Read The Evil That Men Do.(Inspector Faro Mystery No.11) Online
Authors: Alanna Knight
The Evil That Men Do.(Inspector Faro Mystery No.11) (6 page)
Faro laid a hand on her arm. She was trembling. ‘Grace, my dear, you must believe me, I feel deeply for you in all this. And
Vince t
oo, but the law must proceed whatever our personal feelings. And the law calls for an enquiry in such circumstances.’
‘Surely with all your influence you could have spared us—’ she began hotly.
‘That I cannot do, much as I would wish to out of regard for your family, not if there is any possibility, however great or small, that death did not come about by natural causes.’
‘Oh, this is intolerable,’ she cut in. ‘You mean you really do believe someone in Priorsfield poisoned dear Papa. One of our servants
,
perhaps. If you knew how devoted they were to him. |The idea is so preposterous, only a policeman who did not know us could give that a second thought.’
Faro winced from the contempt in her voice, the anger in her gaze, but he said gently as he could, ‘My dear, I have had second,
third, and
even fourth thoughts, believe me. Murder is an endless chain, once established with a link, it has an unhappy tendency to lead on and on—
‘Murder? In this family? You must be mad – or entirely wicked – to even imagine such a thing. If it wasn’t so terrible, it would be laughable.’
Her face pink with anger, Faro regarded her with compassion.
Poor innocent child, how would she ever cope with the even more monstrous truth: that the most probable explanation to which the scanty evidence thus far pointed was that for some reason as yet unknown, her father had been murdered not by a servant, but by one of his, and her, close kin.
‘You must believe me, my dear, what I am hoping to prove is not who is guilty, but who isn’t.’
What else could he say? But his words had the required effect and Grace, mollified, shrugged.
‘Very well. You can start with me. I adored my father. I have absolutely no motive for wishing him - him—’ Her voice broke. ‘Dead. I had not the slightest notion that he was dying. He had bouts of indigestion and suffered from bad headaches. And I used to, God help me, tease him, about drinking too much port. Tease him about - getting old. Oh - oh.’
And sobbing she steadied herself against the staircase and Faro took her into his arms, held her against his shoulder.
‘There, there, my dear. There, there.’
Suddenly he was aware of Maud Langweil’s face regarding them from the top landing. Slowly she descended the stairs, holding firmly to the banister. Deep mourning’s black bombazine and flowing crepe did not become her, its dramatic veils enveloped her, making a pale face and lips paler, light eyes lighter. It drained every shred of living colour from her countenance
She took Grace from him. ‘There, my darling, hush now. Don’t distress yourself.’
‘Mama, you should be resting. Remember what Dr Wiseman said,’ she added with a reproachful look at Faro.
‘I’m quite rested, darling. I gather Mr Faro is here to see me. We will talk in the sitting room.’
Grace regarded her mother’s face anxiously. ‘Are you sure, Mama?’
‘Of course I’m sure. No, I don’t need you, dearest. Go to the kitchen and get Molly to give you a nice soothing drink. Now, off you go, there’s a good girl.’
As he followed her upstairs, she said: ‘I am looking forward very much to meeting Rose. Grace tells me she is absolutely charming. I am sure they will be great friends. After all there is little difference in their ages - or so it seems to those of us who are middle-aged.’
In the sitting room, the door firmly closed, Maud said, ‘Please be seated, Mr Faro. I am most anxious to give you all the help I can to clear up this unfortunate misunderstanding regarding my late husband. I do realise that this is no ordinary enquiry for you either, and it is as painful and as difficult for you as for any of the family. As you know Vince is already like a son to me, the son I never had.’
She paused to smile at him sadly. ‘That I gather we have in common, for you also lost a son long ago. You must try not to think of us now as your enemies, your suspects, Mr Faro. We are indeed your friends and Vince’s. And if my late husband did not die from the disease we believed was killing him, then we are as eager to co-operate with the law and find whatever, or whoever, ended his life.’
Up to now Maud had made no impression upon him. At their few meetings, she had seemed something of a nonentity among the bright and shining Langweils. Obedient to her husband’s commands in public, the dutiful hostess, the devoted mother but with little conversation that was not merely a yes or no, an echo of her spouse’s sentiments. A woman not encouraged to suffer original thoughts or express opinions of her own.
Now he looked at her with new admiration. This was not the widow he had dreaded meeting, devastated, distraught, eternally weeping. Maud Langweil it seemed was one of those admirable women dismissed as frail, spoilt by a lifetime of riches, that men expect to collapse under adversity and are constantly surprised, as he was, that instead they find new fortitude in facing up to life’s tragedies.
‘Will you take tea with me?’
Faro noticed that the tea tray had already been in service and presumably Dr Wiseman had accepted the invitation he now declined. If Mrs Langweil could have read his thoughts and his expression, she would have realised at that moment he would have greeted with enthusiasm something considerably stronger than the China tea on offer.
‘Very well.’ Maud sat in the high-backed chair, her face in shadow. ‘What can I tell you, Mr Faro, that would be of
help to you? I understand you believe my late husband was
poisoned.’
