The Strings of Murder (24 page)

Not only did Nine-Nails not shake his hand, but he cast him a killer look as he yelled at me. ‘
Whaaat!
For God’s sake! Am I goin’ to receive all the bloody Freys in the country? Weren’t ye happy bringing yer old hag and yer mare and yer mountains o’ useless shite, ye pretentious London lassie?’

Elgie blinked and looked at me in confusion. ‘Pardon me, brother. Why did this gentleman just call you a London lass–’

‘
Enough!
’ I roared. ‘McGray, save your smelly breath; he is not staying.’

‘But, brother –’

‘You are
not
staying! Joan, send him to London on the first train, steamer, horse or mule that you find. If I see him here when I return, I will kick
you
out; I swear I will.’

I had my overcoat and hat fetched and was about to leave the house, but then Elgie planted himself firmly in front of me.

‘I am not leaving, Ian. I cannot believe that you, of all people, are asking me to go home. How it is right for you to come all this way for your career, yet you expect me to stay home and ignore mine? First violin in an Arthur Sullivan debut! How can you ask me to let that pass me by?’

I massaged my temples. I could hear Catherine shouting what a terrible influence I’d been on her little boy. Right then, however, I did not have time to argue.

‘Very well, stay a few days if you must. We shall talk whenever I have some time to spare.’ Then I turned to
McGray. ‘I will send him to the New Club. They shall find him some lodgings, so do not worry about having more of my kin in this derelict pigsty of yours.’

I walked out before Elgie could say another word. I knew that his presence would only mean trouble.

As we mounted our horses McGray said, ‘I wouldn’t have minded the laddie staying here. Honest.’

I arched an eyebrow, intrigued by McGray’s change of attitude. ‘Why, are you feeling guilty now?’

‘Nae. Don’t be such a cod’s head! But the laddie seems much nicer than ye. He definitely has some guts.’

‘Thanks, but I would rather have him as far from my work as possible.’

We rode to the City Chambers in silence, and on our way a poignant thought came to me; that Nine-Nails surely missed the company of a sibling.

Campbell’s eyes kept moving from left to right, scanning the still unsigned search warrant that lay on his desk.

‘That is one bold theory, Frey.’

‘It may sound like such, sir, but the evidence speaks for itself.’

‘Did you say that McGray suspected this all along? Why did he not mention it before?’

‘He told me that he lacked enough evidence. To be quite frank, I believe that McGray
wanted
this theory to be true, which turned him cautious. You must know how obsessed he is with anything related to the Devil.’

‘Only too well! Did he also suspect this Wood chap?’

‘No, sir. That was my natural conclusion.’

Campbell arched his thick eyebrows. ‘Good, good.
Together, you two make
one
fair inspector.’ He signed the warrant and handed it to me. ‘Search as much as you please, Frey. I do hope you are on the right track. You are not in a position to make any mistakes.’

After that pleasant warning I joined McGray at the front yard of the City Chambers, where our horses were waiting, and we headed to the Conservatoire.

‘What did the old fox have to tell ye?’

I shrugged with a grumpy face. ‘He wanted to moan, basically. Dear Campbell is as sweet as a kick in the crotch. He signed the warrant; that is all that matters.’

We went north and made it to the Conservatoire precisely as the dark clouds broke in a relentless rain. McGray and I dismounted our horses and walked hastily to the entrance, our faces lashed by the cold raindrops. Fortuitously, Mr Ardglass happened to be talking to a couple of students in the main hall, so it was not necessary to announce us.

‘Why, Inspector Frey!’ he said to me with a smile, which faded when he turned to McGray. His hideous whiskers seemed to stand on end. ‘What can I do for you? Do you need to question anyone else?’

‘Aye,’ McGray replied harshly. ‘We need to see Wood. Can ye call him?’

‘I have not seen Mr Wood this morning, I’m afraid. I think he is ill.’

‘Ill?’ I asked. ‘Was it anything to do with his injury?’

