Deadly Beloved (An Inspector Faro Mystery No.3) Page 14

  "Trouble, sir?" asked McQuinn, peering over his shoulder.

  "You can come along and find out," said Faro, handing him the note. "This is something you could have dealt with."

  "But I wasn't — "

  "Oh, never mind. Let's go."

  To the driver of the waiting police carriage he gave directions to the Kellar house where Ina opened the door, staring out at them with frightened eyes. "It's to do with the mistress, sir." She looked over her shoulder. "I told you this was an evil house. I feel things."

  "What sort of things?"

  "Presences," she whispered.

  She almost jumped into the air when the bell from the housekeeper's room pealed through the hall. "That's Mrs Flynn. She said I was to take you to her directly and not waste time gossiping."

  McQuinn made a grimace as Ina led the way downstairs. At the door of Mrs Flynn's gloomy apartments, Faro whispered, "We'll talk to you later, Ina."

  "If you wish, sir."

  The housekeeper was lying on her bed. "Ina?"

  When the maid's scared face looked round the door, Mrs Flynn said, "Here's the shopping list. Go as quick as you can. These things are needed for the master's supper." And then to Faro, "Excuse me not rising, Inspector. It's me veins. Bad they are just now."

  Faro decided the housekeeper was extremely unlucky in being so prone to indisposition. Every time he came he found her suffering from some new infliction. A sore throat, a bad leg and now she was back with the swathed jaw: presumably the toothache that had caused the initial disasters at the Kellar dinner table.

  Following his gaze, she said. "I'm nearly mad with that abscess again. Hardly closed my eyes last night."

  She certainly wouldn't last long in any employment at this rate, he thought, murmuring sympathy. "But you really must do something about it, Mrs Flynn. The dentist can't be any worse than all this agony," he said severely, and feeling no end of a hypocrite added encouragingly, "It's all over in a minute, you know."

  The housekeeper shuddered. "I'll have to think about it. I can't go on much longer like this." Then, leaning forward, she whispered, "I asked you to come because we found this in the chimney."

  From under the bed she withdrew a bundle.

  "What is it?"

  At first glance in the dim light. Faro thought he was seeing a bloodied, soot-streaked white seabird, which Mrs Flynn shook out to reveal a woman's petticoat. The bodice was heavily bloodstained.

  "You say this was in the chimney, Mrs Flynn?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Tell me the whole story from the beginning, if you please."

  "It was just last week, sir, the chimney in the master's bedroom. He started complaining that it was smoking. Ina and I looked up but we couldn't see anything. It had been swept at Christmas so it couldn't be soot. He said to get a sweep. Well, that came down with the brushes."

  Spreading the garment on the table, even the bloodstains and the soot could not disguise that it was of fine-quality lawn and the lace was of exquisite workmanship.

  "Do you recognise it?"

  "Oh yes, Inspector. It belonged to the mistress. I ironed it the morning she left. She asked for it specially, one of her favourites."

  "You are absolutely sure this is the same garment she was wearing when she left?"

  "Oh yes, sir. You see, as she was putting it on, she stepped on the lace and it tore. She asked me to sew it. If you'll hand it over — here, see — on the hem. I can recognise my own sewing," she said proudly. "I couldn't find the white cotton and as she was in a hurry I hoped she wouldn't notice that I used cream thread."

  Faro looked at the neat stitches. Cream against white, not particularly obvious, but the housekeeper's repair was further grim evidence that murder had been committed. The case against Dr Kellar was almost complete.

  "If someone was trying to burn this garment, I don't understand why it was up the chimney?" At his side, McQuinn asked the logical question which had also been troubling Faro.

  "I couldn't say, but it was rolled up in a tight ball," said Mrs Flynn encouragingly. "Inspector, may I ask you something?" When Faro nodded, she went on, "The mistress — has she — is she — I mean, has she been done in by someone?"

  "We don't know that, Mrs Flynn."

  "But, sir, what about the bloodstains in the coach? The fur cloak that the papers mentioned, and then there was the carving knife we missed from the kitchen. And now this ..." her voice grew shriller, as she pointed to the petticoat. "What more do the police need to make an arrest, Inspector?"

