Murders Most Foul by Alanna Knight Read Free Book Online Page A

miniature coffins, wee dressed dolls inside each one, a weird discovery that had no doubt thrown a cloud over laughter and childish games. To this day no one had ever discovered the identity of the coffins, or for what strange and sinister ritual they had been buried there. A mystery worthy of any lad deciding to become a policeman.
    His road lay direct ahead, but at the Pleasance on impulse he returned to the murder scene at Fleshers Close. Even on a day that threatened sunshine and fresh air, he shuddered away from the filth and decay that marked the area, wondering whether he might see the woman who had taken charge of the little girl.
    And then he had a stroke of luck; she was walking towards him, a basket over her arm, a trail of small children at her heel, the wee girl he remembered holding tightly to her hand.
    He had to stand aside to let them pass and raised his hat. She nodded, looked him over, seeing him as a toff, a stranger to this area of the city. Without uniform and the forbidding helmet that had concealed the upper part of his face, she obviously did not recognise him again as one of the policemen and he had to think of an excuse to delay her, ask her some questions.
    He stammered out that they had met before. She frowned, shook her head, but there was a gleam of hope in her glance. Was there perhaps a coin or two in this meeting? He explained that he had called the other day, that he was concerned about the woman who was killed.
    ‘Was she a friend of yours?’ he asked.
    A cautious glance. ‘Who wants to know?’
    ‘Friends,’ he said non-committally. She nodded and held out a grubby hand. An unmistakable gesture indicating information available but to be paid for.
    He handed her a coin. ‘Tell me about her, if you please?’ He smiled down at the little girl and said: ‘Hello!’ In return she gave him a terrified glance, hiding her face in the woman’s skirts. ‘Is that her daughter?’
    ‘Saw them once or twice together – down here, looking for business. Not from these parts. Had a word, gave her a bite to eat one day, the bairn was weary of walking. Came from over yonder.’ She pointed in the vague direction of Leith. Her voice was getting slower, thoughtful. ‘Came to meet someone who hadn’t turned up.’
    Here was hope indeed, but before he could ask any further questions he was aware of her candid glance,looking him over carefully, and she said sharply, ‘Is it the bairn you’re after? It’ll cost you more than a few coins, mister – she’s only six years old.’
    Faro stepped back, shocked as the enormity of her proposition dawned upon him. Had she assumed he was one of the dealers in child prostitution? He tried to keep his voice calm as he replied: ‘You are mistaken. I am only interested in what happened to the child’s mother. When they found her, had you heard anything, any disturbance, any commotion during the night?’
    The woman frowned. ‘A carriage nearby in the early hours, night. Like drunks – young toffs larking. It was dark. Next thing I heard was them polis rattles.’ She stopped and shook her head, remembering. ‘Polis crawling all over the place, up and down the stairs, knocking on doors. asking questions. Came down to see what it was about.’ She paused, sighed. ‘And there she was lying there dead, before they took her away.’
    She looked at the little girl still clinging to her. ‘Didna’ want them putting her in the workhouse, fine strong, healthy wee bairn like that. So I took her in.’ A hopeful glance at him. ‘D’ye ken anyone who might want a wee lass? She’s very clean and a good worker.’
    Six years old, Faro thought, maybe too young for a year or two for the child dealers to be interested. As for the workhouse, factory owners were known to seek out youngsters for cheap labour. He said: ‘Can you keep her? She’s better off with you.’
    The woman thought about that. A moment’s indecision, then she shrugged. ‘Ah well, she’ll be