'My thoughts exactly. And the sooner we put our two heads together the happier I'll be.'
'Three heads, Stepfather, if you please. Don't forget about me. I want a part of this too.' Vince sighed. 'You've realised of course that time isn't on your side!'
'In this game, Vince lad, it never is,' said Faro grimly, glancing at his watch. 'Talking of which, since it's now past ten o'clock I had better make a move in the direction of the bar if we want to be served with any more drams.'
Pushing his way through the crowd, trying to claim the attention of the harassed barman, he was greeted by another customer, similarly employed.
'We have met before, sir.' At Faro's puzzled smile, the man laughed. 'You fail to recognise me without the wig.'
'The wig? Ah, one of the footmen—'
'Correct. I apologise for the dogs' unruly behaviour this morning. Horses can get very uppity.'
'Not at all.' And as both men received their order, Faro said, 'Perhaps you would care to join us. At the table over there.'
'Thank you, I have already eaten. I had arranged to meet some friends.' And looking around, 'I don't see them anywhere. I've just arrived and at this hour it is impossible to find a seat,' he added, following Faro through the crowd.
The footman had an English accent, and on closer acquaintance he was not so young as Faro had first thought. Perhaps about his own age, touching forty, with a pale rather melancholy face and quite startlingly pale eyes.
Holding out his hand he said, 'Peter Noble's the name.'
'Mr Faro. Dr Laurie.' Faro's warning glance in his stepson's direction established his wish to remain incognito.
'This is our favourite haunt,' said Peter, settling himself comfortably and lighting a cigar. 'Can't tell you what a relief it is to be warm for a change and to escape all those restrictions at the Castle. Oh, I beg pardon, do have one, gentlemen.'
Vince who had not acquired the smoking habit declined. Faro would have preferred his old pipe but felt it would be churlish to refuse and the chance of an excellent cigar rarely came his way. A moment later he was glad of his decision, appreciating a high-quality Havana obviously in keeping with the Royal household.
'Her Majesty is a regular tartar about this sort of thing,' Peter continued, puffing happily. 'Can't abide smokers or the tobacco habit. I don't think I'll be telling tales out of school for it's fairly common knowledge. The strict rule is all cigars and pipes are banished to the smoking-room. Even illustrious guests are so treated. And that isn't the worst. By Her Majesty's order, that particular door is locked promptly at midnight.'
He laughed. 'It breeds a camaraderie among the guests and servants, I assure you. A kind of conspiracy which does add a furtive enjoyment to their illicit activity. Some have been overheard saying it beats being back at Eton or Harrow. Especially as smoking is forbidden even in the privacy of their own rooms.'
The waiter approached and Peter accepted the large dram that Faro had ordered. He drank it gratefully and as Faro and Vince made their excuses, saying that the hour was late, and prepared to leave, Noble stood up and bowed.
'I do thank you both for your hospitality. Your table by the fire was well chosen. Indeed, I am most reluctant to leave, but I should go and join my friends.'
Faro observed that the footman swayed somewhat as he added, 'Shall I tell you something, Mr Faro?' And without awaiting a reply, 'You can't imagine how deuced uncomfortable the Castle is. Even in summer, if summer ever exists in this Northern clime, for there are no fires then in the guest rooms. The windows admit draughts and I am told that getting into bed is like drowning in ice cold sheets. Her Majesty regards such niceties as warmth as a loosening of the moral fibre.'
He looked from one to the other. 'That's how it is for the guests. I leave it to your imaginations, gentlemen, what it is like for us poor underlings.'
At the door, Faro offered him a lift back to the Castle.
'I'm obliged to you, sir, but as a group of us come down regularly we take a hired carriage.'
As they waited politely for his friends to assemble, Faro wondered how he could get around to the question poised most urgently in his mind.
'Do you usually walk the dogs?'
'No, sir. But we are one short. I'm the newest arrival, so I inherit that lowly task. Last chap unfortunately got himself drowned.' He grimaced.
'Fellow called Lessing, wasn't it?'
'The same.' Peter looked at him curiously and Faro was saved any further comment by shouts from the darkness.
'Yes, over here. I'm coming.'
