Chapter 16
Faro ate at the Dewars' kitchen table with its welcoming fire and even more welcoming smell of freshly baked pies. The vacant place opposite him was set for Sergeant Yarrow, the constable explained: 'We don't have many meals together. I go on duty when he comes off so that the station is manned during the day. He boards with us, has the spare room upstairs. House is too big for Jessie and me since the lads left the nest.'
'Came to look for a place of his own. But somehow he just stayed on and we've got used to having him.' Mrs Dewar looked round from piling extra potatoes on their plates. 'He's such a nice kind thoughtful man. Just like one of the family. More pie, Mr Faro?'
Faro declined the offer and Mrs Dewar continued: 'He's not a bit of trouble. He'd make a grand husband for some lucky lady, I tell him.'
Dewar laughed. 'Jessie's always trying to marry him off. There's no such thing as single blessedness for her.'
'A crime against nature, that's what it is, God never meant his creatures to live solitary lives,' Mrs Dewar protested.
'A bachelor, is he?' said Faro.
'Not him, more's the pity. His wife died around the time of his accident.'
'Aye, and he misses her. I often see him looking at her photograph when I take him in his tea,' sighed Mrs Dewar. 'I think he was glad to start a new life here, away from all the memories.'
Pausing, she looked across the table at Faro. 'Are you a married man yourself?'
Faro shook his head. 'Like your Sergeant, I'm a widower. My wife died in childbirth eight years ago.'
'How sad,' tut-tutted Mrs Dewar. 'You're all alone too, sir?'
'Not quite. I have two little girls living with their granny up in Orkney.'
'Orkney?' Mrs Dewar frowned. 'That's a fair distance from Edinburgh, isn't it?'
Faro smiled. 'It is indeed. But my wife was married before and I have a stepson living with me. He's a doctor.'
'That's nice for you. You'll have another spoonful of dumpling?'
'Yes, thank you, Mrs Dewar. That was absolutely delicious.'
As Mrs Dewar beamed, very liberal with the jam sauce, they heard the back door open.
'Talk of the devil,' said Dewar. 'That's the Sergeant now. I'll need to take over, Jessie,' he added, scraping his plate.
Faro wished he could have had a moment in private with Dewar to stress the need for secrecy. He didn't want the news of his real identity spread around Elrigg. However, such a hurried exit was impossible with a second helping of pudding uneaten on his plate.
Sergeant Yarrow's greeting was friendly and politely interested as he enquired about the progress of Faro's investigations. As Mrs Dewar made a great deal of fuss over him, he seemed to enjoy her attentions.
Faro mentioned that he had been to the kirkyard and Yarrow said: 'If you're interested in the history of Elrigg and the cattle, I have a book upstairs. You can borrow it if you like. It won't take you long to read.'
'What about your food, Sergeant?' Mrs Dewar sounded alarmed.
Yarrow smiled at her. 'That can wait a wee while, Mrs Dewar. I had a pint of ale at the inn so I won't starve.'
'You should be careful. Drinking isn't good for you. I hope you're taking the medicine that Dr Brand gave you.'
'Faithfully, Mrs Dewar.'
Faro looked at him quickly. His colour was bad, he looked like a sick man. And he found himself remembering Imogen Crowe's gloomy pronouncement.
'The Sergeant has one of the best views over Elrigg. A lovely room, it is,' said Mrs Dewar.
'Yes. My window looks directly towards the standing stones and if I take out my telescope, I can watch the cattle grazing. From a safe distance.'
'Why don't you show Mr Faro?'
When Yarrow frowned, Mrs Dewar said, 'No need to worry, it's all neat and tidy, not like the way you left it.'
Yarrow's smile was a little long-suffering as he nodded to Faro. 'Come along then.'
Faro followed him upstairs. The room with its bay window was very attractive, much lighter than the kitchen downstairs. He guessed that Yarrow strove to keep it as a man's domain despite his landlady's feminine touches of lace and vases of flowers.
Yarrow read his expression. They're very good to me. It's a relief to have a good working relationship with Dewar - makes life much easier.' He sighed. 'Too easy really. I didn't mean to stay with them year after year. Mrs Dewar spoils me, as you've probably observed.'
Faro was looking at the mantelpiece, dominated by three silver framed photographs. A wedding - a younger, handsome Yarrow in Metropolitan Police uniform with his pretty bride; a second photograph of the couple staring down at a baby and a third of Mrs Yarrow with a handsome curly-haired infant on her knee, smiling into the camera.
'What a beautiful child. Yours?' said Faro.
'Yes. But no more, alas.' Yarrow turned from the glass—fronted bookcase, his face expressionless. 'This is the book. No hurry, just leave it at the inn for me when you go -'
'Your food's getting cold, Sergeant!'
At Mrs Dewar's call upstairs, Faro smiled. 'I'll be on my way.' And he hurried downstairs through the kitchen, thanking Mrs Dewar for her kindness while she urged him to drop in any time.
'You'll be most welcome to share our little meal with us.'
He was not sorry to have missed eating at the Elrigg Arms in what would have been solitary splendour. A few farmers with their dogs occupied the bar and Bowden stopped him on his way up to his room. 'You've missed your visitor, sir.' At Faro's puzzled expression Bowden laughed. 'Aye, Jack Duffy. Called in to see you on the off-chance.'
'What did he want?'
'Wouldn't say. Just that he wanted a word with you. In a right old state he was, said it was urgent and where were you, and so forth. I told him I wasn't your keeper -'
'Did
