Killing Cousins (7 page)

Vince thought. 'Fairly recently, soon after Erlandson came to Balfray. Love at first sight, I gather, and neither of them in the first flush of youth. Norma is older than Francis, you know. Anyway, she and John are a very sentimental pair, very romantic. None of this stiff upper lip in company as befits a man of the cloth and so forth.' He smiled. 'A pretty sight they make, but not everyone approves. Some of the older island folk feel that the chaplain is a little lacking in dignity and too easy-going in general.'

'That will make a pleasant change, don't you think?'

As bigotry was one of his stepfather's favourite hobbyhorses, Vince said hastily, 'You must come to the Balfray chapel and hear him preach.'

'I'm not sure whether I'm quite ready for that.'

Vince laughed. 'Come now, Stepfather. Everyone goes to church here, it's the social event of the week, with Norma sitting in the front pew looking proud as Punch.'

'Did Francis ever explain the sudden change in betrothed?'

'No, he merely implied that I had got the wrong end of the stick.'

'As well you might. Thora, Norma. The names are sufficiently similar for anyone to make a mistake.'

Vince shook his head. 'It was definitely Miss Balfray - Norma. He told us how lovely she was. No one could ever have described Thora as pretty, let alone lovely.'

'Love is well known for its blindness, lad. She might have seemed so to a besotted lover.'

In the pause that followed, Faro was overwhelmed by a sudden yearning to know whether Inga was at the wake and if she had expressed any anxiety about his absence.

Instead he asked, 'Mother wasn't curious to know where I was this evening?'

'She didn't comment upon it'

'Thank God for that' The last thing he wanted was for his mother to know of his malaise and come pounding upstairs with trays of her special vile-tasting remedies accompanied by the firm pronouncement, 'They made you well when you were a peedie lad and they'll still work. Nothing like old-fashioned cures for an upset stomach.'

'She didn't seem to think your absence in any way odd.'

'What about Francis?'

'I don't imagine he even noticed it He wouldn't expect you to attend the wake when you had just arrived on the island. He went through the whole evening gallantly, in a daze of grief. I imagine he won't remember a moment of it And, after all, it wasn't as if you had known Thora.'

So saying, Vince stood up and stretched his arms above his head. 'Well, if you're sure you're feeling better, I think I shall retire. Call me if you need anything.'

'I think I'll live until morning. Before you go, would you open the window?'

Vince did as he was asked. There was a moon swaying unsteadily through racing clouds. The sound of barking rose, a weird lament from the shore.

'The seals are noisy tonight The islanders will all be shaking their heads, those sober enough to dare, that is, and saying that they too are mourning the lady of Balfray.'

Faro shivered. 'I would have laughed at you in Edinburgh if you'd made such a statement But here...'

He shrugged.

'I know, here anything seems possible, doesn't it? An extra sense that perhaps we were all born with, but living in cities we lost contact with the earth.'

Faro smiled. 'You're right, lad. We've successfully buried our sixth sense under tons of bricks and mortar.'

Instead of leaving, Vince sat down on the edge of the bed and regarded him solemnly. 'There are dark gods here, darker than a Presbyterian Sunday in Newington, Stepfather. I can feel it, and I'm learning about you. Here you take on another dimension. Even in the short time you've been here, I hardly recognise you.'

'Come, lad, what nonsense.'

'Don't laugh at me, Stepfather. It's true. How could you ever belong to that other world we've left in Edinburgh, to Sheridan Place and Mrs Brook and afternoon tea on a silver tray?'

And even though they both laughed, Vince thought that looking at Faro was like watching the shedding of many generations. Here was the ultimate Viking, the man who had stepped back in time and was one with the wild seas, the bird-haunted mockery from cliff and sky.

He was amazed to find that his stepfather seemed to have grown in stature and he suspected that this Detective Inspector Faro was an infinitely more formidable opponent to the murderer of Thora Balfray than to the criminals in Edinburgh's High Street.

