Killing Cousins (An Inspector Faro Mystery No.4)

by Alanna Knight

  'Is that so? Then it is now poor Dr Balfray we must watch. Yes, we must be vigilant' Erlandson, bewildered, nodded vigorously, his gaze returned again to the scene on the Odin Stone. 'But to take her from her last resting place,' he repeated. 'Troller had a good Christian upbringing, gentlemen, came to church each Sunday.'

  As he spoke a woman emerged from the crowd and, with a brief curtsy, produced a rough blanket. The minister covered Thora's corpse, for the wind had taken on a boisterous turn and was tugging at the elaborate shroud, billowing it out from her emaciated body into a macabre imitation of life.

  Faro heard slurred voices from the little crowd. 'Is it a joke then?' 'Hush, Geordie.'

  He stared thoughtfully over Vince's shoulder as he returned to his examination of the dead man, studying the watchers closely for the first time. Torches were being doused, they were no longer necessary. And in that pale but sharp and clear dawn light on the cliff top, he saw the genuinely shocked, the shocked but curious and in many cases the far from sober countenances, swaying unsteadily, hiccuping with vacant grins of disbelief.

  A sound to his left indicated that Sergeant Frith had retreated behind a tombstone to be violently sick. Faro sighed deeply.

  'Let me through, let me through.'

  The newcomer was Francis Balfray. He stared at the blanket-covered figure and dragged himself forward as, swaying, he clutched at Captain Gibb who tried to support him.

  'Francis, Francis, come away. There's nothing you can do.' And addressing Faro, Gibb said, 'I couldn't keep him away...'

  Francis leaned forward heavily, his hands on the Odin Stone. 'Oh no, I shan't come away, not yet, not yet This is my wife ... my wife who's lying here. And I shan't rest until I find out who did this ... this horror...'

  Three head-shawled women came forward to comfort him. They were like the furies in a play, thought Faro, recognising his mother and Inga St Ola supporting a weeping woman who could only be Norma Balfray.

  The minister gathered them into his arms. Only he who had had the worst shock of all, the discovery of the two bodies, now seemed able to deal with the situation.

  Faro was suddenly painfully aware of Inga's expressionless race, strangely detached from this scene of horror with eyes only for the man who had come back into her own life after twenty years.

  After that first glance, Faro assiduously avoided looking in her direction. Devoting his attention to the Odin Stone he decided that whoever had stage-managed this scene had a keen sense of theatre. It was in the best traditions of a Wagnerian opera.

  'Easy to see what happened. Young lad hopelessly enamoured of a married lady beyond his station in life,' said Sergeant Frith, who had returned to the fray and was looking considerably relieved. 'Lady died of a wasting disease and he tried to bring her back to life, remembering the powers of the Odin Stone. When that doesn't work, he does himself in.'

  Faro regarded him heavily, wondering what on earth Frith read in his off-duty hours.

  'I'll let the Fiscal know. He'll need to have a look. But there's no need for concern. Suicide while of an unsound mind. Happens all the time. Open and shut case, gentlemen,' Frith added firmly, buttoning up his coat as if he regretted the absence of his policeman's uniform.

  Faro sighed again. This plot sounded much too clever for a simple-minded village lad to dream up, especially as Troller's association with the dead woman, he was to learn later, had been perfectly innocent. He had visited the castle almost every day to bring her a bunch of wild flowers. As for Francis, he had cast a kind and compassionate eye on the lad's infatuation.

  Faro looked at Francis. The two deaths, even to those uninvolved, were cause for indignation and distress, but how much worse for the bereaved husband to find his dead wife laid out beside the village simpleton on the ancient stone of sacrifice. Two bodies, side by side, one still warm, one a week-old corpse, was against all the bounds of decency. Who could have played such a monstrous trick?

  As the three women and Captain Gibb almost bodily removed the fainting laird from the scene, Sergeant Frith took the opportunity of being in command to address the crowd. 'Return to your homes, all of you, please. Nothing more to see.' He beckoned Erlandson aside. 'The corpse had better go back into the crypt. Regarding the deceased, I see no reason why he shouldn't be taken to his home—'

  'One moment, please.' Vince stepped forward. 'I am assistant to the police surgeon with Edinburgh City Police and I should like to conduct a thorough examination of the body.'

