The boy, a student by his appearance, looked shamefaced. 'It was all in fun. We were having a bet as to who could go farthest.'
Faro turned to them. 'A bet,' he said in disgust and anger. 'Innocent people may die because of your stupid bets.'
He moved aside from the group to get a closer view of Vince. Beside him the young girls in the party shivered and sobbed, clinging to each other, turning their backs on the students who had been escorting them and had been showing off with such disastrous consequences.
Faro guessed what had happened. The lads, full of bravura, desperate to impress, had been vying with each other. It was a game as old as nature itself re-enacted in every wild species God had created.
Now unsure whether to be brave and foolhardy before the girls or cowardly and circumspect, they hesitated, appalled by the implications of what was happening a few yards away.
They were very young, Faro felt with sudden pity. And most had elected to be cautious. One accidental death was enough.
It was not in his own nature to stand and watch, and unable to bear the suspense any longer, he tore off his greatcoat, and following his stepson's example, face down he edged his way across the ice alongside Vince and the boy's brother.
Vince heard him slithering over. 'Get back, Stepfather. Get back.'
'No. You may need me.'
'You're a damned nuisance, and you're an extra weight. I don't want to have to drag you out too.' And to the boy's brother: 'For God's sake, can't you grab his arm and keep hold of it this time?'
His shoulder deep in the icy water, Vince held the boy to stop him from slipping over the edge.
'Timmy - Timmy. Oh damn - damn - I had him and I've lost him again,' he sobbed.
'How long's he been under?' gasped Vince.
'Minutes - God knows.'
Then regardless of his own safety, the boy thrust both arms into the water and screamed, 'Timmy, Timmy - I'm here, catch hold!'
Vince, who was bigger and stronger, said, 'Let me try, come on, move aside - I have longer arms.'
Reluctantly the boy let Vince take his place.
All around them now, the world had become a mountain of ice that thundered and echoed, that cracked and groaned; ominous sounds, indications that they would be next to be flung under the deadly waters.
Faro moved closer to Vince, near enough to grab him should the inevitable happen.
Vince's arms were hidden by the icy water. 'Timmy, can you hear me? Take hold, lad. Take hold. Wait - I've got him - I've got him.'
But the cry of triumph came too soon.
He had the lad by the hair but he could get no further purchase.
Faro leaned forward to help. They grabbed his shoulders, but one look at his face told them it was too late.
The boy's brother slithered forward eagerly, but with the extra movement and the strain of their additional weight, the ice began to roll.
And as they slipped forward together, the boy's head appeared briefly, his poor dead drowned face glimpsed for one ghastly moment, before it disappeared once more beneath the ice.
'He's dead. Drowned. Oh dear God-' his brother sobbed.
There was nothing anyone could do now, no further hope of rescue.
They must save themselves.
Hands and arms, ropes, sticks, all were used to pull the three rescuers to the safety of the still-frozen area of the loch.
Someone with a carriage bundled Timmy's brother inside, sobbing, still protesting, fighting them off desperately, determined to return to the broken ice, shouting that he must go back for Timmy. What would their mother say?
Olivia and Rose were waiting with Brent. Rushing forward, white-faced, they helped Vince and Faro into the carriage.
After a homeward journey of ten minutes that seemed like a lifetime, they staggered drenched and shivering up the steps to be met by a horrified Mrs Brook.
At last, wrapped in blankets before a roaring fire, with Olivia kneeling beside Vince, Rose, the practical, thrust hot drams of whisky into their shivering hands, but Faro felt as if he would never be warm again.
'God, what a nightmare,' Vince murmured.
'What will happen to that poor boy?' asked Rose. Vince sighed. 'That poor boy was dead. I could see it in his face. We couldn't have saved him.'
'And you might both have been drowned too,' said Olivia angrily.
'They were both very brave,' Rose protested.
'Brave fools! That silly boy's determination to show off nearly had me a widow and you without a father. Let me remind you-'
'All right, all right,' said Faro. 'We did the best we could.'
