Deadly Beloved (An Inspector Faro Mystery No.3)

by Alanna Knight

  "Of course. Well, this demolishes all our theories about the three of them conspiring to get rid of Mabel. I'm pleased about that." He sighed. "And if there were any reasons for joy in this miserable business I'm delighted that Melville Kellar has got his deserts and that Eveline Shaw's child isn't his after all."

  "It has a happier ending than perhaps she deserved."

  "The oldest trick in the world, Stepfather. Women have played that particular game since time began. And I have nothing but contempt for them. It is utterly vile, the ultimate unforgivable deception."

  "We must not let Mrs Shaw's revelations divert us from the main issue, lad."

  "I'm not forgetting, Stepfather. But you seemed remarkably worried, warning her about enemies and so forth, when she made it plain that she has none."

  "Oh yes, lad. She has one at least. I just hope to God that her letter arrived in time to avert yet another calamity and save her becoming the next victim."

  "Kellar, eh? I'd have liked to have been a fly on the wall when he read her letter of rejection," said Vince with some relish. "He must have been devastated, don't you agree?"

  "I'm too tired to think straight any more, lad. What we both need is a dram and a good night's sleep. Everything will seem a lot clearer in the morning."

  But Faro, for once, was wrong.

  He and Vince were indulging themselves with breakfast later than usual when the doorbell pealed shrilly through the house. They heard Mrs Brook come up from the kitchen, and by the time Faro had sprung from the table, Sergeant McQuinn was standing in the hall.

  An unlikely figure to launch a thunderbolt set to reduce all Faro's new-found theories, his enlightened deductions to naught, he said, "You're to come at once, sir, and bring the doctor along too. Kellar has shot himself."

  In the police carriage, McQuinn told them what had happened. He had been on his way to talk to the maid Ina before going on duty, when who should come along the drive, staggering through the snow but Kellar himself.

  "Came out of the front gate, like a drunk man, wearing nothing but his nightshirt. Then I saw the blood on the snow, dripping from his head it was. And when I went to help him, I could smell the gun smoke on him. I blew my whistle, got him into a passing cab and rustled up a couple of lads on the beat to take him across to the Royal Infirmary, quick as you like."

  He stopped. "I was in a bit of a quandary, sir. I thought I'd best get back to the scene of the crime, so to speak."

  "You did quite right."

  McQuinn nodded. "Went down that drive sharp as I could and there was Mrs Flynn standing at the door. Crying and wringing her hands. I could see she was in a terrible state."

  "She'd been making breakfast when she heard a loud bang, that's how she described the pistol shot, coming from the master's bedroom. She went up to see what was wrong and there he was lying across the bed, with a bullet wound in his head, blood everywhere. At first she thought he was dead, then he groaned and moved. She realised he had tried to commit suicide. Here's the evidence, sir."

  He handed Faro a bloodstained note.

  Written in shaky capitals were the words: "Goodbye, I killed her."

  "And here's the pistol I collected. There was this letter too, open on the bedside table. As it might be evidence, I took the liberty ..."

  The letter was from Mrs Shaw telling Kellar that she had deceived him, that Harry Shaw, who was Barnaby's father, had returned to Edinburgh and she was resolved to marry him.

  "Did you read this, McQuinn?"

  "Just a glance, sir. Evidence enough to prove that he got such a shock that his mind was temporarily unhinged. Mind you, he didn't strike me as the kind who would take his own life over any woman. Come ten a penny to a man like him."

  "Keep the contents to yourself, McQuinn, if you please."

  "Naturally, sir," McQuinn sounded indignant. "I suppose you'll need the servants to testify."

  Faro nodded rather absently, and the Sergeant gave him a curious look. The Inspector seemed almost as shocked as the housekeeper at the Grange had been.

  "Mrs Flynn had a terrible fright. She told me when she saw he was still breathing, she rushed downstairs to get water to bathe his head — rushing around like a decapitated hen, I shouldn't wonder." He grinned. "Nothing as exciting as this had ever happened to her before. But when she got back to the bedroom, he had gone. Disappeared."

