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) (4 page)
‘Naturally this secrecy he imposed upon us all has been a great strain,’ said Theodore. ‘Especially Adrian—’
Faro and Vince looked quickly at Adrian, who nodded slowly as Theodore went on: ‘He did not wish to involve his own brother, I’m sure the reasons are only too obvious and painful to need any further explanation.’
‘He asked me to recommend another physician,’ said Adrian. I suggested he consult Wiseman in Heriot Row.’
‘Who will confirm all I have told you,’ said Theodore to Faro. ‘I am sure this will put your mind at rest when Wiseman gives you details of the magnitude of my brother’s illness.’ Then, to Vince: ‘Although we can heartily commend Dr Laurie’s integrity and need for absolute truth and scrupulous accuracy, the result was unfortunately a little ill timed without being in full possession of the true facts leading to my brother’s death.’
His thin-lipped smile and slight bow in Vince’s direction contained, Faro thought, not a little barely concealed resentment.
‘Since Mr Cedric was consulting Dr Wiseman, why was he not called upon to sign the death certificate?’ Vince demanded sharply.
Theodore sighed. ‘He was. But unfortunately for us, as he was at a family wedding in Ireland and neither available nor immediately accessible, it seemed the most natural thing in the world that Dr Laurie, as our family physician, should perform this merely routine task—’
‘If you had thought to inform me, sir—’ Vince began desperately, and turning to his partner, ‘Or you, Adrian,’ he added accusingly.
Theodore spread his hands wide. ‘Gentlemen, gentlemen. What’s done is done. No one is to blame.’
Pausing he glanced at the clock significantly and then addressed Vince and Faro. ‘There is much to do. I am sure you will both appreciate that this is a difficult time for us.’
As they rose to leave, accompanied by Adrian, Theodore added: ‘I’m sure we can rely on your discretion not to make the unhappy circumstances of my brother’s death more painful for us than is absolutely necessary. And now we have important family business matters to discuss. Our lawyer Mr Moulton will be arriving shortly. Perhaps you will excuse us?’
In the hall an elderly man, white haired, bearded, his slightly built frame exuding an air of authority, was handing his cape and tall hat to Gimmond. Faro’s first thought was that he was an undertaker by the solemnity of his attire.
‘Good day to you, Dr Langweil,’ he addressed Adrian. ‘Permit me to take this opportunity to express the sincere condolences of our establishment on the sad loss of your brother, and indeed to all the family. Such empty places—’
Adrian cut short the threatened eulogy, which promised to be lengthy, with a bow. ‘Thank you, Mr Moulton. I believe Theodore is awaiting you in the drawing room.’
The lawyer’s manner seemed to crumple. ‘Oh, indeed,’ he said nervously. ‘If you will excuse me, gentlemen,’ he added and walked quickly upstairs.
‘What a bore the man is,’ whispered Adrian, catching up with Faro and Vince who had reached the front door. ‘We used to call him Old Mouldy when we were children. His documents are even wordier than he is.’ Then taking Vince’s arm, he said: ‘If only you’d mentioned your suspicions to me, I could have cleared up all this unfortunate business at once.’
‘I doubt that,’ was Vince’s sharp reply.
‘For heaven’s sake, I had no idea that was what was in your mind when you wouldn’t sign the death certificate. I thought, fool that I was, that it was because you regarded it as not right and proper - since you were - almost - one of the family—’
And so Cedric Langweil’s body was interred in the family vault at Greyfriars Kirk with all the pomp and splendour attributable to a high-ranking citizen. It was one of the largest funerals Edinburgh had ever witnessed and brought crowds of sightseers into the High Street. St Giles was tightly packed and the funeral oration, conducted by Reverend Stephen Aynsley, as cousin of the deceased, told of ‘a grave illness courageously borne and kept secret from all but the members of his own family’.
While all this was happening in the public eye, Cedric Langweil’s main organs were being subjected to the Marsh Test for arsenic, carried out in the police laboratory at Surgeons’ Hall.
Vince awaited the results with some apprehension, finding himself in a now totally unenviable position, made to feel by his future wife’s family that he had let them down badly.
‘They’ve done so much for me, and now the way they look at me, the coldness in their attitudes, makes me feel as if I’ve betrayed them. The hint is that I have brought their good name into disrepute and have also heartlessly besmirched the reputation of a dying man.’
‘Surely Grace believes in your good intentions,’ said Faro.
‘Of course. The dear girl is loyal to me, but she is naturally torn by the deep-rooted image of her devoted family. Then of course, there is her poor mother’s anguish. It’s worse for her than any of them. Damn it, if only I had signed the wretched certificate and let it go at that. If only Adrian had told me that Cedric was dying anyway, I could have accepted that he had taken his own life.’
