"Of course, I understand you are fortunate in having that nice little Mrs Brook. We tried to get her to come to us — did you know that? — when her dear doctor, her former employer at Sheridan Place, died so suddenly ..."
But Faro was no longer listening, thinking venomously of how he could remove that simpering glance with the information that his own dear Lizzie had been a domestic servant who had an illegitimate son — Vince — as a result of being raped by one of the so-called gentry when she was fifteen years old.
Vince. He looked at his stepson fondly wondering, as he often did, if the boy had been his own child, whether he could have loved him better or found a more faithful and devoted son. Watching him animated and attentive to Mabel Kellar after rather rudely fending off Sir Hedley's attempts to be included in the conversation, Faro's qualms about the boy's happiness came again to the fore.
There was something too vulnerable about that bright head of curls, the gentle smile, a sensitive quality at odds with the grim medical task of assistant to the police surgeon. Somehow he could never imagine Vince ever acquiring the hard shell of Dr Kellar.
The clock seemed to have stopped on the mantelpiece as the meal dragged on to its weary conclusion and Mrs Kellar announced that the entertainment would now begin.
Entertainment, thought Faro. What a word to describe Mabel Kellar's monologue, 'A Sunday Afternoon Picnic' in which a whole family, celebrating Grandmama's birthday, took to the river and encountered many a storm, of the teacup variety. Mabel Kellar's change of voice for her bewilderingly large cast of characters left him stunned, his eyelids heavy. Later, he learned from Vince that this was her party piece. It seemed endless.
At last, she curtseyed delightedly to applause polite but feeble.
"Our dear Mrs Shaw will now play for us."
Faro suppressed a bout of yawning and, with an irresistible desire to close his eyes, tried to focus his dwindling attention on the young woman as she sat down at the piano.
A few chords and he was wide awake, alert, his senses singing as he recognised Beethoven's Appassionata brilliantly executed. One of his favourite pieces, he knew that this was no bungling amateur but a pianist whose rightful place was on the concert platform.
"Bravo, bravo," he called as the final notes faded into silence. "Encore, encore."
The guests who did not share his knowledge of music or his enthusiasm looked mildly dazed by his reaction. Mrs Shaw regarded him gratefully, bowed modestly and then firmly closed the piano.
He went over to her side. "That was superb, Mrs Shaw. Beethoven at his very best."
"You are familiar with the piece, Inspector?"
"I am indeed. And you played it divinely."
"Why, thank you. Thank you." Animation transformed her face into sudden radiance and Faro saw fleetingly how captivating she must have been in the days before sadness engulfed her, swamping her young life.
And just when the evening had begun for him, Faro heard the doorbell. The carriages had arrived. As cloaks were gathered, Dr Kellar opened the front door to a moon gleaming fitfully and a gentle snowfall.
Mrs Kellar took an affectionate farewell of her dearest friend whom Vince handed into the carriage bound for Regent Crescent. Faro bowed gallantly over her hand. "Thank you again for your exquisite playing, Mrs Shaw."
A sweet smile, a kiss blown in her hostess's direction and she was gone. Faro observed that Mrs Kellar had taken Vince's arm and now kissed him, very tenderly, on both cheeks.
Sir Hedley, bound for Solomon's Tower, was disposed to linger. Watching Vince with that hooded intense look he said earnestly, "Enjoyed meeting you, young fella. Drop into the Tower. Any time. Always welcome."
"Thank you, sir. But I'm fearfully busy. You must excuse me."
Faro noticed that Vince could barely conceal his distaste. He withdrew his hand from Sir Hedley's in a gesture almost too hasty for politeness. Again struck by this unreasonable aversion to a sad lonely old man, so unlike his charitable stepson who was fond of everyone and was charming and popular. Faro frowned uneasily. He felt as if he was witnessing a resurrection of the spoilt ill-mannered small boy he had first encountered during his courtship of Vince's mother.
The absence of a carriage for Faro and Vince was another catastrophe for Mrs Kellar.
"We will enjoy the walk home."
