The Seal King Murders (13 page)

Faro looked back towards the now-empty pew. Josh was a shadow moving towards a side exit, swiftly for such a sick man, and one not wishing to be recognised.

He was accosted at the entrance by the fellow Faro recognised as Rob, Amos Flett’s assistant. Faro stood back as the two exchanged a few urgent words, before Josh pushed past the ferryman.

He had to stand aside quickly as Rob went into the nearest pew and knelt down in prayer. He realised that the delay had cost him the opportunity of following Josh. Outside he was nowhere to be seen and was presumably back home again.

On the Kirk Green, Faro lingered until Thora appeared, freed of the choristers. Bowing as though this was an accidental encounter, he greeted her. She looked at him quickly and with no change of expression, wished him good day and hurried away, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

He watched her go. He had stumbled accidently on a tragic tale. Having just gone through the agonies of a drowned husband, recently buried, it appeared Thora was now without any hope of a happy ending with the ferryman’s brother, whose fate was sealed by the scourge of consumption.

Poor Thora, his heart went out to her. This meeting with Josh must have caused her indescribable distress.

With time on his hands before meeting Stavely, there seemed little more to be done until the posters worked and man’s high principles or greed for a reward blossomed into revealing the present whereabouts of a missing girl.

He walked towards Tankerness House, remarkably well preserved for its three hundred years. Progress, in the shape of a modern town hall and post office, had mercifully passed it by. With a splendid ancient gateway and crow-stepped gable ends, characteristic of Kirkwall’s architecture, its paved quadrangle retained the charm and dignity of a historic university.

His contemplation was interrupted as a familiar figure emerged in the comely shape of Inga. Their delight in this unexpected meeting was mutual and regardless of passers-by they
hugged one another, and at Inga’s suggestion adjourned to the Lamb & Flag for a pot of tea.

Seated at a table, Inga demanded, ‘What brings you here?’

Faro explained about the posters, to which Inga reiterated her cynical response that everyone who knew the informer would want a share of the reward.

‘Where do you think she is?’ Faro asked.

Inga laughed. ‘If I knew the answer to that I wouldn’t be wasting time talking to you. I’d be heading to Scarthbreck and claiming the reward.’

Faro ignored that and went on, ‘Do you think she is hiding, or is she being held by a kidnapper?’

Inga nodded. ‘I see you have wisely abandoned the suicide idea, the pregnant girl putting an end to it all.’

‘I think there is a darker side to all this.’

Inga laughed. ‘That’s dark enough for most folk.’

‘I’m sure no one will believe me, but I’m certain there is a link somewhere with Thora Claydon.’

Inga laughed. ‘Are you considering that the seal king has claimed a second bride? That handsome reward wouldn’t be much use in his kingdom under the waves, would it?’

‘I’m being serious, Inga.’ And he told how he had witnessed the meeting of Thora and Josh in the cathedral and how intimate they looked.

Inga looked puzzled. ‘I can’t imagine Thora wanting to take up with Josh Flett. It’s a miracle he’s still here. Been consumptive for years. According to Amos, just weeks ago he was on his deathbed.’

And Faro thought again of the dying man in prayer. Perhaps his miracle was happening, although he didn’t expect Inga to believe that as she continued, ‘Doesn’t sound like Thora at all. More likely, with Dave gone, she’d be on the lookout for a rich gentleman. Hardly likely to waste her charms on Josh Flett, unless he’d leave her a wealthy widow, second time round.’

‘Was she happy with Dave?’ Faro asked, remembering the circumstances of that strange marriage.

Inga shrugged. ‘They were fairly comfortably off with Dave as an excise officer, but there were no bairns and Dave was fond of the bottle and had a reputation as a keen gambler who’d bet on anything.’ Pausing she smiled. ‘But who knows? Josh is quite different. He doesn’t drink or gamble and he’s always been a bookish sort of lad. Maybe second time lucky.’

