Deadly Beloved (An Inspector Faro Mystery No.3)

by Alanna Knight

  Vince stared at him indignantly. "It strikes me as absolute sheer coincidence, Stepfather. And that's all. Mrs Shaw is a respectable widow. Why, Stepfather, I'm surprised at you even entertaining such a notion. You surely can't be seriously implying that Eveline Shaw would have an — an affair — with her best friend's husband? After all Mabel's kindness to her?"

  "It has been known," said Faro drily.

  "But in this case, you should know better. You have the evidence of your own eyes.You saw them at the dinner party."

  One of Faro's lasting impressions had been Mrs Kellar's apparent devotion, her many smiles and anxiety that Mrs Shaw be included in every conversation, often staring uneasily at Kellar who was barely civil to the young woman.

  "I'm just speaking my thoughts out loud," said Faro. And tactfully changing the subject, "When did you first become friendly with Mrs Kellar?"

  "About three months ago, but it seems as if I've known her for a lifetime."

  "I'm curious about this baby she wasn't allowed to keep? Did she ever mention it to you?"

  "Not on that occasion," said Vince hurriedly. "I was collecting some papers for Kellar and she asked for my advice on a quite minor affliction, some stiffness in her shoulder. As it turned out a pulled muscle, but she was worried that this might be the onset of rheumatism, common in her family.

  "While I was examining her I observed a considerable amount of bruising. The nature and positions were curious and suggested that she had been physically beaten. She made several transparent excuses, but her reluctance became obvious."

  Vince fell silent and Faro said, "Her assailant was none other than her own husband, was that it?"

  Vince nodded. "You guessed right, Stepfather. I was shocked and furious, although I knew Kellar to be a man quite capable of fits of sarcasm and even cold anger with his students. Anyway," he continued, "poor Mabel was full of blushing whispers and tears of embarrassment, trying to excuse her husband's ill-treatment. I was desperately sorry for her but, what was worse, I was quite helpless. Without betraying Mabel's confidence and making it a lot worse for her, I couldn't confront him with his beastly behaviour, tell him — my superior, my employer — to desist and that he was several kinds of swine."

  Vince banged down his glass on the table. "Dear God. I shouldn't even be telling you all this, Stepfather, such matters between patient and doctor are utterly sacrosanct."

  "Quite so. Doctors are like priests in being the recipients of intimate confidences. I'm fully aware of that and you can rely on my discretion."

  "I am only telling you," Vince continued desperately, "because the matter is one of life — and I think, dear God, death too. And you, most of all, you must understand the sort of beast you are dealing with."

  Faro regarded his stepson with compassion. Vince might be shocked by Mabel's revelations, but Faro could have reiterated many such tales of respectable middle-class men who allied Christian virtue with hypocrisy and abused their wives, treating them little better than animals once the bedroom door was closed. Faro knew of many husbands who could get no pleasure from normal lovemaking and sought satisfaction in outlandish and even brutish practices.

  "His treatment of her was the first bond between us," Vince whispered. "I was, it seemed, as a doctor who was also a friend, the only person she could confide in."

  "What about Mrs Shaw?"

  Vince gave him a sharp look. "I think not. Mabel would have been too embarrassed and humiliated to confess such matters to another woman, especially one so much younger."

  Faro rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Has it ever occurred to you that as there were no children, you would be about the right age as a substitute for the son she had never had."

  Vince laughed. "You imagine that that was the reason for us being drawn to each other." He shook his head. "Not so. Stepfather. You are wrong this time. Far from it. And her confessions, I assure you, were hardly the sort a mother would make to her son."

  "She told you the reason there were no children to the marriage?"

  "She did indeed," said Vince grimly.

  Faro waited a moment and then said, "Well, what were they?"

  Vince looked doubtful, and regarded his stepfather uneasily. "I don't know that I really ought to tell you. Stepfather. It is not a pretty story and one, I must warn you, which will only further prejudice you against Kellar."

  "I will have to take that chance." When Vince hesitated, Faro continued, "Come, come, lad. There is, and always has been, a tendency for husband to blame wife when the fault is not hers at all. You must know as a doctor, surely, that a man's pride suffers a mortal blow when he realises that his manhood is incapable of begetting a child."