Suddenly, without quite knowing why, Vince was afraid.

Fear is catching and knowing that his astute stepson was right, Faro lay restlessly wide awake. Here his roots were deeply entrenched and he could never quite escape. His beginnings: superstitious, ignorant, and fraught with omens, with ancient gods to be placated, creatures to be revered and avoided.

Strange that, even as a man of forty, the senses of childhood were undiminished. Sounds and scents and textures lured back the laughing father he barely remembered in Edinburgh. Here in Orkney, most disturbing of all, a glimpse of Inga St Ola brought back vivid memories and set his mind fleeing down a path that led to the all-devouring ecstasies of first love.

At last he fell asleep, as his ancestors had done for more than a thousand years, to the elemental call from the seals on the rocks far below the house and the susurrus of the floodtide beating upon the shore.

It was a cry that awakened him. A human cry of terror.

Chapter Five

The cry was swiftly followed by a door banging. Another cry dispelled any notion that this might have been part of a dream. The sound of running footsteps had Faro wide awake and leaping out of bed. He was seizing a robe when the door opened and his mother rushed in.

'Oh, Jeremy, come quickly. But you can't go out like that, dear, you'll need your outdoor clothes. There's been a terrible accident. In the kirkyard ...'

As he pulled on trousers and a shirt, she continued breathlessly, 'Mr Erlandson came and told us, he's gone back to see if he could do anything.'

'What happened, Mother? Who's been hurt?'

'I don't know. He just said what I've told you. There's been a terrible accident and I was to get Vince to come immediately. He didn't want Dr Francis to go back with him, so it must have been something dreadful. I heard them arguing. "I urge you to stay here, I implore you," ' she said dramatically. Those were his exact words—'

She was interrupted by Vince, fully dressed, looking round the door. A few minutes later the two men were hurrying down to the kirkyard, where torches blazing near the Balfray vault suggested that a small crowd had already gathered.

Pushing his way through, Faro beheld a macabre sight. The flickering light, a torch held high over the Odin Stone, revealed two figures lying side by side. One was Troller Jack, whose grief-stricken sojourn by Thora Balfray's tomb he and Vince had interrupted on their cliff-top walk. And stretched out beside him was the corpse of a young woman.

The condition of her grave-clothes indicated that she had been newly interred and the fact that decomposition had not yet destroyed her features made Vince's horrified whisper quite unnecessary. At that moment an awakening breeze ruffled the satin and lace of the wedding dress she had been buried in, giving an uneasy illusion of life to the disinterred corpse of Thora Balfray.

Faro wondered if he was still dreaming. The setting, eerily lit by flickering torches and a moon scurrying between storm-tossed clouds, with seals barking and the elemental sea sounding on the cliffs below, seemed utterly detached from reality.

Again he blinked incredulously at this reconstruction of the death scene from the last act of
Romeo and Juliet
. There was only one difference: this macabre Juliet had been dead for several days. Horrifying as it was, the first consideration was Troller Jack. Vince was already bending over him.

'No need for that, sir. He's dead. I've already tried to revive him without success.' The speaker was a young man who smelt strongly of whisky.

'And who might you be?' demanded Faro.

'Sergeant Frith, Kirkwall Police.'

Faro smiled. 'Well done. You arrived here with amazing promptitude. Congratulations.'

Frith stared at him and then saluted smartly. 'You must be Inspector Faro. I was hoping to have a word with you.'

At Faro's astonished expression, he gave a somewhat sheepish grin. 'I was here already, sir. Came to the wake. The Friths have served the laird's family for three generations. My dad was factor until he died two years ago.' He nodded in the direction of the tall thin man who approached. 'Minister came for me when he found Troller.'

'Is he ... is he ... ?' enquired the minister.

Faro nodded. Even without the clerical collar, ascetic features, with their Imperial beard reminiscent of a saint from a medieval fresco, identified Reverend John Erlandson.

Tm afraid so.'

