Deadly Beloved (19 page)

But the most burning question of all remained unanswered. What part had Harry Shaw played in Mrs Kellar's disappearance? Kellar and Eveline Shaw had an alibi, they had spent that afternoon together. But was it, in fact, Harry Shaw who had been waiting for Mabel Kellar on the train where he had murdered her and helped dispose of her body?

A tap on the door and the constable on the desk duty gave him a note.

"Just found this, Inspector. It was handed in yesterday."

Faro regarded him stony-faced. "Yesterday! When yesterday, may I ask? There's no time stated."

"It's a new young lad on the desk, sir. When you'd gone home, he probably thought it wasn't all that urgent."

"He'll remember next time, that's for sure, if he hopes to stay in the police. Impress on your lad that this is an urgent missing persons case. McQuinn is my second and if he is unavailable, then I can be contacted at home."

The note read: "An errand lad brought a message from Dr Kellar's house. Mrs Flynn requires to see the Inspector only [the words were heavily underlined] as soon as possible."

"Trouble, sir?" asked McQuinn, peering over his shoulder.

"You can come along and find out," said Faro, handing him the note. "This is something you could have dealt with."

"But I wasn't — "

"Oh, never mind. Let's go."

To the driver of the waiting police carriage he gave directions to the Kellar house where Ina opened the door, staring out at them with frightened eyes. "It's to do with the mistress, sir." She looked over her shoulder. "I told you this was an evil house. I feel things."

"What sort of things?"

"Presences," she whispered.

She almost jumped into the air when the bell from the housekeeper's room pealed through the hall. "That's Mrs Flynn. She said I was to take you to her directly and not waste time gossiping."

McQuinn made a grimace as Ina led the way downstairs. At the door of Mrs Flynn's gloomy apartments, Faro whispered, "We'll talk to you later, Ina."

"If you wish, sir."

The housekeeper was lying on her bed. "Ina?"

When the maid's scared face looked round the door, Mrs Flynn said, "Here's the shopping list. Go as quick as you can. These things are needed for the master's supper." And then to Faro, "Excuse me not rising, Inspector. It's me veins. Bad they are just now."

Faro decided the housekeeper was extremely unlucky in being so prone to indisposition. Every time he came he found her suffering from some new infliction. A sore throat, a bad leg and now she was back with the swathed jaw: presumably the toothache that had caused the initial disasters at the Kellar dinner table.

Following his gaze, she said. "I'm nearly mad with that abscess again. Hardly closed my eyes last night."

She certainly wouldn't last long in any employment at this rate, he thought, murmuring sympathy. "But you really must do something about it, Mrs Flynn. The dentist can't be any worse than all this agony," he said severely, and feeling no end of a hypocrite added encouragingly, "It's all over in a minute, you know."

The housekeeper shuddered. "I'll have to think about it. I can't go on much longer like this." Then, leaning forward, she whispered, "I asked you to come because we found this in the chimney."

From under the bed she withdrew a bundle.

"What is it?"

At first glance in the dim light. Faro thought he was seeing a bloodied, soot-streaked white seabird, which Mrs Flynn shook out to reveal a woman's petticoat. The bodice was heavily bloodstained.

"You say this was in the chimney, Mrs Flynn?"

"Yes, sir."

"Tell me the whole story from the beginning, if you please."

"It was just last week, sir, the chimney in the master's bedroom. He started complaining that it was smoking. Ina and I looked up but we couldn't see anything. It had been swept at Christmas so it couldn't be soot. He said to get a sweep. Well, that came down with the brushes."

Spreading the garment on the table, even the bloodstains and the soot could not disguise that it was of fine-quality lawn and the lace was of exquisite workmanship.

"Do you recognise it?"

"Oh yes, Inspector. It belonged to the mistress. I ironed it the morning she left. She asked for it specially, one of her favourites."

"You are absolutely sure this is the same garment she was wearing when she left?"

"Oh yes, sir. You see, as she was putting it on, she stepped on the lace and it tore. She asked me to sew it. If you'll hand it over — here, see — on the hem. I can recognise my own sewing," she said proudly. "I couldn't find the white cotton and as she was in a hurry I hoped she wouldn't notice that I used cream thread."

Faro looked at the neat stitches. Cream against white, not particularly obvious, but the housekeeper's repair was further grim evidence that murder had been committed. The case against Dr Kellar was almost complete.

"If someone was trying to burn this garment, I don't understand why it was up the chimney?" At his side, McQuinn asked the logical question which had also been troubling Faro.

"I couldn't say, but it was rolled up in a tight ball," said Mrs Flynn encouragingly. "Inspector, may I ask you something?" When Faro nodded, she went on, "The mistress — has she — is she — I mean, has she been done in by someone?"

"We don't know that, Mrs Flynn."

"But, sir, what about the bloodstains in the coach? The fur cloak that the papers mentioned, and then there was the carving knife we missed from the kitchen. And now this ..." her voice grew shriller, as she pointed to the petticoat. "What more do the police need to make an arrest, Inspector?"

"They need a body, Mrs Flynn."

"A body, sir?"

"Yes, Mrs Flynn — a body."

The housekeeper thought for a moment. "Do you think the police will ever find her?"

"I expect so, if we're patient."

Mrs Flynn shook her head. "I don't think patience has much hope here. Not against him."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's as plain as the nose on your face, Inspector. He spends his time cutting bodies up and, so I hear, giving bits to his students. Revolting, I call it, not even Christian burial, poor souls."

As they were about to leave, taking the petticoat with them. Faro said, "Perhaps we could have a word with the maid."