  Vince remained silent and Faro said. "You had better tell me. What was it? Syphilis? There couldn't be anything much worse."

  "Oh yes, there could. There could indeed."

  "Such as?"

  "Aborting one's own wife."

  Faro stared at him. "You don't mean ..."

  "I do mean. That the beast Kellar never wanted a child and refused to let his wife conceive. He took elaborate precautions, so she told me, and when by accident — or design, poor soul, since she yearned for a child — she became pregnant, he coldly insisted that the foetus be aborted."

  Faro shuddered."Dreadful. I can hardly believe that any husband would be so callous, so inhuman. There must have been some very good reason for such a terrible decision. A father-to-be often suffers qualms of conscience, such as fearing that he is too poor, or the world a too wicked place, to entrust another life into it."

  "Such reasoning could hardly be valid in Kellar's case, with so much to offer a child."

  "He might have feared taking second place in his wife's affections."

  Vince laughed derisively. "An unlikely story. You've seen them together. You don't really believe that, do you?"

  Faro remembered his own qualms when Rose was conceived within weeks of his marriage to Lizzie. He had felt dread and resentment of being plunged into fatherhood before they had a chance to get to know each other. "There is always that other fear, that the mother may not survive childbirth."

  Such had been Lizzie Faro's fate with their third child. The two men, her husband and her beloved firstborn, exchanged stricken glances. Vince stretched over and put his hand on Faro's arm. "You must not torment yourself, Stepfather. You were not to blame. Mother so wanted to give you a son."

  Faro patted his hand. "I know, lad, I know. But nevertheless ..." Blinking away tears, he said, "Oh, let's get back to Kellar. Presumably at that time he loved Mabel, so there must have been some other reason for his decision."

  "There was none. Only his detestation of children, which must have made Mabel's agony even harder to bear when she wrote to her sister."

  "This does indeed throw another light on her letter," said Faro "How appalling."

  "It was indeed. Can you imagine the feelings of a woman whose husband had put her through the depths of hell, both physically and mentally. That would be bad enough, except that when she is beyond child-bearing, he cheerfully gets his young mistress pregnant. And, worst of all, he dotes upon her child and wants to claim it as his own."

  Vince stared at him with stricken eyes. "Dear God, don't you see how monstrous and inhuman Kellar is?"

  "Aye, lad. I do. I'm shocked too. In the class Kellar belongs to, fathers need play little part in the upbringing beyond the begetting. Once property and inheritance are settled, the offspring can be safely left to the tender mercies of nurses and public schools."

  "Yes, however we look at it, an heir is often the only reason for marrying at all. As I fear it will be mine," said Vince. "But not until I am very old."

  Faro smiled. Vince's fierce determination to remain a bachelor was a constant source of discussion and friendly argument between them.

  "Well, Stepfather, would you not say that this was the first indication of a black-hearted murderer?"

  Faro shook his head. "I can't believe that Kel
lar could have aborted his own child without extenuating circumstance, some powerful reason."

  "Some dread medical history in his wife's family which he wanted to spare her, like insanity, is that what you are suggesting?" said Vince.

  "We have her sister's assurances on that. From the standpoint of eight healthy children."

  "And the Mad Bart is only a relative by marriage, unfortunately," said Vince.

  "Aye, lad. And despite his nickname he's as sane as the next man. A recluse, with his own reasons for withdrawing from society."

  "Eccentric, crafty and wicked, I don't doubt, but sharp as a tack." Vince jumped up from the table and strode over to the window, staring at the winter sunlight dying on Arthur's Seat.

  "The story isn't quite over yet, Stepfather. Prepare yourself for something worse, much worse. And I doubt that even you will find excuses for Kellar's inhumanity." Taking a deep breath he continued. "Not only did this vile man remove the foetus conceived by himself upon his wife, he used it for experiments."

  Slamming his fists together, he turned to Faro. "Experiments, Stepfather. You know what that means, cutting to pieces, coldly dissecting his own unborn daughter."

