Killing Cousins (16 page)

'Can we have our ears pierced, Papa? Grandma says it doesn't hurt.'

Faro's placating murmur was immediately taken as assent.

'Mrs Balfray took her earrings off when we came to see her.'

'She let us play with them, Papa.'

Faro suppressed a tender smile at this gross exaggeration and the picture of two little girls 'playing' with jewels worth what Captain Gibb had called a queen's ransom.

"Yes, they were so lovely,' sighed Rose.

'Like pigeons' eggs, Papa,' said Emily, with astonishing accuracy, Faro thought, remembering the Captain's description.

'And Mrs Balfray said that maybe some day she would give them to us.'

Mrs Faro exchanged an amused glance with her son. 'I don't think she meant quite that, dear.'

'Yes, she did. Didn't she, Em?'

'One pair of earrings, however valuable, wouldn't be much use between two little girls. And I doubt that you'd want to share them.'

'Mrs Balfray knew that, Grandma. She said we could wear one each, like a pendant'

Mrs Faro sighed. 'She was very proud of them, the poor love. Her only treasures.' And to Faro, 'She was very fond of these two little lasses of ours.'

'Will we get them now that she's gone to Heaven to be with Jesus?' piped up Emily, shocking her grandmother with this undue display of avarice.

'Yes, Grandma. She did promise,' said Rose.

'Grown-ups often promise things when they are very ill, like Mrs Balfray was,' said Faro, feeling it was time he stepped into the fray, the morals of which had got a little beyond his mother.

'They don't mean to break their promises,' he continued hastily, 'but they aren't always able to keep them. In families when someone dies there are other people who have first claim on jewels and so forth. Do you understand?'

Rose gave a disappointed shrug and as she and Emily returned to their paints, he said to his mother, 'I would very much like to see these emeralds.'

'I expect Dr Francis would show them to you. Shall I ask him?'

'Not at the moment,' he said hastily. 'Before I leave, perhaps it could be mentioned.'

'Oh, I'll mention it You know how tactful I can be, Jeremy.'

Faro suppressed a smile as she added, 'It would sound better coming from me than from a perfect stranger.' And, setting the kettle to boil, said, 'What else was Captain Gibb telling you?'

'Just Balfray history.'

'All that stuff about the original St Olas, was it? Do you know what I think?'

Expecting some profound observation, Faro shook his head.

'I think—' she lowered her voice so that the children would not hear and whispered '—I think he dyes his hair.'

'That's very observant of you, Mother.'

Mrs Faro gave a nod of satisfaction. 'Funny thing for a respectable gentleman, don't you think?'

'Just human vanity. Men in public office often do it very discreetly.'

'Do they really? But for a Navy man,' she added, 'it just doesn't seem right somehow. Now if he'd been an actor or such like, that would be different.'

A sudden chilling thought jolted Faro. 'How long has he been with the Balfrays?'

'Six months or so, on and off, when he isn't in Glasgow or elsewhere, consulting old records. You'll gather there's not a lot of factoring done by him at the best of times. That was just his excuse to sponge off poor Dr Francis.'

'Is he married?'

'Not him. At least he never mentions a wife or family,' she added with a sniff- of disapproval, thought Faro. Any man who chose bachelordom was a 'queer fish' in his mother's simple maxim of life and how it should be lived.

'Inga told me he was rather sweet on Mrs Bliss - you know, the housekeeper who drowned. Can you credit that?'

Faro smiled and she continued, 'I expect it was because they both arrived on the island about the same time and being strangers that threw them together.'

Faro remembered how mistaken he had been with his idea of a housekeeper in the mould of his mother or the comfortable homely Mrs Brook at Sheridan Place, both long-time widows of an uncertain age. 'By all accounts, it isn't all that surprising that Mrs Bliss appealed to the lonely old bachelor.'

Mrs Faro regarded him, hands on hips. 'Well, it would, it would indeed, if you'd ever seen her.'

