The Coffin Lane Murders (18 page)

'I gather that your niece is looking after you very well.'

Sir Hedley grunted. 'Don't need looking after. Damned nuisance they are with all their goings-on. Making a mess of my house. Changes and all that. Can't abide change. Nosy too. Always ferreting about - just like her mother.'

It was surprising to hear Sir Hedley refer to his sister since Faro could not imagine him in youth and suffered under the extraordinary delusion that he had been born into the world an old man in the same manner as Solomon's Tower had always appeared to be a part of the landscape, hewn from the volcanic rock of Arthur's Seat itself.

As he listened to the old man's tirade, he realised that Kate's original plan of living in Solomon's Tower and taking care of her uncle was not proving a success after all.

It was obvious that the old man had swiftly grown tired of having to share his house with his niece and her husband. All her well-meaning attempts to make it more comfortable had simply taken on the aspect of interfering with a way of life that he had grown accustomed to and accepted through the years, however frightful it might seem to others.

Faro recognised sympathetically that the old man had lived alone too long to reform old habits, and to be sociable with any creatures other than his cats.

Sir Hedley pointed to a paper on the desk. 'That is their latest effort,' he said grimly. 'Take a look.'

It was a drawing of the owl stone that had been found in the garden, alongside a sketch of Kate's. The drawing had been copied from a very old book bound in faded leather. Faro picked it up and studied it carefully.

'That interests you, does it? Can't make head nor tail of it myself. All that old Scots writing. Can't abide it.'

'Where did it come from?'

Sir Hedley shrugged. 'Kate gave it to me. Picked it up in some old bookshop, I suppose. What d'ye think of the drawing?'

'It's very good,' said Faro politely, his mind elsewhere.

'Now they want some archaeologists' society or other to send people out here to investigate, to dig up my garden. Won't have it. Dead against that sort of business. House crawling with strangers.'

Faro was hardly aware of him as he studied the drawing and something touched a chord.

The owl moons clasper
. Seeing the words written down -

He could hardly keep the excitement out of his voice as he held up the drawing. 'I wonder, sir, may I borrow this?'

'Take it, take it.'

Kate was no longer in the kitchen. He could see her at a washing line in the garden. He called to her and she answered, but when she reached the gate it was in time to see him walking rapidly in the direction of Newington.

Before he spoke to anyone, he had to be sure of his facts.

He found his home had been taken over. Final preparations for the forthcoming production of the pantomime for the city orphans had invaded Sheridan Place.

In the true tradition of pantomimes, most of the cast were to be male, played by members of the golf club. The exceptions were Cinderella and the Fairy Godmother, since even Vince, who masterminded the production, realised that having these two roles played by men was calculated to destroy the last vestiges of magic that might survive the performance.

As this was an amateur production using local talent, it was not quite the thing for respectable Edinburgh ladies to appear on stage and show off their legs. Indeed, professional actresses in 'breeches parts' were still regarded with suspicion by conventional folk, and regarded as just one step above street walkers.

Bearing in mind that some of his patients might be in the audience, Vince decided to play Prince Charming 'since he is off stage most of the time and can attend to other matters'.

Faro suppressed a smile, realising that his stepson had always had secret yearnings to be an actor. Now he seemed to be doing remarkably well in the role of director too.

He had persuaded Olivia to play the role of Fairy Godmother. When she expressed some doubts, he assured her that she would be respectably clad in a long gown.

Angus Spens was delighted to be offered the role of one of the Ugly Sisters, along with a quiet young lawyer recently called to the Bar whose early inclinations were to the stage rather than the law courts.

'Doubtless he'll give a superb performance in both,' said Conan. 'I can see him as a judge one day.'

He had declined a role. 'Someone must be on duty at the surgery. Patients can't be relied upon to stay well while we prance about the stage,' he added reproachfully.

The roles of Buttons and the Baron were played by fellow golfers, their female relatives and a small army of maids relegated to making costumes and, nearer the day, preparing the feast that would follow.

Who should play Cinderella?

It was choice bound by diplomacy worthy of the court of St James itself. For whoever was offered the coveted role might provoke anguish and even future ostracism by the other wives with daughters.

Vince groaned. 'It was all to be fun. Now everyone is taking it seriously. I can see bitter feuds and members resigning en masse due to family pressure,' he added gloomily.

Conan came to the rescue. 'Simple. Put all the names of those willing into the hat and select one.'

'That's the fairest way,' agreed the secretary of the golf club, relieved that his wife, who would have contemplated with horror 'making an exhibition of herself', was not included.

The main contenders were present at the draw.

'And the name of Mrs Kate Pursley came out of the hat!'

Kate refused to believe Vince.

Gallantly she offered to withdraw but Vince would not hear of it.

'You allowed Conan to put your name forward,' said Olivia.

'He didn't ask me,' was the weak reply.

'Kate was the right choice,' said Olivia afterwards. 'She has a lovely voice and she's so slim and pretty,' she added loyally.

'I just hope she's well enough for all this,' said Conan, watching her anxiously. 'She hasn't the most robust health; one tends to forget that her enthusiasms are stronger than she is.'

Plans had become more ambitious. For the children there would be a matinée followed by an evening performance for the grown-ups at the Pleasance Theatre.

Sadly, however, Conan's gloomy prediction was right.

Kate would be unable to appear. Conan reported that she had been sick all night and another Cinderella must be found at very short notice. Kate just wasn't up to it.