"But look at the snow. My dear, you must not catch a chill," said Mrs Kellar, stroking Vince's arm anxiously. "Do please accept Uncle Hedley's offer."
"The exercise is good for us both, isn't it, lad?"
"It is indeed. Doctor's orders, Stepfather," said Vince, with a look of gratitude. As they raised their hats to the departing carriages and set off down the drive, he said, "I hope you don't mind, truly, Stepfather."
"Not in the least."
"The idea of sharing a carriage with that dreadful old man gives me the shivers. I absolutely loathe him."
"That's a bit strong, lad."
"So was the smell of cats. Don't tell me you didn't notice. I thought I'd succeeded in putting him in his place, when he kept trying so rudely to corner me with his wretched conversation. I was appalled at having to sit beside him. But tell me, what did you think of Eveline Shaw? Isn't she a stunner?"
Faro gave him a sharp look. Had he completely misread the signs? Was Vince about to confess devotion to the young widow?
"She's certainly lovely and such a talented musician."
"Absolutely first class. I wonder where she learned to play like that?"
"How long has she been a widow?"
"Less than a year."
"I thought so. She seemed so sad and detached."
"Until she began to play. Stepfather. Then she was transformed."
"You thought so too. What happened to the husband? Had she been married long?"
"Long enough to have a baby. There's a son and heir at least, a few months old, born after his soldier father was killed on the Indian frontier."
Faro nodded sympathetically. "Tragic. At least he left her comfortably off if she can afford a house in Regent Crescent."
"Indeed. He was a Captain, and I gather there are very good family connections in the Highlands."
"I'm glad to know that she'll be well provided for," Faro hesitated and then added, "although I doubt she will be a widow long. A wealthy widow, young and pretty too, should experience no difficulty in finding another husband."
"Not in the least, if she is seeking one. And that I seriously doubt at the moment." Vince laughed. "I know you are looking very arch, Stepfather. Bless me, you are almost as bad as Mabel and I can read exactly the way your minds drift. Anyway, there were no signals in my direction, I can assure you. Not that I wanted any," he added hastily. "I don't see myself as a widow's consolation and I'm much too vain to play second fiddle to the dear departed."
They walked for a while in silence then Vince said, "There is something odd about her, didn't you think?"
"Mrs Shaw? Just lost and bewildered, lad, that's all. Isn't quite up to taking on the social round again, poor lass. Not interested in anything yet outside her own grief."
"How perceptive of you, Stepfather. I'm relieved to hear that was the reason. You know I got a distinct impression that she didn't take to me at all, or any of us — except you."
"Only because I appreciated her playing."
"Oh, you do underestimate yourself, Stepfather. I despair of you sometimes, really I do."
"Was that the first time you'd met?" asked Faro with a brisk change of subject.
"Yes. But I feel as if we're already well acquainted. Mabel talks constantly about her dear Eveline, calls her 'my sister of the spirit'. With no children of her own, she says the good Lord has compensated by giving her this one loving young friend."
"Perhaps she should make it two now."
"Two? How so?"
Faro smiled. "Obviously Mrs Kellar regards you in the same fond light."
"Dear Mabel. But everyone is important to her, servants, poor r
elatives. Fancy giving that dreadful mad old man house room. Fancy him actually being her uncle. Incredible."
"Kellar has certainly kept very quiet about that particular skeleton in the family closet."
"I don't suppose he's keen to have it made public, even if it is just a connection by marriage. However, it would have to come out some day. He was at great pains to tell everyone that Mabel is his heiress. There's no knowing what she'll inherit besides a multitude of cats," Vince added. "Solomon's Tower is fairly ruinous."
"Yes, but don't forget, it's also on a valuable site for this upsurge of property developing in Newington area."
As they reached the gates of Sheridan Place, Faro found himself haunted by a picture of Mabel Kellar standing on the front steps, blowing a kiss to Vince.
"Goodnight, Inspector. Goodnight, dear Vince, have a good holiday."
A final wave as Dr Kellar drew her inside and closed the door.
And that, thought Faro, coming back to the present and his unwritten report, was the last time any of us saw the police surgeon's wife.