He decided to tease her. 'Why, was she an old witch?'

'Not her. She wasn't much past thirty and very bonny, quite an eyeful, I'm told. The Captain was old enough to be her father. It was all very tragic.'

'You think she might have married him if things hadn't worked out so badly?'

Mrs Faro looked across at Rose and Emily and lowered her voice. 'I doubt it She also had her eye on the minister. Can you beat that? Hers was poor Reverend Erlandson's first funeral on the island, and he was terribly upset.'

And, darting another glance in the children's direction, she whispered, 'Death comes in threes, that's always the way of it. Inga will tell you all about Mrs Bliss, if you're curious.'

Faro was indeed curious as he returned to his bedroom and took out his unfinished notes on the three deaths on Balfray, island of sweetness and light. Three deaths in less than six months.

He was less than ever convinced that Mrs Bliss's death had been an accident. Especially after Inga's revelations regarding the maid Letty who claimed to have seen a seal man drown the unfortunate housekeeper. He didn't believe in seal men, but he did not doubt that a man swimming among seals with wet hair plastered to his head could be mistaken for one of them.

As for Captain Gibb, was his arrival around the same time as Mrs Bliss as coincidental as it looked? Poring over ancient documents when one didn't understand the Latin seemed an unlikely occupation for an old sea-dog vain enough to dye his hair. A genuine historian, or did he have an accomplice on Balfray after bigger game than family papers?

Faro decided it would be worth his while to find out a great deal more about the background of Captain Gibb. His main preoccupation, however, was to have a sight of those priceless emeralds, big as pigeons' eggs. Strange that no one had mentioned them so far, especially as they had been in constant use even during Thora's long illness.

Of more vital importance, where precisely were they now? He hardly thought that such treasures would have been overlooked and forgotten in the ritual of bereavement. But they might well have provided an excellent motive for murder.

He wondered how much Inga knew about the emeralds and, meeting her walking along the tiny beach an hour later, he strongly suspected that she had been following him.

Chapter Thirteen

As they sat on a rock together in the warm sunshine, Faro felt the meeting with Inga, even if somewhat contrived, was also fortuitous. He had little difficulty in leading the conversation to Mrs Bliss.

'Mother tells me that she was very popular with the men.'

Inga laughed. 'True. Captain Gibb was quite besotted and even Saul, I suspect. As for me, it was a pleasant change not to be the object of the island gossips' attention for a while.' She laughed. 'Even John Erlandson used to take long walks with her, although I expect his interest was for the good of her soul,' she added. 'At that time, of course, he hadn't become enamoured of Norma.'

'Ministers are just ordinary men after all, Inga, with the same thoughts and desires,' said Faro. 'It is we who put them on pedestals.'

As he spoke, Inga made patterns with the toe of her shoe in the hard sand. 'They were happy days at Balfray before Thora took ill. The dark cloud of sadness seemed to begin with Mrs Bliss's death.' She sighed. 'As your mother would say, "Death comes in threes." '

Faro smiled. 'That depends on when you start counting. Let's walk, shall we?' He forbore to tell her that there was a quite logical explanation and that, as death was not an infrequent visitor in most large families, one could almost certainly count on another two.

'What happened to all Mrs Bliss's personal effects?'

Inga frowned. 'She had remarkably few. John has plenty of needy people among his parishioners so that disposed of her clothes and so forth. I just remembered, I gave him the tin box with her references and so forth, in case anyone came forward to claim them. All except the notebook your mother found when she was spring-cleaning.'

As they reached the blacksmith's forge she paused with her hand on the gate. 'Can I offer you a cup of tea?'

'I was hoping you would.'

'You know me well enough to ask.'

He followed her into the pretty kitchen where she produced a small red leatherbound book from a drawer. 'In case I forget once again.'

Stirring the fire into glowing embers, she set the kettle to boil and busied herself with the business of buttering scones and setting a couple of tea trays.