  "They need a body, Mrs Flynn."

  "A body, sir?"

  "Yes, Mrs Flynn — a body."

  The housekeeper thought for a moment. "Do you think the police will ever find her?"

  "I expect so, if we're patient."

  Mrs Flynn shook her head. "I don't think patience has much hope here. Not against him."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, it's as plain as the nose on your face, Inspector. He spends his time cutting bodies up and, so I hear, giving bits to his students. Revolting, I call it, not even Christian burial, poor souls."

  As they were about to leave, taking the petticoat with them. Faro said, "Perhaps we could have a word with the maid."

  "If she's back from the shops, yes. And she takes for ever. I'd better warn you, Inspector." Mrs Flynn put a finger to the side of her head and twisted it significantly. "She's not all there."

  "Simple, you mean?"

  "That's right. Sees things. Ghosts and such rubbish. I've never felt or seen anything amiss in the house. I think she does it to make herself important."

  She struggled to rise from her bed. Putting her foot on the ground she gave an agonised gasp and Faro, bundling up the petticoat, said hurriedly, "We'll see ourselves out."

  As they walked down the front steps, McQuinn said, "Begging your pardon, Inspector, but this doesn't make sense to me. Everything points to Kellar having done his wife in, like the old housekeeper says. But if he put the petticoat up the chimney then he wouldn't have drawn attention to himself by complaining that it was smoking, would he? He could have burnt it, got rid of it somewhere else, couldn't he?"

  "The only reason would be panic."

  "And from what I've seen and heard of that gentleman, he's a cool customer, sir."

  At that moment a hired carriage arrived, and the cool customer descended and paid his fare.

  "We'll have the cab, sir. Wait a moment, if you please."

  Dr Kellar was looking decidedly flushed and ill. "What do you want this time, Inspector?" he demanded irritably. "Out with it quick, man. I've had to leave early. You must excuse me if I don't delay. Stomach cramps. There's a bit of drain fever about at Surgeons Hall — I think I must have caught a dose. Not helped of course by the vile cooking in my home these days. Well, what is it now?"

  "We've solved the problem with your bedroom chimney."

  "Surely we didn't need to call in the police for that?"

  "The sweep found this was causing the blockage," said Faro pushing forward the petticoat.

  "What's this? A woman's shift — what on earth?" Kellar sounded genuinely astonished.

  "Do you recognise it?"

  "No, should I?" When Faro didn't answer, Kellar said. "Some damned servant girl larking around, I suppose."

  "I'm afraid not. We have reason to believe that it belongs to your wife."

  Kellar looked again and Faro thought he grew a shade paler. "I've never seen it before."

  "Surely ..." Faro began.

  "If you are asking me what my wife wore under her dresses, then I can only tell you I haven't the faintest idea."

  If they slept in separate rooms, thought Faro, then Dr Kellar was probably speaking the truth.

  "So you wouldn't be prepared to identify it?" said Faro.

  "No, I would not," Kellar replied testily.

  "You would agree then that the servants are better acquainted with your wife's undergarments."

  "Of course
they are."

  "So what would you say if I told you that Mrs Flynn has identified it as belonging to Mrs Kellar, by a repair she did on the morning your wife disappeared?"

  "I would only say, surely no one, not even you, would take the word of domestics against mine. Now I bid you good-day, gentlemen."

  Kellar hurried up the front steps and let himself into the house.

  McQuinn looked at Faro as if expecting him to make some move to stop the doctor's hasty retreat. Faro shrugged and stepped into the waiting carriage.

  "Waverley Station, if you please. I'm going back to Longniddry, McQuinn, see if there are any more developments. You stay here, try to be unobtrusive and talk to the maid when she gets back. Shouldn't be long," he added, in response to McQuinn's sullen look.

  When Faro stepped off the train at Longniddry, a railwayman standing at the far end of the platform waved frantically, as if he had been waiting for the Inspector.

