Murder by Appointment: Inspector Faro No.10 (3 page)

As Faro eagerly anticipated Rose's arrival, he realized her
future was a major preoccupation. Rose and his determination
to keep her away from Detective Sergeant Danny McQuinn, who as a young constable, had been for some years his right-hand man. Together they had solved many cases, put many
criminals behind bars and, on more than one occasion, he had
owed his life to McQuinn's speedy intervention.

Faro tried not to remember such indebtedness since Danny McQuinn had become the love of Rose's life. The two were like magnets, each forever drawing the other. According to Rose she had loved Danny (so she claimed) since she was
twelve years old and he rescued her from an abduction attempt
on one of her visits from Orkney where she and her younger
sister Emily had lived with his mother since Lizzie died.

Faro had been tolerant of what he considered childish hero worship for the handsome young Irish policeman, an infatuation he was certain that Rose would outgrow. But she had proved him wrong and despite all his attempts to matchmake on her infrequent visits to Edinburgh, by introducing her to agreeable, eligible and highly desirable young men such as Olivia's brother, Dr Owen Gilchrist, he realized that she had no romantic inclinations towards any other man than Danny McQuinn.

It was aggravating and Faro acknowledged that he was
helpless to change the course of his daughter's lovelife until a
hitherto unseen opportunity offered itself for an assistant
detective in the ranks of the Glasgow City Police. A splendid
chance for promotion and he immediately recommended McQuinn for the post.

McQuinn was touchingly grateful for this boost to his career and Faro had the uncomfortable satisfaction of knowing that his not entirely altruistic action had succeeded in parting the two lovers.

Relief was short-lived when Rose wrote to him that she had
obtained a teaching post in a Glasgow girls' school. He did not
doubt that McQuinn was the reason for her leaving Orkney
and, worst of all, that he no longer had ways of keeping them
from seeing each other, or indeed of playing chaperon.

Vince was not sympathetic. His two-year-old marriage to Olivia had made him more aware of romantic possibilities for less fortunate couples. He refused to understand why Rose should not be allowed to make her own choice and follow her heart's desire, especially when that desire was reciprocated.

'Don't try to play God in people's lives, Stepfather,' he warned Faro. 'Especially those close to you. You'll get no thanks.'

And Faro wondered if Vince ever realized now how desperately his stepfather had willed the match between himself and
Olivia, or of his sly attempts at matchmaking. Vince would never know how Faro had despaired at his 'long friendship' with Olivia and her twin brother Owen when she was so obviously the perfect wife.

He had almost given up hope when, to his amazement, Vince
casually announced that he and Olivia were to marry. And it was Olivia who refused to listen to Faro's suggestion that he move into a smaller apartment in one of the tenements near the Central Office where many of the unmarried constables lived.

His protestations that a young couple should begin married life on their own were scornfully swept aside.

'Not another word from you on that subject, if you please,' Olivia said firmly. 'This is your house and we are greatly obliged to you for allowing us to share it.'

And with a smile, a warm kiss on his cheek, she added shyly. 'Besides, we would miss you dreadfully. And Mrs Brook. Whatever would we do without her? We'd never find a housekeeper like her again. It will take May years and years—she's so inexperienced. We're relying on Mrs Brook to train her.'

Mrs Brook remained silent on the subject of May, the maid
whom Olivia's aunt in Stirling had rescued from the workhouse. The aunt's recent death had left the girl destitute,
orphaned as a small child, robbed of parents and siblings in a
house fire, her powers of speech destroyed by the terrifying experience.

Kind-hearted Olivia provided the perfect solution without having ever met the lass who had been well trained as lady's
maid but whose efficiency below stairs was somewhat limited.
She also failed to realize that Mrs Brook jealously guarded her realm and was exceedingly possessive regarding her supreme reign over 9 Sheridan Place.

Faro treated such trivial domestic episodes as matters of no
importance. They were strictly for a housekeeper to sort out while, above stairs, he basked in the harmony of Vince and
Olivia's happiness. Daily he marvelled that his stepson's present bliss bore no resemblance to the previous condition of the young man forever losing his head to some unsuitable woman.

Joy and pride in his pretty clever wife had transformed Vince into a solid, respectable Edinburgh doctor, with a thriving practice of respectable middle-class patients.

Even the frivolity of his fair boyish curls now thinning rapidly gave his slightly balding appearance an extra dimension of solid reliability.

If Faro was grateful for anything, it was that his younger daughter Emily showed every indication of making an early
but entirely suitable marriage to a wealthy Orcadian widower
of ancient lineage whose family had owned and farmed the land for more than two hundred years. A romantic tale of nursemaid to motherless child about to become lady of the manor.

If only Rose had shown such initiative. His joyful anticipation of her visit was tinged with secret anxiety. Although Danny McQuinn's name was never mentioned, by common consent and their mutual affection for each other, where nothing was allowed to disturb the harmony of their rare meetings, he did not fool himself regarding that silence. Sooner or later he must face the inevitable: on one of these visits, he would hear the words he most dreaded.

