A Quiet Death (An Inspector Faro Mystery No.5) Page 7

  'I know what follows sounds like madness, Stepfather, but you must be patient with me. She began visiting the factory, allegedly bringing clothes for some of the poorer workers, but she always did so when I was at my surgery. One day as she was leaving I took her in my arms and the next moment we were confessing our undying love for each other. I think I even asked her to marry me, although I hardly expected that a humble factory doctor would be seriously considered as a prospective suitor.

  'On her next visit, she told me that she would be honoured and indeed proud to be my wife, but we must wait until she came of age, then she could do as she pleased. She told me that she longed for me, that such waiting time was intolerable and she had arranged with a friend, an old nurse, that we should visit her cottage for a few days. Did I think that a good idea?

  'Of course I did. I was deliriously happy at the prospect. We arranged to meet on Magdalen Green.'

  He looked at Faro appealingly. 'Even then, I thought I was dreaming. I could hardly believe that she would be there, that it was true. But she arrived promptly in a carriage which she said was engaged to carry us to Dundee Railway Station. Errol she said was our destination—'

  'Errol, did you say?' Faro interrupted. And when Vince gave him a questioning glance, he said: 'No—pray continue.'

  'After purchasing our tickets, we sat in the train like two happy children playing truant. It was a short walk from the station before we turned through lodge gates into a vast estate where Rachel said her nurse's cottage was situated.

  'I was a little taken aback, but enormously gratified, to find that there was no sign of any servants, or of the old nurse, who I had imagined would look after us and probably prove to be a stern chaperone. I had not the least idea then that Rachel intended to anticipate our marriage, that we were to become lovers.

  'She had thought of everything. Before we met that day she had been into the Overgait and had purchased a picnic hamper, filled it with provisions, bread, wine, chicken, ham, a Dundee cake, enough for several days. We would certainly not go hungry and so we feasted, avoiding any of the estate workers as we walked in the vast woods. The house itself when we were near enough to inspect it, was shuttered. The family, she said, went to Italy each spring.

  'At last it was over, we had run out of time. Time I had begged off from my surgery with the excuse of an urgent visit to Edinburgh. Time she had stolen to visit a sick friend in Perth.

  'On the last day, almost tearfully we walked back to the station and took the train back to Dundee. I saw her into a carriage bound for Deane Hall and returned lonely and desolate, but full of hope for the future, to Paton's Lane. That night I wrote to tell you of my good fortune. But that is the last time I saw Rachel until our meeting with her this afternoon.'

  Faro was deeply concerned with his stepson's story. The lad was too well balanced to have imagined the events of the last two weeks. He was not even romantic by temperament and had enjoyed great successes with the ladies until now without being under any obligation. Experienced where women were concerned, he was not of that nature who might in desperation mistake flirtation for serious intent.

  Strongest of the evidence in Vince's favour was his natural antipathy towards the matrimonial state. It was Rachel's behaviour that was completely baffling. Why should a well brought up young girl in a strata of society which made the strictest demands of morality suddenly throw convention aside and elope with a young man she hardly knew?

  'Did you have any reason to suspect her behaviour was at all—well, odd?'

  'I am not sure what you mean.'

  'Did she tell you anything in those few days about her background, her life as a child?'

  Vince smiled into the middle distance. 'Only that she was often naughty. She hated being told what to do and—and—' He paused frowning.

  'Well?'

  'I remember recalling that her grandfather once told me that although he loved her dearly, she was his only grandchild, she was often wilful and naughty. A wild child, subject—subject to erratic fits. She would be over the moon as he put it, one minute, and the next sunk into deepest melancholy.'

  Vince was silent now, looking at him as if there should be some ready answer. 'I wonder now could such fits be drug-induced, brought about by taking laudanum? As you probably know, Stepfather, lots of young girls take it for menstrual disorders and her grandfather once asked me to prescribe it for her, for exactly that condition.'

  'Without you seeing the patient, Vince? Surely that is irregular?'

