The Coffin Lane Murders (13 page)

'You could go and see her, though. Have a holiday.'

He shook his head. 'False hopes and dreams, Rose love. I've had them all and that's where they're likely to remain - in the realms of fantasy,' he added with a sigh.

At her sorrowful expression, he hugged her and whispered, 'Thanks for caring, lass. Sorry I can't oblige you with a nice stepmama.'

'I just want you to be happy, Pa. I liked Imogen. I felt that she was right for you. I'd like fine to see you settled down before Danny and I take off together.' She looked at him earnestly. 'I'd hate to have you left on the shelf.'

Faro chuckled. 'Spoken like a true mama! You'll do well in God's good time!'

When she continued to look grave, he said, 'Cheer up, I'm happy enough. I have Vince and Olivia, and wee Jamie, and we all get along famously. What more could a man ask for?'

She gave him a candid glance. 'You're too good to live your life vicariously through other folks' happiness. Has it never occurred to you that it's about time you deserved some of your own?'

When he made no comment she said, 'Maybe Imogen's waiting over there for you to do the asking. Like me waiting for Danny,' she added sadly.

Faro shook his head. 'You've got it all wrong, lass. If Imogen really wanted me, she'd not wait to be asked. She's that kind of woman, the kind you admire so much.'

'And what would your answer be?' Rose asked eagerly, with new hope in her eyes.

He wagged a finger at her, his smile enigmatic. 'Who knows? Wait and see.'

Chapter 14

Suddenly Faro found his home was the centre of a hive of activity into which Rose threw herself with the characteristic enthusiasm and energy that marked the few occasions she spent with her family.

And now that family was extended. There was little Jamie, the 'young fellow', to dote on, to spoil and take for walks. There were more ambitious walks with her father on Arthur's Seat on the rare moments when their time at home coincided.

But most of all there was Olivia whose good works had extended to organising a benefit at the Pleasance Theatre for the Gentlewomen's Fund for City Orphans.

An amateur production of
Cinderella
was in preparation and members of the local golfing fraternity, including Vince and Conan and others belonging to a glee club, had been prevailed upon to provide some spirited singing. Meanwhile, behind the scenes of frantic rehearsals wives, mothers and sisters had been persuaded to sew or otherwise provide the costumes.

This was to be a pantomime with a difference, an all-male cast with the exception of Cinderella. It was billed as: 'A great amateur extravaganza with a talented conjurer, an acrobat and a profusion of the most popular of current music hall ballads.'

But even as plans were made, beyond cosy lamplit drawing rooms with Christmas trees and peaceful snowy gardens lay shadows of darkness and fear. For in that wintry gloom there was one unforgettable menace, the still missing madwoman, Conan's patient.

It was a time of terror when few of the area's female residents cared to travel without an escort. The days were short and nightfall descended at four o'clock, by which time solitary females glanced nervously over shoulders and recognised the wisdom and urgent necessity of heading for safety and home, with the key turned in the lock as speedily as possible.

Up to now, all attacks had been in the open, but one could never be sure that the Lady Killer's range might not be extended, the temptation of an unlocked door, somewhere to hide, irresistible.

This murky outer ring of uncertainty and lurking danger had become Faro's arena where he sought clues to the disappearance of a woman who could appear wraithlike from the dark, strike her victim with a kitchen knife (for so it had been concluded was the weapon involved) and then melt away into the night.

Where was she hiding or, more correctly Faro suspected, who was providing her with a refuge? In front of her lay Newington with its villas and their handsome gardens. Behind her the deserted barren stretch of volcanic rock and rough grass that were Arthur's Seat, broken only by the forbidding shape of Solomon's Tower at its base.

An unlikely place of concealment, Faro decided. Was there another explanation, an accomplice or a friend in the new villas with or without knowledge of her homicidal tendencies?

But who and where?

And staring up at the vast bulk of Arthur's Seat, a mass of treacherous rocks and fissures at present being combed over in all the hours of daylight by every available policeman, he wondered if there were some secret hiding place on the hill itself.

And Faro remembered the many legends of hidden chambers. Most folk tales were based on a grain of truth. Could there be some secret chamber inside the hill, some long-abandoned hermit's cave?

As each patrol of constables returned from a fruitless search, Faro could not shake off the feeling that all these killings were linked by one still-elusive vital clue. Find it and the reason for this whole series of crimes would be revealed.

He realised that one other mystery remained unsolved: the question of the bookseller's demise, which Conan insisted could not have been a coincidence.

'Possibly Celia was on a visit to him when she disappeared. That might have been her last sighting. The old man died of pneumonia resulting from the influenza. In his weakened state a fall would be fatal, according to the medical report,' Conan added, with a shake of his head.

'I am not convinced. I would like to know a great deal more about how he came by those bruises, supposedly the result of falling headlong down a flight of stairs,' Faro said firmly. 'What I want to know is did he sustain such injuries before he fell?'

Conan had persuaded Vince that his theory was right, and that the snuff-seller Bob had provided the vital clue: Dr Benjamin had been approached by a man 'not from these parts' determined to purchase the valuable book that was not for sale.

'Let's look at it this way,' said Vince eagerly. 'When he refused to sell, the prospective buyer decided to get possession by fair means or foul. The most logical explanation is that he disturbed the old man who got in his way and was trying to escape, and he pushed him downstairs.'

Conan rubbed his chin thoughtfully. 'That's how I see it, too. And the more I consider the circumstances the more certain I am that we are on to something. And if we could find our burglar then we would have a link with Celia.'

'You believe he is hiding her?' said Faro.

'I am certain of it,' was the firm response.

Although Faro could see no logical reason to link the theft of a valuable book with the murder of three passers-by in Coffin Lane, he was tormented by the haunting thought that perhaps Conan was right.

