Read Online To Kill a Queen 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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mistimed visits since we linked our endeavours to those of Sergeant Whyte who has failed to make any progress.'
Both men looked at the unfortunate Whyte who shuffled his feet miserably.
'We thought she might be able to throw some light upon the murdered girl's last hours,' said Purdie. 'Being kin, and so forth.'
Considering whether he should, at this point, reveal his discoveries in the ruined mill. Faro decided to await a more opportune moment. 'My aunt tells me Nessie Brodie has been very muddled since the accident.'
Craig shook his head disapprovingly, and patted his notebook pocket with military precision. 'The first time we found her fast asleep when we looked in. It was Inspector Purdie's decision that we should return later.' His pitying glance conveyed the impression that his superior officer was too soft-hearted by far and that he, Craig, wouldn't have had any hesitation about waking the old woman up.
'After all, this is an official enquiry,' he added to Whyte, creating an impression that the elder policeman was no longer up to his job.
Purdie beamed upon Faro. 'Mistress MacVae was most helpful, Faro, a positive mine of useful information. No doubt you inherited your flair for detection from her.'
It was Faro's turn to smile. He must remember to tell Bella, she would love that.
'We had been toying with a theory that the fire might have been deliberate, perhaps in the mistaken idea that the girl Morag was visiting. However, your aunt told us that Mistress Brodie was well known for her kind heart, allowing tinkers to sleep in her barn and if the weather was bad leaving food and drink there. Just in case any benighted stranger needed shelter or was caught in a storm.'
'Was there a storm on that night?' Faro asked Whyte.
'Not exactly a storm, sir. A fine mist and cold for the time of year—'
'Very well.' And to Craig, 'I presume you have combed thoroughly through the charred ruins.'
'Yes, sir. As a matter of fact Inspector Purdie had a piece of luck. He picked up what looked like a clay pipe.' Craig darted an admiring glance in the Inspector's direction.
Purdie shrugged. 'Doubtless belonged to one of Mistress Brodie's nocturnal visitors. Too many drinks, our tinker fell asleep, pipe in hand, and when he awoke and found he had set the dry hay alight, he panicked and bolted.'
'That's right, sir,' said Whyte triumphantly. 'There are always plenty tinkers about around this time of year. Ghillies' Ball brings them down like vultures, looking for pickings.'
'Have you questioned the tinker camps?' Faro asked.
Whyte looked uncomfortable under the scrutiny of Craig and Purdie.
'They had all gone next morning. Fly-by-nights. And pursuing them is a waste of time. I've had years of it. The sight of a uniform and they either close up like clams or tell a pack of lies.'
Faro sighed. There was a running war between country constables and tinkers who were all too ready to appropriate possessions they regarded as discarded and useless. As this extended to misunderstandings about clothes innocently left to dry on washing lines, the crofters' resentment was understandable.
'About the girl, Morag Brodie. What do the servants she worked with have to say?' he asked Craig.
'They can all account for their movements. First place I checked. Naturally.' Craig sounded mildly indignant at this interrogation.
'Even though Morag was a foreigner by rights,' Whyte intervened, 'the servants found her a sprightly but biddable lass. Only complaint about her I ever heard was a fondness for the bottle. And the lads.'
'Her background has been investigated,' said Craig. 'And everything she told them about herself, which wasn't much, was reliable information. I checked it myself.'
Craig was beginning to sound exasperated and Purdie said patiently, 'These are just the normal routine enquiries after a murder, as I am sure you are aware, Faro.' Pausing he added, 'I don't think you need worry over this one. We're pretty certain we've got our
Both men looked at the unfortunate Whyte who shuffled his feet miserably.
'We thought she might be able to throw some light upon the murdered girl's last hours,' said Purdie. 'Being kin, and so forth.'
Considering whether he should, at this point, reveal his discoveries in the ruined mill. Faro decided to await a more opportune moment. 'My aunt tells me Nessie Brodie has been very muddled since the accident.'
Craig shook his head disapprovingly, and patted his notebook pocket with military precision. 'The first time we found her fast asleep when we looked in. It was Inspector Purdie's decision that we should return later.' His pitying glance conveyed the impression that his superior officer was too soft-hearted by far and that he, Craig, wouldn't have had any hesitation about waking the old woman up.
'After all, this is an official enquiry,' he added to Whyte, creating an impression that the elder policeman was no longer up to his job.
Purdie beamed upon Faro. 'Mistress MacVae was most helpful, Faro, a positive mine of useful information. No doubt you inherited your flair for detection from her.'
It was Faro's turn to smile. He must remember to tell Bella, she would love that.
'We had been toying with a theory that the fire might have been deliberate, perhaps in the mistaken idea that the girl Morag was visiting. However, your aunt told us that Mistress Brodie was well known for her kind heart, allowing tinkers to sleep in her barn and if the weather was bad leaving food and drink there. Just in case any benighted stranger needed shelter or was caught in a storm.'
'Was there a storm on that night?' Faro asked Whyte.
'Not exactly a storm, sir. A fine mist and cold for the time of year—'
'Very well.' And to Craig, 'I presume you have combed thoroughly through the charred ruins.'
'Yes, sir. As a matter of fact Inspector Purdie had a piece of luck. He picked up what looked like a clay pipe.' Craig darted an admiring glance in the Inspector's direction.
Purdie shrugged. 'Doubtless belonged to one of Mistress Brodie's nocturnal visitors. Too many drinks, our tinker fell asleep, pipe in hand, and when he awoke and found he had set the dry hay alight, he panicked and bolted.'
'That's right, sir,' said Whyte triumphantly. 'There are always plenty tinkers about around this time of year. Ghillies' Ball brings them down like vultures, looking for pickings.'
'Have you questioned the tinker camps?' Faro asked.
Whyte looked uncomfortable under the scrutiny of Craig and Purdie.
'They had all gone next morning. Fly-by-nights. And pursuing them is a waste of time. I've had years of it. The sight of a uniform and they either close up like clams or tell a pack of lies.'
Faro sighed. There was a running war between country constables and tinkers who were all too ready to appropriate possessions they regarded as discarded and useless. As this extended to misunderstandings about clothes innocently left to dry on washing lines, the crofters' resentment was understandable.
'About the girl, Morag Brodie. What do the servants she worked with have to say?' he asked Craig.
'They can all account for their movements. First place I checked. Naturally.' Craig sounded mildly indignant at this interrogation.
'Even though Morag was a foreigner by rights,' Whyte intervened, 'the servants found her a sprightly but biddable lass. Only complaint about her I ever heard was a fondness for the bottle. And the lads.'
'Her background has been investigated,' said Craig. 'And everything she told them about herself, which wasn't much, was reliable information. I checked it myself.'
Craig was beginning to sound exasperated and Purdie said patiently, 'These are just the normal routine enquiries after a murder, as I am sure you are aware, Faro.' Pausing he added, 'I don't think you need worry over this one. We're pretty certain we've got our
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