  As they boarded the carriage, Vince heard Faro giving McQuinn instructions about a locked cupboard he might expect to find. But no further explanation was offered to his bewildered stepson as they hurtled along towards the hospital as fast as the appalling condition of the snowy roads would allow.

  Dr Kellar was occupying a private ward and, at first glance, Faro thought they had come too late. Kellar, with his head heavily bandaged, seemed to have a precarious grip on life.

  "Looks pretty bad, doesn't he?"

  Vince nodded. "Can't really tell, until the doctors have had a chance to see how much damage was done by the bullet. I think I'll stay. This might take a little time."

  "Yes, yes, lad. I'll leave you to it. I'd better get back to the Grange and talk to Mrs Flynn and Ina."

  Vince looked at him frowning, seemed about to say something, then changed his mind and shook his head.

  "What is it, lad?"

  "Nothing, Stepfather. Just a thought. It'll keep." And he turned his attention back to the doctors who were hurrying down the corridor to attend the injured man.

  As the police carriage made its way through the melting snow taking Faro back towards the Grange, a sudden burst of sunshine, bringing with it unseasonal warmth, had set the birds singing an anthem to spring in the skeletal trees. Faro shook his head. This time of hope, this suggestion of springtime was all wrong for sudden death.

  McQuinn was waiting for him and when they ran up the steps to the front door it was opened a couple of inches by a scared-looking Ina.

  At the sight of the Inspector, she became quite voluble, sobbing out all about the master and the pistol shot and how poor Mrs Flynn had been frightened out of her wits.

  "Easy, lass. Easy now," said McQuinn gently. "No one's going to harm you. We're here to help you."

  Faro noted that once again the handsome young sergeant's charm proved effective and the girl smiled at him gratefully through her tears as if she had been offered manna from heaven.

  "We're here to see Mrs Flynn. Downstairs, is she?"

  Ina shook her head. "No, sir. She's gone to the Infirmary. To see how the master is. So upset she was. Terrible bad fright she got. Thinking he was dead, and then him walking away like that. Said it was enough to give anyone a heart attack."

  "Ina showed me the cupboard," McQuinn interrupted, removing a travelling bag from under the hall table. "That's all there was. It isn't locked."

  Faro glanced inside, nodded with some satisfaction and said. "Come along, McQuinn. Back to the infirmary."

  Ina seemed reluctant to lose them. She followed them down the steps to the waiting carriage.

  "You take care of things, Ina. You're in charge until we get back," said McQuinn, making her feel important.

  "But — "

  "You'll be all right. I'm leaving a couple of constables to look after you," he added, making her feel safe too.

  As they got into the carriage, she giggled slightly hysterically. "Poor Mrs Flynn. That fright didn't do her any good, I can tell you. I've always thought of her as such a big strong woman, but when I saw her hurrying down the drive, she didn't seem like herself at all. Dazed and scared-like. Isn't that amazing?"

  Faro stared at her and slammed the door. "Hurry, for God's sake. Fast as you can," he told the driver.

  The short journey to the Infirmary seemed endless and Faro drummed his fingers on the window-ledge, cursing the delays. What if they were already too late?

  Reaching their destination, he leaped up the stairs to the ward, telling McQuinn to wait in the corridor.

  "We may need you," he added grimly.

/>   And to the nurse who approached. "Has anyone been in to see Dr Kellar?"

  "He is far too ill to receive visitors, Inspector," was the shocked reply.

  "That wasn't my question, Sister."

  "A Mrs Findlay-Cupar called a few moments ago."

  "Mrs Findlay-Cupar? Are you sure?"

  "Yes, his sister-in-law."

  "Where is she now?"

  "I sent her away, Inspector."

  "You sent her away?"

  "Of course. My instructions are to admit no one. And that includes members of the family."

  In the ward, Faro was relieved to see Vince sitting at Kellar's bedside taking his pulse.

  "Still alive, thank God."

  "I think he has a good chance," said Vince cheerfully, "Lucky for him, the bullet didn't strike any vital part. It grazed off the side of his head. He must have moved at the last moment. He's got a head as thick as a stone wall. Pity he'll only survive for the hangman's rope."

  The man on the bed groaned, opened his eyes, struggled to sit up and was restrained by Vince.