Olivia looked searchingly at Rose.

'No,' laughed Rose. 'Not me.'

'Yes, you,' said her sister-in-law firmly. 'After all, you've had some experience.'

'School plays, that's all.'

'That's more than Kate had. Come along, dear. You can sing and you're the right age too.'

As for Faro, regarding the scene, it seemed that Vince was obsessed by the pantomime. Normally so acute, his stepson had, along with everyone else concerned, dismissed the tragic implications of the discovery of the woman in the loch.

He sighed. He must solve this case alone, but he had one vital clue Sir Hedley had put into his hands, the one thread leading through the labyrinth.

He was beginning to understand why the murders had been committed and had not his immediate family been involved he would have politely declined that invitation to the evening performance.

Faro was never very good with amateur productions and he had more pressing and urgent issues on his mind. But at the last moment, Kate insisted on accompanying him.

She arrived at Sheridan Place, pale and exhausted but assuring them all that she felt much better. Besides, she so wanted to see her friends on stage.

As the curtain rose, Faro was suddenly glad that he had come after all. He felt very proud of Rose, who was bewitching as Cinderella. Her appearance was greeted with tremendous applause and, certain that the audience found his daughter as captivating as he did, he felt that was worth coming for alone.

Interested in the reaction to his family and hoping for favourable comments, he found himself shamelessly eavesdropping on the women next to him.

'Buttons, well, well, looking as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. No one would believe he's the undertaker's assistant, my dear.'

'And the Baron there. That villainous moustache. You'd never believe he's my solicitor in real life. Well, well, he's as pompous on stage as he is off.'

The Ugly Sisters failed to make the right impression.

'Pity they couldn't have afforded real nice big hats. Those poke bonnets are so ugly.'

'It hides their hair anyway, they wouldn't need to wear wigs. I expect that's why they chose them.'

'My dear, everything has to be the cheapest possible these days.'

At his side, Faro was aware that Kate had given a hardly suppressed moan of pain. He looked at her quickly. Her eyes were closed and she was trembling.

'What is it, my dear?' he whispered. 'Are you feeling unwell again?'

Her face deathly pale, she murmured, 'No. No. I will be all right. Just a spasm.'

The acrobat had taken over the stage.

'Are you sure?' Faro said. 'Would you like me to take you out for a breath of air, until this act is over?'

'No, really, sir. Thank you.'

The Ugly Sisters returned and the two women continued to make comments mostly of an adverse nature.

'They make convincing women, all the same,' said the less acid of the pair, prepared to be charitable. 'At least they are both tall and slim and I think the poke bonnets were a good idea.'

'Shhh,' murmured someone in the row behind.

Faro was gratified that Cinderella's singing was richly applauded and there were sentimental tears at the transformation scene although it did not go quite as smoothly as they had hoped.

There were some struggles with Cinderella's coach, pulled across the stage by a mutinous donkey, and it could be seen that the hastily donned ballgown did not conceal all her rags.

The two women alongside Faro applauded loudly. As they were leaving Faro heard their final pronouncement on the evening's entertainment.

'It could have been better, of course.'

'Never mind, my dear. It was a good try.'

And perhaps that was the verdict of the entire audience as the cast returned exhausted to remove make-up and costumes and, most important, count the takings at the box office.

Kate returned to Solomon's Tower in Vince's carriage and Newington residents walked home happily that night, at ease and at peace with their little worlds from which all danger had been averted.

They no longer walked in fear of a madwoman who had escaped from an institution, committed three murders and then drowned herself in the loch's icy waters.

There was moonlight and a heavy frost which would harden the surface of Duddingston Loch, making it once again fit for skating during the festive season.

Banishing all thoughts of recent tragedies, they turned their attention to Christmas and Hogmanay and bravely made good resolutions for the forthcoming year.

Faro slept badly that night. The Pleasance Theatre had old unhappy memories for him. And now they were returning. Old sad days, dreams and hopes that had died on that stage.

He turned restlessly. A moon shone brightly through the window; perhaps that was what had awakened him for he could not abide to sleep with the shutters tightly closed, although Mrs Brook insisted that the night air was bad for everyone and firmly closed them each night when she turned back his bed.

Moonlight.

He got up and went to the window. The house was silent.

There was something troubling him. The ghost of a woman's shrill comments that evening, something to do with the pantomime that wasn't quite right.

What was it?

Then quite suddenly, he moved in his chair, sat bolt upright. He remembered what it was now.

He saw again the final line-up of the cast. The Ugly Sisters in their absurd poke bonnets.

Was that why Kate had trembled at his side and seemed ready to faint?

Moonlight. He saw again vividly the owl moons clasper on Kate's cloak as she fell sobbing into the hall downstairs on that fatal evening when the madwoman looked in her kitchen window.

With heart beating fast, he went to his desk, turned up the lamp and wrote some words on a piece of paper. He studied them carefully, frowning, rearranging.

Then with a cry of triumph he knew he had one part of the answer. But until he had found the right place for that fragment he must at all costs remain silent, keep this vital information to himself.

Other lives were at stake, unknowingly; innocent lives.

And - he gripped the arms of his chair - he must move with all possible speed. He had not an hour to lose if he was to prevent the final murder.

For he knew as clearly as the moonlight spreading through his bedroom, that all that had happened was but a preliminary to another crime.