A Quiet Death (An Inspector Faro Mystery No.5) Page 15

  'I know that. But I am rather disappointed.'

  Disappointed he might be, thought Faro shrewdly, but hardly heartbroken. There was nothing here to resemble his grief at losing Rachel.

  'Did she give any reason?' Faro asked.

  'The best. She has a lover already. That explains so many things, doesn't it? Seems to have been going on for quite some time. In fact, he set her up in the milliner's shop.'

  Here then were Faro's own suspicions of the rich protector confirmed, first by Briggs and now by Kathleen's own admission, which he felt considering the ardour of Vince's courtship was somewhat overdue.

  Mistaking his stepfather's expression, Vince said: 'It isn't as immoral as it sounds.'

  'I didn't say it was. You should know by now, lad, that I'm quite unshockable.'

  Vince nodded. 'She says he loves her and in her own words, once his present circumstances leave him free to propose, and he gets his life sorted out, they intend to marry.'

  'Is there a wife already?'

  'Sounds like it, although she was very reserved about discussing his affairs. Said she had promised him never to tell anyone and she was only telling me because she knew she could rely on my discretion.'

  His glance invited affirmation and when Faro was silent, he went on: 'Apparently he's quite high up—her words—and it would be disastrous for his position in society if all this was made public. At least it explains her "touch me not" attitude. She confessed that she was very attached to me and that in normal circumstances, she would have been honoured to be my wife, etc., etc'

  Pausing he added bleakly, 'Or so she said last night.'

  Faro put a hand on his arm. 'I'm sorry, lad. You seemed quite smitten.'

  'Not to mind, Stepfather. There are more fish in the sea, as you once reminded me,' was the pseudo-cheerful reply. 'Actually we didn't have a lot in common, you know, I see that now. Not enough for a lifetime, at any rate.'

  And as an afterthought: 'Perhaps the real reason I was attracted to her in the first place was that I was looking for another Rachel. And she did remind me of her, at first sight. But that wore off after the first meeting.'

  And observing his stepfather's anxious look, he smiled. 'Not to worry, I'll be all right this time, I promise. Who knows, two rejections, maybe it'll be third time lucky.'

  'I hope so, lad.'

  Vince was silent, studying the doorknob gravely. 'Oh by the way, talking of proposals and so forth, I have another bit of news that will surprise you. Now that Wilf has inherited, his engagement to Lady Clara Wilkes will be announced shortly.'

  He smiled. 'He told me very confidentially as we drove down together, but I'm sure he won't mind you knowing, since you are the soul of discretion. Lady Clara is an heiress of ancient family whose estates are in Fife.'

  'This is all very sudden.'

  'Oh yes, totally unexpected, Stepfather. She's a remote cousin. Her husband ran off with another woman, an Italian princess, I understand. Wilf and she were childhood sweethearts and have been secretly engaged for some while, with Sir Arnold's blessing. Now that her divorce has come through they are to marry quietly, without any fuss, since the Deanes are officially in mourning.'

  'A very well-kept secret.'

  'Oh indeed. And it explains what I could never understand. Why someone as eligible as Wilfred hadn't married long ago. Even for dynastic purposes.'

  But Wilfred Deane's newfound happiness was not destined to last.

  Two days after the announcement in The Scotsman Faro was summoned to the Royal British Hotel where a man had been found dead in his room.

  On Princes Street the church bells were summoning worshippers to morning service, while inside the hotel Sergeant McQuinn was waiting for him and a uniformed constable kept curious hotel guests and alarmed staff at bay in the corridor.

  Inside Room 102, the police surgeon Dr Holmes knelt beside the corpse who lay wide-eyed and staring as he had fallen.

  'Haven't touched a thing. Inspector. I've just arrived, waiting for you to make your inspection of the room.' He pointed to the body where a tiny red rose of death had bloomed and congealed on the immaculate white shirt-front.

  Faro looked around. It was an almost tidy scene of death, no visible bloodstains, only a chair overturned and a broken ornament near the door. The bedcovers had apparently been dragged off in some sort of struggle but the bed itself had not been slept in, for its pristine pillows were undented.

  As Holmes began to examine the body, Faro leaned over.