To Faro's puzzled 'Four of us?' she replied, 'You're forgetting Troller's wake?' And, nodding towards the upstairs ceiling, explained, 'There are two young people up there keeping vigil. And they will do so day and night until the funeral next week.'

'How very melancholy when they could be outside enjoying the sunshine.'

Inga looked surprised. 'That has always been the custom on Balfray. They come in pairs and many a courting couple enjoy the chance of a little time together. They aren't dismal at all, I can assure you. They sing, play cards, and the girls can be very industrious, they even do a little spinning or knitting.'

She declined his offer to carry the tray upstairs. 'I can manage fine. Unless you wish to pay your respects to Troller.'

He declined and returned to his perusal of Mrs Bliss's notebook which contained measures that indeed suggested recipes, some vague addresses, and what could only be notes, or reminders, about various Balfray residents. The picture that emerged was of an efficient housekeeper and a methodical woman. But there was nothing beyond domesticity until he turned to the end of the book and found a series of names in bold capitals,

BON ESSE BILL BLESS GILES LE BON LEON BLISS.

A code perhaps? And Faro was conscious of a prickling sensation at the back of his neck. Aware of Inga watching him, he asked, 'Have you any idea what this means?'

She looked over his shoulder, frowning. 'A code of some sort. Probably a game she was playing.'

As Faro was about to tear out the page, she said reproachfully, 'Please don't mutilate the book, Jeremy. I don't suppose it's important, but perhaps this should go to John as well.'

'I'm on my way to see him. I'll tell him you want to give it to him,' he added with a smile.

'Here ...' she said, producing paper and pen. 'Copy it, if you wish.' She watched him, smiling faintly.

'What is amusing you?' he asked.

'Just the policeman. You cannot bear to be baffled, even by a few meaningless letters in an old notebook. You have to know every mortal thing. Nothing, however unimportant, must be allowed to escape the attention of Detective Inspector Faro.'

He could think of no suitable reply to that.

Next morning, he awoke to the sound of church bells and for a moment thought he was back in Sheridan Place, but it was Mrs Faro and not Mrs Brook who carried in the breakfast tray.

Opening the curtains, she said, 'Look sharp, Jeremy. Or we'll be late for church.'

'Church?' he demanded weakly.

'What else on a Sunday morning?' was the reproachful reply.

Faro lay back with a groan. He could have thought of several other things that particular morning, for his sleep had been disturbed and restless, plagued by strange visions and vivid dreams, the consequence of a gale force wind rattling the windows. At such times living on an island felt somewhat insecure.

'Vince is already up and about, has been for hours.' His mother sighed. 'He's been attending to poor Dr Francis.'

'Is he ill?'

'He's been ill for weeks now, but no one has had time for his sufferings. I've been telling them, ever since poor Mrs Balfray died... He took a bad turn in the middle of the night'

'What kind of a bad turn?'

'His heart, I think.'

'In that case, perhaps I'd better stay.'

'What good would you do here? You're a policeman, not a doctor. Besides, Rose and Emily will be so disappointed if, on the rare occasions you see them, you don't accompany them to church. They so look forward to a family occasion and it sets them a good example.'

Half an hour later the entire Faro family made its way across the stormy headland to Erlandson's church. To his stepfather's anxious question about Francis, Vince replied, 'I've made him as comfortable as I can.' And, seeing Mrs Faro listening eagerly, he said, 'Nothing too serious.' But the pressure on Faro's arm indicated that there would be more related on that subject later.

The Episcopal Church was a severe shock to Jeremy Faro, reared in the strict Calvinist doctrine of the Reformation. There was more than a sniff of popery, he thought, about Balfray's church, with its incense, the congregation's responses and genuflections. He soon lost his place in the order of service. But his mother, who had adapted with creditable speed from her staunch Church of Scotland roots, took great pleasure in pushing him in the right direction and whispering that it would all be over in less than an hour.