Ardglass grimaced. ‘Oh, what a terrible sight that was; he told me how it happened. He’ll have a nasty scar. But no, the last thing he said was that he was feeling queasy. That was yesterday, right after luncheon, I believe. I assumed he’d eaten a rotten fruit or something, so I let
him go, but you can find him at his home. I can give you the address.’

Ardglass scribbled the address hastily, obviously not wishing to spend too much time with McGray, and again we left the Conservatoire. The rain had turned into a mighty storm and we rode miserably under the appalling weather. My hat and overcoat protected me rather well, but McGray’s black hair became soaked within minutes. His countenance, however, remained immutable.

Wood happened to live at the eastern end of the Royal Mile, in fact only a couple of streets from Fontaine’s rented property.

‘What a convenient location,’ I said as we approached the large guest house, for Wood did not live by himself. ‘Close enough to his victim.’

‘We’re not sure yet, lass.’

There was a large black carriage parked in front of the main entrance, another small cart and a couple of horses waiting for their riders; they were all gathered in front of the wide door, looking rather agitated.

‘Busy place,’ McGray said. We had not yet dismounted when a familiar face came out of the house: Charles Downs, Fontaine’s lawyer.

The little man’s eyes fell on McGray and me, attracted like magnets. ‘Inspectors! What a surprise! Are you here to investigate the case of Mr Wood as well?’

McGray had to dismount to address him, for Downs was so short that his face had been level with McGray’s calf. ‘Wood’s case? What d’ye mean?’

‘Oh, I supposed that you knew … Well … Mr Wood, also my client, sadly passed away yesterday.’

21

I almost fell off Philippa’s back when I heard that. ‘He what?’

‘He passed away,’ Downs repeated, somewhat perplexed by our ignorance. ‘Yesterday afternoon, I was told.’

‘What happened?’

‘The housekeeper told me that he got very sick; vomiting all over the place. Poor Mr Wood always was of a sickly constitution, I’m afraid.’

Then we saw two men coming out of the house, carrying a very big chest. Two violin cases lay on its top.

‘Ye want this in the cart, master?’ they asked.

‘Where are ye taking that?’ McGray snapped before Downs could say anything. ‘Is that Wood’s property?’

‘Indeed,’ Downs said. ‘As his lawyer it is my duty to deliver his belongings according to his will.’

‘I’m afraid ye cannae take anything out o’ this house. Not right now, at least.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘We’ve got a search warrant. Show him, Frey.’

I did so and Downs snatched the sheet from my hand; his little eyes ran madly over the text. ‘Why, this is no longer valid! You were granted the right to search Mr Wood’s dwellings and possessions. Since he has passed away, legally these things belong to somebody else now, and a new order is in d–’

McGray stepped towards Downs in an imposing move. ‘Mr Downs, ye can use all yer legal shite against us, but we’ll eventually find our way and look at those things. Besides, given the nature o’ the case, yer blocking our work will only give us reasons to suspect yer involvement in these men’s deaths. Both Wood and Fon-teen.’

He said those last words in a threatening whisper, so that only Downs and I could hear him. The lawyer’s boldness immediately faded away; he turned pale and gave me the order back. ‘As you wish, Inspector. But you must let me know once you are done with your search.’

‘In fact, you should stay,’ I said, seeing that Downs was turning to his carriage. ‘We may need to ask you a few questions too.’

He cast me a bitter look, but could only swallow and assent.

‘Laddies, get that stuff back in,’ McGray said. ‘I want youse to put every single thing
exactly
where it was.’

The men carried the chest back and we followed them into an airy hall with high ceilings. As they climbed the stairs a rather young woman appeared. ‘Oh, I thought youse were takin’ those away!’

‘Ye the housekeeper?’ McGray asked.

‘Aye. Youse are?’

McGray introduced us (fortunately he did not call me lassie) and asked me to show the search warrant, but the woman did not take it.

‘I cannae read very well. I take yer word. Youse can look as much as youse need.’

‘Thanks, hen. Can ye show us the way? We need to ask ye a few wee questions too.’