  'Anyone found the murder weapon? A knife with a stiletto blade, I would say, since there is so little blood about.'

  'Correct, Inspector. Stabbed once, a bull's-eye straight to the heart. Died instantly.'

  McQuinn and the constable had followed Faro inside and were methodically searching the room. An easy task since the drawers and wardrobe were empty, the dead man's travelling bag unpacked.

  'No evidence of the knife so far, sir. Guess the murderer carried it away with him.'

  'How long has he been dead?' Faro asked the police surgeon.

  'Oh, by the condition of the body, I would say at least twelve hours. Between ten and midnight last night.'

  McQuinn handed Faro a piece of paper. 'According to reception, the deceased is one of their regulars. He had no visitors last night. His wife usually comes with him, but he was alone this time. Just as well for her, perhaps.'

  And looking over Faro's shoulder: 'He's a Mr James Burnett, a businessman from Arbroath. That should be easy to check, sir. At least we have an identity for him.'

  Faro looked at the body. 'I think you'll find that Mr Burnett isn't his real name.'

  McQuinn whistled. 'So it's not going to be a simple case after all.'

  Faro smiled wryly. 'After all your years with me, McQuinn, I shouldn't have to tell you that

  murder is never simple.'

  'Any ideas, Inspector?' asked the police surgeon as he drew a sheet over the body.

  'Yes. I know this man. His name is Wilfred Deane.'

  'Of the Dundee Deanes?'

  'The same.'

  'Good Lord. This will cause a sensation.'

  'Didn't I read that he was about to be married?' said McQuinn. 'Then I wonder—'

  'I think you'll find that the lady calling herself Mrs Burnett was not Lady Clara Wilkes,' said Faro, examining the room.

  Apart from the bedcovers on the floor, the lack of a struggle suggested that Deane had been easily overpowered and that death had come to him as a surprise.

  'That stiletto stabbing suggests an Italian job to me,' said Sergeant McQuinn. 'There's a lot of them about in Edinburgh these days. Could be a vendetta. Fallen foul of one of their families.'

  When word reached Superintendent McIntosh, he was mortified that an illustrious and prominent Dundee citizen should have been murdered in his territory.

  'Dundee Police are sending a detective. He's already on his way but you will be in charge of this case, Faro.' A pause. 'Any ideas?'

  'Any ideas?' asked Detective Sergeant Elliott. He arrived that evening at Sheridan Place off the same train as Vince who came in his official capacity as Deane's doctor, horrified to hear of his friend and employer's brutal murder.

  Both men exchanged grumbles about the atrocious rail journey. Both were in agreement about one thing. 'High time they got that bridge finished.'

  'This wasn't a murder for theft,' said Faro in answer to Elliott's question. 'Nothing of value was taken. His pocket case was full of bank notes, his watch and rings intact.'

  'Bad business,' said Elliott. 'Any suspects?'

  'Just one. Woman calling herself Mrs Burnett, his only regular visitor. As they knew her well, she did not bother to register. But the bellboy met a heavily veiled woman making her way to Deane's room on Saturday evening. When he said: "Good evening, Mrs Burnett," she ignored him. He thought perhaps he had been mistaken.'

  'Or she was anxious not to be recognised,' said Elliott slowly.

  'Did anyone se
e her arrive or depart?' Vince asked.

  'No one,' replied Faro.

  Elliott looked crestfallen as only a detective can when deprived of evidence to link the main suspect with the murder.

  'Any other ideas, sir? I understand you both knew the victim.'

  'We had a slight acquaintance,' said Faro.

  'Good, that is a great help. For motive, and soon.'

  'I think I can assess from the state of the room how the murder was accomplished and from the evidence, this case has all the marks of the crime passionel.'

  'A woman's crime, is that it. Stepfather?'

  'Do I take it you have hopes of an early arrest, Inspector?' Elliott interrupted. And seizing upon Faro's non-committal response as affirmation: 'Excellent. Well, well, I never expected this kind of progress. You are certainly living up to your reputation, sir.'

  Faro smiled wryly. 'First catch your murderer, Elliott.'

  'I would say it's an open and shut case.'

  'Yes indeed,' said Vince enthusiastically. 'Ten to one it is the missing Mrs Burnett.'

