Murder by Appointment: Inspector Faro No.10 by Alanna Knight Page B
Authors: Alanna Knight
Ads: Link
making.
Thomas gazed out of the window. 'There's something else, sir. If those two in the mortuary are related—and I agree with you, there was a strong resemblance. Assuming they were brother and sister, why were they not sharing the cottage? There were two rooms after all, if you count the box-bed in the kitchen.'
Faro gave Thomas an admiring glance, for the same idea had occurred to him.
'Perhaps they had something to conceal, some criminal activity that linked them.'
'That's right, sir. And by living together they each put the other in danger.'
Faro nodded and Thomas continued, 'One reason for using Andy Carling as a messenger could have been a letter or something too important to be trusted to the mail.'
But Faro's mind was elsewhere. To him perhaps not the most important, but certainly the most worrying of all, was the question: Where did Lachlan Brown fit into these mysterious deaths?
Was the visit of the beggarman (alias Mr Glen alias Davy McNair) to the Assembly Rooms to warn the young pianist? And was the misjudged rifle shot coincidence or part of a sinister plot?
Requesting to be put off at his home in Sheridan Place, he gave Thomas certain instructions. As they sat outside the door the constable showed no inclination to leave and proceeded to go over the events of the last hour
At last the front door of number 9 opened and Thomas leaned forward. His homely face lit up as the maid May walked down the steps with a shopping basket over her arm.
Stepping out of the carriage, he greeted her and for the first time ever Faro saw her smile and realized that he was witnessing a romance in the making.
He realized now why the constable was so eager to be on the beat in the Newington area..
'There's no hurry to get back, Thomas. Take a couple of hours off, you've worked for them!'
Thomas beamed gratefully upon him. Even May smiled shyly and Faro felt inordinately proud of his new role as Cupid.
Leaving the police carriage later, Faro was in time to catch Lachlan as he was running down the front steps of the Caledonian Hotel into a waiting carriage.
He stopped and pointed in amazement to the jacket which Faro carried over his arm. 'Where did you get that?'
And inspecting the label, he confirmed that this was the garment he had given to the old man from Glen Gairn.
'I doubt if there is another like it in the whole of Edinburgh. But how did you come by it?' he added again and indicated the carriage. 'Look, I'm late already. I'm going to George Street. Jump in and we'll talk on the way.'
Taking a seat alongside, Faro told him that the man who had come to his dressing room was dead. Lachlan gave a shocked exclamation when Faro added that his name was probably McNair.
'That's it! Now I remember. Davy McNair. Poor man, poor man. How dreadful. I realize he looked half starved. If only he had come to me earlier.'
Faro decided not to tell him that McNair had probably been murdered as he continued; 'Look, can I do anything to help?' He paused awkwardly. 'I mean about the funeral expenses and so forth.'
'That's very good of you, sir.'
'Lachlan—please, Mr Faro.'
'Very well. I would be greatly obliged if you could find out anything about him as soon as possible—from Mr Brown— your uncle—'
Lachlan laughed. 'Well, that's easy. It so happens that Uncle John is going down to Osborne to join Her Majesty there. Knowing I was still in Edinburgh he decided to come to my recital tonight, to hear my new composition—incognito, of course. You understand!'
He paused. 'Look, why don't you have a word with him yourself? I'm sure he'll be glad to see you again after all these years.'
Chapter 9
John Brown and Faro met that evening in Lachlan's dressing room at the end of his recital. Faro had not been present but was aware that Brown's appearance had created a mighty stir in the streets of Edinburgh, a sensation worthy of confirmation by the newspapers next morning: 'Famous young concert pianist meets his
Thomas gazed out of the window. 'There's something else, sir. If those two in the mortuary are related—and I agree with you, there was a strong resemblance. Assuming they were brother and sister, why were they not sharing the cottage? There were two rooms after all, if you count the box-bed in the kitchen.'
Faro gave Thomas an admiring glance, for the same idea had occurred to him.
'Perhaps they had something to conceal, some criminal activity that linked them.'
'That's right, sir. And by living together they each put the other in danger.'
Faro nodded and Thomas continued, 'One reason for using Andy Carling as a messenger could have been a letter or something too important to be trusted to the mail.'
But Faro's mind was elsewhere. To him perhaps not the most important, but certainly the most worrying of all, was the question: Where did Lachlan Brown fit into these mysterious deaths?
Was the visit of the beggarman (alias Mr Glen alias Davy McNair) to the Assembly Rooms to warn the young pianist? And was the misjudged rifle shot coincidence or part of a sinister plot?
Requesting to be put off at his home in Sheridan Place, he gave Thomas certain instructions. As they sat outside the door the constable showed no inclination to leave and proceeded to go over the events of the last hour
At last the front door of number 9 opened and Thomas leaned forward. His homely face lit up as the maid May walked down the steps with a shopping basket over her arm.
Stepping out of the carriage, he greeted her and for the first time ever Faro saw her smile and realized that he was witnessing a romance in the making.
He realized now why the constable was so eager to be on the beat in the Newington area..
'There's no hurry to get back, Thomas. Take a couple of hours off, you've worked for them!'
Thomas beamed gratefully upon him. Even May smiled shyly and Faro felt inordinately proud of his new role as Cupid.
Leaving the police carriage later, Faro was in time to catch Lachlan as he was running down the front steps of the Caledonian Hotel into a waiting carriage.
He stopped and pointed in amazement to the jacket which Faro carried over his arm. 'Where did you get that?'
And inspecting the label, he confirmed that this was the garment he had given to the old man from Glen Gairn.
'I doubt if there is another like it in the whole of Edinburgh. But how did you come by it?' he added again and indicated the carriage. 'Look, I'm late already. I'm going to George Street. Jump in and we'll talk on the way.'
Taking a seat alongside, Faro told him that the man who had come to his dressing room was dead. Lachlan gave a shocked exclamation when Faro added that his name was probably McNair.
'That's it! Now I remember. Davy McNair. Poor man, poor man. How dreadful. I realize he looked half starved. If only he had come to me earlier.'
Faro decided not to tell him that McNair had probably been murdered as he continued; 'Look, can I do anything to help?' He paused awkwardly. 'I mean about the funeral expenses and so forth.'
'That's very good of you, sir.'
'Lachlan—please, Mr Faro.'
'Very well. I would be greatly obliged if you could find out anything about him as soon as possible—from Mr Brown— your uncle—'
Lachlan laughed. 'Well, that's easy. It so happens that Uncle John is going down to Osborne to join Her Majesty there. Knowing I was still in Edinburgh he decided to come to my recital tonight, to hear my new composition—incognito, of course. You understand!'
He paused. 'Look, why don't you have a word with him yourself? I'm sure he'll be glad to see you again after all these years.'
Chapter 9
John Brown and Faro met that evening in Lachlan's dressing room at the end of his recital. Faro had not been present but was aware that Brown's appearance had created a mighty stir in the streets of Edinburgh, a sensation worthy of confirmation by the newspapers next morning: 'Famous young concert pianist meets his
Similar Books