  'As you please,' said Frith, his weary tone indicating that it was a mere waste of time. 'I'm away to see if I can get across to Kirkwall. May I leave you in charge, Inspector?' And as the crowd were slow to disperse, he said to Erlandson, 'Would you - please?'

  Stirring from his reverie, Erlandson said, 'Of course, of course.' And, holding up his arms wide in a gesture of benediction, he addressed the islanders. 'There is nothing any of you can do. Please return to your homes and God go with you.'

  The watchers, who had increased with the growing daylight, now dispersed at his command, but with considerable reluctance and many backward glances. Their curiosity and appetite for the sensational was one Faro frequently encountered at a hanging in Edinburgh.

  But for Balfray this was a new experience. Nothing as sensational as the scene they were witnessing on the Odin Stone had ever happened in their lives before. One day it, too, would go down in legend.

  Watching Sergeant Frith depart, Erlandson indicated Thora's corpse. 'The coffin must be about somewhere.'

  They followed him into the vault where Faro relieved him of the torch for a closer look. They were in a tiny stone room and one glance was sufficient to convince Faro that the Balfray family vault had been adapted from a prehistoric chambered tomb.

  He knew from such burial chambers that the main purpose of the stone shelves in the walls had been to hold the dead in a series of rectangular chambers subdivided by pairs of upright slabs into individual ledges or burial lairs. The foremost example was Maes Howe, excavated only ten years earlier, in 1861, when he and Lizzie were spending their honeymoon in Orkney.

  By the flickering torchlight, the Balfray vault was revealed as only one part of what had once been perhaps a huge chambered cairn, entered by a long low stone passage. Considering its nearness to the cliff edge, it was not difficult to imagine what had become of most of the original structure, reclaimed by the sea.

  A decidedly unpleasant atmosphere of decay and corruption lingered about several mouldering coffins, indicating the last resting places of bygone Balfrays. Taking command of the torch, Faro continued his minute search of the vault, examining ledges, floor and walls for some clue to Thora Balfray's remarkable resurrection.

  The vault was small and, with each passing moment, less inviting. Space to move freely was severely limited and he had to ask Erlandson and Vince to step aside. The minister regarded these requests in the manner of one humouring a madman, adding a grunt of disapproval as Faro knelt by the open and now empty coffin on the floor of the vault.

  The walls of the vault were innocent of any inscription which might identify their place in history, let alone incriminate a murderer, but Faro raised the torch for a final inspection. Above the ledge which Thora Balfray's coffin had occupied was the carving of a large insect, a bee.

  'Part of the family crest?' he asked Erlandson.

  'I have no idea.' The minister peered over his shoulder. 'A bee. How interesting. I've never noticed it before. I'm told that this was once the crypt of the original castle,' he whispered. 'But it goes back a great deal further in time.'

  Faro looked round. 'It does indeed.'

  Erlandson seemed ill at ease. He looked longingly towards the entrance. 'Exactly so. Exactly so. Probably the same date as the Dwarfie Ha'.' He indicated the empty coffin. 'If you two gentlemen would be so good as to assist me ...'

  Contact at close quarters with the cold clammy body, already wreathed in the unpleasant stench of corruption, brought a further d
imension of nightmare to their activities. This was definitely not for the squeamish, thought Faro, only the strongest of stomachs would not have rebelled.

  However, considering the nature of Erlandson's mission in life and death and Vince's encounters with corpses as an everyday occurrence, the three men succeeded very well in restoring the late Thora Balfray to her coffin once more.

  As they prepared to leave the vault, Faro said to Erlandson, 'Be good enough to leave the door unlocked, sir. I need to make sure of certain facts... evidence,' he ended lamely.

  'Feel free to do so, for there is no lock. The door is sealed by the laird after each interment. As for your evidence,' he added wearily, 'there can be nothing in there that is not immediately visible. All that happened in the crypt is that Troller Jack forced open the coffin - and you know the rest. Nothing else has been disturbed. It is all perfectly obvious,' Erlandson added with a tone of exasperation.