  "A daughter? It was so far advanced."

  "Yes. Mabel told me so. A female child. A female child who would have been about the same age as Eveline Shaw."

  Eveline Shaw.

  Both men were silent and then Faro asked, "Are there any other young women with babies in the Kellar circle?"

  "They didn't have a social circle, Stepfather. I think I knew most of their acquaintances — yes, I'd call them that."

  "Considering that Mrs Kellar was so forthright about her husband's brutish treatment, I should have thought his infidelity would have been worth a mention. I'm surprised she gave no hint of it."

  "You're going too fast, Stepfather. You have the answer there before you. Read her letter again. She had suffered the last fatal blow to that cherished illusion she had kept alive through their marriage. That Kellar still loved her in his fashion. Don't you see, a woman like Mabel had her pride. She could uncomplainingly endure and suffer physical ill-usage far more readily than her husband's adultery."

  Chapter 12

  The revelations about Mabel Kellar's life with her husband were appalling, and although his stepson prided himself on being Mabel's confidant, Faro was in little doubt as to the identity of Kellar's mistress. He decided that an informal call on Mrs Shaw might prove worthwhile, especially as the bait he had to offer as excuse for the visit, was calculated to gain her confidence and promote further agreeable and sympathetic acquaintance.

  When Vince asked if he had found a companion for the Neruda concert, Faro said, "I've decided to ask Mrs Shaw to accompany me."

  "Mrs Shaw? Good heavens. Well, well."

  "As you're so fond of quoting, lad, music sounds ten times better when it is being shared by someone of a harmonious disposition. In this case who better than Mrs Shaw?" Watching his stepson's mocking expression. Faro's icy glare forbade the usual teasing.

  "And I'll have none of your innuendos, if you please. The concert serves a double purpose since it provides an admirable opportunity of continuing my investigations. Discreetly, of course."

  "Of course, Stepfather."

  Vince's unchanging smile mocked him and he added angrily, "Dammit, you know my feelings about her."

  "Ah yes, that is all very well, but do we know her feelings about you?"

  "Listen to me," said Faro heatedly, "Even without the business about Mabel Kellar, I would still feel sorry for a young widow. Especially a talented pianist with possibly few chances to attend concerts or to hear the divine Neruda play. So it's a bit early in the day for you to start hearing wedding bells, I must say," he added huffily.

  "All right, Stepfather, I stand corrected and I apologise." Vince's impudent grin was anything but apologetic, "You're very sure of yourself where the ladies are concerned, so let's hope it stays that way and that one day I don't have to remind you with 'I told you so'." He stretched out his hand, "May I see that letter again?" And examining it carefully, "You have observed that it is un-dated."

  Faro nodded. "Irritating, isn't it?"

  "But hardly surprising, considering poor Mabel's state of mind when it was written. Did Tiz leave you the envelope?"

  "Here it is,"

  "No postmark?"

  "The answer is that the contents were too important to entrust to the mail or to any other person and Mrs Kellar most likely handed in to the solicitor's office personally."

  "When? Hardly on the way to the station without attracting Kellar's curiosity. Do you see what I'm getting at, Stepfather? The dinner party was on Sunday, so if Eveline Shaw was Kellar's mistress, Mabel already knew." Vince jabbed a finger at him. "Which makes absolute nonsense of your theory, doesn't it? You just have to remember her behaviour that evening," he laughed. "Mabel would need to be a far better actress than I credit her for to have sustained that elaborate exhibition of devotion to her dearest friend and companion. It has to be someone else, Stepfather. It can't be Eveline Shaw."

  The afternoon was bright and cheerful, with a cloudless frosty sky stretching to infinity. An azure glow hung over the Castle, a great sleeping stone monster dwarfing the ant-like creatures who scuttled back and forth along Princes Street enjoying the brief respite of springtime promise. Crouched among its own dark secrets, so the Castle had stood through centuries of winter snow and summer sunshine, a silent witness impervious to man's follies, his despairs and fleeting triumphs.