The scene was so engraved upon his mind that he often
awoke in the middle of the night, scarcely able to believe that it
had not already taken place. Seeing Rose's laughter suddenly fade, as she whispered, 'I have something to tell you, Papa. Danny and I are to be married.'

For his part, Faro had rehearsed and discarded many
attempts at how he would react. How he would put a brave
face on it, wishing them well and hiding his bitter disappoint
ment. He could do no less, for Rose was eighteen and no longer needed his consent.

'Disappointment?' Vince had queried. 'I should have thought that Danny's future prospects as an inspector were admirable.'

Faro shrugged impatiently. Vince had always liked Danny
and was now prepared to take his side in this domestic matter.

'I don't want Rose to be a policeman's wife. I hardly thought you needed reminding of the hazards involved,' Faro protested
weakly.

'Surely she is best qualified to decide what kind of a life she
wants, Stepfather. Or what kind of a husband.'

Faro winced at the word. Vince saw through his subterfuges
and he was guiltily aware that his stepson guessed he wanted Rose to make a 'good' marriage and that Danny McQuinn, a bog Irishman and a devout Catholic who went to Mass regularly, was not quite the ticket for a chief inspector's daughter.

Faro had never questioned her on the delicate matter of their differing religious beliefs for if his daughter's wavering doctrine wasn't strong enough, he had himself to blame. He had hardly set a good example through the years since his appearances in church were dictated only by the decorum of deaths, marriages and ceremonial police occasions.

Rose and Emily had fared no better in Orkney with his mother who had severed any connection with the established church after the murder of Faro's policeman father. She had reverted to the almost pagan beliefs in the God of the early Celtic Church which had predated both Catholic and
Protestant. Neither one had done anything good, according
to Mary Faro, but set men at one another's throats. With such
unconventional upbringing Rose could hardly be expected to let religion interfere with marriage to a man she loved.

He was writing up his log on the unknown woman when the
doorbell clanged cheerfully through the house.

Rose was here.

He looked at his watch. He hadn't expected her until teatime
and thought delightedly that she had caught an earlier train.

Finishing the sentence he was writing, he heard Mrs Brook's footsteps on the stairs. Wondering, he rose from his desk and crossed the room as the housekeeper tapped on the door and announced, 'A gentleman to see you, sir.'

And Faro found himself face to face with almost the last person he ever expected to see in his house.

The newcomer was Lachlan Brown.

'I do apologise for disturbing you, sir.'

'Not at all. Please take a seat.' And watching him narrowly
across the table, Faro was conscious of his own confusion and
anxiety at this totally unexpected visit.

The years since they last met had turned the handsome but
sullen youth into an uncommonly good-looking man. He had an undoubted charisma, especially with the distance between
concert platform and auditorium removed.

'May I take this opportunity of congratulating you on your performance of the Beethoven Sonatas?'

Lachlan looked pleased. 'Why, thank you, sir. So you have been to the Assembly Rooms.'

'I have indeed. And it is a great pleasure to meet you.'

'Not for the first time, Mr Faro. But I don't suppose you remember?'

'Oh yes. At Glen Gairn.'

Lachlan frowned. 'Not a happy occasion. I hope you have not had many such Royal hazards to cope with.'

Faro dismissed the suggestion with a gesture, aware that plots to kill the Queen such as that he had been investigating were fairly commonplace for the police, especially with an unpopular monarch. Such information, however, was not for the likes of this young man.

'Uncle John—Mr John Brown, that is,' said Lachlan consolingly, 'He takes jolly good care of Her Majesty.'

'So I believe,' said Faro drily and Lachlan's glance was not altogether innocent as he continued hastily, 'That must be a great relief for everyone.'

He guessed that Lachlan could not be unaware of the scandalous rumours that drifted down from Balmoral. Tales of an indiscreet association between the Queen and John Brown, and of late-night drams in the Royal bedroom with her favourite ghillie performing the services of a lady's maid and putting her to bed.

It was not the first time that widowed Scottish queens had been enamoured of commoners but it fitted ill into the stern moral code Victoria wished to impose on the mass of British society.

'Mr Brown is well?' said Faro to break the uncomfortable silence.

Lachlan brightened. 'Oh yes, very. I visited him at the beginning of my tour. When I was in Aberdeen.'

Again he fell silent, inspecting one of his fingernails as if it was in imminent danger of disintegration.

Faro continued to watch him, his polite smile becoming
fixed as he wrestled with the burning question: What on earth
was Lachlan Brown doing here in his study just two hours
before his next appearance at the Assembly Rooms?

And as if he had heard the unspoken question, the young
man's head jerked upright. Leaning forward he said, 'I sup
pose you are wondering what brings me to your door instead
of directly to the police station, Mr Faro. I'll come to the
point. It's like this, sir. Someone is trying to kill me
...
'