  Faro nodded. 'Possibly so, sir, possibly so. This is purely a matter of routine. There is no disrespect to the deceased intended. And now, we have other work to do. After you, Vince.'

  Faro shared his two companions' relief at being in the open air again. It seemed that they all breathed very deeply as they approached the Odin Stone.

  It was beginning to rain quite heavily and as he and Vince carefully examined Troller's body they were acutely aware of the minister hovering anxiously in the background. Obviously feeling that his watchful presence ensured that the proprieties were observed with proper reverence, he said, 'When you are finished we will need to move the young man to his home. As soon as possible. His brother will be shocked, quite shocked, poor man.'

  Faro looked up sharply. 'Does he not know already? Has no one told him?'

  Erlandson shook his head. 'Not unless they could wake him. Regrettably he drinks himself into insensibility rather regularly and can be quite, er, aggressive to anyone who approaches him in that condition. Although I'm informed on the best authority that sober he is gentle as a lamb, I tremble to think how he will react to this dreadful news,' he added with a shudder.

  Faro straightened up briefly. 'Since you wish to remain while Dr Laurie examines the body, perhaps you would oblige us with an account of the events leading to the discovery of the two bodies.'

  'I have already given Sergeant Frith a full statement,' said Erlandson stiffly.

  'Then perhaps you would be so good as to give me another, since I have been left in charge of the case,' Faro said with a winning smile.

  Chapter Six

  'My bedroom window overlooks the kirkyard.' Erlandson nodded in the direction of the manse. 'I had an upset stomach ...'

  Vince raised his head quickly and looked across at his stepfather who shook his head. He didn't want a comparing of notes with the minister.

  'Miss Balfray, my fiancée, had seen me safely home but, as I felt quite unwell, I slept badly and awoke with a desperate thirst I got up to get a glass of water.' He thought for a moment. 'That would be about two hours ago. It was still dark and I didn't take any heed of the time, but I imagine it would be about five o'clock. The seals were particularly noisy and when I drew the curtains and looked out of the window, I noticed a light down here, flickering beside the vault. I decided to take a look.'

  'One moment,' Faro interrupted. 'Was the vault unguarded?'

  'So I discovered.'

  'Was that not unusual after an interment?'

  'We are not as a rule troubled by grave-robbers, and a week-old corpse would be of little use to them. I have little experience of Balfray funerals, or of family vaults,' he added wearily, 'but I understand that the head of the bereaved family normally makes such arrangements as are deemed necessary until the vault is resealed.'

  'I see. Continue, if you please.'

  Erlandson sighed. 'You know the rest. I was deeply shocked by what I found. I had a quick look at the lad but couldn't rouse him. I'm afraid I put the worst possible interpretation on this. I presumed that he had imbibed too freely. At first A closer look of course convinced me that he was ... was—' he shook his head '—quite dead. I didn't know what to do in the circumstances. You must understand I received a terrible shock. Nothing like this has ever happened to me in any of my parishes before. I decided to go for help and as Captain Gibb is nearest to the rectory I aroused him, telling him what had happened. He told me he had seen Sergeant Frith among the mourners and that I should find him. Also, that Dr Balfray must be informed. I ran to the castle, closely followed by Captain Gibb. I am younger than he, and in considerably better condition.'

  'You left the Odin Stone unattended. For how long?'

  'Half an hour... more or less. When I got back Sergeant Frith was examining the body.' Erlandson made an impatient gesture. 'What difference does it make?' he demanded irritably. 'My dear sir, from what I had left here it seemed very unlikely that either of them would get up and walk away.'

  And turning his attention again to Vince he watched him examining Troller's head and hands and, with a shudder of distaste, asked, 'Can we now move this poor young man into my vestry until his brother has been notified? He is getting very wet.'

  Faro stared at him in mild astonishment. 'We are all getting very wet. I fancy that it will trouble him less than most.' And heeding the minister's sharp intake of breath he added, 'But as you say, it would be an advantage to conduct the rest of our examination indoors.'

