Simple explanation. Rattling window woke her up, she came down and tripped on the stairs in the dark. Tried to save herself, grabbed at the mantelpiece and hit
her head a mighty crack on the hearth as she fell. Good job she's got a thick skull -'

  'There was no burglar?' Yarrow sounded shocked.

  'That's what she says,' said the doctor cheerfully, fastening his bag and turning to Mrs Cairncross. 'Told me to say, yes, please, ma'am, she would like her breakfast now.'

  'Can we see her?' demanded Yarrow.

  'Later. We must keep her quiet for a while.' And to the minister's wife, 'Keep her in bed for a day or two, if you can manage.'

  'I'll do my best, Doctor, but she's a very determined lady.'

  Dr Brand frowned, looking at the two men. 'I think I'd best be honest with you. I don't think our dear Miss Halliday is speaking the truth.'

  'I knew it,' said Yarrow triumphantly. 'She's protecting someone, that's for sure.'

  The doctor smiled. 'Only herself, Sergeant.'

  'I don't understand.'

  'You might if you were her age. She should have retired long ago but she's determined to keep on teaching until she drops - which, candidly, she will do quite soon if she doesn't give up. You see, the fall she took I believe was due to a mild heart attack.'

  'A heart attack, oh, the poor dear,' said Mrs Cairncross. 'How on earth will she continue at the school?'

  'I suspect the very same thought is troubling her, so she makes light of it, says it was only a bad fall. I've examined her and found no damage, no paralysis of arms and legs or facial muscles, so we can deduce that this was just a warning. A warning that she must take seriously. Like some of my other patients,' he added, darting a significant look at Yarrow. 'You haven't been to see me lately.'

  ‘I’m much too busy to fuss about aches and pains. They've been with me for a long time,' said Yarrow brusquely, leaving Faro to wonder if the greyness of his complexion was natural or due to some more serious cause, as Imogen Crowe had hinted.

  'What about the school, Doctor?' asked Mrs Cairncross, remembering her brood of children and their future.

  'She must get help, a younger woman, to take some of the burden -'