At last with dry warm clothes and Mrs Brook's good hot soup inside them, since they had little appetite for her excellent steak pie, they were reasonably restored.
Conan arrived from the surgery and listened in shocked silence as the sad tale was related to him: a day's skating begun so light-heartedly that had ended in one family's tragedy and loss of a young life full of promise.
The dead student, it transpired, did not even belong to Edinburgh. Faro thought of his family, of that knock on the door, the policeman's sombre face and a Christmas that would remain with them for ever.
'When will they recover the body?' Vince asked.
The canal dredger's boat would have the grisly task of breaking the ice and using grappling irons to search for the drowned boy.
Chapter 16
On the following afternoon Celia struck once more.
Faro was in his study sifting through the constables' reports on their findings on Arthur's Seat and street by street inquiries in the Newington and Pleasance area.
Vince had looked in from seeing a sick patient in Blacket Place and they were having a cup of tea when the doorbell rang shrilly through the house followed by Mrs Brook announcing, 'Yes, the inspector's upstairs with Dr Laurie-'
A moment later the door opened to admit a terrified, dishevelled Kate. The dog Nero was panting at her side and the two men were aware of Mrs Brook at her heels, protesting at the beast's dirty pawmarks on her clean floor.
'The inspector doesn't allow dogs in the house, madam.'
'This is an emergency. Let me past, please.'
Pushing Mrs Brook aside, she ran over to Faro and seized his hands. 'You must help me, please help me. I wouldn't have brought Nero, but I had to. No one could attack me when he was with me.'
Mrs Brook regarded the scene sternly, awaiting Faro's orders. 'I'm sorry, sir. I didn't realise-'
'Of course you didn't,' said Vince consolingly, and as Faro led the terrified Kate to a chair, added, 'Be so good as to bring us another pot of tea, Mrs Brook.'
Kate sat trembling, her nervous hands on Nero's head.
'She came to the Tower. This - woman - they're all looking for. She came and - looked at me - me through the window. She was trying to get in - to get at me.' Her voice rose wildly. 'Don't you see?'
It was almost impossible to get through her shocked and stammering outburst and make some sense of what she was trying to tell them.
Mrs Brook arrived with a tray, looked askance at the little group.
'A cup of tea, plenty of sugar in it for Mrs Pursley,' said Vince, and to Kate, 'Here you are, my dear. Drink it slowly,' he added in his best bedside manner.
At last the cup rattled back into its saucer while Mrs Brook took her time over closing the curtains and lighting the lamps against the darkness of four o'clock on a December afternoon.
The housekeeper had become accustomed through the years to emergencies in the inspector's household but her curiosity was aroused by Mrs Pursley's terrified appearance.
She lingered over her tasks, casting a sympathetic glance on the poor lady who seemed quite demented, and a less warm and more cautious consideration of that huge fierce dog.
Nero had settled himself on the rug in front of the fire as close as possible to his mistress, showing large yellow teeth and growling ominously at whichever of her dear gentlemen made a move in the poor
lady's direction.
'That will be all, Mrs Brook. Thank you.'
Then at last they managed to get the story out of Kate.
Conan was on his afternoon calls and she had decided that as he didn't expect to be out very long, she would make some scones for his tea.
While she was gathering the ingredients and putting them on the kitchen table, she thought she heard someone try the back door.
'As you know, Conan insists that I keep it locked when he's out. I thought he had forgotten his key. Thank heaven it was locked and I didn't open it. I said, "Is that you, Conan?" but there was no answer.'
She shuddered and terror threatened to make her incoherent again. 'I decided that it must be one of the cats since Nero goes beserk at strangers and he hadn't moved or barked once.'
'Ah,' said Faro, seizing his opportunity. 'So you were alone in the house? And where was your uncle?'
She thought for a moment. 'I don't know. He'd be upstairs somewhere with his books, or whatever he does up there, I expect. He doesn't communicate very much these days,' she added in tones of disappointment. 'We hardly meet except at dinner. And he's taken to asking for trays in his room lately. He hasn't been terribly well; no appetite, you know. Conan's quite concerned about him.'