  'I suppose it was. And had it been anyone else but Sir Arnold I would have refused. She did talk to me about this problem when we were in Errol, of course, so it was quite genuine.'

  It was Faro's turn to be silent. 'Was there anyone who might have seen you together?'

  'Only the guard at the station. I doubt whether he would remember us though. He hardly looked up when we handed in our tickets.'

  'Estate workers then?'

  'Well, we tried to avoid them wherever possible. After all, we were trying to be discreet. We weren't exactly eager to brazenly announce to the world that we were anticipating our marriage vows.'

  And that fact didn't make sense either, thought Faro. What was all the hurry? Why didn't Rachel wait a few weeks until she came of age and could please herself in the choice of a husband?

  In the few minutes he had been in her company he would have said that her reactions were exactly what he would have expected of the heiress of Deane. She certainly did not strike him as a lass who would throw her bonnet over the windmill and indulge in a passionate premarital love affair.

  'Tell me something about this estate. Was there anything special that you could recognise again?'

  'Of course I could find it. I have a map that Rachel brought with her. I carry it still,' he said softly, 'as a memento.' Producing it from his pocket book he spread it before Faro. 'See, there, the area ringed. That's where we stayed. It's just off the main road to Perth, at the signpost for Errol.'

  Faro had a sudden feeling of triumph. 'Did it have twin lodges with tiny turrets and two spread eagles on the gateposts?'

  Vince gasped. 'Exactly that. But how did you know?'

  'Because, my dear lad, there is only one estate at Errol large enough to answer that description. And what is more, my friend Tom Elgin is gamekeeper on the adjoining estate.' He rubbed his hands gleefully. 'This is marvellous. Why, I stayed with him the night after Will Gray's funeral.'

  'And you still remember the twin lodges?' said Vince in amazement. 'In your befuddled condition?'

  'Old habits die hard, lad. Observation is second nature, and often an absolute necessity for my survival. And this time it is going to be invaluable, to prove that you were telling the truth.'

  'You mean—' Hope flooded Vince's pale face.

  'I mean that I shall visit Tom and see that cottage and the nurse.'

  'The nurse, of course. She'll tell you that Rachel contacted her.'

  Vince's mood swiftly changed from gloom to optimism. For the moment, the account of his love affair had been in the nature of an expurgation. To his stepfather's suggestion that he might now wish to return to his lodgings, he said firmly: 'What on earth for? I'll only sit and brood and I've done enough of that for one day. Rachel may have spurned me for her own good reasons, but meantime there are other people who need me.' And consulting the wall clock, 'I have a surgery at the factory at five. Yes, I will be perfectly all right and I'll see you later this evening, I hope. Perhaps by that time you will have some evidence that will make Rachel admit that she loves me. It will make a change for you, this solving an affair of the heart, instead of a crime,' he added cynically.

  Faro merely smiled. But he left wondering what was to be gained from the proposed visit, beyond the satisfaction of proving that Vince and Rachel had indeed visited Errol. And would it do the lad any good to learn that his beloved was a heartless liar?

  As for solving enigmas of behaviour, whether criminal or in the human he
art, there seemed little difference really. The puzzle lay deep in the labyrinth of personality, full of twists and turns and unsolved clues which German psychologists were only beginning to unravel.

  Chapter 8

  At Paton's Lane Jean McGonagall was industriously scrubbing the front step.

  'Oh, it's yourself, Inspector. I was just telling Willie, when I first saw you I thought you must be Dr Laurie's elder brother,' she added with a shy giggle. 'You look far too young to be his father.'

  'His stepfather, actually,' he reminded her.

  'Oh, is that it?' she answered vaguely as if she was still considering that possibility and would have liked to question him further. As he walked towards the stairs he thanked her for putting a warming pan in his bed and leaving warm water. Even if it was cold by the time he used it he realised it had to be got from a pump in the yard, carried up several flights of stairs and heated.