"Kellar is an absolute swine, treating her like that, in front of guests." And with a chill feeling of disaster, he remembered Vince's concluding words: "I could have snatched up one of those knives and plunged it into his black heart."
But perhaps it was the warm-hearted Mabel who had been the victim of an assassin's carving knife.
Chapter 3
The house had seemed strangely empty without young Vince's presence. In the longest separation since they had come to live in Sheridan Place, Faro realised that this was a prelude to the future when, sooner or later, he must face the prospect of living alone.
Reasonably, he could hardly expect to have Vince with him for the rest of his life. Whatever his stepson's protestations. Faro had little doubt and fervently hoped that he would eventually fall in love and marry some suitable young lady. His wife, however, might be expected to produce excellent and convincing arguments against sharing their home with her husband's policeman stepfather.
Faro said as much to Mrs Brook who was also feeling bereft of Vince's bright presence and gentle teasing. She looked shocked.
"What an idea. Inspector sir. Why, there are your two wee girls growing up in Orkney. In a few years they will be ready to come to Edinburgh and do their duty by their papa." And with one of her sly looks, she added coyly, "That is, if there isn't a second Mrs Faro by then."
Ignoring his gesture of impatient dismissal, she went on, "I do hope and pray to the good Lord every night that you will meet a nice lady of your own age some day, that I do, Inspector sir."
Faro's disapproving sniff was the answer she expected. Any argument that he put forward would be totally ignored. From long experience he knew that dignified silence was the only weapon against romantically inclined females of a certain age. They should have known better, but persisted in regarding marriage as the rose-strewn path to 'happy-ever-after-land'.
His mother and Mrs Brook were of one mind on the subject. But apart from occasional yearnings for a mate to share his bed and some of his dreams. Faro felt that the harmonious bachelor life had much to commend it and suited him well. The many daily hazards in a policeman's life made for poor husband material and he still suffered pangs of remorse recalling his neglect of poor Lizzie who had never once reproached him.
"As long as I have the bairns, dear, I am never lonely." But the son they had both longed for after two daughters, had killed her.
At least Rose and Emily, with the resilience of childhood, were now settling happily and healthily with their grandmother while his stepson, after completing his year as Dr Kellar's assistant, would open the ground floor of 9 Sheridan Place as the surgery and consulting rooms of Dr Vincent Beaumarcher Laurie, general practitioner of medicine.
But without Vince's presence. Faro could hardly bear the Sunday afternoon ritual of tending the little grave in Greyfriars Kirkyard where Lizzie lay asleep with their baby at her side. He could still sob out loud at that bitter remembrance.
Once, unbearably alone, he had thought to love again and he carefully avoided the pathway by the willow tree, haunted by memories of his first meeting with the beautiful actress he had dreamed so passionately and so fleetingly, of making his wife.
Never, never again, he swore. Let others fall in love and marry. It was not for him.
On the day he expected Vince's return from Vienna, Faro arrived at the Central Office as usual, to learn that his presence was being eagerly sought by Superintendent McIntosh.
"Close the door and sit down, Faro. I have a rather delicate task for you, one which must be handled with the utmost confidence and care." He shook his head sternly. "Should information leak out of this office and the general public hear about it ... "
"What is this task, sir?" asked Faro somewhat impatiently. McIntosh's normal instructions regarding his senior detective inspector's apprehension of criminals came down rather heavily on the side of brutal methods. Gentle persuasion was an art unknown to the tough Superintendent.
"Something very serious has happened. Something which, I need not tell you, might have the most serious repercussions on the reputation of our police establishment. It concerns Dr Kellar's wife." McIntosh paused dramatically. "She has disappeared."
"Disappeared, sir? When did this happen?"
"About two weeks ago. They had a dinner party for a few friends."
"Yes, Superintendent. I know. I was there."
McIntosh's head shot up and he regarded Faro with some astonishment. "Why, of course you were, of course. Well, well, that does help."
"Help? In what way?"