  'The hotel staff were very eager for a bit of gossip. Apparently Mr and Mrs Burnett were never seen in the dining room like any other married couple, honeymooners apart. Had all their meals in the upstairs suite,' said McQuinn. He had been very busy, very thorough with his interviews at the hotel.

  'And being wise after the event, the manager said he thought it highly suspicious that a gentleman allegedly from Arbroath should choose the weekend to conduct his Edinburgh business and receive visits from his wife.'

  'I expect Sergeant Elliott knows that Mr Deane had recently become engaged,' said Vince.

  'Indeed yes. The Wilkes are very well thought of, a highly respectable family. There is going to be one hell of a scandal when we have to investigate Lady Clara's alibi. Ever met her, Dr Laurie?'

  'Not yet.' Vince looked at his stepfather. 'I suppose it is just possible—'

  Faro shook his head and said to the detective, 'You're wasting your time. I think you will find that the lady is completely innocent and can account for her movements that night. Also it will come as a considerable shock to her to learn that Deane had a mistress in Edinburgh.'

  'A shock to everyone who knew him, Stepfather.'

  'And neither lady with any inkling of the other's existence,' said Elliott thoughtfully. 'So if Lady Clara is innocent, all we have to do is find this other woman.'

  'That could be quite a poser,' said Vince. 'But I'm sure my stepfather is up to it.' He smiled. 'He is probably one jump ahead of us right now.'

  'We need only go as far back as Deane's engagement. I fancy that came as a startling surprise to Mrs Burnett. And fortunately I know exactly where I can lay hands on the lady who calls herself by that name. If you would care to accompany me.'

  He turned and looked at his stepson who was listening eagerly.

  'You too, Vince lad.'

  Vince laughed uneasily. 'Why me?'

  'Because you know the way better than I do.'

  'You don't mean—Oh no, Stepfather. You can't—'

  'I do. And I'm afraid I must.'

  Chapter Eighteen

  It was a very silent quartet who were deposited by the police carriage in Rose Street. First, Detective Sergeant Elliott and Sergeant McQuinn, to take notes in case an arrest was made, then Vince, shocked into stunned silence by the information that he was to step inside the shop and behave in a casual fashion.

  Last to emerge was Faro, clutching a parcel whose contents he did not see fit to divulge. 'Best wait outside, lads.'

  'We don't want to alarm her,' said Elliott firmly. 'We don't want any unnecessary violence. But we had best be prepared, Inspector,' he added, patting his greatcoat pocket significantly. 'Let's try to act as normally as possible, Dr Laurie.'

  It was doubtful, thought Faro, whether anyone could regard that white stricken face as normal, and he gave his stepson a rallying pat on the shoulder.

  As Vince walked to the counter, Faro hovered by the door while Elliott and McQuinn looked through the window keeping the scene under careful scrutiny while trying to remain inconspicuous. It wasn't easy, two tall men and a uniformed constable, who was the driver, all gazing with elaborate concentration at a windowful of ladies' bonnets.

  They saw the pretty young assistant step forward, shake her head.

  'Come along, Elliott,' said Faro and threw open the door.

  As they spread themselves before her, the assistant eyed them with alarm.

  'No, I'm afraid Madame is not at home to anyone.'

  'I am a friend of hers,' said Vince.

  The girl considered his companions doubtfully. 'Madame is indisposed.'

  'She will see me,' said Vince winningly and striding purposefully behind the counter opened the door leading upstairs to the flat.

  'You can't do that,' protested the girl. 'Wait—I'll lose my job for this.'

  Elliott and McQuinn pushed past her up the stairs. Faro paused before a tray of milliner's accessories, then he followed them.

  They found Kathleen slumped in a chair by the window. There was something in her attitude which touched an unhappy memory for Faro. She looked up at them with a wan smile.

  'I've been expecting this visit, gentlemen.' She turned her gaze to Faro, said softly, 'You've come to arrest me, haven't you, Inspector?' And nodding vigorously, 'Yes, I did it. I killed Wilfred Deane.'

  Faro heard a sigh of relief from Elliott. There was going to be no violence, just a confession and a peaceful arrest.