Faro remembered Thora outside the cathedral in obvious distress as he said, ‘You’re very
cynical, Inga. Don’t you believe in true love?’

She nodded eagerly. ‘Oh yes, I believe in true love. That certainly exists, a bonus in our frail human lives. But marriages are more often calculated on a financial basis. It has always been that way, history will tell you so if you have any doubts.’ Touching his arm gently, she whispered, ‘Don’t look so shocked, Jeremy dear. You still have a lot to learn if you think that true love ends happily ever after with the wedding bells.’

After listening to her words, Faro decided that he was learning a lot more about Inga ten years after he left the island lovesick and yearning for her. Now, before his eyes, many of his illusions were being destroyed. He had loved her so much, all the other women he ever met paled before his dream of her, his first love. A love that had seemed to be mutual.

Now he knew that, had he stayed in Orkney, it would not have ended in a lifetime together. But had he been a rich man, instead of a poor youth with nothing to offer but his love and a struggling existence as a policeman’s wife in Edinburgh, what then?

Suddenly the laughter and delight of this unexpected meeting had turned sour. Wounded by this new Inga, he decided to change the subject. ‘I called yesterday and was pleasantly surprised when Baubie Finn answered the door.
You were the subject of our conversation, your kindness nursing her back to health when she had been so ill.’

Inga shrugged. ‘What else could I do? Fever that was going into pneumonia. There was no one to take care of her, and I was glad to help. I couldn’t just leave her at death’s door. She was – and is – quite frail, and I’ve loved sharing my little house with her.’

Faro was silent, wondering how to phrase his feelings regarding Baubie. ‘Do you find her quite strange sometimes?’

Inga looked at him frowning. ‘What do you mean “quite strange”?’

Embarrassed, Faro said, ‘I had only seen her seated in the Orkney chair. Walking, she seemed quite different, very slow-moving.’ He thought of those oddly sliding footsteps. ‘She’s an odd shape for a female, I mean.’ He stopped there and Inga laughed.

‘Men notice such things, but I’ve never given it a second thought. Now that you mention it, I can understand why people think she’s a selkie.’ She paused. ‘She has webbed toes and fingers, incidentally – hence the mittens she always wears.’

Faro thrust away the remembrance of fingers with odd-shaped, claw-like nails as Inga continued, ‘Do you know she never mentioned
your visit? Not a word that you had called when I was out.’

It was a chance to mention the memory of one incident that bothered him. ‘You do get a lot of visitors, Inga. The first time I called on you, I met Amos just leaving.’

Inga looked at him and smiled. Rather secretively, he thought.

‘Tell me about him,’ he said lightly.

‘What do you mean?’

‘What do you think of Amos?’

She shrugged. ‘What I think of Amos is no one’s concern to anyone but Amos and me.’

Seeing the look on Faro’s face, she relented and sighed. ‘I hardly think of Amos at all, except that he’s a very caring man devoted to an invalid brother. That’s the reason he’s never married. Because he’s very handsome all the lasses love him. Men like him too. If he had more than a ferryman’s pay to offer, he’d be the most eligible bachelor in Kirkwall.’ She looked at him again, head on one side. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘You never mention him; I wondered if you were friends when I saw him leaving your house.’

She gave him a scornful glance. ‘We are. Rob, his friend, lives a few doors away.’ She paused. ‘If you really want to know why he was in my house that day, although it’s no business of
yours, Jeremy Faro, I make his shirts and he’d come about that. I’m a seamstress, remember, that’s how I earn a living.’ She paused and added slowly, ‘I am also a free spirit, no man owns me – or ever will.’

There was no doubt that this held a warning note not lost on Faro as she continued, ‘I doubt that I will ever marry. I have no inclination to be a slave to any man.’ And, echoing his earlier misgivings, ‘Or to be a policeman’s wife living in a dusty city far from the island.’ Then wagging a finger at him, ‘So don’t waste any sleep getting ideas about a future for us. It doesn’t exist and never will. I’m very fond of you, Jeremy, but fondness isn’t enough for marriage. The most we could have is just a pleasant interlude together.’