And with profuse thanks he ran a somewhat zig-zag course towards the carriage where his arrival was greeted with shouts of encouragement and urgency.
When Faro returned to the hospital next morning with the pony-trap in readiness to take his aunt home, Vince was nowhere to be seen. A pretty nurse told him: 'Dr Laurie is with a patient just now—'
'It's all right, nurse, I can find my way.'
In the ward he found Bella in tears. Putting his arms around her he wished her many happy returns of her birthday.
'It'll no be that, lad. No' without Nessie.'
Faro looked at Nessie's empty bed.
'Where is she?'
At his words she broke into noisy sobs.
'Oh, Jeremy, lad. It's awful, awful. I canna' believe it.'
'Why, what's happened? Where is she?'
'Dead. Dead. Last night. And her so well. I just canna' believe it. And it all happened while I was here, in the next bed. And her not a day over seventy, so strong and well until yon fire—'
Faro put a hand on her arm. 'Auntie, people do die from delayed shock. Vince will tell you that,' he added as his stepson appeared around the door.
'This is a bad business, Stepfather. So unexpected. Heart failure.' Vince looked puzzled as he turned to Bella. 'It's been a shock for you, but you'll feel much better once you're in your own home again. I'll look in and see you later. Promise now, not to overdo things. Take care.'
'I will that. But oh, I'll miss Nessie. We've been close friends for thirty years or more.'
As Faro put a comforting arm around her shoulders, she patted his hand. 'The Good Lord be thanked I have you at such a time.'
Over Bella's head, Vince nodded to Faro. 'I'm attending to a patient. We'll leave you to get dressed, dear. Do you need any help?'
'I can manage fine, lad.'
Outside the ward, Vince led him out of earshot to the nurse who was going off duty.
'Thank you for waiting, Nurse Roberts. If you would be so good as to tell my stepfather about Mistress Brodie's visitor last night.'
Inspector Purdie, you mean, doctor? He came about visiting time and said he had to see Mistress Brodie urgently. He had a message for her from Balmoral.' She smiled. 'Some delicacies from the Queen for her old servant.'
'What kind of delicacies?'
The nurse frowned. 'He was carrying a box, tied with ribbon. Sweeties, I expect.'
'You would, of course, recognise the Inspector again? He might come by—er, to see me,' Vince ended lamely.
The nurse looked puzzled. 'We-ell, I didn't get a very good look at him. It was dark and, as you know, doctor, the hospital is strict about lamps at night when most of the patients are asleep. Lamps and candles can be dangerous unattended, if sick patients try to get out of bed—'
'Of course, of course,' said Vince.
Faro smiled. 'As a matter of interest, what does the Inspector look like?'
The nurse thought for a moment. 'Tall, clean-shaven. Seemed to feel the cold. Wore his muffler and greatcoat collar high.' She paused indicating her chin. 'And he kept on his hat.'
Vince exchanged a significant glance with his stepfather who asked, 'What time was this?'
'About nine o'clock, sir. We had just completed the evening rounds.'
'Where were you during this visit?'
'At the table there.' She pointed to the far end of the ward.
'You were present at the time?'
'N
ot every minute,' Nurse Roberts admitted reluctantly. She was beginning to sound exasperated at his questions. 'I mean, Inspector. Someone sent by Her Majesty personally. It seemed, well, most impertinent, especially when he had requested a screen for privacy.'
'A screen? Isn't that somewhat unusual? Do you normally provide screens for visitors?'
'If it is specially requested, we do. You know, husbands and wives, we like to give them a little privacy. Especially if there is someone sharing the ward.'
Seeing his look she continued hastily, 'Nothing improper, I assure you, Inspector. The screen was Dr Elgin's idea but although the patient is hidden from the inquisitive eyes of the other patients, they are clearly visible to the staff,' she added sternly.
'How long were you absent from the ward?'
'Five—ten minutes. I had things to check in the linen room and when I came back he had gone. I went to remove the screen immediately. I was very quiet as I presumed in the dim light that Mistress Brodie was asleep. It wasn't until I made my last round at midnight that I discovered she was dead.'