"If she's back from the shops, yes. And she takes for ever. I'd better warn you, Inspector." Mrs Flynn put a finger to the side of her head and twisted it significantly. "She's not all there."

"Simple, you mean?"

"That's right. Sees things. Ghosts and such rubbish. I've never felt or seen anything amiss in the house. I think she does it to make herself important."

She struggled to rise from her bed. Putting her foot on the ground she gave an agonised gasp and Faro, bundling up the petticoat, said hurriedly, "We'll see ourselves out."

As they walked down the front steps, McQuinn said, "Begging your pardon, Inspector, but this doesn't make sense to me. Everything points to Kellar having done his wife in, like the old housekeeper says. But if he put the petticoat up the chimney then he wouldn't have drawn attention to himself by complaining that it was smoking, would he? He could have burnt it, got rid of it somewhere else, couldn't he?"

"The only reason would be panic."

"And from what I've seen and heard of that gentleman, he's a cool customer, sir."

At that moment a hired carriage arrived, and the cool customer descended and paid his fare.

"We'll have the cab, sir. Wait a moment, if you please."

Dr Kellar was looking decidedly flushed and ill. "What do you want this time, Inspector?" he demanded irritably. "Out with it quick, man. I've had to leave early. You must excuse me if I don't delay. Stomach cramps. There's a bit of drain fever about at Surgeons Hall — I think I must have caught a dose. Not helped of course by the vile cooking in my home these days. Well, what is it now?"

"We've solved the problem with your bedroom chimney."

"Surely we didn't need to call in the police for that?"

"The sweep found this was causing the blockage," said Faro pushing forward the petticoat.

"What's this? A woman's shift — what on earth?" Kellar sounded genuinely astonished.

"Do you recognise it?"

"No, should I?" When Faro didn't answer, Kellar said. "Some damned servant girl larking around, I suppose."

"I'm afraid not. We have reason to believe that it belongs to your wife."

Kellar looked again and Faro thought he grew a shade paler. "I've never seen it before."

"Surely ..." Faro began.

"If you are asking me what my wife wore under her dresses, then I can only tell you I haven't the faintest idea."

If they slept in separate rooms, thought Faro, then Dr Kellar was probably speaking the truth.

"So you wouldn't be prepared to identify it?" said Faro.

"No, I would not," Kellar replied testily.

"You would agree then that the servants are better acquainted with your wife's undergarments."

"Of course they are."

"So what would you say if I told you that Mrs Flynn has identified it as belonging to Mrs Kellar, by a repair she did on the morning your wife disappeared?"

"I would only say, surely no one, not even you, would take the word of domestics against mine. Now I bid you good-day, gentlemen."

Kellar hurried up the front steps and let himself into the house.

McQuinn looked at Faro as if expecting him to make some move to stop the doctor's hasty retreat. Faro shrugged and stepped into the waiting carriage.

"Waverley Station, if you please. I'm going back to Longniddry, McQuinn, see if there are any more developments. You stay here, try to be unobtrusive and talk to the maid when she gets back. Shouldn't be long," he added, in response to McQuinn's sullen look.

When Faro stepped off the train at Longniddry, a railwayman standing at the far end of the platform waved frantically, as if he had been waiting for the Inspector.

"Thought I recognised you, sir. I'm Thomas. That was quick work, sir," he added with a grin."I've just sent a message, an hour ago, through one of your men working the line."

"Another discovery?"

"No, just information, sir."

"Good."

Faro began to walk towards the barrier and Thomas put a hand on his arm and said, "Do you think we could talk back here, Inspector? I don't particularly want Mr Andrews to see us together. Look, if we sit on the steps of the signal box there down the line."

"I hope it won't take long," said Faro, pulling up the collar of his coat against the bitter east wind.

"It's like this, sir. That afternoon when you asked the station master about ladies in fur cloaks. I was listening when he told you about the maids with their parcels helping their mistresses out of the station and into carriages and so forth. Well, I remembered something. I wasn't sure whether it was of any importance, but I've been thinking about it since ..."

"Why didn't you speak up at the time?" demanded Faro crossly.

"Look, Inspector, when the station master, Mr Andrews, isn't on duty I'm in charge of collecting tickets. It's a punishable offence, a fine taken off my wages, if I let someone go without a ticket. So if I make a mistake, I keep quiet about it, see. It's happened a couple of times and I'm on my last warning. Next time it'll cost me my job. And I've got a wife and five wee ones ..."

It was beginning to rain, rain that was turning into sleet.

"So," said Faro trying not to sound urgent, "what was it you remembered?"

"About ten minutes after the North Berwick train left that day, the one you were enquiring about, when all the passengers had gone and I was going to lock the gate, a maid came out of the waiting room. She was carrying a big parcel. I know all the lasses here but this one was a stranger and I said, "You're lucky. Another minute and you'd have been locked in. Unless you're able to climb gates.'

"She didn't say a word, searching for her ticket in her travelling bag. She was shivering and had no coat, just a shawl and it was snowing."

"'Have you far to go, miss?' I asked her.

"'Just down the road.'

"When she found the ticket I noticed it was all bloody. So were her fingers. 'Cut yourself miss?' I asked.

"She seemed put out. 'Just a scratch. I was looking for water to wash my hands and there is none on the train. None in the waiting room either.'

"'Hold on Miss, I said, 'and I'll get you water from the station master's room. We keep emergency bandages and things there in case of accidents.'

"But when I came back two minutes later, she was scurrying off down the road, fast as her legs would carry her."

"What was she dressed like?"

"Like, sir?" Thomas laughed. "Like a maid, of course."

"Young, old?"

"Difficult to say, sir. Fiftyish, I'd reckon. Hair tucked into a maid's cap.