Pausing to allow him to assimilate what amounted to a proposition, when he did not respond, she shrugged, ‘If that doesn’t satisfy you, you’d better go back to Edinburgh and forget all about me.’

‘I assure you, I won’t ever do that.’

With a shrug of unmistakeable indifference she said, ‘Maybe. But I can see you married to your Lizzie, who’s probably waiting patiently for you to ask her. She sounds the right kind of woman to make you happy in a way I never could. I’d soon get bored and I couldn’t guarantee to be faithful to one man for ever.’

And on that fateful note, their conversation ended with the abrupt appearance of Sergeant Stavely, who said impatiently, ‘I’ve been waiting for you at the station and I guessed you’d be here.’

A glance at the teacups and acknowledging Inga with a slight bow, ‘Ready to leave now. Gig’s outside’.

Faro and Inga exchanged polite ‘good days’ and Faro was silent on that drive, telling himself that she was right to warn him, and that sensibly putting aside this infatuation was long overdue. His return to Orkney, and meeting her again, had aroused all those emotions of first love. Now he knew he must see it through her eyes and cast aside all hopes that she would suddenly change her mind. Having solved the mystery of Dave Claydon for Macfie’s satisfaction, the main reason for this visit, all his efforts must now be directed to help solve the sinister disappearance of Celia Prentiss-Grant. Then he would be free to return to his duties in Edinburgh.

The last hour had sadly convinced him that he would have liked to leave tomorrow, but he was trapped. As the last person to see Celia, if the worst had happened and the girl had met with a violent end, the reason for his restraint was a sobering thought.

Even if the killer’s identity came to light, he felt certain that having momentarily been a prime suspect in Stavely’s report would cast a shadow on his future career in the Edinburgh City Police.

The posters for the missing girl took immediate effect. The police station in Kirkwall had a small queue next morning. Harassed constables busily taking down details, overseen by Stavely, who had set up a reception area to interview claimants, it soon became obvious that their information had little hope of revealing the present whereabouts of the missing girl.

‘A lass like that walked past our farm last week.’ Dismissed by Stavely since Celia had not even arrived in Orkney last week.

‘Saw a lass walking past the cathedral here last night.’ Further details revealed that she had red hair and walked with a limp.

Next, ‘A woman moved in next door last
week, a stranger she is, and looks like the poster.’ This woman was about thirty-five, dark hair going grey, and she had a husband.

‘Saw a lass with a bairn down by the Peerie Sea. Age? About twenty. Aye, plump she was. I didna’ ken her hair colour, she was wearing a bonnet.’

And so it continued. All prospective claimants had one thing in common: they were eager to know if the reward was to be given before or after their valuable information had been revealed.

Stavely threw down his pen. He was fairly certain that the sightings were a waste of his time, as each disappointed claimant was turned away with the stern instruction that further proof was necessary.

While the Kirkwall constables were so employed, Faro was to remain at Scarthbreck, as Stavely believed there was a strong possibility that further claimants might descend directly on the Prentiss-Grants with their demands for the reward offered.

By lunchtime that day none had appeared. The only gig to drive up to Scarthbreck had been the Hon. Gerald Binsley, from Binsley Hall in East Sussex.

His arrival had Mary Faro in a great state
of excitement. A room had been prepared, the maids rushing to and fro under her guidance, menus were to be approved and Mary, breathless at last, sat down at the kitchen table and beamed on Faro, who had laid aside his notebook.

‘Is this man a prospective claimant for the reward?’

‘Of course not, Jeremy. He’s a friend of the family. According to the maids, that is. He often accompanies them on their travels.’ And in a conspiratorial whisper, ‘And what is more, like I told you, rumour is that he’s sweet on Miss Celia. Well, what do you think of that?’

Faro’s immediate thought – one he was not prepared to share with his mother – was that, considering what might well be Miss Celia’s unfortunate condition, the Hon. Gerald had rushed up from the south of England in order to make an honest woman of her.

