Deadly Beloved (10 page)

Faro rubbed his chin thoughtful, as he remembered how the guests had stirred uncomfortably in their chairs reluctant witnesses to their host's anger. That scene at least had survived the boredom of the evening.

"It would have made more sense if she'd taken the carving knife to him. There were moments when I felt like it, I can tell you," said Vince.

"I distinctly remember you saying so, lad," said Faro drily. "It's a good job we're not dealing with a missing Dr Kellar or you might well be the chief suspect."

Vince shrugged as if getting rid of Kellar might have been worth it. "You remember, Stepfather, how frightful it all was."

Faro nodded. "If only we had paid more attention to the subtle undercurrents, for undercurrents there should have been that night. Some hint of the monstrous events to come, some plan in the mind of the murderer."

"You mean the murderer was with us that evening? Surely not?"

"It has been my experience that when a murder is committed, one need look no further than the family circle to find the guilty party.

"Not in this case," said Vince firmly. "And if you're hinting at Kellar himself I think you're miles out. Never Kellar. Think again, Stepfather and you'll see I'm right. With so much to lose. I assure you his pride is far greater than his passion and he would never do anything to prejudice that knighthood in the offing.

"No," — again Vince shook his head emphatically — "you must be wrong this time, Stepfather. Kellar is much too emotionless to go for his wife with the carving knife. You have to love deeply to hate deeply and, quite frankly, I'd be prepared to bet that he hardly notices that Mabel exists. As for loving her, well, I imagine that part of their life was very brief and very long ago."

He shuddered. "I feel it is much more likely that she succumbed to the frenzy of some madman who boarded the train, found her alone and — and — " his voice broke into a sob.

"I know, lad. I know." Faro patted his arm sympathetically. "That is the answer one always hopes to find, the stranger on whom the bereaved family can vent their own grief and anger. Rarely, alas, is this the case. Besides," he added in tones of consolation that he was far from feeling, "the cloak and knife might appear to be damning evidence, but until the body is recovered we have no definite proof that murder has been committed."

Even as he said the words., Faro had reached his own grim conclusions. If Kellar was indeed her murderer, then Mabel would never be found. Faro was not in the least doubt of that, with a horrific certainty of how her body had been disposed of. He must spare Vince from that knowledge as long as he could.

"The motive could have been robbery, Stepfather. She had a lot of very valuable jewellery. Inherited. Not from Kellar. He was too mean to spend money on frivolities. She was locking up her jewel case while I talked to her."

"Can you describe it?"

"Yes. Red leather, with brass fastenings."

And she hadn't taken it with her. Faro remembered it lying on the dressing table along with the silver brushes and toilette set.

"That's it, Stepfather. I've just remembered something. 'People to see.'"

"People to see?"

"Yes. Those were her exact words. 'I have instructions to give to Mrs Flynn and people to see before I go.' I wonder who they were."

Faro sighed. "Have you any theories about how her cloak came to be found on the railway line then?"

Vince formed the picture in his mind and closed his eyes against it. "You say Kellar identified it as Mabel's. Surely if he were guilty ..."

"Guilty or innocent, lad, what else could he have done? Since the housekeeper and the maid would no doubt also recognise the cloak, all he would have done was to have proved himself a liar. He even read the label inside and told us that was indeed Mrs Kellar's furrier and that it would be easy enough to check."

"That doesn't sound like a guilty man to me," said Vince.

"Unless he's also a very clever one," Faro replied drily.

"Kellar is a beast but I still can't believe it was him," Vince protested obstinately. "Now if you were to suspect the Mad Bart ..."

"Unfortunately we can't fix murders to suit our own prejudices," said Faro sternly. "I hope you're right about Kellar being innocent for quite a different reason. Can you imagine the furore of public reaction when they learn that the Edinburgh City Police have a surgeon in their midst who has murdered his wife? McIntosh is afraid that, used by the wrong people, this could be the stepping stone for riot, for the breakdown of law and order. A bit drastic, but I see his point."

"God help Kellar, guilty or innocent, Stepfather. Once the story gets abroad his reputation will be finished. You know how muck clings to a man. I can't see him surviving such a scandal, either."

"At this stage, all I am doing is piecing together, with some difficulty, the few facts we have to go on. Long experience has taught me to suspect anyone and everyone however remotely connected. And always to be ready for the unexpected."

Faro paused before adding, "It's no use you trying to be fair-minded and putting in a good word for him. I'm perfectly aware that you didn't care for him at all. And he's not the most popular with his students either."

He put a hand on Vince's shoulder.

"The first step in putting together the story of her last hours lies within the Kellar house and you, I'm afraid, are witness to that last hour. Her state of mind and so forth could be valuable evidence. We'll need a statement from you, of course." Seeing Vince's still stricken face, he added, "I wish it was otherwise, lad, and that we could avoid having you dragged into this sorry business."

"Don't worry about me Stepfather. I'll be glad to say anything that will put a rope around her murderer's vile neck."

Vince went to the sideboard and poured himself a whisky. After as moment he said, "All I know is what I've told you. That she seemed extremely agitated and upset by the row with Kellar."

"Yes, I know. But I keep going further back than that. To the beginning of it all. The dinner party."

"The last straw, do you think?"

"I'm considering her distress that night. Are we being too hasty blaming it all on the burnt roast. Was there another cause? Could she have been afraid?"

"Of course she was afraid, Stepfather. Of her husband's brutal ill-humour."

Faro shook his head. "A storm in a teacup, lad. Hardly an uncommon occurrence., even in the most civilised of families. Situations regarding ruined food and the feeling that the wife is totally to blame for the servants' shortcomings. Happens all the time, lad. The only difference was that Kellar didn't bother to restrain his wrath until the guests were gone."

