grey line, a landscape devoid of all colour, as gloomy and solemn as his own thoughts.
With the instincts of a born detective he loved a mystery, but preferably one in which he was not already marked down and firmly fixed as the prime suspect. Perhaps at this very moment, he thought grimly, the sergeant was also making a list of his own, headed Constable Faro.
In that supposition Faro was wrong. Although he was the only suspect, Stavely was at that moment absorbed by problems relating to his own, and the terrible thought in the back of his mind that refused to be banished was that Ed also had those vital missing hours to account for. Although he had appeared so disinterested in the girl, Stavely realised that he did not know his son in the slightest. Being a young male, hadhis lusts been aroused at the sight of the pretty girl, whose presence he appeared to ignore?
Had Ed returned to the shore, lain in wait?
That bloodstained shirt refused to be ignored.
Stavely shuddered, but resolved that whatever Ed had done, the world would never know that Sergeant Stavely’s wayward son also had hours unaccounted for on that fatal night. And as far as he was concerned, Constable Jeremy Faro would remain the prime suspect.
There was one other. What of Lily’s younger brother, Hal, who was not at home when they and the three girls returned? They did not hear him come in, and although Stavely had enquired politely as to whether he had a good night out, this had been met by a sullen silence.
Hal’s croft was also accessible from the shore, and dismally he wondered if he had two additional suspects, motives unknown, concerned in Miss Celia’s disappearance?
To tell the truth, he had never liked his young brother-in-law, who was sly and vain, with no intentions of getting married and settling down. Occasionally he heard the two young men sniggering together (revealing a lighter side to Ed’s character), which was a surprise, as he was normally so dour and surly with his parents. But Stavely feared that it boded ill, and that Hal was a bad influence,urging them to let Ed work on the croft with him instead of joining the police or becoming apprenticed to a lucrative trade.
Faro heard his mother’s footsteps. Any moment now she would appear, with the inevitable consequence of having to listen to her frantic recapitulation of the last twenty-four hours.
Determined to avoid the encounter, he thought about Inga St Ola. If there was one solitary blessing in disguise in this whole sorry business, a few extra days confined to Scarthbreck meant that he could see her again.
At that moment it was what he most needed, her practical sensible approach, and he had a sudden longing to listen to her version of the disappearance of Celia Prentiss-Grant.
Making a noiseless exit from his room, with a sigh of relief he managed to slip out of the lodge unnoticed, although fully expecting to hear his mother’s voice behind him as he hurried down to Spanish Cove.
As he approached the long dismal street, he was surprised and not best pleased to see a handsome young man emerging from the house where Inga lived. With a sudden pang of jealousy he recognised the ferryman, Amos Flett, who, turning his head in Faro’s direction, shouted a cheery greeting as he ambled awaydown the road towards Stromness.
Inga was home. She was delighted to see him and the Orkney chair was empty.
‘Where’s Baubie?’
‘Just a couple of doors away. Taking care of the old fisherman’s wife. She has bronchitis and is receiving some of Baubie’s special remedies.’ Taking his hand, she smiled. ‘Do y’know, I was wondering how I could find an excuse to call on you, without encountering your ma.’ With a quizzical look, she added, ‘I am not her favourite person. So sit down and tell me anything you know about our missing heiress.’
Pulling up a stool alongside, she regarded him intently. ‘Isn’t all this perfectly awful? Now the island is swimming
With the instincts of a born detective he loved a mystery, but preferably one in which he was not already marked down and firmly fixed as the prime suspect. Perhaps at this very moment, he thought grimly, the sergeant was also making a list of his own, headed Constable Faro.
In that supposition Faro was wrong. Although he was the only suspect, Stavely was at that moment absorbed by problems relating to his own, and the terrible thought in the back of his mind that refused to be banished was that Ed also had those vital missing hours to account for. Although he had appeared so disinterested in the girl, Stavely realised that he did not know his son in the slightest. Being a young male, hadhis lusts been aroused at the sight of the pretty girl, whose presence he appeared to ignore?
Had Ed returned to the shore, lain in wait?
That bloodstained shirt refused to be ignored.
Stavely shuddered, but resolved that whatever Ed had done, the world would never know that Sergeant Stavely’s wayward son also had hours unaccounted for on that fatal night. And as far as he was concerned, Constable Jeremy Faro would remain the prime suspect.
There was one other. What of Lily’s younger brother, Hal, who was not at home when they and the three girls returned? They did not hear him come in, and although Stavely had enquired politely as to whether he had a good night out, this had been met by a sullen silence.
Hal’s croft was also accessible from the shore, and dismally he wondered if he had two additional suspects, motives unknown, concerned in Miss Celia’s disappearance?
To tell the truth, he had never liked his young brother-in-law, who was sly and vain, with no intentions of getting married and settling down. Occasionally he heard the two young men sniggering together (revealing a lighter side to Ed’s character), which was a surprise, as he was normally so dour and surly with his parents. But Stavely feared that it boded ill, and that Hal was a bad influence,urging them to let Ed work on the croft with him instead of joining the police or becoming apprenticed to a lucrative trade.
Faro heard his mother’s footsteps. Any moment now she would appear, with the inevitable consequence of having to listen to her frantic recapitulation of the last twenty-four hours.
Determined to avoid the encounter, he thought about Inga St Ola. If there was one solitary blessing in disguise in this whole sorry business, a few extra days confined to Scarthbreck meant that he could see her again.
At that moment it was what he most needed, her practical sensible approach, and he had a sudden longing to listen to her version of the disappearance of Celia Prentiss-Grant.
Making a noiseless exit from his room, with a sigh of relief he managed to slip out of the lodge unnoticed, although fully expecting to hear his mother’s voice behind him as he hurried down to Spanish Cove.
As he approached the long dismal street, he was surprised and not best pleased to see a handsome young man emerging from the house where Inga lived. With a sudden pang of jealousy he recognised the ferryman, Amos Flett, who, turning his head in Faro’s direction, shouted a cheery greeting as he ambled awaydown the road towards Stromness.
Inga was home. She was delighted to see him and the Orkney chair was empty.
‘Where’s Baubie?’
‘Just a couple of doors away. Taking care of the old fisherman’s wife. She has bronchitis and is receiving some of Baubie’s special remedies.’ Taking his hand, she smiled. ‘Do y’know, I was wondering how I could find an excuse to call on you, without encountering your ma.’ With a quizzical look, she added, ‘I am not her favourite person. So sit down and tell me anything you know about our missing heiress.’
Pulling up a stool alongside, she regarded him intently. ‘Isn’t all this perfectly awful? Now the island is swimming
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