Murder by Appointment: Inspector Faro No.10 (11 page)

Even when her son Prince Alfred was shot and wounded by
a bullet in his ribs at a public picnic in Australia (the Fenian reprisal for the Manchester executions), his mother stated that people who could shoot her son entirely unconnected with politics or the Irish were 'plain wicked'.

Faro knew to his cost how obstinate and immovable the Queen could be. In recent years he had been involved in protecting her, with considerable difficulty, from a very real assassination plot at Glen Muick, which almost ended in disaster for all of them.

But others apart from Fenians hated the Queen and he didn't believe a word of Brewer's vague 'letters and so forth'. Only state secrets redeemable at a price were important enough to involve blackmail and sudden death, he thought
grimly, aware of the significance of Miss McNair's Irish
visitors and the events of the night of her death, including the
attack on himself, which had not been for motives of robbery.

Brewer meanwhile had pulled his chair forward and was regarding Faro in an official manner.

'But I am sure you have the case well in hand, sir with your
usual and, may I say, famous expertise. Just as a matter of interest, off the record, of course, I would he obliged if you
could furnish me with any of the details of your investigation
regarding these two unfortunate deaths.'

What a speech, thought Faro admiringly. What a command
of official language almost as if it had all been carefully rehearsed beforehand.

Brewer watched Faro take out his notebook. 'I was attacked
on the night the woman McNair was abducted—'

'You were attacked,' Brewer interrupted. He had not expected that and obviously found Faro's statement a matter of surprise. You, Faro. How extraordinary.'

'Not really sir. I was boarding a carriage and Miss McNair
rushed up to me and asked for help—"they"—someone—was going to kill her. I just had time to see the two men before they
felled me to the ground. The same two men who, I believe, later murdered McNair. They were not ordinary villains intent on robbery since I was not robbed and I suspect that
neither of the victims was in possession of any items of value.'

'Shocking! Scandalous behaviour!' muttered Brewer sympathetically. 'I trust you were not badly hurt, sir.'

'Thanks to my inordinately thick skull. The McNairs were less fortunate.'

Brewer tut-tutted, then beamed on Faro. 'And I have the
evidence of my own eyes that you are in perfect health again.
Do go on with your story.'

So Faro told him how Miss McNair had apparently died, run over by a carriage which failed to stop in Dean Village, and that her injuries included a fractured skull caused by a blow to the back of her head.

He paused and Brewer nodded. 'Ah, the significance of a similar attack upon your person led you immediately to suspect foul play. And then, of course, her brother dying in his lodgings. A most unfortunate coincidence.'

'Hardly, sir. There was evidence that he had been similarly assaulted although he might have suffered a heart attack as a result. For some reason, presumably connected with the crime, he was living under the assumed name of Mr Glen.'

Brewer spread his hands wide. 'Most natural that you should with all your experience immediately suspect that criminal activities were involved. Pray continue,' he said, listening impassively to Faro's account of the fire in Bessie McNair's cottage and her Irish visitors.

'I dare say it will all be sorted out in time,' he sighed.

'Had it not been for Mr Brown's visit to his nephew here in Edinburgh—' Faro continued.

'Nephew?'

'Lachlan Brown, the concert pianist.'

'Oh. Oh, yes, indeed. His nephew.' Brewer's emphasis indicated that his thoughts lay with the more scandalous version. 'Do go on.'

'We might never have established the identity of either of the dead persons.'

'Quite providential. Trust Brown to see the right way of things.' Brewer listened to the clock striking eleven with the relief of a prisoner hearing the opening of his cell door.

He rose to his feet, smiling, but Faro was not prepared to end the interview yet.

'One moment. Tell me, how did you come by all this information that the McNairs were in Edinburgh?'

Brewer's eyebrows raised dramatically. 'Ah, Faro, we have
our own methods. You surely know that. But you are to be
congratulated on your own extremely efficient methods.' And,
placing a conspiratorial finger to his lips, 'I can say no more.'

But Faro was not to be fobbed off in this manner. If the missing documents were worthless, Brewer had gone to a great deal of trouble to have this meeting with the sole purpose, he did not doubt, of finding out how much was known to the Edinburgh Police and to himself in particular.

'John Brown, as you know, is close to Her Majesty. She was
in something of a panic about it all,' Brewer went on. 'I can leave the rest to your imagination, I am sure.' Then, with a
sigh, he took out his pocket watch, consulted it solemnly and
added, 'I have various things to do in preparation for tomorrow and it is imperative that I have a good night's sleep. I sleep uncommon badly in hotels, alas. Any way I can help you, don't fail to get in touch.'

'There is something else I think you ought to know,' said Faro. 'There was an assassination attempt on Lachlan Brown. As he was leaving the Assembly Rooms late one
night last week. A rifle shot from a passing carriage narrowly
missed him.'

'What!' exclaimed Brewer. 'I was never informed about this. His indignation sounded genuine enough. 'Does Brown know?'