'Dear God, how awful. I couldn't move him, but I hoped he was only injured. Dear God. To do such a thing.' The minister covered his face with his hands, overcome by grief.

Vince turned to Faro. 'It must have happened very recently. His body is still warm and' he added in a whisper 'still bleeding.' And pointing towards the other corpse, he said to Erlandson, 'Does Francis know?'

Erlandson nodded miserably. 'There was no way I could spare him. I tried to keep it from him, told him only about Troller but he insisted on coming to see for himself. It was dreadful, dreadful. As long as I live I shall never forget his face when he saw her lying there.'

'Where is he now?' Vince demanded.

'He is in a state of collapse, complete collapse. Captain Gibb has kindly taken care of him. I believe they went to the Tower, the house the Captain leases from Dr Balfray.' And, wringing his hands, he whispered, 'Dear God, what are we to do ... ?'

But Faro was no longer listening. Closely observed by Sergeant Frith, whose balance was none too steady, he touched Trailer's still bleeding hands, his clothes wringing wet. Beneath his head a trickle of blood ran down the stone, uncomfortably reminiscent of the sacrificial legend.

Faro frowned. The Odin Stone itself was quite dry. Why should it be wet all around Troller yet just a foot away Thora Balfray's grave-clothes were bone dry? He walked round the stone examining the grass, Frith at his heels. 'Has anyone but yourself walked round here?'

Frith gave a bewildered shake of his head. 'Maybe. I don't think so. Reverend Erlandson and I were the first ones here ...'

Faro pointed to the watchers who gathered a few yards away, their silent ranks broken only by an occasional murmur, a woman's sob. 'Are you sure?' he asked.

'Look at them, sir. See how afraid they are. It did not take much persuasion from me, I can tell you, to keep them at a distance.'

'I implored them to go home immediately, I wanted to spare my little flock this dreadful scene,' added the minister agitatedly as he again turned to the scene on the Odin Stone. 'I cannot imagine Troller doing such a wicked act as this.'

He looked across at the crowd which had grown, with torches approaching singly or in bands from the village. He made a helpless gesture. 'What devil put such an idea as this into his poor sick mind?'

'I'm not sure what you mean, sir,' Faro interrupted.

Erlandson frowned grimly. 'The resurrection stone, that's what the heathens of old called it. That it could heal the sick and bring dead lovers back to life.'

He paused to let the words sink in and continued. 'Preposterous, I know that's what you're thinking, gentlemen. Superstitious nonsense, but in spite of our teachings these ideas die hard. But to do this, to hint that poor Mrs Balfray could be brought back to life.'

He shook his head angrily. 'It's quite intolerable and I still cannot believe the evidence of my own eyes. Simple, Troller Jack was, and immensely strong, but quite, quite harmless. He loved animals and children and they trusted him.'

'We encountered him this afternoon, sir,' said Vince.

'He was crouched by the vault here, sobbing his heart out, poor chap.'

'Is that so?' asked the minister. 'He was utterly distraught when Mrs Balfray died, so perhaps we should have been prepared for something like this. If only I had known, been able to offer him words of comfort from the Gospels. I blame myself, Dr Laurie, I should have guessed...'

'No one could guess die reactions of a sick child-like mind,' said Vince. 'Thora's death must have been his final break with reality. It isn't all that unusual. Grief can destroy even quite normal folk, you know.'

'Is that so? Then it is now poor Dr Balfray we must watch. Yes, we must be vigilant' Erlandson, bewildered, nodded vigorously, his gaze returned again to the scene on the Odin Stone. 'But to take her from her last resting place,' he repeated. 'Troller had a good Christian upbringing, gentlemen, came to church each Sunday.'

As he spoke a woman emerged from the crowd and, with a brief curtsy, produced a rough blanket. The minister covered Thora's corpse, for the wind had taken on a boisterous turn and was tugging at the elaborate shroud, billowing it out from her emaciated body into a macabre imitation of life.

Faro heard slurred voices from the little crowd. 'Is it a joke then?' 'Hush, Geordie.'