  "Thought I recognised you, sir. I'm Thomas. That was quick work, sir," he added with a grin."I've just sent a message, an hour ago, through one of your men working the line."

  "Another discovery?"

  "No, just information, sir."

  "Good."

  Faro began to walk towards the barrier and Thomas put a hand on his arm and said, "Do you think we could talk back here, Inspector? I don't particularly want Mr Andrews to see us together. Look, if we sit on the steps of the signal box there down the line."

  "I hope it won't take long," said Faro, pulling up the collar of his coat against the bitter east wind.

  "It's like this, sir. That afternoon when you asked the station master about ladies in fur cloaks. I was listening when he told you about the maids with their parcels helping their mistresses out of the station and into carriages and so forth. Well, I remembered something. I wasn't sure whether it was of any importance, but I've been thinking about it since ..."

  "Why didn't you speak up at the time?" demanded Faro crossly.

  "Look, Inspector, when the station master, Mr Andrews, isn't on duty I'm in charge of collecting tickets. It's a punishable offence, a fine taken off my wages, if I let someone go without a ticket. So if I make a mistake, I keep quiet about it, see. It's happened a couple of times and I'm on my last warning. Next time it'll cost me my job. And I've got a wife and five wee ones ..."

  It was beginning to rain, rain that was turning into sleet.

  "So," said Faro trying not to sound urgent, "what was it you remembered?"

  "About ten minutes after the North Berwick train left that day, the one you were enquiring about, when all the passengers had gone and I was going to lock the gate, a maid came out of the waiting room. She was carrying a big parcel. I know all the lasses here but this one was a stranger and I said, "You're lucky. Another minute and you'd have been locked in. Unless you're able to climb gates.'

  "She didn't say a word, searching for her ticket in her travelling bag. She was shivering and had no coat, just a shawl and it was snowing."

  "'Have you far to go, miss?' I asked her.

  "'Just down the road.'

  "When she found the ticket I noticed it was all bloody. So were her fingers. 'Cut yourself miss?' I asked.

  "She seemed put out. 'Just a scratch. I was looking for water to wash my hands and there is none on the train. None in the waiting room either.'

  "'Hold on Miss, I said, 'and I'll get you water from the station master's room. We keep emergency bandages and things there in case of accidents.'

  "But when I came back two minutes later, she was scurrying off down the road, fast as her legs would carry her."

  "What was she dressed like?"

  "Like, sir?" Thomas laughed. "Like a maid, of course."

  "Young, old?"

  "Difficult to say, sir. Fiftyish, I'd reckon. Hair tucked into a maid's cap.

  A picture was forming in Faro's mind. "Spectacles?"

  Thomas screwed up his face trying to think. "Couldn't say as I noticed that, sir. But I don't think so."

  "Well then, was she a big woman? Stout, a bit clumsy-looking?"

  "Oh, no. Inspector. A right skinny one. Tallish, thin as a post, this one. Nifty on her feet, I can tell you, the way she made off down the road. I guess she'll be from these parts, with one of the big houses."

  "What makes you think that?"

  Thomas laughed. "That's easy, sir. She had a first-class ticket."

  "First class? Surely that's unusual for a servant."

  "Not hereabouts, sir. The quality ladies do like to keep their maids by them in the same compartment, especially if the train's crowded. If she'd been travelling on her own, of course, she'd have been in third class, that's for sure."

  Faro had much to occupy his mind on the train back to Edinburgh.

  The case against Kellar seemed now cut and dried. The fact that there was no Captain Shaw, allied to the revelations in Mabel's letter to her sister, confirmed Faro's own deduction about what had happened on that fateful train journey.

  If he had been in any further need of convincing, the revelations of Thomas were proof positive that Mabel Kellar's body was beyond recovery. Kellar had condemned himself in his own words, most diabolically, by boasting to his wife how easy it would be for a police surgeon with access to a mortuary and dissecting room to dispose of an unwanted corpse. Eveline Shaw had certainly provided Kellar with an alibi. But he needed an accomplice. Now, from the assistant ticket collector at Longniddry, it appeared they had found someone, in the guise of a maid, who had helped them get away with murder.