  "Where am I?"

  "The Infirmary, sir."

  Kellar blinked furiously. "Thank God. Thank God, I can see. My head feels terrible. Am I going to die?"

  It was a difficult question to answer in all honesty. Faro thought that 'Not just for the moment' would be inappropriate and rather unfeeling for the man's present condition.

  "You're not seriously hurt, sir," said Vince. "The bullet deflected."

  "Ah, it's you, is it, Laurie, I hope you're remembering all I've taught you," he said dazedly.

  "Yes, sir."

  There was a short pause and then Kellar turned his head slowly towards them. "All this is really happening. It isn't just a bad dream, is it?"

  "No, sir. Unfortunately not."

  Kellar smiled wanly. "I can see," he repeated. "I'm not blind or imagining things. So it was her."

  "Her? Who, sir?"

  "Flynn."

  "When did you see her, sir?"

  "She tried to kill me." '

  "Mrs Flynn — the housekeeper — she tried to kill you?" said Vince and, looking across at Faro, whispered, "His mind's wandering. He's having hallucinations."

  Kellar gave another groan and sank back on to the pillows. "I'm telling you. She tried to kill me."

  Chapter 16

  Further questions were cut short by the arrival of the senior doctors. Faro was hustled into the tiny waiting-room by the grim-faced nurse, with Vince protesting furiously, "How dare they treat me like a first-year medical student."

  Allowing his injured pride to be calmed down by his stepfather at last, he said, "Kellar's mind must have been deranged. Or was it an attack of conscience?"

  "An attack certainly," said Faro, "and by something much more substantial than conscience."

  "You mean, someone tried to kill him and make it look like suicide?"

  "Exactly."

  "But the note — "

  "I think we can dismiss the suicide note. The handwriting is not even a clever forgery." Faro looked at the shaky capital letters. "Look at the bloodstains. A man does not decide to shoot himself and write the note afterwards, although I imagine we are expected to make that account for the illegibility."

  "You're right, Stepfather. Kellar was no bungler. He was a highly efficient man and if he had been intending to kill himself it would have been done very tidily indeed."

  "Aren't you forgetting Mrs Shaw's letter of rejection?"

  "A blow to his pride, but hardly enough to make him take his own life. Unless he realised that he had murdered Mabel for nothing. And talking of bloodstains, I'm working on the fur cloak. Using Dr Landois's experimental technique, I took a spot of blood from my finger and from Mrs Brook's. She was most impressed. However when I raided her pantry for raw beef she was quite shocked, I can tell you. I've sent it off to Landois, although I'm not too hopeful of anything conclusive. As I told you, his experiments are in the early stages."

  "I think we'll hear that the bloodstains aren't human and that the blood doesn't correspond with either yours or Mrs Brook's. They most probably came from an ox heart or liver from the Kellar kitchen."

  "I don't understand. Why on earth should anyone counterfeit bloodstains?"

  "The answer is easy. Dr Kellar was to be accused of his wife's murder."

  "Are you trying to tell me that there were to be two murders. The doctor and his wife?"

  "No, I don't mean that at all. Kellar was always the intended victim, not Mabel. That was how it was planned, very carefully, right from the beginning."

  Ignoring his stepson's exclamation of disbelief, Faro continued, "Right in fact from that fateful dinner party. That was all part of the plan too and the events of that evening are of vital importance. Nothing that happened that evening is too trivial to overlook, for it was all set out for us, like a play on a stage, a plot that had been worked out to the very last detail — "

  "But I don't see how — " Vince interrupted.

  "We were all invited for a definite purpose, with our parts to play. We were to be witnesses of certain happenings.

  I was puzzled, I have to admit. My first thought was that I was there as a parent to give his approval and blessing on a piece of matchmaking between his stepson and a pretty widow — "

  Faro cut short Vince's protest. "Hear me out, please. My role was as audience to a curtain raiser on a very clever crime, the death of Dr Melville Kellar."

  "And Mabel?"

  Faro smiled. "You're going too fast, lad. Let us return to our arrival at the Kellar house. I want you to remember, if you can, every detail of our reception from the moment we walked up the drive."