She darted a helpless look at Vince. 'It could have happened any time, whether I was there on duty or not. Her heart gave out, doctor.'
'Of course, nurse. No one is blaming you,' said Vince.
'Before you go, what happened to the box of sweeties?' Faro asked.
'It was empty. We threw it away when we cleared out her locker.'
'Just one thing more. Had you met Inspector Purdie before?'
'No. Never. This was his first visit.'
'How do you know?'
'Well, he asked me to give him directions.'
'Thank you, nurse. You have been very helpful,' said Vince. 'See if Mistress MacVae is ready to leave, if you please.'
Watching her walk towards the ward, Vince said, 'Of one thing we can be quite certain, Stepfather. Nessie's visitor was someone impersonating Inspector Purdie.'
'And taking a great chance that the real Inspector Purdie wasn't known to the night-nurse,' said Faro. 'I would very much like to examine that empty box of sweeties.'
'Too late. It would have gone into the incinerator this morning with all the other hospital rubbish.'
Faro swore and Vince continued, 'Look, I was with Dr Elgin when he examined Nessie's body. There was nothing to indicate it wasn't natural causes.'
'But we both know how easily heart failure can be induced in a frail old woman. Stoppage of breath could be achieved by putting a pillow over her face.'
'But why? What on earth had she done to deserve being murdered?'
'It was not what she had done but what she knew.'
At Vince's puzzled shake of the head, he continued, 'I would swear that this has something to do with the murder of Morag Brodie. And I'd be prepared to wager a hundred golden guineas that the reason for Morag's murder is that she knew about the Balmoral plot and talked too much. Bella told us that Nessie had raved on about the Queen being in danger.'
Faro swore again. 'We should have been prepared for something like this. They had already tried to kill her by burning down the cottage.'
'They?'
'Oh yes, Vince. We are well out of the realms of the crime passionel now. We are into political assassination.'
Vince's eyes widened in horror. 'You mean—'
'I mean the Prince's Party. I'd stake my life on it. And we have to find our bogus Inspector and quickly. Because his next victim is the Queen. And this time, we have to battle against the clock. He has to play his cards quickly.'
John Brown had confirmed that the Queen had to return to London for various State occasions. The first and most important, as McIntosh had said, was the State Opening of Parliament on Monday next.
'She doesna' give much notice,' Brown had grumbled. 'Often tells the servants, "We leave tomorrow." Then it's all hell let loose.'
Faro took his aunt home and her conversation rolled over his head as he reviewed the rapid turnover of events since his arrival. And he no longer doubted that another fragment of the puzzle, the slaying of the Queen's dogs, fitted neatly into his conclusions.
Chapter Seven
Bella was speedily settled in her favourite armchair, among birthday tributes including an Orkney shawl from Faro's mother and lace mittens from his daughters, Rose and Emily. The shawl was to be pinned with an amethyst and pearl brooch from himself and Vince.
But the occasion which had been so eagerly anticipated was marred by Nessie Brodie's death. Bella could speak of nothing else and the now tearful Tibbie added her lamentations at their neighbour's untimely end.
'Tell Tibbie about Nessie's last visitor,' Faro said, curious to hear the story in Bella's own words, and managing to get in a word between the sobs and exclamations of the two women.
'That Inspector, you mean. Nessie knew him well. He bided with them one summer when he was a wee lad. They were talking and joking together. Quiet-like but I heard every word. At least most of it,' she said apologetically. '"How's your poor hand, Davie lad?" was the first thing she asked him—'
Faro suppressed a smile. Bella's excellent faculties did not include sharp ears. She was growing increasingly deaf but hated to have it noticed. He concluded she would make a poor witness as she continued:
'Of course, I didn't want to seem nosey especially when I saw that screen being put up between us,' she added huffily. 'So I pretended to be asleep—'
She was interrupted by a new arrival. Tibbie had opened the door to Inspector Purdie.
'Care to accompany us to Bush Farm, Faro?'
On the doorstep Faro made a point of introducing the newcomer to his aunt.
'You are Inspector Purdie?'
'I am,' was the cheerful reply.