Faro looked at his stepson in shocked surprise. ‘Vince, lad, you couldn’t do that. It’s against everything you’ve ever believed in. Sign a declaration that might be false—’
‘I know, I know. But now there is so much at stake. My own personal happiness and Grace’s. We love each other, but now I see this scandal of her father’s death will always be between us. A dark shadow.’
‘A shadow that time will erase, when two people love each other,’ said Faro soothingly, aware that his voice carried little personal conviction.
Twenty-four hours later his suspicions were proved right. Vince returned to Sheridan Place and threw down the report of the postmortem on the table in front of him. ‘Well, Stepfather, it seems I was right to trust my instincts and observations, scant good that they will do me. There was no trace of a brain disease or any other evidence of ill-health. His heart and lungs were sound. In fact, whatever the Langweils’ claim, Cedric was a healthy man in the prime of life who might reasonably have expected to live for another thirty years.’ Vince sighed. ‘I had actually been hoping that he had some incurable illness and had taken his own life. But not now. Someone is lying,’ he added heavily.
The same thought had been running through Faro’s mind.
Now, putting his hand on the report, Vince regarded him solemnly. ‘According to this, the stomach contents revealed that Cedric Langweil died of arsenic poisoning. He had in fact six times the normal fatal dose.’
So their worst fears were realised.
‘I dread to think how this will affect me. And Grace. As for you, Stepfather, it looks as if you might well have a murder investigation on your hands.’
This was a situation Faro knew only too well. After the postmortem, the verdict of cause of death; and then all the heavy machinery of criminal investigation by the Edinburgh City Police would go into immediate action, as personified by Detective Inspector Faro.
Someone had poisoned Cedric Langweil. Faro had no doubt that whoever spread the rumour that Cedric was dying was also his murderer. In the present case, clues to the identity of the killer were painfully easy to follow. And sooner rather than later the guilty person must be run to earth, charged, brought to trial. And hanged by the neck.
No other way, no way of escaping or forestalling the law’s mechanism existed. And it was no consolation to Faro to recognise that in the particular province of murder detection lay his greatest skills. Skills which he must exercise to the full extent of his powers, regardless of the fact that he and his stepson were both intimately concerned not only with the guilty but also with the innocent members of the murdered man’s family.
He had not the least doubt, nor he guessed had Vince, that Cedric Langweil’s killer would be unmasked with a minimum of effort, found where poisoners were almost always found, in the bosom of that apparently devoted family circle.
There was no pride in knowing that there was only one prime suspect to follow. When he was brought to trial the sufferings of the other Langweils would be intense as their emotions and motives were laid bare and subjected to enquiry and careful scrutiny. For the guilty man’s motive, he did not doubt, would not have changed since Cain had killed his brother, Abel. Gain, or jealousy or secret resentment that had festered over many years.
What secrets were they about to unlock? Faro wondered. And how would their revelation affect, distort, or change for ever the hopes of marriage between Vince and Grace?
Knowing that in his hands lay the outcome of an investigation calculated to destroy all hopes of two young people’s happiness, Detective Inspector Jeremy Faro was a profoundly unhappy man.
On being informed that Dr Wiseman was expected back in Edinburgh later that day, Vince and Faro set off to call upon Theodore Langweil.
‘If only we could have seen Wiseman first,’ said Vince. ‘This is most unfortunate.’
The visit to Priorsfield at least promised to be both painful and brief.
Faro observed Theodore Langweil narrowly as he read the postmortem report on his brother. His expression remained impassive. Although his hands shook as he laid it aside, such reaction was understandable, and his lips moved silently, as if repeating the monstrous conclusions of the report.
A beloved brother murdered.
Bewildered he gazed helplessly from Faro to Vince and back again. Then he shook his head several times like a man awakening from a dreadful nightmare as he searched for some explanation.
‘I cannot understand this at all. It is as I told you,’ he said dully. ‘We all knew that Cedric had been seriously ill, fatally ill, for the last six months. Wiseman will confirm that, whatever this wretched piece of paper says. Why don’t you ask him?’
Vince said: ‘There is one possible explanation, sir. Knowing that he was dying, could he not have taken his own life?’
‘Impossible. I could never entertain such a thought, not for one moment. He was a courageous man. And he would never have done such a thing. He loved life.’ Silent for a moment, he looked towards the window with its darkening clouds.
‘The fact that it was to be short made it even more precious. He was determined to live it to the utmost. “Every minute of every hour of every day, Theo.” Those were his very words to me, here in this room.’
‘What about pain, sir?’ asked Vince gently. ‘Was he not afraid that he might suffer a great deal?’