"The very next morning it appears that Mrs Kellar left to go on a visit to her sister at North Berwick. Dr Kellar dropped her at Waverley railway station. She had sent a wire to her sister to expect her off the 12.45 train. When she didn't arrive, Mrs Findlay-Cupar wasn't unduly alarmed at first. She expected her the next day., but after two more days when Mrs Kellar still hadn't put in an appearance nor sent any explanation, her sister despatched a letter asking what had happened.
"As this was addressed to Mrs Kellar personally, the housekeeper, who is new, didn't regard it as urgent. Dr Kellar had told her the mistress was only away for a day or two, so she put it with other letters for Mrs Kellar on her writing desk, where it lay unread. An unfortunate set of circumstances, you'll agree. It was not until another week had passed without any word from Mrs Kellar indicating when she was returning home that Dr Kellar, glancing through her letters, opened the one from his sister-in-law. He immediately set out for North Berwick."
Leaning back in his chair, McIntosh studied Faro's expression. "Well, have you any explanation?"
Faro shrugged. Had he not been witness to the events at the Kellars' dinner party, his sense of danger would have been alerted and he would have viewed this disappearance with more alarm. He said as much to the Superintendent.
"You were present, sir." Guessing at the unevenness of McIntosh's domestic bliss and harmony with The Tartar, he found it irresistible not to add, "Surely the answer is obvious to a married man, sir?"
"Not to me, it isn't," said McIntosh, eyeing him sternly.
"I would imagine that Mrs Kellar is teaching her husband a lesson."
"A lesson, Inspector? What kind of lesson?"
"I think we'll discover that Mrs Kellar has left home and taken refuge with an understanding friend or relative, giving Dr Kellar time to regret his disagreeable conduct in front of their guests."
"Yes, yes. Inspector. Maybe so. But where the devil is she?"
"She doubtless intends that to be kept secret meantime. Especially from her husband."
"So that's what you believe?" Stroking his beard thoughtfully, McIntosh stared at Faro. "All part of making Dr Kellar suffer, eh. I'm not saying I disagree with you entirely, but the doctor is a very worried man and expects us to do something about finding his missing wife. What you are suggesting has obviously never occurred to him."
&nb
sp; McIntosh added a sudden bark of laughter, as if the idea pleased him. "Scandal, that's at the back of it. A breath of scandal would ruin his chance of the knighthood. He insists that discreet enquiries begin immediately. I'm afraid that whatever the outcome, even if we all end up looking like idiots and Mrs Kellar walks in tomorrow, we'll have to humour him."
"Very well, Superintendent. I'll proceed along the normal missing person lines and interview Dr Kellar first. I imagine he's checked the hospitals and so forth?"
"The first place he'd look, Faro," said McIntosh sternly.
"Very well. I'll get confirmation of what he told you — "
"No need for that, Faro," McIntosh interrupted hastily. "He's told me all he knows and I've imparted the information to you. That's enough. He won't take kindly to being questioned again so you'd better talk to the servants. For heaven's sake, choose a time during the day when he's not at home. Then a visit to Mrs Findlay-Cupar." He handed over a scrap of paper. "Her address in North Berwick. Another person who might know something is the Mad — er, Sir Hedley."
"I'd already thought of that. Solomon's Tower would be a good place to seek refuge."
"As long as she likes cats. And what about that friend of hers, the young widow?"
"Mrs Shaw?"
"They seemed very friendly."
"Very well. I'll try Regent Crescent."
McIntosh frowned. "But only see this Mrs Shaw if all other enquiries lead nowhere. Dr Kellar made quite a point about insisting on absolute discretion. So better keep it in the family."
Taking the Superintendent's advice, Faro decided that Kellar was at this moment likely to be found giving his morning lecture at Surgeons Hall, demonstrating the arts of carving up corpses to a group of admiring students with strong stomachs.
Vince had told him that this ordeal was frequently too harrowing. Dazzling on the playing field, prepared to carry their medical knowledge for Queen and country to battlefield or to darkest Africa, sturdy young men frequently dropped like ninepins and had to be gathered up from the floor and revived with smelling salts.
Deadly Beloved (An Inspector Faro Mystery No.3) Page 3
