Murder by Appointment: Inspector Faro No.10 (13 page)

Perhaps Crowe was a common enough Irish name, but the main reason for Faro's attendance was the hope that Crowe
would be revealed as one of two men who had attacked him. It
was a chance not to be missed; he would enjoy the satisfaction
of seeing the man condemned and justice done. And at the back of his mind, revived once more, was the possibility of proving a link with the McNair murders.

He was to be disappointed. He listened to the charge. Seamus Crowe had been arrested for unruly behaviour, disturbing the peace and expressing seditious sentiments at
the Mercat Cross. He was accused of expressing anti-Royalist
sympathies and inciting the listeners to riot during a political meeting addressed by the distinguished Ulster Member of Parliament Sir Hamish Royston Blunt, who happened to be a Stirling gentleman with Royal connections.

Sir Hamish was also in court that day and Faro recognized the fine Highland features as well as the stir his presence created. He watched him listening intently as Crowe was charged with carrying a banner bearing the words 'Home Rule for Ireland. Erin Go Brach' (translated for the court as 'Ireland for Ever') and for confronting Sir Hamish and
attempting to do him grievous bodily harm by assaulting him
with the said banner.

Crowe interrupted at this point, shouting in protest that he had no intention of harming Sir Hamish, that he had merely thrust forward the banner for him to see the words.

He was silenced immediately and the court called to order.

Proceedings continued. Crowe had been restrained from approaching Sir Hamish by several town officers and, in the scuffle that followed, he had struck a constable across the mouth, thereby slackening one of the said constable's teeth.

From his seat in the gallery, Faro had lost interest in the
case, bitterly disappointed that the prisoner Crowe, an earnest
and delicate-looking young man with carrot-red hair and
spectacles could not, by any stretch of imagination, have been one of the bullies who had attacked him. He hardly listened to
the heavy sentence being passed on Crowe, a fine of several hundred pounds and six months in gaol.

With the sensitivity he had developed over the years, he was aware of being watched, of close scrutiny. Turning his head cautiously, his eyes met those of Imogen Crowe.

A moment later, she pushed her way towards the bench,
thereby breaking all the rules as she shouted that the sentence
was grossly unfair but that she was willing to put up bail for the young man who was her cousin and pay whatever costs were involved.

The Sheriff was not well pleased by this interruption or by the remotest possibility that Seamus Crowe should escape imprisonment. He demanded her name.

Kinship to the prisoner and Imogen's accent infuriated him further. A passionately religious Orangeman, he hated the Catholic Irish with a passion that included a regret that the
practice of hanging, drawing and quartering all traitors, especially Irish traitors, was out of date by more than two hundred years.

Ignoring Imogen's offer, he took the opportunity to admonish her in the strongest possible terms for this unseemly interruption, informing her that he regarded the sentence on the young man as too lenient. Exclaiming against the effrontery of one Fenian defending another in a British court, he demanded to know by what rights this woman was not being charged for associating with a criminal movement.

'Is this to be the new path of British justice?' he appealed to
the court in general and found to his delight a murmur of approval, a few loud 'Hear, hear's.

Worse was to follow. It so happened that the Sheriff was a keen reader and Imogen Crowe's banned book on life in a women's prison in London had fallen into his hands. He was
about to play his ace card: 'Can the prisoner be defended by a
woman who had once served a term of imprisonment herself for Fenian activities?'

This was too much for Faro. He went forward, approached the bench and begging their indulgence announced himself
as Chief Inspector Faro of the Edinburgh City Police. He was
prepared personally to vouch for Miss Crowe. Regarding her book, he respectfully drew the Sheriff's attention to the fact that, since its publication, her innocence and wrongful imprisonment had been proved.

His name drew respect and so did his reputation. No one
lightly tackled the sincerity or the findings of the distinguished
detective.

The Sheriff gave Faro a venomous look and apologised
obliquely to Miss Crowe but that was as far as he was prepared
to go. Bail was refused for Seamus Crowe and, despite the protests, he was sent to gaol for six months.

Watching Crowe led away to the cells, Faro guessed that this was doubtless the young man Vince and Olivia had seen with Imogen in Edinburgh. That he was her cousin should
have cheered him, except that the description of a young man
with red hair and spectacles and a woman, tall, slim and veiled
but pretty, also fitted the description of the mysterious Irish couple who had visited Miss McNair's cottage.

Faro left the court hastily with the unhappy thought that if his suspicions were correct, then Imogen and her relative were connected with the Fenians' involvement in the papers
stolen from Balmoral. And that they were prepared to murder
to acquire those documents.

He guessed that they had done so already and decided grimly that if all did not go according to their plans, the Fenians would be capable of further murders.

As for himself, it was less than consoling to his unblemished
reputation that, by his action in supporting Imogen Crowe in court, he had undoubtedly assisted a miscarriage of British justice.