"They quarrelled, Stepfather. In front of all of us."

"Not they — he quarrelled. The high words all came from Kellar. His wife uttered a few tearful protests. No, lad, quarrel is definitely a misnomer. Besides, all married couples bicker over domestic details."

Vince regarded him steadily. "Do they indeed? Then that makes me all the more eager to embrace permanent bachelordom."

Faro laughed. "If you do, then you will be throwing away an extremely valuable parcel unopened simply because the wrapping is slightly torn. You will never know the good things inside."

"From what Mabel Kellar told me ... " Vince began darkly.

"My dear lad, I beg you not to read too much into the revelations of an aggrieved wife. They do tend to exaggerate."

How to tactfully point out to his young stepson his invidious position — that women, especially childless women of a certain age and social standing, were too often bored with a busy husband's neglect and discreetly sought male attention elsewhere. And what better opportunity for a gentle romance than a husband's handsome young assistant brought into their orbit? He looked at his stepson with compassion. This young and vulnerable lad still walking the cloudy dreams of chivalry, more than ready to be flattered by an older woman's interest, eager to lend a sympathetic ear and — perhaps a little too obviously — wear his heart on his sleeve.

Vince looked uncomfortable and growled. "You know me too well, don't you."

"Almost as well as I know married couples." Faro laughed. "An unholy row which sounds like pistols at fifteen paces to the embarrassed onlookers would be dismissed by the couple themselves as a harmless tiff, an almost everyday event which ends in a tearful reconciliation on the wife's part, with both firmly believing they have the victory. Such matters as a housekeeper's incompetence, lad, don't usually lead to murder."

"If the shoe had been on the other foot, however ..."

"Mrs Kellar didn't strike me as a woman of such pride that she would want to commit murder because she had been made to look an idiot before their guests."

"You forget one thing, Stepfather. She adores — adored him." Vince closed his eyes tightly as if to shut off the realisation that he would never see her again. "Incredible as it may seem and despite his abominable treatment, she would always go back for more. God alone knows why. And she would never look at another man." Vince sighed heavily and added dramatically. "I would have taken her away, you know, Stepfather. Protected her, worshipped her."

"Then you would have been the world's greatest idiot," said Faro furiously, thumping the table. "Marriage with a woman more than twice your age."

"I wasn't talking of marriage," said Vince softly. "Besides, age doesn't matter."

"Not at twenty and forty, but what about in ten years', twenty years' time. When you are my age, and she is sixty. A mistress of sixty." Faro laughed harshly. "Chivalry is all very well. Be a knight in shining armour in theory but, I beg you, don't make me angry by talking absolute nonsense, lad."

There was a moment's silence then Vince said contemptuously, "Kellar is just the kind of man to marry for money, knowing she was the Mad Bart's heiress."

"So that was the reason."

"I know exactly what you're thinking," was the defensive reply. "Mabel isn't in the least pretty. But once you get to know her, you forget all about looks. She has such a divine nature, such a delicious sense of humour. So wise and warm-hearted. So different to all those silly giggling dolls, the simpering misses whom it's been my misfortune to meet up to now. If you'd ever known her, Stepfather, you'd know what I mean. No man could have resisted her."

No man being Vince himself, thought Faro. Sadly one couldn't tell the lad that, given time, simpering misses of eighteen also learn wisdom — at least most do by the time they are forty — and that the wisdom and warm-heartedness and a sense of humour which he found so irresistible are time's compensation for growing older.

"Anyway," continued Vince, "a person's looks, like their age, mean nothing really. Not once you get to know them."

Faro's eyebrows shot upwards in surprise. Here was a change indeed. How deadly accurate had been Cupid's arrows on this unfortunate lad who had been willing to lose his heart ever since boyhood to every pretty face.

"Surely you've noticed, Stepfather, how often handsome men choose quite plain wives. Like the peacock in all his radiant glory — and look at the poor peahen, without a fine feather to her name."

"Nature has been most unfair in that respect."

"Of course she has — but deuced clever too. Reason being that Nature's only reason for distribution of fine feathers — on all species — was intended for marvels of reproduction. It was necessary to attract females in droves, the more the merrier, for a species to survive and multiply. After all, Nature never planned that males should take only one mate, that was man's mistake when he became civilised."

Faro laughed. "You do have some far-fetched theories, lad. And grand as all this is for your peahens, civilised humans behaving like barnyard fowls would have caused even more trouble in the world than we are in at present. And that was why the good Lord ordained that what was good for the animals going into the ark two by two was also good for his best creation, man.

"Kellar didn't abide by that rule. He liked the ladies."

"I rather suspected he might."

The doorbell pealed.

"Expecting anyone?" asked Faro.

"Oh, I forgot. Rob said he would come round, to hear all about Walter and the Austrian visit. I could put him off. I don't really feel up to going out tonight."

"You go. Do you good. Besides, I have a report to write. We'll talk about it when you get back."

Chapter 8

Faro did not see Vince again that evening. Finding his friend in very low spirits, Rob had suggested that there were places where sorrows might be effectively drowned in some of the more exciting howffs down Leith Walk.

Meanwhile Faro gathered together all his information on the case of Mabel Kellar, missing and now presumed murdered by person or persons unknown. That, he decided even as he began his preliminary report, wasn't quite true. Apart from the theory of the madman on the train, he was certain that her murderer would be found much nearer home.

Next morning, Vince came into the dining-room looking extremely weary and heavy-eyed, as if he had slept little. Seeing Faro about to depart for the Central Office Vince summoned a wan smile. "If you can spare a minute, Stepfather, stay and talk to me while I have breakfast." He pointed to the papers Faro was gathering together. "I presume these relate to Mabel."