  'I hope you are comfortable with us, sir,' she said anxiously. 'We haven't much as you know. We're that upset about poor Polly Briggs. Fancy doing herself in, the poor lassie. What on earth came over her to do a thing like that?' And with a sad shake of her head, 'I just canna take it in somehow.'

  Her eyes filled with tears and she paused to wipe them on her apron. 'I expect our Kathleen will come for the funeral. Like sisters they were. I canna think that she would stay away.'

  And Faro, listening, thought grimly, only if she too is dead. Out loud he said: 'Maybe she doesn't know, Mrs McGonagall. I mean, if she's in London, such news might not reach her.'

  'Maybe so, maybe so. I'm right worried, sick with worry I am. I don't know where to turn.' And studying Faro's face hesitantly, 'Do you think you could help us? We were wondering if you might know someone in the police who could tell us how to go about finding our Kathleen?'

  Faro refrained from replying that he and the Dundee City Police put together lacked the ability to work miracles. 'I will do anything I can, of course, but trying to find a missing person in London would be like searching for the proverbial needle—'

  'In the proverbial haystack, sir.' The door behind them had opened and William McGonagall appeared. 'I've told you not to fuss, woman. Kathleen will turn up when she has a mind to do so. And now do go about your business, woman, and stop pestering Inspector Faro with our worries.'

  As Jean went into the kitchen he said: 'A word in your ear, sir. About the girl. I am certain that she has found employment nearer home than London.' He winked at Faro nudging his arm. 'Delicacy forbids me mentioning the matter before Mrs McG. Women worry about their ewe lambs, but fathers like ourselves, we are men of the world. God gave us a deeper understanding.'

  He glanced quickly heavenward as if expecting divine approval. 'For instance, there is the whaling fleet. A custom not freely known among respectable womenkind like my dear spouse, but the men do sometimes take lasses away on voyages with them. Lasses who are not their wives, if you get my drift.'

  So Vince had informed him.

  'Ah yes, sir, to be a man of the world is neither to condemn nor to condone,' McGonagall continued, 'a quality beautiful to behold among those of us who are thespians. We know the lure of the footlights. Kathleen was always stage-struck, with her bird calls and all. She envied Polly that travelling circus the tinkers lived with. She lacked a certain interest in the Bard,' he added with a regretful pursing of his lips, 'but with a little encouragement and training I could make her a great tragedienne—'

  'Which reminds me,' Faro interrupted, 'that I have not thanked you for my ticket last night. I was enthralled by your performance.'

  'Enthralled,' William repeated delightedly. 'You were enthralled. Alas, it was far from my best performance. The shock I had sustained earlier that day and so forth—'

  'Mr McGonagall, take it from me, your Macbeth was brilliant.' Faro exclaimed. 'I have never seen better. You can take my word for it. Even on the Edinburgh stage, and we get the London actors like Kean and Irving each year.'

  'Is that true?' McGonagall beamed. 'Well, well, sir, that is the greatest compliment you could pay me. I am most grateful to you, for an actor succeeding in living out a role is beautiful to be seen. I understand from Dr Laurie that you are also a worshipper at the shrine of the Swan of Avon. "To be, or not to be: that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind—" '

  ' "—to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them?" '

  McGonagall applauded, vigorously nodding approval and Faro hid a smile. He was being tested and McGonagall studied him keenly, thrusting out his lower lip.

  'Indeed, sir, had you not chosen a life of criminology we might have made a tragedian out of you.' Standing back he looked him up and down. 'You have a fine imposing figure, an excellent profile and you belong as do us thespians to that category of men who carry their years lightly and grow better with maturity. By the time you are forty you will not yet be in your prime and at the age when an actor's voice has just reached its best.'

  'I am forty and more,' smiled Faro.

  'Then you are very fortunate, for you have worn extremely well.' Narrowing his eyes, McGonagall said, 'You have the tall Viking look. I can see you as one of the great Nordic heroes, even a Siegfried.'