Faro was taken aback by her directness. He suspected
that she was mistress of the situation despite Grace’s
claim that her mother was too distressed to talk to him. He was also embarrassed, at a loss for the appropriate
response. The kind of questions he was used to asking
widows, whose husbands had died under very suspicious
circumstances and arsenic poisoning, were suddenly
quite shocking before this gentle woman whose daughter
was to marry his stepson.
And yet - and yet. In the past had he not conducted just such interviews in just such elegant surroundings
with an apparently inconsolable heart-broken widow?
Invariably a young widow in the course of investigation revealed as a scheming murderess who had heartlessly watched an old husband die a slow and agonising death.
To gain a fortune, or an insurance, or to free her for a
waiting lover’s fond embrace.
Barbara’s face loomed before him in all its unattain
able loveliness. The sudden thought appalled him.
Could there possibly have been a ghastly mistake?
Had it been Theodore and not Cedric who was the intended victim?
Observing Maud Langweil closely as she attended to
the tea ritual, her hands were quite steady, and Faro
would have found it difficult to doubt that he was regard
ing an innocent woman.
He prided himself upon occasional flashes of intuition
and decided he would be surprised indeed to discover that Ce
dric’s widow had secret reasons for wishing to rid herself of
an unwanted husband. The whole idea seemed ludicrous, even
indecent, to contemplate, especially as she was so eager to befriend his daughter.
Again he wished he had been able to postpone Rose’s arrival
for enrolment at the Academy. The thought of his daughter
besmirched by association with the as yet undiscovered murderer
in the Langweil household was sickening, intolerable.
As if interpreting his discomfiture, Maud asked: ‘I suppose the
question that is framing itself in your mind and that you are too
polite to ask is the obvious one: were the relations between my
late husband and myself quite amicable?’
Her casual tone took him aback, especially as she paused with
the teacup halfway to her lips and said: ‘Isn’t that what you
really are here to find out? If we were happy together?’
Faro took a deep breath: And were you?’
‘Indeed we were. The best of friends and comrades as well as
having a marriage as harmonious as most of our friends’ after
twenty years.’
When Faro frowned, she again interpreted his thoughts. ‘Per
haps that answers the next question you are too much of a
gentleman, outside your professional capacity, to ask: Did Cedric
have a mistress?’
Looking towards the window, she smiled as if at a sudden
vision. ‘He may in the way of many gentlemen who belong to private clubs and societies have had access to ladies of a certain
profession.’ Her shrug was eloquent. I never enquired, nor had
I any desire to know of such occasions, A man is a man, Mr
Faro, and we women are brought up to realise that such small indiscretions are part of their nature but have naught to do with destroying the structure of an otherwise happy marriage.’
She shrugged. ‘We are taught to tolerate such matters and ignore them. Lusts of the moment and nothing more, Mr Faro.
With as little lasting effect as the gratification of appetite. Which
in fact, as a man, you must recognise is all that it is—’
Faro was saved the further embarrassment of a reply to this
forthright condemnation of his sex’s morals by a tap at the door.
‘Mama?’ Grace looked in anxiously. Are you able to see
Madame Rich? Or shall I ask her to come back later?’
‘No, my dear. Tell her I will see her. If Mr Faro will excuse us.
Madame Rich is our dressmaker,’ she explained. ‘We have certain
requirements for mourning attire - and orders that must now be
postponed for Grace’s spring wedding,’ she added with a small sigh.
Faro held open the door for her, and she turned to him
anxiously. ‘I do apologise, Mr Faro, for I have not answered all
of your questions.’
As they descended the stairs, she added: ‘Do please come again
if you think I can help you in any way.’
At the front door, she extended her hand. ‘I can only assure
you of one thing. That my husband loved me, and his daughter.
A good father and husband, a splendid employer - everyone who
met him and knew him will tell you that. I can think of no
earthly reason why anyone should wish to murder him. Certainly
not in this household.’
Since the time of Cedric’s death pointed to the fatal dose of
arsenic having been administered in Priorsfield, Faro was thank
ful that he did not have to interview the servants.
Walking briskly down Princes Street in the direction of the
High Street and the Central Office, he heard rapid footsteps
behind him.
It was Sergeant Danny McQuinn. ‘Been interviewing the sor
rowing widow, sir?’
McQuinn’s words made Faro wince. Words that were all too
often used mockingly in the Edinburgh City Police.
‘I was in the servants’ hall. Heard you leaving.’
‘You didn’t waste much time. Anything to report?’
McQuinn shook his head. ‘Think she’s guilty?’ he asked
eagerly. ‘Tricky situation for you, sir, going to be a relative by
marriage and so forth. No doubt you have a reluctance—’
Faro ceased walking and regarded the young sergeant sternly.
‘I have no reluctance, McQuinn. If she damned well poisoned
her husband then she’s as guilty as any common murderer. And she’ll suffer the same fate if I can prove it,’ he added angrily, and
proceeded to walk faster than ever.
‘Your stepson’s future mother-in-law, Inspector?’ McQuinn’s
long stride kept an easy pace with him. ‘Now that would create
a sensation in the police, wouldn’t it now?’