‘He had learned to live with blinding headaches. He told us the consultant had assured him that with the help of a little morphine - near the end - the end would be speedy, total collapse, a coma, days only. But you are no doubt aware of all this, surely, Dr Laurie,’ he added irritably.
Vince nodded. ‘It rather depends upon the exact location of the tumour.’
With a sigh Theodore continued, ‘I know of one very good reason why Cedric would not have taken his own life. There was a very large insurance taken out at the time of Grace’s birth and this, as you know, would be forfeit if he had taken his own life.’
Looking at their faces, he said, ‘I see you are not convinced, but I have one other reason for believing that he did not intend to die. There were important documents awaiting his signature.’
He tapped a drawer. ‘They are still here in my desk’
‘May I ask what was the nature of these documents?’ Faro asked.
‘Transfer of business shares. Oh, nothing serious. We were merely selling some properties. I can assure you that we are not in danger of bankruptcy.’ Staring again towards the window, he frowned. ‘He also talked of revising his will.’
‘In what way revising?’ said Faro sharply. In his experience changed wills were frequently the cause of mysterious and totally unexpected family fatalities.
‘I am not at liberty to discuss such matters at present,’ was the scornful reply. ‘But I can tell you that the clauses under discussion related to the family business concerns only. I hope all this information satisfies you.’
It did not satisfy Faro at all, but presumably Theodore was now aware that in the event of a murder enquiry - should he, as the prime suspect, be accused of his brother’s murder - then such information and more, much more, painful information must be laid bare.
Theodore left his desk and indicating that the interview was over, held open the door for them. ‘I leave to your imagination the embarrassment to say nothing of the distress your somewhat over-conscientious behaviour has caused this family in their time of sorrow and bereavement’
Oh, Barbara, Faro thought. If only I could spare you the humiliation, the grief of all that is to follow. Not only Barbara, but Grace too. And Vince.
For although Theodore’s remark applied to both men, his resentful glance sliding off Vince held this impulsive young doctor his niece was to marry directly responsible for this dread blight on the Langweil name.
‘There are a lot of things that require explanation,’ said Faro as they walked homewards, breaking the long silence between them, for Vince wrapped in his own despair had not yet given thought to the shortcomings in Theodore’s statement.
‘First of all, what I still fail to understand is why Adrian did not warn you of Cedric’s condition.’
‘Loyalty to the family and all that, I suppose. You must remember, Stepfather, that he wasn’t expecting Cedric’s end to be by poisoning either.’
‘What about this prescription Adrian gave him?’
‘For indigestion, you mean?’
‘Yes, how often would he take a dose of it?’
‘Whenever he had an attack. I imagine. Or if attacks were persistent, then last thing at night.’
‘Then doubtless he took at least one dose during or after the dinner party.’
‘I should imagine he would have done that, yes. Hold on, Stepfather,’ Vince laughed uneasily. ‘You’re not suggesting that Adrian’s simple mixture—’
‘I’m only suggesting from the facts known to us that the poison was administered sometime before Cedric retired at three o’clock. Either in a glass of wine or in a spoonful of medicine.’
‘Meaning that the chief suspects are now Theodore and Adrian. Is that what you are suggesting?’
‘Or Maud. Or one of the staff. Oh, I don’t know, lad. All I’m indicating is that we are only at the beginning and we need to know a lot more about those critical last hours Cedric spent at Priorsfield. Did he really believe he was dying, or did someone persuade him that he was a doomed man?’
‘Our only hope is Dr Wiseman. We’ve met on the golf course, let’s hope he’ll be able to throw some light on this wretched business.’
Outside his house, Dr Wiseman was paying off the carriage which had brought him and his travelling bag from the railway station.
Faro’s first impression was of a younger man than the affluent middle-aged consultant he had expected to meet. Or perhaps, he thought wryly, like policemen, doctors gave the illusion that as one got older, they got younger.
His confidence in the interview was also blighted by realisation that their arrival was most inopportune. Wiseman appeared very put out and agitated, especially when he learned the nature of Dr Laurie’s visit and that he was accompanied by a police detective.
‘Yes, indeed, I read about Mr Cedric Langweil’s death in the London newspapers when I got back from Ireland.’
When they showed no signs of departing he invited them into the house with certain reluctance, watching the maid carrying his luggage upstairs. Finally he ushered them into what appeared as a bleak and inhospitable consulting room.
‘Please take a seat, gentlemen. What can I do for you?’
‘We need some information about your patient, Doctor,’ said Faro.
Dr Wiseman was trying hard not to tremble. ‘What kind of information?’
‘Dr Langweil has given us to understand that his brother consulted you.’
Dr Wiseman frowned. ‘Yes, I believe so,’ he said vaguely.
‘Then perhaps you knew something of his case history.’