  "The door was opened by the housekeeper — "

  "Too fast. We rang the bell — "

  "We rang the bell," said Vince impatiently. "And we had rather a long wait — "

  "Ah, yes. Why?" he added sharply.

  Vince shrugged. "Lack of servants."

  "Why?"

  "Mrs Kellar had given the maid Ina the weekend off and she and Mrs Flynn were cooking dinner. They were both in the kitchen and I presume hadn't heard us ring the bell."

  "Can you remember which of them opened the door?"

  "Mabel — no, Mrs Flynn."

  "Did you notice anything about her?"

  Vince thought. "She was very hot and flustered, dusting flour from her hands."

  "Good. Floury hands which indicated that she was indeed in the process of making pastry. Tell me, what were your impressions of Mrs Flynn?"

  Again Vince shrugged. "Mrs Flynn? Why, none at all. I doubt very much whether I'd know her again if I met her."

  "You can do better than that, lad, after all I've taught you. What did she look like?"

  Vince shrugged. "I don't know. Just like any other maid. I didn't pay particular attention to her appearance."

  "Ah!"

  Vince stared at him. "It's true. She made absolutely no impression. A middle-aged domestic. Let me think. Was her hair grey?"

  "What could be seen under her cap — yes. Did you notice anything about her eyes, for instance?"

  "You surely don't expect me to remember the colour of her eyes. Stepfather," Vince protested. "I'm bad at that, even for my nearest and dearest. Wait a moment, was she wearing spectacles?" He looked at Faro for affirmation.

  "Good. Do you remember anything odd about her face?"

  "Odd? Let me think. Oh yes, of course, she was all muffled up, swollen with toothache."

  Faro smiled. "Good. You're more observant than you thought. You have described Mrs Flynn more or less exactly."

  "That's a relief," said Vince sarcastically, thinking that this dinner party step by step was going to be almost as long and boring to recall as it had been in reality. "So we enter the house. We go upstairs and are ushered into the drawing-room, introduced to Mrs Shaw."

  "Not so fast, lad. We are in the hall. Mrs Flynn apologises for the delay due to the lack of servants. Then Dr Kella
r appears — "

  "On the landing outside the drawing-room and rages at the housekeeper for keeping us waiting. He tells her to summon her mistress immediately."

  "Splendid. So where was our hostess, anyway, and why wasn't she there to greet her guests?"

  "That's easy. She was in the kitchen. Mrs Flynn said so and Mabel confirmed that later."

  "Very well. We have Mrs Flynn answering the door and Mrs Kellar in the kitchen, helping the stricken housekeeper with some very indifferent cooking, out of the kindness of her heart, as there was no other servant in the house that night. In fact, we realised she had been hard at work until the last minute before dressing, for when she appeared at the dinner table there was still distressing evidence of pastry making on her hands and nails." He paused to let this information sink in.

  "Hardly an auspicious beginning, was it? Chaos in the kitchen, a housekeeper with raging toothache and no other servant?"

  Faro smiled and wagged an admonishing finger. "Ah yes, but a most auspicious overture for a planned murder. Keep that information by you, Vince. What could be better for our murderer's purpose than comings and goings of a very furtive nature without witnesses?"

  Vince looked slightly dazed.

  "We went upstairs and the drawing-room was occupied by Dr Kellar and Mrs Shaw, presenting the appearance of polite strangers who have no interest whatever in each other."

  "Yes, it was odd, when you think about it, that Kellar made no attempt to introduce us. Rather rude, I thought."

  "Well, we have the answer to that part of the mystery. The assembled company were meant to see antipathy between Mrs Shaw and Dr Kellar in the little charade put on for our benefit."

  "Because they were lovers?"

  "Had been lovers, Vince. But Kellar wasn't aware then that Mrs Shaw planned to reject him."

  "That accounts, I suppose, for her own rather distraught manner."

  "Indeed it does. She was wondering how to break the news and, more important, what his reaction would be.

  However, they weren't the only ones with a charade to present that evening. You were sitting next to Mrs Shaw and Mabel."

  Vince gave him an impish look. "And the only time I saw a spark of animation was when she was chatting to you or playing the piano."