Deadly Beloved (20 page)

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 stop — 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!"

"Vince. Listen to me. I need some clear concise thinking on this, the kind that you have so often provided in the past. I beg of you to forget for the moment that you are personally concerned. Pretend that Mabel Kellar is just one other murder victim and help me. Help me, lad, when I most need you." He paused. "Will you do that, lad?"

Vince sat back in his chair and said stiffly, "All right, Stepfather. But do try not to make it difficult for me by talking about my emotions."

"Very well. I apologise for my lack of tact. It won't happen again. Now, let's consider all these latest developments I've told you about. I've come to only one conclusion and that is, all is not what it seems."

"What is that supposed to mean?" asked Vince irritably. "Why, it's all plain as the nose on your face to anyone with half an eye."

Faro suppressed a smile. This was no time to tease his stepson about ill-chosen metaphors. "It's meant to be, but you have my assurances, it is not. I must ask you to believe in my judgement. We are not nearly there yet."

"I should have thought that Mabel's petticoat in the chimney would be enough, without her cloak and the knife, to prove that someone in the house, and Kellar is the most likely since he has the motive, has got rid of her body and is desperately trying to get rid of the evidence."

Faro nodded. "That is certainly the obvious conclusion. But I want you to concentrate your thoughts in quite another direction."

Vince continued to look distraught and angry and Faro went on, "Kellar denies putting the petticoat up the chimney, or to recognise it as belonging to his wife."

Vince laughed harshly. "That doesn't surprise me. I imagine the housekeeper and the maid are more familiar with his wife's laundry than Kellar, seeing that they live quite separate lives."

"Indeed, and Mrs Flynn recognised the garment immediately."

"So there you are."

"The snag about this particular piece of evidence is that Kellar was the one to complain about the smoking chimney in the first place, and insist on getting the sweep. I find it extraordinary that a guilty man would want to draw attention to himself in this way."

"Let's assume for the moment that Kellar is speaking the truth." Faro ignored Vince's snort of disbelief and went on, "Who do we have left who could have done away with Mabel? Bear in mind that we are also looking for someone with a motive."

"And for someone who could wield a carving knife with good effect, and dispose of a body," said Vince. "There can't be many in this particular
dramatis personae
."

"I agree. And we're discounting a possible madman on the train."

"It lets out Mrs Shaw who would be physically incapable of the deed, although she was doubtless the motive for the murder."

"Yes. In her way, she is as guilty as Kellar," said Faro sadly.

"What about Sir Hedley Marsh?"

"We've covered that ground before. Why should he murder his heiress? Besides, the Mad Bart is too well kenned a figure about Edinburgh to murder anyone on a train, even if he was fit enough physically to drag a body around."

"I suppose the old man who does the garden is similarly innocent."

"We had a routine check on him. He was in bed all that week with a bad attack of pleurisy," said Faro.

"And the maid Ina can be dismissed on physical grounds. She's hardly built for that kind of murder. What about Mrs Flynn?"

"She's stout and undoubtedly strong, if she ever gets rid of her toothache and bad veins."

Vince shook his head. "Remember the motive, Stepfather. She and Ina loved Mabel. They would have done anything for her, just like everyone else fortunate enough to know her."

Looking across at Faro, he said, "If it wasn't Kellar, then our best bet is Harry Shaw. I'm sure the same thought has occurred to you. From what your Longniddry fellow told you, I got a distinct picture that the maid he described could have been a man.

Faro gave a sudden start. "Disguised, of course."

"What was this man Shaw like?"

"Tallish, but lightly built."

"There you are. Stepfather. That's your answer, just as you speculated. Shaw was persuaded, or coerced into helping them out. You have Mrs Shaw's word and the evidence of your own eyes that he is a violent man." He paused and gave his stepfather an enquiring look. "Are you taking this in? Surely you've seen the significance?"

Faro turned to face him slowly. "It's beginning to dawn very clearly, lad. Yes, that light at the end of the tunnel is growing distinctly brighter, quite illuminating, in fact."

Vince gave his stepfather an exasperated stare. "Well, I'm glad to have been of some help."

Faro smiled. "Oh you have, lad. You have indeed."

"Good, let's take our supposition a bit further. Harry Shaw helps out, as you surmised with the evidence, perhaps with the murder on the train."

Faro didn't answer. He drained his teacup of contents that had gone cold long since.

"And now with the obstacle to her marriage out of the way," Vince continued, "free to marry Melville Kellar at last, Mrs Shaw sends her inconvenient lover packing. But he has other ideas. If she is as diabolic as we are beginning to suspect, I rather think the next corpse might be Harry Shaw."

Faro sprang from his seat. "Get your greatcoat, Vince, we're going out."

"Out? Where?"

"We're going to pay a couple of unexpected calls. First of all, to the Kellar house."

"Stepfather, it's nearly nine o'clock."

"So?"

"You can't call on Kellar uninvited at this hour."

"He won't be at home. I'm rather banking on it as I noticed in the newspaper that he is giving a lecture to a learned society."

"Then what — "

"Don't argue. We're wasting valuable time."

"Have you seen the weather?" protested Vince. "It's been snowing since six."

But Faro was already in the hall, donning his overshoes.

"Are you going to arrest Kellar when he arrives home? Is that it, Stepfather? Have I convinced you? Do we have to look sharp, call unexpectedly, in case he makes a run for it?"

Faro shook his head. "The purpose of this visit is for you to see Mabel's room. You've got what they call a corbie's eye for detail. You see, I can't get it out of my mind that there was something I missed, something I should have seen but didn't on that first visit."

Fortunately the snow had ceased and the evening was brightly moonlit. Faro, however, was impervious to the beauties of the night and Vince found himself indulging in a monologue.

As the cab carried them towards the Grange, he saw that his stepfather was unusually silent, huddled into a corner of the carriage, chin sunk into his collar, asleep or deep in thought.