  'The rest of your examination? Surely you have seen enough? Sergeant Frith is satisfied that this was a suicide.' Erlandson's tone of reproach left them in no doubt that he was considerably shocked by their behaviour thus far.

  Vince straightened up. 'I am a doctor, sir, as you know. My thorough medical investigation frequently includes a post-mortem examination of the deceased.'

  'A post-mortem? Is that strictly necessary in this case? Really, the distress this will cause ...'

  'Not quite so much distress as has already been caused to this poor young man, sir,' said Vince.

  'And I am afraid we are just at the beginning,' Faro added.

  'Yes, of course, the funeral...'

  There can be no funeral until we have the Procurator Fiscal's report. Whatever Sergeant Frith's findings, I regard the circumstances of this young man's death as highly suspicious. The possibility of foul play cannot be entirely dismissed,' said Faro.

  'I have to sign the death certificate and I cannot do so without being quite satisfied about what was the cause of his death,' Vince added sternly.

  Erlandson scrutinised Faro carefully, in the manner of one who has been deliberately deceived. 'I heard the sergeant address you as Inspector. How fortunate indeed for my little flock.'

  'And now, if you will assist us, sir,' said Vince brusquely. 'This blanket - perhaps we can use it to transport the body to your vestry where we will be reasonably comfortable?'

  It was a weary climb to the church supporting their burden. Erlandson unlocked the door of the vestry where Troller's body was placed on a trestle table. Faro's final action of emptying the dead man's pockets, placing on the table a few coins, a pocket knife and a soggy handkerchief brought forth an almost anguished sigh from the minister.

  As they left, Faro stretched out his hand for the key. 'I will take care of that, if you please.' And, as Erlandson regarded him doubtfully, he added, 'In my official capacity.' Erlandson considered the key as if it might be about to express an opinion, before handing it to Faro with a look of gravest suspicion and extreme disapproval.

  In the dining room at Balfray Castle, scarcely less grand than its drawing-room, they found Mary Faro's carefully prepared breakfast being completely ignored.

  An audience consisting of the entire Balfray family and adherents awaited them with a certain amount of hand-wringing and anxious questions. All were resplendent in mourning for Thora Balfray and looked for all the world, thought Faro grimly, like a set piece for one of Her Majesty's new-fangled group photographs.

  Francis Balfray was Vince's chief concern. He looked sca
rcely more animated than the family portraits on the walls or the corpses they had been investigating. Behind his chair, a newcomer. The woman who stood with her hand protectively on his shoulder was obviously Norma Balfray whom he had glimpsed by the torchlight at the Odin Stone.

  Vince was right, she had a certain allure. There was a quality of suppressed passion about her handsome features and Miss Balfray managed to exude sexual attraction remarkably well considering the melancholy circumstances. As they were introduced and she looked deeply into his eyes, Faro thought of the contrast there must have been between the half-sisters. Even allowing for long illness, unfortunate demise and resurrection from the tomb, Thora Balfray in life could never have been counted as a rival.

  On the other side of the room, Captain Gibb had apparently collapsed into a chair with Mary Faro hovering anxiously over him.

  'Look lively there, lad,' said Faro.

  Vince needed no second bidding. He sprang into immediate action, applying one of his instant remedies from his emergency bag. It was perfectly obvious from the man's colour and difficult breathing that if someone didn't do something sharpish then they would have yet another candidate for the kirkyard.

  Troller's brother Saul was there, too, seated on a hard chair at a respectful distance from his betters. If looks could be judged then no doubt he was feeling that death would be too good. Red-eyed with shock, he had scarcely emerged from the effects of the night's debauch and was incoherently demanding, 'Wha' ha-happened to Jack?' and 'Don't believe it', almost in the same breath. Sometimes he attempted to spring up, pugnacious in his bewildered grief, and was with difficulty restrained.

  Behind his chair stood Inga, her hand on his shoulder. She limited her remarks to 'Hush, hush, my dear' which had little effect on the bereaved sibling.

  And hovering in the background was Mary Faro, trying in vain to offer her cups of tea and plates of toast to keep up everyone's strength for the ordeal that lay ahead.