'Unlikely since Lachlan told me in strictest confidence.'

'And you did nothing about it!'

‘I’m telling you that I was bound to abide by Lachlan's wishes. He refused to have it reported officially. The lad is somewhat sensitive about publicity regarding his Balmoral connection.'

'Quite, quite. But this unprovoked attack gives one food for
thought, does it not?' Puffing out his cheeks, he frowned. 'I presume he did not imagine it—that he has some proof?'

'I think I can vouch for that. I have in my possession the rifle bullet which I removed from the lintel of the door. And
I firmly believe that his attackers in the carriage might well be
the same two we're looking for in connection with the McNair murders.'

'So you think Lachlan Brown might also be a target for the Fenians.' Brewer chewed at his underlip. 'I trust you are wrong, Faro. Surely no political assassin would wish to kill a
concert pianist, especially one who has performed in Dublin.'
He sighed deeply and shook his head. 'Now I really must leave you.' He held out his hand. 'Rest assured that with the McNairs laid to rest, the documents they stole are of no value. Be that as it may, authority—if you get my meaning— those in high places are anxious that they be recovered and destroyed—unread'—he emphasized the word—'if they come into your hands.'

He sighed. 'As for these two servants' unfortunate deaths. They must be dismissed officially as accidents, pure coincidence, which you will agree so often happens in life.'

Again he smiled. 'Such a great pleasure to meet you. I trust there will be other happier occasions when we are both more at leisure to enjoy them. At least I am delighted that I have been able to allow you to close your file with an easy
conscience on this distressing case. One mystery less to solve
in your busy life, eh?' he added with a hearty laugh. 'I am sure
you will appreciate that.'

As they walked into the reception hall Brewer yawned. 'Oh,
please excuse me. I am extremely weary. I've had a long day
and I have to be up and about at the crack of dawn tomorrow.
Tell me, do you know how long it will take to reach North Berwick by train?'

Faro was well acquainted with the area and its railway system. As they walked through the hotel lobby he gave Brewer the relevant information.

At the front door, as they shook hands, Faro asked where the wedding was taking place.

'St Baldred's Church. At ten a.m.—devilish early for my taste—'

As Faro walked home to Newington along the Pleasance, he
had plenty to keep his thoughts occupied. He would have
given much to know why Brewer had considered it necessary
to journey to Edinburgh to meet his opposite number and instruct him so carefully in the matter of the Queen's missing
documents without revealing anything of their contents. Vital documents that must be destroyed unread intrigued him. And dangerous enough to have caused two deaths and two unsuc
cessful murder attempts—on Lachlan Brown and himself.

Whatever Brewer's real motive, it had little to do with a family wedding and whoever did his investigating in Aberdeen had let him down badly.

The genial inspector was in for a disappointment if he made
the journey to North Berwick and presented himself at the church for ten o'clock on Monday morning.

St Baldred's had burnt down in a disastrous fire some ten months ago.

As Faro entered his own front door he was relieved to find Vince alone. Olivia had retired for the night and as the two men shared a dram together, Vince was curious to hear the result of his stepfather's urgent summons to the Central Office.

He listened impassively to the new information provided by Inspector Brewer before asking, 'You think there is some possibility that the McNairs could have been recruited as Fenian agents?'

'I think that highly unlikely. According to Aunt Bella's Balmoral informants, all the tenants were known for their unswerving loyalty and discretion. Many were sons and daughters of the original servants who had served Prince Albert and the Queen when the Castle was first built.

'As for the lower echelons, they seldom cast eyes on members of the Royal family anyway, especially chambermaids with stern instructions that upon the Queen's approach they must drop everything and melt immediately into cupboards conveniently provided in the corridors of the Royal apartments.'

'What about outdoor servants?' Vince asked.

'Same rules apply. Gardeners disappear behind hedges or keep their heads well down into the flower beds if they
happen to be on their knees already. As for stable hands holding horses' heads they are instructed to avoid the eye-to-eye contact as they elevate Royal posteriors into the saddle.'

Vince chuckled. 'Complete nonsense, isn't it!' He thought for a moment. 'Did Brewer give any indication as to the information in these papers?'

'Only that they are of great interest to the Fenians.'

Vince frowned. 'Could there be secret negotiations concerning Irish Home Rule that the Queen has had forwarded to Balmoral? Is the old lady getting careless, do you think?'

Before Faro could reply, he continued, 'But even if the McNairs had access to private papers and documents, would they have been able to make sense of the contents and know they had something valuable in their hands? Even educated people have problems making sense out of official documents, as I know to my cost.'

'There you have it, lad. I was thinking the same thing. The McNairs realizing the value of what they had stolen is problematic. Aunt Bella told me that many of the lower servants were unable to read and write—in English. They speak the Gaelic and some have little education beyond the basic rudiments of counting their wages.'

'As I recall, Prince Albert was very keen to change all that.
He even gave the tenants access to the castle library,' said Vince.