‘Case history?’ he repeated warily.
‘We understand from the family that Cedric Langweil was incurably ill, that he had a disease of the brain,’ said Vince, ‘and that he had only a short while to live.’
Dr Wiseman’s bewildered glance went from Vince to Faro and back again. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, gentlemen. Very sorry indeed.’ And shaking his head, ‘What you say may be true, but it is new to me. I assure you he never consulted me about any such condition. Your informant is mistaken. It must have been some other physician.’
‘Are you sure?’ demanded Vince.
‘I am indeed. As I am personally acquainted with Dr Adrian and have had the honour of attending various members of the family, it is unlikely that I would not have remembered such an illustrious patient as Cedric Langweil.’
Dr Wiseman smiled and in his expression Faro detected relief. Somehow this was not what he had been expecting.
‘I do apologise for having seemed so vague when you asked me about him. You see, I think I only saw Cedric professionally once and that was when he had a festered thumb. I have attended Miss Langweil and her mother on one or two trivial medical matters.’
You don’t know then who he might have consulted?’
‘I’m sorry. I haven’t the least idea. But surely Mrs Langweil would be the one to ask.’
A now very cheerful Dr Wiseman saw them to the door, his parting remarks about the coming golf championship and comforting words on the present state of Vince’s handicap. With an early meeting proposed between two doctors, they shook hands and parted most cordially.
As they headed towards Princes Street, Vince said: ‘I don’t know about you, Stepfather, but I’m completely baffled. Why on earth did Cedric lie to his family about Wiseman? A complete waste of time, and very embarrassing for a colleague, I can tell you. And we’re not one whit wiser now than we were before.’
But Faro, remembering Wiseman’s anxiety, had his own thoughts on the matter. ‘I wonder who is lying. You realise, lad, that in the circumstances, with no evidence apart from his family’s insistence that Cedric was a dying man, we now have no other option than to treat this as a murder case.’
At the Central Office, Superintendent McIntosh wasn’t at all pleased by this turn of events as he threw down the postmortem report on to his desk and regarded Faro darkly across the table.
‘This is your province, Faro, and frankly not one I envy you. Dashed difficult I know, with your stepson almost a member of the family. And the Langweils respected pillars of society. I’m afraid this is going to create one hell of a scandal.’
McIntosh’s feelings were understandable, since he too had enjoyed the Langweil hospitality at Priorsfield over a number of years.
‘If only we hadn’t brought in the Fiscal,’ he sighed. ‘I suppose we could have ignored it. Presumed that the poor chap had taken his own life. Not unusual in the circumstances for a dying man to be unable to face up to the last weeks—’
‘Look here, sir,’ Faro interrupted, ‘you know as well as I do that if Langweil was poisoned, for some motive as yet unknown to us, then the possibility exists that the murderer will strike again.’
‘He or she,’ McIntosh reminded him, ‘especially as the first place you’ll need to look is in the victim’s family circle.’ He shrugged. ‘Devoted family like that too.’
Faro regarded him cynically. The words were beginning to have a familiarly hollow ring. As for his superior, McIntosh could display almost childlike credulity at times, quite at odds with a tough exterior and more than thirty years’ experience of violent crimes and criminals.
His own thoughts at that moment were concentrated not only on who had given Cedric Langweil an overdose of arsenic, but also on why? To kill a man known to be dying imminently called for an exceptional motive. If he could find it, then he was halfway to success.
His compassion lay with the murdered man’s daughter Grace and the inevitable repercussions on her relationship with Vince when his detective stepfather metaphorically tightened the noose around the neck of one of her so-called ‘devoted family’.
Walking slowly homeward through the moonlight, the cold and pitiless beauty of a frosty evening with the stars bright above Salisbury Crags, Faro thought sadly how so much beauty wears a mask of cruelty. And he remembered his own thoughts of a week ago, how he had been congratulating himself on how well their lives were going.
‘Tempting the gods,’ he said out loud. ‘I should have known better.’ That’s what always happens. Measure happiness, feel secure, and it all vanishes like fairy gold.
His next call must be upon Cedric’s widow, Maud. Fully aware of the nature of questions to be asked, such poking and prying into her distressed and shocked condition filled him with a natural disgust.
Could he take the coward’s way out and ask if the enquiry could be delegated to someone else? He was sorely tempted. Knowing Vince’s personal involvement with the Langweils, McIntosh would understand.
The more he thought of it the greater temptation became, but even more clearly came realisation that he could not abandon Vince and the Langweils. The fact that his stepson was involved made it even more imperative that he personally solve the case. He could not take a chance on some other less experienced detective, working on a case where the evidence of one suspect was so inviting, reaching a false and fatal conclusion.