McQuinn laughed, then, perhaps taking pity on Faro’s agon
ised expression said: ‘But you don’t really think she’s guilty, do you? Nice lady like that. If it consoles you, no one below stairs
would believe it either. They think the world of her. And of the
master, as they call him.’
‘What else did you find out?’
McQuinn sighed. ‘Not a lot, sir. On this visit, I thought it tactful to take refuge in a little subterfuge.’
‘What kind of subterfuge?’
‘Lies, Inspector,’ McQuinn said cheerfully. ‘But like all the best
distortions of fact, based on a core of truth. As you know there are always burglaries in this area. Not too difficult to invent a
cache of objects found near their basement. Worked a treat. All
the maids were suitably impressed. No, there was nothing missing
of that description from their establishment’
Again McQuinn laughed. ‘And I would have been the most
surprised man on earth if there had been. However, there wasn’t
much point in prolonging the visit seeing it was Priorsfield where
their master died.’
And taking out the handsome silver timepiece which McQuinn
proudly boasted was ‘a parting gift from my Glasgow colleagues’,
he added: ‘Looks as if I have just enough time to present the robbery story to the servants there. With a bit of luck, I’ll have
more vital information from them. In fact, if I look sharpish, the
Musselburgh train passes the gates.’
‘Papa! Over here.’
Faro turned and there was Rose clutching her bonnet against
the shrill wind blowing up the Waverley Steps, and thereby
affording, in her descent from the horse-drawn omnibus, a glimpse of slender ankles.
One look at McQuinn’s amused face told Faro that he was
suitably impressed by this revelation as breathlessly Rose rushed
to her father’s side.
‘I am meeting Grace.’ And smiling at McQuinn, she held out
her hand. ‘Hello.’
Aren’t you going to introduce me, sir?’ said McQuinn, smiling
delightedly.
‘Introduce yourself,’ laughed Rose. ‘We are old friends.’
‘We are?’ McQuinn, plainly embarrassed, looked quickly at
Faro and then to Rose and back again.
‘Don’t you remember? You once rescued me from probable
death or dishonour when a silly French maid had mislaid me on
the way from the Castle. Emily and I never did discover whether
we were about to be abducted,’ she added with a shiver. ‘And
Grandmama had wicked thoughts about white slavers.’
Gradual enlightenment dawned on McQuinn. ‘But you were
- I mean, it was two little girls I found wandering—’
‘It was also years ago, when Papa was investigating the case of
the baby in the wall of Edinburgh Castle.’
‘By all that’s holy, Miss Faro,’ said McQuinn. ‘Sure and who
would have thought you’d grow into such a blithe and bonny
young lady.’
As Rose blushed under McQuinn’s appraising gaze Faro
decided this had gone far enough. Hailing a passing hiring car
riage, he bundled Rose into it with directions to Charlotte Square.
‘But, Papa,’ Rose protested. ‘I can walk there. This is non
sense.’
‘It isn’t nonsense. And I won’t have you walking about Princes
Street, a stranger unescorted.’
‘But - Papa—’
‘Do as you’re told,’ said Faro, nodding to the driver and slipping him a coin. ‘Now, off you go.’
Watching them depart, he said coldly to McQuinn: ‘Haven’t
you a train to catch?’ And without waiting for a reply, he hurried
across the road and over North Bridge, murmuring angrily to
himself that the last thing he wanted in his life at the present
time was a daughter who was going to need watching.
Rose was already abed asleep when he returned to Sheridan Place
late that evening and found a very gloomy Vince awaiting him.
‘We’ve drawn a complete blank. Adrian and I have spoken to
all the leading consultants in Edinburgh whom Cedric might
have visited. Wiseman put in an appearance at the surgery, by the way, most anxious to help us. He’d met you at Charlotte
Square and was baffled and rather hurt too, I might add. Feels
that as a long-standing friend of the family, Adrian and Cedric
should have confided in him and not gone above his head to
consult another doctor.’
Vince looked at him. ‘I was going to suggest that you cross
Adrian off your list of suspects, then something happened to
change my mind.’
‘And what was that?’ Faro demanded eagerly.
‘As you know he’s a good friend of mine and I thought I was
in his confidence. However, Wiseman let slip an important piece
of information during his visit. Freda came into the hall as he
was leaving and he said: “I believe we are to congratulate you,
Mrs Langweil.” Freda blushed and smiled shyly. “I hope so.” Then
Wiseman said: “I trust your husband is taking good care of you.
After all this long time, we don’t want any problems, do we?” ’
‘Well, there wasn’t any doubt in my mind what he was talking
about. Freda was pregnant. I’d noticed that she had put on rather
a lot of weight recently, but fool that I was and because Adrian never said a word, its possible significance escaped me.’
‘When Adrian and I were alone, I added my own congratula
tions. He apologised for not telling me earlier and added somewhat
hastily that as he hadn’t told any of the family yet he would be
grateful if I’d keep it to myself. Early days still, and as they’d had a few false alarms. They intended telling the family at Barbara’s
birthday party next week.’