Bella's baffled expression held a multitude of eager questions and as they walked down the path Faro glanced back over his shoulder. She was watching them intently, standing very still, a hand shading her eyes against the light.
Her reaction put the stamp of certainty on Faro's suspicion that she had never seen the Inspector before.
In the carriage, Purdie said, 'Craig has gone on ahead.' Smiling, he added, 'Glad you got your aunt home safely, Faro. A remarkable old lady. Which reminds me, I must go in and see Mistress Brodie at the proper visiting hour this evening.'
So he hadn't heard.
'I take it you didn't go in last night.'
'Last night? I'm afraid not. Craig and I went into Braemar for dinner which became rather an extended affair. And I don't like breaking rules, Faro, even hospital rules. Or wielding my authority unnecessarily,' he added sternly, 'unless it's life and death. And interviewing a woman whose house has burned down hardly fits into that category.'
'In this case it's a pity you were so conscientious. You might have saved her life.'
'Saved her life? What on earth do you mean, Faro?'
'I mean that she's dead.'
'Oh dear, how very unfortunate. But in the circumstances, I suppose we mustn't be too surprised. She was old and had sustained a considerable shock.'
'I rather suspect that she was murdered.'
'Murdered?' Purdie whistled. 'By what means?'
'Smothered most likely, if the box of sweets her visitor brought wasn't poisoned.'
'Faro, you astonish me.' Purdie looked at him as if he had taken leave of his senses. 'Do you realise what you're saying? Are you sure of your facts?'
And without waiting for an explanation, he continued, 'I hardly need to tell you that one has to be careful in our profession not to regard every sudden death as suspicious. After all, what reason would anyone have for murdering a harmless old woman?'
'That we have still to find out,' said Faro grimly.
'Then I presume you have good grounds for your suspicions.'
'I do indeed. She had a visitor last night. Someone pretending to be you.'
'Me—?'
Faro cut short Purdie's angry protests. 'Hear me out, if you please. Since our bogus inspector took the trouble to have screens put around t
he bed, I suspect either poisoned sweetmeats or a soft pillow was the method used to hasten the cause of death certified by Dr Elgin as heart failure.'
'Good Lord. This is dreadful, dreadful. And I don't much care for someone impersonating me. What was he like?'
Purdie listened grimly to the description as recounted by the hospital nurse. At the end he sat back and sighed deeply. 'We've got to find him, Faro. I have a personal stake in this one. What makes it worse is that I knew the old lady. Stayed with her once. She wouldn't remember me, of course, it's more than thirty years ago. And I've changed a bit since then,' he added wryly.
'On the contrary, she remembered you well. She talked to my aunt about you. She was very proud of your distinguished career.'
Purdie sighed. 'How extraordinary.' He looked out towards the hills. 'My family farmed here a couple of generations ago. What amazing memories these country folks do have.' He sighed. 'We had better get Craig to start the usual procedures.'
'No. In this case, I think not.'
'But that's highly irregular, if you suspect murder.'
'What I want is to prevent another murder,' said Faro.
'How so?'
'By alerting our man that we're on to him.'
'Go on.'
'My theory is that if Nessie Brodie was murdered then it is because she knew something dangerous about her niece Morag's associates at Balmoral.'
As the carriage climbed the steep hill leading to Bush Farm, Purdie considered the landscape thoughtfully. 'Our visit here is not unrelated to the case then. We have almost all the evidence necessary to make an arrest once the Queen has left Balmoral.'
'Why wait until then?'
Purdie shrugged. 'Because I have been so instructed. The Prime Minister's instigation, I gather, that I am to keep as much as possible from the Queen.' And turning to Faro, 'Your guess is, I am sure, as good as mine as to who killed the girl.'
'I never guess in such matters. Matters of life and death, I prefer to be certainties, sir. Matters of conviction, supplemented by foolproof evidence.'
Purdie laughed. 'Come, come Faro. You can do better than that. Even the most rudimentary training in police procedure must have taught you that the first place you look for your murderer is in the victim's family circle. Who has something to gain? Who hated her, etc., etc.?'
To Kill a Queen (An Inspector Faro Mystery No.6) Page 8