  Chapter 14

  It was already dark when Faro at last walked up the steps to the Central Office. McQuinn was writing at the desk in his office. As his superior came in the sergeant threw down the pen.

  "I was preparing a report for you, sir, before I went off duty."

  "Yes?"

  "I stayed around at the back door of the Kellar house until the maid came back from the shops. The girl believes that she sees things, feels presences, but when I asked her to be more precise, all she did was shake her head and look like bursting into tears. It seems that Mrs Flynn has scared the living daylights out of the lass, that she'll lose her job. She's more anxious about that than her ghosts, I can tell you. Seems she has a dying sister and an invalid mother. Poor wee lass."

  He paused and gave Faro a speculative glance. "I could try talking to her again, but it would have to be away from the house. She'd likely be easier without feeling that Mrs Flynn was watching her."

  Apart from his natural gallantry towards the female species at all times, Faro felt that McQuinn had little interest in carrying this particular professional duty into the realms of pleasure.

  "Tell me, McQuinn, did you think the girl was — well, genuine?"

  "Oh, I did, sir. No doubt about that. She's seen something in that house that scares her all right. Apparitions, well I'm doubtful. I was wondering if it could be — let's say a corpse."

  "You mean the missing Mrs Kellar."

  "I was thinking along those lines."

  "I think you're wrong about that, McQuinn." And Faro proceeded to tell McQuinn about the development at Longniddry.

  McQuinn pushed back his helmet, scratched his head. "Well, sir, that is a poser, isn't it? Looks like the murder was committed on the train, early on, soon after leaving Edinburgh, I'd say, by this accomplice posing as her maid. Then her body was got off the train, don't ask me how," he added hastily, seeing Faro's expression.

  "If our suppositions are correct, then it was collected by Kellar in his carriage at some prearranged place along the line."

  "It couldn't have been at a station, sir. Even if your accomplice was carrying off an allegedly sick and injured woman, how would they account for all that blood."

  "She could have been murdered by strangulation or by a stab wound in some vital place which would not have bled profusely. Kellar would know all about that. Her body was taken to the mortuary by Kellar, while the bogus maid got off at the next st
op — Longniddry — carrying the evidence which was then disposed of down the railway embankment?"

  McQuinn brightened. "That fits, sir."

  Faro shook his head. "No, it doesn't. We haven't taken into account that vital factor of happenstance. However, it's well worth careful consideration. You might be on to something and we can check the stations en route, see if anyone was carried off the train."

  As praise from his superior was notably rare, McQuinn looked pleased. "What shall I do next, sir?"

  "Try and see the maid again. Use your charm on her, McQuinn."

  "Right, sir," said McQuinn and saluted smartly.

  Ever since Longniddry, Faro had begun to see a flicker of light, appropriately enough, at the end of the tunnel. Light that obstinately reflected a very different pattern from the one he had envisaged up till now.

  As was his custom, he had been marshalling his facts together and when he wearily let himself into 9 Sheridan Place, he was pleased to find Vince at home, anxious for an account of his day's activities.

  Regarding the revelations from the Caithness Regiment, Vince said disgustedly, "Imagine there being no Captain Shaw and all this time we've been falling over ourselves to console the distraught young widow. What a cheat!"

  "Do you think Mrs Kellar knew the truth?"

  "Certainly not. She would never suspect a friend of telling her such a downright lie. What else did you find out?"

  Vince listened eagerly to Faro's account of the interview with Thomas. "This is great progress. Stepfather. All you need now is to trace the maid. What a piece of luck."

  "There's one thing more, lad." Faro was reluctant to tell his stepson about the bloodstained petticoat. As he expected Vince was exceedingly upset.

  "How can you sit there. Stepfather, so calm and doing nothing about arresting Kellar. In the face of such damning evidence," Vince added, thumping the table angrily.

  "Vince, lad. Listen. Please, I beg you, don't get carried away by emotions."

  "Emotions!" Vince exploded. "My most dear friend has been murdered by her husband, aided and abetted by her false friend. And you ask me not to get carried away!"