As Faro hovered indecisively outside the court, hoping that Imogen Crowe might appear, Sir Hamish hurried down the steps.

He was alone and, seeing Faro, bowed politely. 'You will not be offended if I tell you, sir, that I thoroughly applaud your action in defending that young woman. It fits in with all I have heard of your reputation for justice and fair play.'

Faro, somewhat embarrassed, murmured his gratitude. As they shook hands, he looked again at Sir Hamish. There was something familiar about him.

'Have we not met before, sir?'

Sir Hamish studied him intently for a moment and then shook his head. 'Not that I am aware of. Your name is well known to me in Scotland and I am sure I would not have forgotten meeting you.' He smiled. 'And it is a pleasure to do so now. Good day, Inspector.'

As Sir Hamish climbed into the waiting carriage, Faro again turned his attention to the court door. Should he wait for Imogen Crowe to emerge, or return to his lodging and avoid a meeting? He was not surprised to find that she still aroused emotions dormant in him. Emotions that he decided could be dangerous for them both.

Then he saw her, walking swiftly, gracefully, eyes narrowed against the sunlight streaming into the doorway. The
slight hesitation told him that she had seen him. She moved indecisively, a gesture indicating that she also wished to avoid this encounter. But was her reaction for the same reason, Faro wondered.

For one instant he thought she was going to turn on her
heel, head in the opposite direction. He knew he could not let
this happen, that he would always regret having let this moment pass.

'Imogen!'

She looked at him, smiled, managed to make it look as if she
was surprised to see him waiting for her. She came forward, hand outstretched, and a drift of perfume reminded him of
their first meeting at Elrigg. In retrospect it seemed impossible
to believe that once he had so heartily disliked her.

'Thank you for your help. I'm in your debt, Inspector— as usual,' she added, her wry look showing that she too remembered.

'It's been a long time Imogen. Three years.'

She shrugged. 'Nearer four.'

He felt a moment's joy. She had counted them more carefully than he had.

'I don't know where the years go to—'

Hardly a compelling or original statement, he thought, the usual excuse signalling either neglect, indifference, or both.

She ignored it and continued, 'Seamus will be grateful to you. He's a good lad, a bit impulsive. The dedicated patriot, but I dare say he may grow out of it some day. Anyway, it is good to see you again. You are looking well,' she added, trying in vain to sound genuinely interested.

He could think of nothing more to say. She hesitated a moment and then began to walk away from him. Her action,
her small gesture of the head indicated that she had no wish to
prolong this meeting or further their association beyond the bounds dictated by gratitude and politeness.

Desperately, he fell into step at her side.

'Where are you staying?'

'At the Golden Lion there.' She pointed. 'Convenient for the court.' She looked at him. 'Are you here on police business?'

'Yes. It was quite by accident I read about your nephew's trial.'

'Then we should both be grateful to you.'

They had almost reached the hotel.

'What are you doing now?' he asked.

'Still writing books. Still travelling.'

'Good. I meant for the rest of the day.' And when she shrugged 'Shall we have lunch?'

'If you wish,' she said. Her voice, sad and tired, lacked enthusiasm.

He pretended not to notice. 'Splendid. Where shall we go?'

The hotel was an impressive building built in 1786. 'This will do. Food's good enough for the visiting judges and it boasts of being patronised by Royalty.'

Seated at a table overlooking the street, she looked up from
the menu and said, 'I thought I saw Olivia and Vince at the theatre one night when Seamus and I were in Edinburgh.

'When was that?'

'A few weeks ago. I gather they are married now.'

'And have been for a couple of years.'

'Are they happy?'

'Very!' Faro looked at her wistful expression. What an odd question.

I'm delighted. Do give them my best wishes,' she added with a smile and continued to study the menu.

Faro was pleased to notice from her order that her appetite was unaffected by the recent traumas of the court.

'Are you often in Edinburgh?'

'From time to time. When my writing takes me there.'

That promise when they last met to keep in touch was avoided and Faro had few memories of the food served to them, poor or excellent it would have made little difference. Not only did his appetite flag but so did the conversation deteriorate to a careful inconsequential chatter between strangers.

Faro looked at her bleakly. He felt that his presence bored her, and that she regretted having accepted his invitation. And all the while he was trying not to notice how attractive she was, with her soft Irish brogue, trying not to let his emotions be influenced by this charming exterior, while she regarded him from behind some impenetrable barrier she had deliberately raised between them.

At last the meal was over, the bill paid. She thanked him profusely, said how nice it had been, seeing him again, and how grateful she was. And Seamus too.

'What are you doing for the rest of the day?' he interrupted.

She stared at him wide-eyed, as if this was a completely unexpected and somewhat improper suggestion. Then she
shrugged and laughed, a laugh soft and deep in her throat that
he remembered.