We walked into Wood’s room as the men were leaving. I needed but a quick glance to analyse it all: an old bed, a desk covered with nothing but sheet music, a jug and an almost empty wardrobe.

‘Doesn’t look like we’re gonna search a lot,’ McGray said.

I nodded, still not completely recovered from the initial surprise. The place in fact reminded me of the abodes of the Ripper’s victims, not because it was shabby, but because of its total lack of personality: no pictures on the walls, no letters, no portraits of relatives; just the starkness of one who lets his life pass by without caring. I felt a light chill in my spine.

A maid was mopping the floor fervently, but the room still gave off a strong stench of vomit. I had to produce my handkerchief to cover my nose.

‘Were ye here when it happened?’ McGray said.

‘Aye,’ the maid and the housekeeper replied at the same time, their faces marked by repulsion.

‘Tell us what happened,’ McGray asked. I saw the housekeeper’s face going paler as she spoke.

‘Well … It was about half past noon when Mr Wood came back from his job. He was feeling very ill, he said, and he had an appalling face; all yellow.’

‘Had he been ill recently?’ McGray asked.

‘Nae, but he wasn’t a very stout lad. He never ate properly and fell ill with a sick gut every now and then. That’s why we weren’t too worried when we saw him. We only thought it had hit him a wee bit harder than usual.’

‘He locked himself in here and played for a bit,’ the maid said. ‘But then we heard him choking and grunting.
We had to break in and found him all … soaked in sick.’ The poor woman covered her mouth; thinking of the sight made her retch again. ‘He passed out and never woke up again.’

‘What did youse do then?’

‘I sent one o’ the maids to fetch the doctor and another girl to fetch the Italian gentleman, Mr Caroli.’

‘Mr Caroli? Why him?’

‘Mr Wood didnae have any family and Mr Caroli was his only friend; the only man who’d ever come to visit him. It was a good thing we sent for him. He took care of everything; he called the undertaker’s, the lawyer … he is even holding the wake at his house.’

‘Where is the body now? At the undertaker’s?’

‘Aye, I think so, sir. They must be gettin’ him ready.’

McGray nodded and paced around as he pondered on the answers. I could tell that he was as staggered as I.

‘Did you notice anything unusual during the last few days?’ I said, rather mechanically.

‘Well, just that he played all the time! He always did, but not like this, not until the small hours without a single break. He wouldn’t even come down for dinner. I brought him trays but he left them untouched.’

‘Some of the other guests complained,’ the housekeeper added. ‘I was going to call my mistress if that went on one more might.’

‘Who owns this house?’ McGray asked. The answer was shocking, yet not surprising.

‘Lady Anne Ardglass, sir.’

We both nodded at each other.

‘And how many people live here?’ McGray asked again.

‘Seven other guests sir, also three maids, including Mary here, a cook, a handyman and myself.’

‘Can ye fetch as many o’ them as ye can right now? We’d like to question them all. In the meantime Inspector Frey and I will search the room. In private.’

‘Aye, sir.’

The housekeeper left, asking the maid to follow, and then McGray and I began the search.

‘It is a shame they cleaned,’ I said, looking at the polished floor. ‘They might have removed evidence.’

‘Aye, but this room wasn’t a potential crime scene ’til we arrived.’ McGray stood in the centre of the room and looked around for a moment. ‘What dy’e see, Frey?’

‘Not much. An affordable room. Second floor …’

‘No fireplace,’ McGray remarked, pointing at a very small log burner. ‘There’s no room to hide anything here.’

He looked at the chest he’d told the workers to bring back. From the marks on the floor I could tell that they had placed it but a couple of inches off its original position.

The chest had no lock, and when McGray opened it we found it half empty: there was an expensive black suit (which Wood probably only wore to concerts), his legal documents (nothing but the regular birth and school certificates and so on), loose accessories for his violin (pegs, bridges, rosin, etc.), and a small ebony box with a violin beautifully carved on the lid.