At the house, he made a brief appearance before the anxious parents to inform them that Sergeant Stavely was in Kirkwall and at this moment would be testing the success of the missing-person poster – hastily rephrased ‘missing young lady’ – returning immediately to report any success.

Sir Arnold received this information in his usual unyielding manner with a brief dismissal gesture, while Lady Millicent wrung her hands
in a manner Lady Macbeth would have envied.

Informing them that he would remain in the vicinity of the servants’ lodge and would be available at any time, Faro left wondering how he could negotiate a meeting with the Hon. Gerald, and in particular how he might delicately phrase a few private words with that gentleman on a possible reason for Miss Celia’s disappearance.

He was in luck. As he walked down the front steps, a tall, thin man, not handsome or even particularly young, but kindly looking, appeared heading in the direction of the stables, leading a handsome chestnut mare.

He bowed and introduced himself as Gerald Binsley. ‘How do. You must be Detective Constable Faro,’ and as they shook hands, he said anxiously, ‘Any news?’

‘Not so far, sir, but it is early days.’ Faro tried to sound reassuring as he added, ‘The posters were only distributed yesterday.’

Binsley shook his head, bit his lip and looked very worried.

‘We had hoped there might be some response already, if only to claim the reward direct from Sir Arnold.’

‘It is more likely any news will come from Kirkwall. Most people who had sightings to report would go to the police station there, and
Sergeant Stavely will be arriving with the results so far.’

Binsley smiled wanly and said, ‘This is such a worry for the parents, as you can imagine. Only child and all that.’

Faro was suddenly hopeful. ‘You have a long acquaintance with the family?’

‘I have indeed. Known young Celia all her life. Taught her to ride.’ And patting the mare, ‘Started with ponies, but Blossom here in Orkney is her favourite. Bit wild sometimes.’

Intercepting Faro’s sharp look, Binsley laughed. ‘Yes, both of them suit each other. Celia’s born to the saddle. No horse she can’t break. Rides like a man, hates all that
sidesaddle
ladies’ rubbish.’

Again he laughed, remembering, then soberly shook his head. ‘Dear God. I hope she is all right, that nothing has happened to her.’

‘We all hope that, sir.’

‘I’ve heard it all from the parents.’

All except the abandoned clothes, Faro thought, wondering what Gerald Binsley would make of that, as he went on, ‘Just like Celia to decide to go for a swim – and to hell with the conventions. She has absolutely no fear at all, never had. Bravest little girl I ever met.’ Suddenly silent, he bit his lip and looked ready to burst into tears.

A moment’s silence, then, aware that Binsley knew considerably more about Celia than her shocked parents would care to recognise, Faro said, ‘We are all close to these distressing circumstances, sir, but as a friend of the family, have you any idea why Miss Celia should have chosen to come to Orkney alone, and then immediately disappear?’

Binsley shook his head sadly. ‘None at all. She loved practical jokes, even as a child, loved to terrify her parents. Should have been a boy, y’know, but this behaviour is beyond a joke.’

A difficult, spoilt, indulgent only child, were the words that Binsley’s remark conjured up as he continued, ‘I thought I knew her very well. She confided in me quite often, when she had rows with her parents, which was often enough. As a little girl, she was always threatening to run away, join a circus. Tried it once before, when she was about fourteen. Left them a note.’

He laughed harshly. ‘Didn’t get far that time. Found her hiding in an old cottage on the edge of the estate.’ He sighed. ‘A crisis all about nothing, just to make her parents sorry they hadn’t given in to some whim – I forget what – possibly some trinket she wanted.’

‘What about tickets, sir? Where did she come by the money to travel, hiring a carriage from
their London home down to the docks, to board a ship leaving for Kirkwall?’

‘We don’t know for sure. Parents are a little reticent about that. Seems she had a small monthly allowance, but her father admitted that there were several guineas missing from his desk drawer – he was about to raise ructions and blame a thieving servant. Then, of course, fortunately, he found a note in the drawer from Celia that she would pay him back.’

