To Kill a Queen (24 page)

'I know. I found him.'

'You did? When?' A faint shadow crossed Lessing's face.

'This afternoon. The dogs nosed him out in a crevasse on the hill. Where you had shot him. I'd like to know why?'

'He failed to fulfil his early promise and there is no room for mistakes in our organisation. He was supposed to kill you on the hill, make it look like an accident. Instead he fell victim to the second shot. Craig had no finesse. Very useful for stealing things like drugs from the hospital while I kept the good doctors occupied. But behaving like the small-time criminal, stealing money from the main suspect-such behaviour threw our whole operation into hazard.'

He paused, smiling. 'As did your survival of the shooting accident. I decided on a brilliant new role for you, one I had in mind for John Brown originally. For when the Queen is found dead, you will have shot her. And then, alas, taken your own life. Is that not a neat twist? And such a scandal. A pity you won't be able to read about it in all the newspapers.'

'What have you done with Noble?'

Lessing smiled. 'When I rushed out to destroy all evidence of Purdie, I told him the Queen was in danger. He was to go to Ballater for help. He obligingly threw off his wig and livery jacket which were essential for me to play the footman. Poor Noble hates horses. I shouldn't be surprised if he doesn't come to an unhappy end in this weather—'

A clock struck the hour. Lessing looked round uneasily.

'How did—' Faro began.

'No more questions, Faro. I have no more time to give you. Much as I always enjoy pitting my wits against yours, this will be our last meeting. I must confess I'm disappointed in you, Faro. You haven't been very clever this time and now you pay the price of bunglers.'

Even as Lessing pointed the gun, Faro had one final chance. Seizing the skean dhu from his sock, he hurled it.

Lessing staggered, fell. But Faro saw, too late, that the knife had struck his shoulder. He was only superficially wounded. As Faro leaped towards him, Lessing raised the gun, fired once.

The whole world exploded in pain. And as Faro slid slowly to the floor, he saw his own blood oozing from his chest.

So it was all over. All that remained now of the long career of Detective Inspector Jeremy Faro, was the trivial business of dying.

Far away he seemed to hear the drum of hoofbeats, voices, and a door opening. The Queen's voice raised in a shrill scream.

As his eyes closed he had one last wish: that he had been able to discover if Lachlan Brown was truly his own son.

It was one mystery he would never solve, an answer thrown to the winds of time.

For a long while the darkness enveloped him, but when he once more opened his eyes, it was to a small white world bounded by sheets, pillowcases, white walls.

He was in hospital in Beagmill, with Vince bending over him.

'That was a near thing, Stepfather. We thought we were too late—'

'The Queen?' Faro whispered.

'She's in London. Safe and sound.'

'Lessing?'

'Awaiting trial.'

The leaves outside the window were golden.

'How long have I been here?'

'A week.' Vince held up a cigar case, with a neat bullet hole plugged into it. 'If it hadn't been for this, nothing, no one could have saved you.'

And little by little, Vince pieced the story together for him. His messages had reached Aberdeen City Police who had quickly telegraphed Scotland Yard to find the real Inspector Purdie returned from holiday due to a family bereavement. The police had immediately summoned the Gordon Highlanders regiment from the Bridge of Don barracks and it was a small army, hampered by the swirling mist, that Noble met riding towards Glen Muick with Dr Elgin and Vince in their midst.

'We had just returned to the hospital. There'd been a bad accident at a sawmill. We had to do some amputations on the spot. And then that damned mist. Then we got your message.

'I shall never forget the scene at Glasalt, Stepfather. Never. Like the last act of
Hamlet
with a touch of the Sleeping Beauty's Palace. Lessing was taken prisoner. He's awaiting trial. It will be a sensation—'

'Lachlan Brown?'

'Nothing but a dunt on his head. Seems he put up a good fight though. He's gone to London with John Brown. Using Saul Hoy's legacy to study music.'

Faro nodded. He was unlikely to meet the lad again. It was just as well. But the boy's mother hadn't quite finished with him.

Vince was telling him, 'Inga has been in regularly each day to see you and so have Great-aunt and Tibbie. All the flowers are theirs.'

'I expect Aunt Bella was very upset about Uncle Ben's cigar case?'

'On the contrary, she's delighted. You can imagine the story she's making of that. And his skean dhu. His Uncle Ben reached out from the grave to save his favourite nephew.'

'Why is Inga still here?'

'She wanted to see you well again. And she's still hoping for a housekeeper's situation. She'll be back later this evening.'

Vince paused reflectively. 'I was just thinking. The problem with our Mrs Brook and her ailing sister. We could solve it by having Inga as our housekeeper—'

'We could, lad. But I think we won't.'

Vince looked at him intently. 'Then I will refrain from asking why not. Stepfather. Because if I tried very hard I might rightly guess your private reasons for such a decision.'

Faro was grateful for the sudden change of subject when Vince said, 'Tell me, how did you get on to Lessing being Purdie?'

'I almost didn't. Until too late. I should have seen it earlier. Purdie who had grandparents in the area and had stayed here as a child but was ignorant about the skean dhu and Scots marriage customs. But I was blinded by working with a distinguished Scotland Yard detective and by the

damnable coincidence that the name 'Noble' fitted 'Noblesse oblige' to perfection.

'It was Aunt Bella's story of the real Purdie's missing fingers that gave me the clue. A boy who loses fingers in childhood from his right hand will almost certainly begin to use his left. But Lessing was instinctively right-handed.

'But it wasn't until after he rescued me from the water that night that I realised that, without his gloves, he had two whole, strong hands. It must have irked him not to let me go, but in front of so many witnesses...'

'I imagine he saw that making you feel beholden to him was a marvellous move,' said Vince. 'How could you then ever suspect the truth?'

In the post came a letter from Buckingham Palace. It was from the Queen herself commending Inspector Faro's bravery.

'It appears I am to be presented with a medal,' he told Vince and putting aside the letter, he began to laugh, choking, helpless.

'What is it, Stepfather?' Vince demanded in alarm.

Faro was remembering the last thing he had heard before he lost consciousness in Glasalt.

Brown, with a stronger head than most, had been groggily awakened by the sound of a shot. The Queen, her card-playing disturbed by the ensuing uproar, had stamped out into the corridor, observed her favourite ghillie swaying into the kitchen and was shrilly demanding:

'Brown, are you bashful again?'

###

There are fifteen titles in the Inspector Faro series available from bookstores and on www.amazon.co.uk. Available on Kindle:

Enter Second Murderer

Bloodline

Deadly Beloved

Killing Cousins

A Quiet Death

To Kill A Queen

Also available on Kindle in the Rose McQuinn series:

The Inspector’s Daughter

Dangerous Pursuits

An Orkney Murder

Connect with Alanna online:

Author's homepage:
http://www.alannaknight.com