[Inspector Faro 14] - Faro and the Royals

arbitrary and irregular. For when we consider that this, though generally the crowning act of a long career of vice, is often the immediate result of what seems a sudden impulse; that when premeditated, its committal, even with the least change of impunity, requires a rare combination of favourable circumstances, for which the criminal will frequently wait: that he has thus to bide his time and look for opportunities he cannot control, that when the time has come his heart may fail him, that the question whether or not he shall commit the crime may depend on a balance of conflicting motives, such as fear of the law, a dread of penalties held out by religion, the prickings of his own conscience, the apprehension of future remorse, the love of gain, jealousy, revenge, desperation; - when we put all these things together, there arises such a complication of causes, that we might reasonably despair of detecting any order or method in the result of those subtle and shifting agencies by which murder is either caused or prevented. But now, how stands the fact. The fact is, that murder is committed with as much regularity, and bears as uniform a relation to certain known circumstances, as do the movements of the tides, and the rotations of the seasons.

Faro re-read the lines heavily underscored and, turning back the pages, read the owner's name on the flyleaf, so unexpected and disturbing that it set at naught all his evidence. With a sickening feeling of dismay he realised he might well have been following the wrong track.

Chapter 15

Faro walked slowly down the main street, wrestling with the enormity of his new discovery. Constable Dewar had to hail him twice before he was aware of an interruption to his dismal thoughts.

The constable was off-duty, in his garden opposite the police station. With considerable effort Faro returned his greeting and paused to admire the neat array of daffodils.

Dewar smiled, indicating the rustic seat by the door.

'You're looking tired, sir. Rest yourself a while. Mrs Dewar'll bring us out a drink while we enjoy the sunshine.'

Faro needed no second invitation. As he sat down with a sigh of relief, Dewar said: 'Inquiries going well, sir?'

Faro shook his head. He didn't have McQuinn but in the circumstances Constable Dewar, who had lived in Elrigg for many years, might have convenient access to the kind of information he needed.

He sighed. 'Not very well, I'm afraid. I could do with your help, Constable.'

Dewar looked startled at the request. He regarded Faro indecisively, and then, squaring his shoulders, said firmly: 'I'll be straight with you, sir, although I don't think you're being straight with me.'

While Faro was thinking of a suitably evasive reply, he continued: 'I've been keeping an eye on your activities, sir.' He paused dramatically. 'You're a policeman yourself, aren't you?'

Taking Faro's silence as affirmation, he smiled triumphantly.

'You're either a policemen or you have been at some time in your life.'

At Faro's grudging admission, Dewar thumped his fists together with a crow of delight.

'Knew I was right all along, sir. Said so to Sergeant Yarrow. All he says is that if you wanted us to know that, then you'd tell us. And that I was to keep quiet about what I suspected.'

As Faro wondered anxiously how many others Dewar might have confided his suspicions to, the constable leaned forward and said earnestly: 'I am at your service, sir. You can rely on PC Dewar. Born and bred in the place, there's nothing I don't know about the ways of folk hereabouts. Elrigg's an open book to me,' he added proudly.

Faro smiled vaguely.

'What is it exactly your lot sent you down to investigate?'

There seemed little to lose and much to gain by being honest with Dewar and Faro decided to reveal his true identity.

Dewar's eyes boggled. He whistled. 'Not the Inspector Faro. From the Edinburgh Police. Well, I never,' he said with an admiring glance. 'Why, every policeman from here to London has heard of you.'

And when Faro bowed modestly, Dewar's expression changed to one of shrewd intelligence.

'Then it must be something very important indeed that's brought you here. Not a couple of missing paintings or a death insurance, I'll be bound.'

Faro frowned. 'I take it that you are aware of who Sir Archie's companion was on the day of the accident?'

Dewar beamed. 'Bless you, sir, everyone is. Although we all pretend to go along with their incognitos. "Mr Osborne" - a lot of nonsense.'

'Tell me, is there much security attached to these visits?'

'Security!' Dewar laughed. 'At Elrigg? Bless your heart, no, sir. Sergeant Yarrow and I are required to ride at a discreet distance. This isn't London or Edinburgh, not like any big city. Just a token presence of the law, you understand, where royal visitors are concerned.

'We know all the people here, you see, and if there was any villain coming in with bad intent, well, he'd stand out like a sore thumb, sir. We'd be on to him before he had time to know what hit him.'

Even as Faro doubted that, he remembered his aunt's similar reaction to the Deeside inhabitants in the vicinity of Balmoral Castle.

'People think they are just strangers passing through and won't be noticed. They'd think differently if they knew how newcomers are a fascinating topic of speculation. Of course,' Dewar continued, tapping the side of his nose with his forefinger, 'we all know the real reason for the royal gentleman's visit, but enough said.'

And he closed his mouth firmly, loyal to Queen or Prince and Country.

'Where do you get your information from?' Faro asked.

'Servants, sir,' said Dewar cheerfully. The way the gentleman in question has to have a room nearby his, er, interest, if you get my meaning. So that he can come and go without embarrassment to either of them...'

Faro's eyes widened to think that matters arranged with such delicacy by discreet aristocratic hosts were in fact common village gossip.

Dewar paused