Read Online Deadly Beloved by Alanna Knight - Free Book Online
Authors: Alanna Knight
Tags: Historical fiction, Historical, Literature & Fiction, Crime, Genre Fiction, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Crime Fiction, Thrillers & Suspense
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be present at the interview.
A carriage bore both men rapidly towards Surgeons Hall. They travelled in silence as the thought hung unspoken and uneasily in their minds that they were already too late. Dr Kellar, aware of the damning discovery at Longniddry, might well have taken prudent flight.
It was almost with surprise that they met him emerging from the lecture hall. He did not seem in the least concerned at this unexpected visit.
"Is there somewhere we can talk, sir?" asked Faro.
"In private, if you please, doctor," added McIntosh sternly.
Kellar nodded and opened the door into a rather dark study with all the comforting atmosphere of a bleak and draughty station waiting-room on a cold winter's day.
Motioning Faro and McIntosh towards two woefully uncomfortable wooden chairs, he perched on the edge of the table and for the first time he seemed to notice the parcel under Faro's arm, now re-wrapped in fresh brown paper. Sighing, he said heavily, "Well, gentlemen, I suppose it's about Mabel, isn't it?"
Faro looked at him in amazement. Did he already know what the parcel contained and, if so, was he about to confess? If he did, this would be one of the most remarkable cases on record, with very little detection involved: confession upon confrontation before any accusation could be made. Such a situation was not unknown, especially in a case of crime passionel but Faro had expected the police surgeon to be made of stronger stuff, to be wily and evasive.
Dr Kellar stabbed a finger in his direction. "Go on, Faro, out with it."
Faro noted the uncertainty. He had been mistaken about the confession and said, somewhat awkwardly, "Thank you, sir." This was not an interview that he relished.
"God knows what I expected," he told Vince later. "Sobs and screams of rage. When you consider how he could take on about a burnt roast and yet the same man could receive with complete aplomb the almost positive proof that his wife had, in all probability, been dismembered with the same carving knife he had used that Sunday evening."
Faro was aware that the Superintendent was also watching Kellar's expression intently as he unwrapped the parcel and shook forth the bloodstained cloak and knife.
A faint groan hissed out of Kellar, his visible signs of discomfort were that his face paled, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the edge of the table.
He made no attempt to touch the stained fur which Faro spread before him. "I want to see the label," he demanded. When this was revealed, he nodded. "Yes, there's no doubt about it. It belongs to Mabel. The knife?" He shook his head. "It is not unique. I believe you would find one exactly like that, in my dining-room."
"I'm afraid, sir, we have no option but to treat your wife's disappearance as a murder investigation," said the Superintendent, clearing his throat in some embarrassment.
Kellar nodded rapidly, almost eagerly. "Quite right, Superintendent. Quite right. If you will excuse me for a moment." He put his hand to his mouth and gulped. "I think I am about to be sick."
He left the room hastily, while McIntosh and Faro exchanged uncomfortable glances. They avoided looking towards the revolting and incriminating evidence as each meditated on what the next move should be when Kellar returned.
"Perhaps you should have gone with him, Faro," whispered McIntosh with a quick glance at the clock, and leaving the Inspector to wonder if at this moment Kellar was making a run for it.
Pretending to misunderstand, Faro said, "I don't think that would be strictly necessary." Walking over to the fireplace empty of anything capable of ignition, he leaned on the stone mantel and concentrated on some particularly uninspired watercolours. "A gentleman who is being sick prefers to be private."
McIntosh came and stared curiously over Faro's shoulder as if he had discovered a lost Rembrandt. "Interesting, eh?"
The door opened at that moment and thankfully they beheld Kellar, somewhat green about the
A carriage bore both men rapidly towards Surgeons Hall. They travelled in silence as the thought hung unspoken and uneasily in their minds that they were already too late. Dr Kellar, aware of the damning discovery at Longniddry, might well have taken prudent flight.
It was almost with surprise that they met him emerging from the lecture hall. He did not seem in the least concerned at this unexpected visit.
"Is there somewhere we can talk, sir?" asked Faro.
"In private, if you please, doctor," added McIntosh sternly.
Kellar nodded and opened the door into a rather dark study with all the comforting atmosphere of a bleak and draughty station waiting-room on a cold winter's day.
Motioning Faro and McIntosh towards two woefully uncomfortable wooden chairs, he perched on the edge of the table and for the first time he seemed to notice the parcel under Faro's arm, now re-wrapped in fresh brown paper. Sighing, he said heavily, "Well, gentlemen, I suppose it's about Mabel, isn't it?"
Faro looked at him in amazement. Did he already know what the parcel contained and, if so, was he about to confess? If he did, this would be one of the most remarkable cases on record, with very little detection involved: confession upon confrontation before any accusation could be made. Such a situation was not unknown, especially in a case of crime passionel but Faro had expected the police surgeon to be made of stronger stuff, to be wily and evasive.
Dr Kellar stabbed a finger in his direction. "Go on, Faro, out with it."
Faro noted the uncertainty. He had been mistaken about the confession and said, somewhat awkwardly, "Thank you, sir." This was not an interview that he relished.
"God knows what I expected," he told Vince later. "Sobs and screams of rage. When you consider how he could take on about a burnt roast and yet the same man could receive with complete aplomb the almost positive proof that his wife had, in all probability, been dismembered with the same carving knife he had used that Sunday evening."
Faro was aware that the Superintendent was also watching Kellar's expression intently as he unwrapped the parcel and shook forth the bloodstained cloak and knife.
A faint groan hissed out of Kellar, his visible signs of discomfort were that his face paled, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the edge of the table.
He made no attempt to touch the stained fur which Faro spread before him. "I want to see the label," he demanded. When this was revealed, he nodded. "Yes, there's no doubt about it. It belongs to Mabel. The knife?" He shook his head. "It is not unique. I believe you would find one exactly like that, in my dining-room."
"I'm afraid, sir, we have no option but to treat your wife's disappearance as a murder investigation," said the Superintendent, clearing his throat in some embarrassment.
Kellar nodded rapidly, almost eagerly. "Quite right, Superintendent. Quite right. If you will excuse me for a moment." He put his hand to his mouth and gulped. "I think I am about to be sick."
He left the room hastily, while McIntosh and Faro exchanged uncomfortable glances. They avoided looking towards the revolting and incriminating evidence as each meditated on what the next move should be when Kellar returned.
"Perhaps you should have gone with him, Faro," whispered McIntosh with a quick glance at the clock, and leaving the Inspector to wonder if at this moment Kellar was making a run for it.
Pretending to misunderstand, Faro said, "I don't think that would be strictly necessary." Walking over to the fireplace empty of anything capable of ignition, he leaned on the stone mantel and concentrated on some particularly uninspired watercolours. "A gentleman who is being sick prefers to be private."
McIntosh came and stared curiously over Faro's shoulder as if he had discovered a lost Rembrandt. "Interesting, eh?"
The door opened at that moment and thankfully they beheld Kellar, somewhat green about the
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