  'I'm glad you've come,' she said, rising wearily, supported by her hands on the arms of the chair. 'Strange, it's better to be taken by friends.' Looking intently at Vince, 'By people who care about what happens to you rather than by impersonal constables who are merely doing their duty.'

  'Have you the murder weapon, Kathleen?' asked Faro. 'You used a long hatpin, like this one,' he added, flourishing that same article used by ladies to stab their hats into submission, which he had picked up from the counter downstairs. 'Am I right?'

  Kathleen's face paled, her hands flew to her throat as if she felt the rope around it. For a moment he thought she was about to faint.

  'Will they hang me?' she whispered.

  'Sit down, lass,' he said not unkindly. 'We'll do the best we can for you. It was self-defence, after all, was it not? May I?' And leaning forward he pulled aside the silk scarf she wore. On her neck, on either side of her throat, were two ugly bruises.

  Vince swore. 'Did he do that to you?'

  Before she could reply Faro said, 'Be so good as to pour a glass of water for her, will you please.' And to Elliott, 'You see I was perfectly sure that when Miss Neil visited the hotel room that evening as Mrs Burnett, she had not the least intention of murdering her lover. He had summoned her as usual, but this time with the express motive of getting rid of her.'

  'Surely that's a bit steep,' said Elliott. 'I mean, if he was just breaking it off—'

  'Bear with me, if you please. Deane had excellent reason for not "just breaking it off" as you call it. He had to shut Miss Neil's mouth for good. Believe me, gentlemen, his whole future was at stake. And if anyone had murder in his heart that evening, it was Wilfred Deane. And when he attacked her, so brutally and unexpectedly, she used the first and only weapon to hand—the long pin which had secured her bonnet.'

  He paused and looked down at Kathleen. 'Perhaps you would like to tell us in your own words what happened, lass.'

  As Kathleen spoke, she threw occasional glances of appeal and apology in Vince's direction. 'When I first met Vince I told him—'

  'If you please, lass, we'd like to hear it right from the beginning. How and where you first

  met Wilfred Deane. This will all need to come out in court,' Faro added to McQuinn who had taken out his notebook in readiness.

  'I met Wilfred Deane when I was working with Uncle Willie McGonagall in the factory. He isn't my uncle really,' she said, 'just a remote cousin who was very kind after my mother d
ied. Anyway, he got me a job in the jute factory, hoping to train me for the stage. He wanted me to be a Shakespearean actress. But I was never any good at that.

  'One day when Wilfred was visiting the factory he came and talked to me. I felt very flattered. He came often after that and I guessed that he was taken with me. Of course I played up to him, he was a wealthy man.'

  She paused. 'To cut a long story short, after we became—intimate—he bought me this shop in Edinburgh. He didn't want anyone to know and I was to pretend that I had gone to London. I didn't mind, I would have done anything for him. Anything.'

  The word was a whisper, her sigh remembered. 'He asked very little in return. Just that he might come and visit me when he was able to do so. He often has business meetings to attend here. I agreed. Who wouldn't? After life in the factory, it was a very good exchange. And after my early life in a Dublin slum,' she added bitterly.

  'When Sir Arnold died and Wilfred inherited I presumed the family opposition to his marrying me that he talked about would be at an end. No one could disinherit him now for marrying a former factory girl. The whole of Deane's was his now. I had a note—I have it here somewhere—to meet him as usual for the weekend at the Royal British Hotel.'

  From her reticule she produced a crumpled piece of paper which she handed to Faro. 'But this time I was in for a shock. I wasn't prepared to find out that everything he had told me and had promised was a lie. He told me to prepare myself for bad news. He could not marry me, first of all. He had to marry this Lady Clara, but this was to be a marriage of convenience. He needed Lady Clara's money to keep Deane's afloat, but he did not love her.

  'I was to rest assured that I was his one true love and there was no reason why we should not continue as before, this arrangement had worked so well. Of course I was very upset and disappointed. I wept. I had waited all this time for him to be free to marry me. I had no wish to remain in the backwater of his life as his mistress, seeing him only when he could visit Edinburgh.

  'We never went outside the hotel in case we were recognised. I was always heavily veiled. What kind of life was that? I wanted to be at his side—as his wife, living at Deane Hall. I wanted children too,' she added bleakly.