A less than pleasant picture of the missing girl was emerging, and even the possible reason of pregnancy was fading, with Binsley in the extremely unlikely role of father to her child. Binsley was obviously a very worried man, which, Faro decided, accounted for his manner, eager to be friendly, seeking a stranger’s reassurance.

Taking advantage of gathering useful information, Faro asked, ‘Did she have a wide circle of London friends?’

‘The usual group of young females all presented at court and on the hunt for husbands.’ He shook his head. ‘But not Celia, she had little interest in marriage – as I found out too late.’

‘Too late, sir?’

‘Indeed. We had been friends all her life. She trusted me, even loved me in a way – however, as I would learn, as one would love an uncle.’ With
a bitter sigh he added, ‘The parents were getting worried and wished her to settle down, finding highly eligible young men in the
prospective-husband
role.’

Momentarily silent, he glanced at Faro. ‘I knew she hated all this. I loved her, had always loved her, and suddenly what seemed like a brilliant idea came to me. I proposed to her. I asked her to marry me. And she laughed. She laughed. Thought I was having a joke with her.’

And shaking his head violently as if the memory was too much to bear, ‘“How can I marry you?” That was what she said. “You’re my friend. I don’t love you.”’

He sighed deeply. ‘And that seems to have put an end to our friendship, too. She became suspicious, regarded me as part of her parents’ conspiracy to marry her off.’

‘Was this some time ago, sir?’

‘No, in June – it was her birthday, but I realised she no longer shared confidences and avoided being alone with me. I understood her behaviour all too well. She had trusted me with her secrets and I had betrayed her.’

Another silence. Then Faro said, without a great deal of hope, considering the parallel of his own disastrous relationship with Inga, and her harsh words, ‘When we find her again, maybe—’

Binsley shook his head firmly. ‘No, absolutely
not. I have lost her. I know that. But I shall never cease to love her and that is the reason why I had to come to Orkney to help to find her, whatever happens …’

They had reached the stable block where a lad waited. Handing the mare over to him, Binsley turned again to Faro. ‘Thank you for listening to my tale of woe, sir. It is such a relief to talk to someone. Forgive me for troubling you in this manner.’

‘Not at all, sir. I do understand such problems.’

Binsley smiled. ‘And yet you are still young.’

‘I have lived long enough, with enough experience to realise that it is often easier to talk to a stranger than those closest to us by blood.’

Binsley’s eyebrows raised. ‘D’ye know, that is absolutely true.’

And as they walked back in the direction of the house, he added, ‘I’m afraid Celia’s parents can be difficult sometimes. They seem quite out of touch with how young people think and behave these days. They live in a cosy time lock, quite unaware that the world has moved on since Victoria came to the throne.’

He sighed. ‘They have known me all my life, since I was four years old, like second parents, but I have never really got to know them at all. Always a bit in awe, never at ease with them as I
am with Celia.’ Pausing, he gave Faro a curious glance. ‘And as I appear to be with you on the merest acquaintance.’

He got no further. ‘Gerald – so this is where you are.’ Two spaniels and the formidable figure of Sir Arnold bore down on them. Cracking his whip against his riding boots he said irritably, ‘Thought we might have a morning ride together, but it seems you have forestalled me.’

‘I took Blossom out, she needed exercising. Celia was very particular about such things.’

Sir Arnold pondered on this for a moment and said briskly, ‘That’s what we keep stable boys for. Mare’s too meek and mild for me, I like an animal with spirit,’ he said, pointing to the powerful black stallion being led from the stables.

Faro thought cynically that Sir Arnold’s feelings obviously did not include spirited daughters.

Gerald turned and said, ‘Good day, Faro. Good to meet you.’ As he held out his hand, Sir Arnold looked astonished and stared at Faro as if seeing him for the first time and Binsley had spoken to a brick wall.

As far as he was concerned Gerald was alone. The policeman did not exist.