  Faro's thoughts turned to the interview that lay ahead. Vince's argument failed to convince him, despite Mrs Kellar's display of affection to Mrs Shaw at the dinner party. Regardless of when that damning letter had been delivered to the solicitor's office, he had not the slightest doubt that Mrs Shaw was Kellar's mistress and that Barnaby was his son.

  He saw that public façade of indifference and even dislike for what it was: a ruse, imperative if their association was to remain a closely-guarded secret. The whole evening must have been torture for them both, especially for Mrs Shaw. This theory interpreted her vaguely distressed manner, not as carrying a still inconsolable burden of grief for her dead husband but as constant terror that by word or glance her intimate relationship with Melville Kellar might be made apparent to Mabel.

  Was it possible that Mrs Kellar had been naive enough to imagine that her sweet and caring behaviour would stir some pangs of conscience in the guilty pair and that Eveline Shaw, in particular, might decide to end the affair? If Mabel Kellar thought along such lines, Faro decided grimly, then she had a pitiful grasp of human nature or the fact that love, once dead, was seldom resurrected by self-sacrifice.

  Faro was pleased with his astute observation that from Mrs Shaw's viewpoint the devoted friendship was somewhat one-sided. It did not take much imagination to realise that the young woman must be desperate to give Barnaby a father. And since Kellar was eager to bestow the benefits of parenthood on his bastard son, the presence of a legal wife was very inconvenient.

  It was also the perfect motive for murder.

  The day's pale warmth was deceptive and Faro reached Mrs Shaw's house half-frozen. Head down against the chill wind blowing straight off the Firth of Forth, he almost cannoned into the young man who was dashing down her front steps, having banged the door with shattering force behind him. A lightly built young man of middle height, with the darkly handsome looks of the Celtic Highlander, he was in a high old temper. Face flushed and distorted with rage, he swept past Faro, unseeing and without apology.

  Behind him, the door that had been so forcefully closed opened to reveal Mrs Shaw, breathless and distraught. Faro realised that she must have rushed downstairs in the wake of the departed visitor. Tear-stained, her expression of anticipation changed into deepest melancholy when she beheld Detective Inspector Faro standing on her doorstep, instead of the young man beseeching her forgiveness with abject apologies.

  Faro raised his hat
, bowed. "Good day to you, ma'am."

  Mrs Shaw summoned a smile, looking bleakly beyond him down the now empty street.

  I couldn't have chosen a less inauspicious moment to call and invite her to a concert, thought Faro, expecting an abrupt refusal.

  But Mrs Shaw had regained her equilibrium and saw his visit in quite another light. "Is it about Mabel?" she asked anxiously.

  Faro had to confess, no, it wasn't.

  Mrs Shaw frowned. "I was hoping you had news of her at last. Such a long time. I wonder where on earth she can be?"

  "I'm sure we'll find her," said Faro smoothly, listening to his own false tone offering consolation where he was certain there was none. "It was quite another matter brought me to your door this time."

  Her eyes, deeply violet, opened wide.

  Surprise became her exceedingly well, he thought, a very pretty sight indeed. "I wondered if you would like to go to the concert this evening. Neruda is playing the Beethoven Violin Concerto."

  Mrs Shaw didn't seem to hear him. "I beg your pardon?"

  He repeated the request and this time she stood very still. Her attitude of careful concentration and growing amazement suggested that a Detective Inspector was the last person from whom she expected such an invitation.

  "My stepson usually accompanies me but he is engaged elsewhere," Faro said, feeling that explanation was necessary. "And knowing your interest in Beethoven . . . " How lame it all sounded! He had wasted his time. He shouldn't have come, made a fool of himself.

  But she was smiling. "Oh, thank you. I would be delighted." She clasped her hands together like an eager child given a particular treat. "I would love that. Oh, I do thank you, Inspector."

  There was an awkward pause while she gazed at him, wondering what to say next while Faro considered whether he should take his leave before she changed her mind.

  Smiling, as if she had come to a sudden decision, she opened the door a little wider. "It's very cold standing on the doorstep. Barnaby is out with the girl, but they'll be back shortly. Would you care to come inside, take some refreshment?"