Kate took a deep breath, her hands twisting the lace handkerchief as she dabbed at her eyes. She seemed momentarily to have lost the thread of what she was telling them.
'Pray continue,' said Faro gently.
'Well, I thought I saw something moving outside. It was getting dusk, if you could call it that, since with this thaw setting in and so much drizzle there hasn't been much daylight to speak of. As I was looking out of the window...' She paused and her eyes widened in horror. Closing them, she whispered, 'A woman - looked in - she was wearing one of these old-fashioned poke bonnets; you know, the kind that milkmaids wear.'
She leaped up from her chair. 'And I knew it was - her. I've always guessed that she wants Conan - she idolises him - I knew then that she'd come to kill me. I didn't know what to do. I panicked, I had to get away, out of the tower. So I unlocked the door, just ran out - Nero followed me. And we've run every inch of the way here.' She sank back in her chair, eyes tightly closed, her face pale and exhausted.
Giving her a moment to recover, Faro asked, 'Can you tell us a little more about this woman?'
'No. No. Nothing. It was too dark to see her face - it was hidden by the bonnet. But it was awful, awful.' She sobbed anew. 'I want Conan,' she wailed.
Vince stood up. 'I'll take you back in the carriage.'
'No, no. I never want to go back there. Never.'
Vince and Faro exchanged glances. 'Very well, stay here. I'll bring Conan. And you can stay here as long as you like - Mrs Brook will prepare a bed for you both,' he added soothingly.
Leaning across he patted her arm, to be rewarded by a show of teeth and a warning growl from the dog.
'That's all right, old chap. You look after your mistress,' he said calmly.
'I'm coming with you,' said Faro, ringing for the housekeeper. He added, 'Olivia and Rose are out somewhere with Jamie, but Mrs Brook will stay with you until we return with Conan.'
Vince's carriage was at the door. Both men leaped in with one thought: that Celia might still be in the vicinity of the Tower.
That was their first priority, Conan could wait.
'There he is,' said Faro.
He was hurrying towards them on foot from the direction of the Tower, walking at a fast pace.
'Vince - thank God. I've lost Kate.'
'No you haven't, old man. She's safe with us at Sheridan Place. Get inside.'
Conan took the seat opposite and gasped, 'Safe? What do you mean safe? I came home for my tea as usual, found the door wide open and Uncle Hedley wandering about the garden. He was in a frightful state. He'd heard her screaming and come downstairs; he thought she'd been carried off. You know what he's like.'
'We're heading back, Brent,' shouted Vince to the coachman. 'If you can find a suitable place to turn us round, that is.'
'Very well, sir.'
The already narrow road, still hampered by snowdrifts, was difficult to negotiate and they had almost reached the lochside before it widened again.
'What on earth has been happening?' Conan demanded.
As Vince related Kate's terrifying experience of the woman at the window, Conan gave a horrified gasp.
'Celia! Dear God. That explains it.'
'Are you sure?'
'Of course I'm sure. How else would you explain what I found pushed under the back door? Kate obviously hadn't noticed it - thank God.'
And from his pocket he took a scrap of paper, torn from the top of The Scotsman.
'Look at this, sir.' He handed it to Faro. There were only four words, scribbled in block capitals and heavily underlined:
YOU SLUT ARE NEXT
'Celia's out to get Kate,' said Conan. 'I think I've always feared that. She wants me and in her tortured mind she has to get rid of my wife. Don't you see, her madness has taken off in another direction. Jealousy, the kind of insane obsession that a woman who loves a man to distraction would kill for.'
He seized Vince's arm as the carriage swerved dangerously and, righting itself, settled for the journey back to Newington.
'Stop, if you please, Brent,' said Faro.
'What is it, Stepfather? What's wrong?'
'I think I'll seize the opportunity of a word with Sir Hedley.' And stepping down from the carriage, he looked back at the two men. 'Then perhaps I might be able to tell you what's wrong.'
'You think - he might know something about Celia?'
'That is precisely what I am hoping. No, don't wait for me - I'll walk back.'
