William Monk 05 - The Sins of the Wolf

he’s no a Scot, he’s from down south in England somewhere. No but he’s a good enough sort of man, they say. Nothing really against him.”
    “Except that he’s English?”
    “Aye. And I suppose he canna help that. And then there’s Mr. Fyffe. He comes frae Stirling, I’ve heard. Or maybe it’s Dundee, but somewhere a wee bit north o’ here. Clever man, word has it, gae clever.”
    “But not liked overmuch.” Monk said what she did not.
    “Oh well …” She was loath to put it into words, but the agreement was there in her face.
    “He’d be Miss Eilish’s husband,” he prompted.
    “Aye, he would. Now there’s a great beauty, so they say. Not that I’ve ever seen her myself, y’understand? But they say she’s the loveliest thing ever to set foot in Edinburgh.”
    “What else?”
    “What?”
    “What else do they say about her?”
    “Why nothing. Isn’t that enough?”
    He smiled, in spite of himself. He imagined what Hester would have said to a description like that.
    “What is she like, her ambitions, her ideas?”
    “Oh, for certain I never heard that.”
    “And Mrs. Farraline herself?”
    “A fine lady, so they say. Always was, for years back. Colonel Farraline was a gentleman, generous with his money, and she followed on the same. Always givin’ to the city. Poor Major Farraline, that’s the younger brother, now he’s a different kettle of fish. Drinks like a sot, he does. Hardly ever sober. Shame that, when a gentleman with all his opportunities goes to the bottle.”
    “Yes it is a shame. Do you know why? Was there some tragedy?”
    She pursed her lips.
    “Not that I ever heard. But what would I know? Just a weak man, I suppose. World’s full o’ them. Looks for theanswer to all o’ life’s problems in the bottom of a bottle. You’d think after a score or so they’d realize it wasn’t there—but not them.”
    “What about the last son, Kenneth?” Monk asked, since she seemed to have exhausted the subject of Hector.
    She shrugged again. “Just a young gentleman with more time and money than sense. He’ll grow out of it by and by, I expect. Pity his mother isn’t here any longer to see he does, but I daresay the Fiscal will. Wouldn’t want him doing something stupid and spoiling the family name. Or making a foolish marriage. He wouldn’t be the first young dandy to do that.”
    “Does he not work at the family business?” Monk asked.
    “Oh aye, so I’ve heard. Don’t know what he does, but no doubt it would be easy enough to find out.” A strange expression lightened her eyes, curiosity, disbelief and a kind of beginning of excitement. “Do you think one of them killed their own mother?” Then caution took hold again. “Never! They’re very well respected people, Mr. Monk. Highly thought of. Takes a big part in city affairs, does Mr. Alastair. A lot to do with government, as well as being the Fiscal.”
    “Yes, I don’t suppose it’s likely,” Monk said judiciously. “But it could have been a maid. It’s possible, and I’ve got to look at everything.”
    “’Course you have,” she agreed, straightening her apron and making to move. “Well, I’d best be leaving you to get on about it then.” She went to the door and turned back. “And ye’ll be here for a week or two, right enough?”
    “I will,” he agreed with a shadow of a smile. “Thank you, Mrs. Forster.”
    As soon as he had unpacked the few clothes he had brought with him, he wrote a short note to Rathbone, giving his new address at 20, Grassmarket, Edinburgh, and after a brief luncheon at the inn, went to post his letter and then made his way back up towards the new town andAinslie Place. The local public house would be a good spot at which to make inquiries about the family. In all possibility the footman or grooms would drink there. He would have to be extremely discreet, but he was used to that, it was his trade.
    However, it was too early in the day now, and by dinnertime he would be at the Farraline house. He would fill in the afternoon by learning exactly which of the local tradesmen dealt with number seventeen, then tomorrow and the next day he could track down delivery boys, who in turn might know maids and bootboys, and discover more about the daily lives of the Farralines.
    And of course there would be the routine tasks of questioning Mary Farraline’s physician who had prescribed the medicine, finding the exact dosage normally given; and then the apothecary who had