Dr Benjamin's death, the mysterious burglar and Lady Celia were related, especially as she had been known to visit the antiquarian bookshop and was on friendly terms with the old man.

Despite the lack of any evidence he could not shake off an intuitive feeling that there was a link between the four deaths and that the missing book about Edinburgh's secret past, whether fact or fiction, might hold a vital clue.

When he discussed his latest theory with Vince and Conan, his stepson smiled and nodded in his partners direction. 'Don't you think it's time you told him, Stepfather, what you know about that locked room in Solomon's Tower?'

And so Faro revealed that during the investigation of an earlier case, alone in Solomon's Tower one day he had found what Sir Hedley referred to as his 'old charter room' with its door unlocked.

'It is actually an ancient vaulted chapel, dating from the days of the Templars, probably all that remains of the original structure hewn out of the volcanic rock of Arthur's Seat. Perhaps the Tower was built around it, to conceal its presence.'

Conan stared at him, entranced. 'And we thought its history was lost in the mists of time,' he said triumphantly. 'Well, well, this is something of a revelation, sir. Naturally I'll keep it to myself- and Kate, if I may tell her. She'll be glad to know that it is nothing more sinister; sometimes her mind drifts to haunted rooms in ancient towers, despite all her efforts to bring the furnishings up to date. He smiled. 'She reads too many sensational novels, I'm afraid.'

With a shiver, he added, 'I have to admit it often feel like a house of secrets, I can tell you. I am not given to flights of imagination, but there is something odd about the place. Is it always freezing cold - even in summer?' he asked Faro.

'I can't say I've warmed to the atmosphere at any time,' Faro replied.

'That's interesting you should say so. Uncle Hedley assures us that it will be warmer once the snow melts and when spring comes. He seems impervious to the chill draughts.'

'Used to it, having lived there so long.'

'Come to terms, I suppose you mean, sir.' Conan sighed. 'If we survive to spring without taking pneumonia, we can consider ourselves fortunate. As you know, I'm on the constant lookout for a permanent home, but Kate has developed a strong affection for her old uncle, feels obliged to look after him in his declining years. She hopes that if we find a suitable house, we can persuade him to come with us.'

Faro and Vince exchanged glances. Conan was being too optimistic. Nothing, they knew, but death itself would remove Sir Hedley from Solomon's Tower.

After Conan and Vince had left for the surgery, Faro looked out of the window. There were stars bright above the heights of Arthur's Seat. Soon it would be moonrise.

The countryside and the fields beyond Newington were in the grip of a heavy frost. And he remembered Conan's words, that a full moon was the time that warders in asylums most dreaded, when wolves howled, and the world for the insane turned topsy-turvy.

'Do you think the snow will last much longer?' Rose asked anxiously. 'Will it still be here when I get back from Glasgow? I'm hoping Vince will take me skating on the loch.'

'We can't guarantee the weather, dear, although there seems little indication of any immediate thaw,' said Olivia who had arrived downstairs with an armful of outfits from which Rose might find something suitable for her friend's wedding.

'I'll only be away for a couple of days,' Rose protested, torn between the excitement of being a bridesmaid and missing the opportunities of skating with her half-brother again.

After great consultation, one of Olivia's most elegant velvet dresses was agreed upon, plus a delectable veiled bonnet.

Rose was surprised when her father looked in to say that he would travel back to Glasgow with her on the train.

'There's no need,' she protested. 'I'm quite capable-'

'This isn't for your convenience, lass, it's a routine police matter. Some people I need to talk to.'

'In Briary Road, Pa. Is that it?'

Faro looked at Rose and she laughed. 'I guessed by your preoccupied expression, something to do with one of your cases.'

Faro had no desire to discuss the gruesome details about the murdered women any further and Rose knew her father too well to ask questions.

But he was indeed preoccupied. His original plan to visit Glasgow to make his own inquiries had been forestalled by the third killing and now Mrs Simms' daughter would have been informed by Glasgow City Police of her mother's demise. Whatever her elevated station in life doubtless she would make the necessary arrangements for the funeral.

Faro was optimistic, however, that there might be valuable information forthcoming from a visit to Briary Road. Rose having a friend in the vicinity was providential, an opportunity not to be missed.

When he told Vince and Conan his plans, Conan smiled. 'Will you do something for me, sir? It's my mother's birthday on Boxing Day. Would you be so kind as to look in with her present and tell her I won't manage my weekly visit until after Christmas - we'll hope to bring in the New Year with them.' He frowned. 'I'm not happy about leaving Kate or Vince to cope with this influenza outbreak. I don't trust Angus, he is too inexperienced.'

On the train journey Rose found her father less talkative than usual. At least their silences were companionable, she thought, and abandoning any hopes of their usual lively conversation took out the novel lent by Olivia, occasionally glancing across at Faro who stared gloomily out of the window.

At the station, they took a carriage, and after kissing her goodbye outside her lodgings he directed the coachman to Briary Road. The day was cold and wet but Glasgow had escaped the heavy snowfalls that had devastated Edinburgh.

It was a considerable relief to be able to walk freely along pavements for a change. Although he was hopeful when Mrs Simms' next-door neighbour, Mrs Kerr, turned out to be a cheerful woman eager for gossip, his hunch that he'd learn something had been wrong.

In this instance it had been yet another wasted journey, a lost day, since their conversation yielded not a single clue to why Mrs Simms should have been murdered on her visit to Edinburgh.

Mrs Kerr was shocked by her neighbour's death, which Faro put down hastily to an accident. When he mentioned the daughter her scorn was equal to that of the Musselburgh friend.

'Can't see her having much interest in her mother dead; she had little enough interest in her when she was alive. Although I dare say out of decency she'll pay to see her buried.