The Sins of the Wolf - Anne Perry [111]
“Did you have an agreeable journey?” he asked, looking at Rathbone.
“We have no time for chatter,” Monk cut across him. “All we have to fight with are Miss Latterly’s reputation and what we can make of Miss Nightingale. I presume you are well acquainted with her role in the war and how she is greatly regarded? If you were not before, you should be now.”
“I am, Mr. Monk,” Argyll said with unconcealed amusement. “And I am also aware that so far, it is all we have with which to fight. I presume you have still uncovered nothing factually relevant within the Farraline household? We will naturally consider the possible value of innuendo and suggestion, but as you will be aware by now, if you were not before, the family is well thought of in Edinburgh. Mrs. Mary Farraline was a woman of remarkable character, and Mr. Alastair is the Procurator Fiscal, a position close to that of your own Crown Prosecutor.”
Monk took the irony and knew it was well deserved.
“You are saying that to make an unsubstantiated attack would count against us?”
“Yes, without question.”
“Can we get the company books audited?” Monk leaned forward.
“I doubt it, unless you have evidence of embezzlement, and that it is likely to be connected with Mrs. Farraline’s murder. Have you?”
“No … one can hardly count old Hector’s ramblings.”
Argyll’s expression sharpened. “Tell me more about old Hector, Mr. Monk.”
In precise detail and without interruption, Monk recounted what Hector had said to him.
Argyll listened intently.
“Will you put him in the box?” Monk finished.
“Aye … I think I may,” Argyll said thoughtfully. “If I can manage to do it without warning.”
“Then he may be too drunk to be any use,” Rathbone protested, sitting upright.
“And if I warn the family, they may make sure he is too drunk to stand up at all,” Argyll pointed out. “No, surprise is our only weapon. Not good, I grant you, but all we have.”
“What will you do?” Rathbone asked. “Elicit something which will necessitate your calling him as if by chance?”
Argyll’s mobile mouth curved upward in appreciation. “Precisely. And I gather you have also obtained another Crimean colleague to appear for Miss Latterly?”
“Yes. A doctor who will speak very highly of her.”
Monk stood up impatiently and swung away from the chair to pace the floor.
“None of that is any use if we cannot suggest who else killed Mrs. Farraline. She didn’t die by accident, nor did she kill herself. Someone gave her a lethal dose, and someone put that pearl brooch in Hester’s baggage, certainly to implicate her. You can’t create doubt it was Hester unless you can point to someone else.”
“I am aware of that, Mr. Monk,” Argyll said quietly. “That is where we still look to you. I think we may safely assume it was one of the family. You have effectively ruled out the servants, so Mr. Rathbone has told me.”
“Yes, they can all account for their time in each other’s company,” Monk agreed. “And more importantly, there seems no earthly reason for any of them to have harmed her.” He drove his hands into his pockets savagely. “It was one of the family, but I have no more idea now of which one than I had when I stepped off the train, except I don’t believe it was Eilish. I think our best chance is Kenneth. He has a mistress the family doesn’t approve of, and he is the company bookkeeper. He is also one of the weaker ones. You ought to be able to rattle him in the witness-box, if you are any good at your job.”
Rathbone winced at Monk’s abruptness, but he shared his emotion. He would tie Kenneth into a knot he’d never undo, if only he had the chance. Damn the differences between English and Scots law. Frustration churned inside him so violently he found it hard to keep still. He did not blame Monk for his restlessness or his manner.