Sir Hedley opened the front door to him.
'Saw you coming. Trouble, is there?'
As he led the way along the corridor and into the kitchen, Faro noted that although he looked considerably cleaner, he was looking frailer, older. He had a particularly nasty cough and apologised to Faro.
'Can't get rid of it. Young Conan gives me some of his damned medicine, but doesn't seem to help. Doctors - never had any patience with the breed. What's happened to my niece? Rushed out as if all the devils from hell were at her heels.'
Patiently Faro explained what Kate had told them.
'This madwoman, you say. Never seen her.'
'She's known to be violent, sir. And in this vicinity.'
The old man started to speak and that resulted in another bout of coughing. 'Damn it,' he said, taking out a handkerchief. 'Damn it. Going to say I've seen all your constables searching about the hill - and in my garden,' he added with a furious glare at Faro.
'I don't suppose any of them suggested searching the Tower,' Faro said.
Sir Hedley grinned savagely. 'I'd have given them short shrift if they had,' he said grimly. 'Keep a shotgun handy for that sort of thing. They're all scared of me, anyway, don't you know. They think I'm mad - I could teach most of those young bucks a thing or two-'
Faro cleared his throat apologetically. 'But you can trust me, sir, can't you?'
"Course I can - you and your young lad. Best friends I ever had till m'niece came along. 'Course I trust you - no question. Ask away.'
'Well, sir, it's like this. This woman we're looking for, she might possibly be hiding in the Tower-'
Sir Hedley stared at him, and then laughed. 'In here - in my house, you mean?'
'That is a possibility.'
'Hiding here, without young Conan and m'niece knowing.' Again he laughed. 'Well, sir, if that's what you believe, I can only suggest you take a look around yourself. Go on.'
'Thank you, sir, I was hoping you'd say that.'
Faro's search did not take long. The few rooms downstairs were neat and orderly, the cellars cold and dark, but with no evidence of anyone taking refuge there.
He doubted if there were any secret panels or apertures since the entire building was made of stone.
; He searched the upper floor: Sir Hedley's bedroom, with five cats happily resting on his ancient four-poster bed. They gave him reproachful looks, a few plaintive miaows and then settled down again.
A large table, a comfortable decrepit chair and a large bookcase, with its contents tumbling everywhere, had all escaped Kate's rigorous onslaught of order and cleanliness.
There remained the strictly forbidden 'old charter room'.
Faro hesitated, then salved his conscience with Sir Hedley's permission to search everywhere.
He tried the door. To his surprise it was unlocked.
The ancient chapel was as he remembered it. He walked round carefully but there was no hiding place visible to a casual but determined searcher.
Across the corridor was Conan's study or laboratory, as he called it, with its test tubes and lingering smell of mice, noxious chemicals, and scuttling rats. He had no desire to linger. Satisfied that the Tower was not concealing Celia he returned downstairs.
Sir Hedley greeted him triumphantly. 'Could have saved you all that. Should have believed me.' He tapped the letter he was reading. 'Young Conan is writing to the Society of Antiquaries about Kate's brooch - you know, the owl moons clasper, as they call it. After his father found that stone outside, they think there's a connection with the Tower. She meant to post it. Here, read it. You like this sort of thing,' he added, thrusting it towards Faro.
Politely skimming the contents of the letter, Faro promised to give it to Conan, pushed it into his pocket and began what now seemed a long walk back to Sheridan Place.
He took the short cut through Coffin Lane quite fearlessly. He was quite sure from some interesting fragments of information he had picked up in the last few hours that he at least was quite safe from the attentions of the 'Lady Killer'.
Chapter 17
Calm reigned over Sheridan Place once more.
Conan had persuaded Kate to return to the Tower that evening.
Vince was clearly worried.
'Although he said not one word to indicate such a thing, or reveal his own misgivings, he behaved as if the whole incident was a figment of Kate's imagination. I know him well, Stepfather, I know what I'm talking about. He didn't believe a word of her story.'
The Coffin Lane Murders Page 11