  Faro laughed. 'You know, I think I would prefer being a policeman. I don't think I was cut out for heroics.'

  'Only off-stage, is that it, Inspector?' McGonagall laughed. 'You are too modest I fear. Let it be, let it be. You are not yet too old for the profession should you change your mind. We need mature actors for the Bard's great roles, for Othello and Lear.'

  When Faro repeated the conversation to Vince later, his stepson exploded into mirth. 'That caps all, Stepfather, really it does. You an actor—'

  Since McGonagall's claims, although far-fetched, had also been extremely flattering, as Vince doubled up with laughter, Faro said in injured tones: 'I don't think it was all that amusing.'

  'I had a sudden vision of you in black face as Othello. I wish you could have seen it. Priceless, priceless.'

  Faro felt his moment of hurt pride was well worth it, to see Vince able to laugh again. He had feared that with Rachel Deane's rejection something young and boylike might have been snuffed out for ever. Now he felt oddly optimistic as he considered what possible reasons lurked behind her denial of her own true love and of the idyll they had shared. And of what strange truths he might uncover during that visit to Errol.

  And staring out of the train window as it headed towards Perth, Faro wished that he was at liberty to investigate Polly Briggs' 'suicide', Charlie McGowan's accident, the riddle of the two missing women, and to discover whether there was any connecting link.

  Deciding that such a coincidence was playing one of his famous intuitions too far, with a sigh he realised that he must content himself with trying to solve the less dangerous but nonetheless intriguing mystery which was so important to his stepson: the enigma of Rachel Deane's extraordinary behaviour.

  As Errol drew nearer his mood of optimism evaporated. Even if this visit proved that Vince spoke the truth, what difference could it make to his cause? Again he realised that proof of the cottage's existence could not force Rachel to admit that she had lied if she had deliberately hardened her heart to her former lover.

  Faro had built up a mental picture of a girl who was subject to strange moods, to prolonged fits of melancholy. While Vince had accepted the medical theory, the full significance of her condition and its bearing on any permanent relationship between them seemed to have escaped him.

  Faro's own conclusions were that Rachel had formed an infatuation for Vince and had embarked on an amorous adventure with him. When she returned to Deane Hall from their short idyll, she had either regretted her impulse or had been persuaded by her family that she was about to embark upon an unfortunate or even an impossible marriage.

  Faro could sympathise with Rachel's family. Indeed he would have been the first to agree heartily. Even from his
less involved point of view, it was obvious that a poor doctor was no suitable husband for an heiress.

  But surely the girl could have been persuaded to choose a less cruel and heartless way of rejecting him?

  The lodge gates were still there as he remembered them and as he walked down the drive towards the gamekeeper's cottage, he was relieved to see Tom Elgin returning with his gun under his arm.

  His friend was surprised and delighted to see Jeremy Faro again especially as, at Will Gray's funeral, both had deplored that only on such melancholy occasions did they ever meet these days.

  'You're the last person I expected to see. Don't tell me there's another funeral in the offing.'

  Faro laughed. 'Not at all. As you know, I'm staying in Dundee and as my stepson is busy all day doctoring, I decided to take you up on your offer.'

  As he took a seat at the fireside, Faro realised again that this typical estate cottage was similar to the one that Vince had described. Two panelled rooms downstairs, with a narrow staircase leading to two bedrooms with sloping ceilings and dormer windows.

  Taking the whisky bottle from the cupboard, Tom Elgin poured out a couple of generous drams. 'Slàinte!'

  Lighting a pipe, he regarded his friend through the smoke. 'Well, well, Jeremy, so what brings you here, besides another crack with an old crony?'

  Faro laughed. 'What makes you think I have a purpose in mind?'

  Tom gave him a shrewd glance. 'Once a policeman, always a policeman. As soon as I saw you walking down the drive, scrutinising everything very carefully, I guessed that this was more than a social visit, pleasant though that would be.'

  As Faro hesitated, Tom asked: 'Don't tell me the laird has been misbehaving himself?'