Death of a Matriarch (Riley Rochester Investigates Book 7)

by Wendy Soliman

  ‘What’s so unusual about that? I ain’t never come across a grand lady who’s unwilling to express her opinions.’

  ‘Ah, but Lady Pemberton’s were not always popular. She often spoke up in support of unmarried mothers. That particular charity was her pet passion. We all had our ears bent on numerous occasions.’

  Salter curled his upper lip. ‘Ah, one of them.’

  ‘Don’t let your own standards to cloud your judgement, Salter,’ Riley replied, an edge to his voice. ‘Her ladyship was of the view that for a girl to get herself into trouble, there had to be a man who talked her into it.’ He chuckled. ‘Which is hardly undeniable, is it?’

  Salter sniffed. ‘I suppose not, but the girl ought to know better.’

  ‘I shan’t debate the subject with you now, but I do require you to keep an open mind. I very much doubt if someone opposed to her liberal thinking snuck into her house in the middle of the night and did away with her—always supposing she was deliberately killed. Healthy or not, she had reached a good age and could have died naturally in her sleep.’

  ‘This Doctor Hayward must think otherwise, else he wouldn’t have sent for us. Who inherits her estate, what with there being no male heir?’

  ‘Now that, Jack, is the vital question.’ Riley threw back his head and struggled to recollect. ‘The daughters are all a decade or more older than me, so our paths never really crossed.’

  Salter sniffed. ‘They weren’t thrown at you and suggested as potential brides, then.’

  ‘No, Salter, they were not. But as it happens, the daughter of the eldest child was.’

  ‘Blimey, sir, cradle-snatching or what.’

  Riley waved the suggestion aside. ‘It was not my idea. Besides, she was just about out at the time.’

  ‘Ah well, that’s all right then,’ Salter said, chuckling. ‘Can’t have you consorting with chits what ain’t out, can we, sir?’

  Riley had missed Salter’s cynicism when it came to the ways of the upper classes and found himself smiling too. ‘This was a few years ago, just before I married Amelia. I rather liked the girl, as it happens, which is more than I can say for most of the candidates my mother shoved under my nose. What was her name?’ He again closed his eyes. ‘The eldest girl is Pamela. She married…Damn it, my mother would know.’

  ‘So will we, then, soon enough,’ Salter said. ‘Don’t strain your memory, sir.’

  ‘Kinsley.’ Riley snapped his fingers. ‘That’s it, I recall my mother being involved with the preparations for Pamela’s wedding, which was arranged very quickly. I remember hearing that Pamela had developed a passion for someone unsuitable and her mother wanted her married off and safe from any temptation of that sort. I was at school at the time and didn’t take much notice. But I do seem to recollect that Lady P was less than enamoured with Pamela’s alternative choice. Obviously, Kinsley was a better option than whoever Pamela had first settled her interest upon, but even so…’ Riley glanced out the window, idly watching an omnibus bound for the Bank of England causing feathers to literally fly as it cut across a flock of turkeys being driven towards Smithfield market. ‘Kinsley is something to do with investments, I think.’

  ‘He actually has to work for a living?’ Salter affected a shocked expression. ‘No family money? Letting the side down a bit, ain’t he?’

  ‘I don’t know if that’s what was at the root of her ladyship’s objections. I hope it was not. I rather liked her. She had a great deal of common sense, worked hard for commendable causes instead of just paying them lip service to them and expected her family to demonstrate a similar degree of charitable empathy. Whether they did or not, I couldn’t say. Anyway, she was modern in her thinking, understood that the world is changing and that all walks of life must change with it or risk becoming outmoded.’

  ‘I dare say your lady mother will be able to tell you anything you need to know about Lady Pemberton’s relationship with her family.’

  ‘I’m sure she will,’ Riley replied absently. ‘I just wish I didn’t have to break the news to her myself. She will be upset.’

  ‘It won’t stay secret for long. Better she hears it from you than reads about it in the newspapers.’ Salter sniffed. ‘Mrs Salter’s mother reckons you get to an age where death no longer affects you. I suppose she would know, what with her being so close to it herself.’

  ‘That’s very pragmatic of her. Right, here we are.’

  The cab swerved to a halt, causing Riley to feel a moment’s sympathy for the poor horse. The cabbie didn’t seem to be able to do anything smoothly, and his jerky driving methods would play havoc with the animal’s mouth. Riley paid the fare and the two detectives got out to find themselves facing the front door of a tall, elegant town house, which was opened by a stately butler before they had an opportunity to ring the bell.

  ‘Lord Riley.’ He inclined his head deferentially. ‘I was told to expect you. If you would be so good as to follow me.’

  Riley couldn’t recall the butler’s name but had a vague recollection of having met him once before. He handed him his top hat and coat, and Salter’s bowler followed before the man led them up the stairs to the first floor, where the principal reception rooms were housed.

  ‘Unfortunate circumstances,’ Riley said. ‘You have been engaged by Lady Pemberton for how long, er…’

  ‘Aldridge, my lord. And I have had the privilege of serving her ladyship for the past twenty years.’ A flicker of emotion broke through his professional mask. ‘This is a tragic but not wholly unexpected situation.’

  ‘I understand her ladyship was in good health.’

  ‘For her age, indeed she was.’ Aldridge cleared his throat. ‘She celebrated her seventieth birthday with her family yesterday. It seems that the excitement must have been too much for her.’

  ‘Are they all still here?’ Riley asked.

  ‘In the drawing room, my lord, and greatly shocked as you can imagine.’

  ‘Very well. Keep them there for now. I shall go up—’

  ‘The double doors at the front on the next floor up. Doctor Hayward is making her ladyship comfortable.’

  ‘He don’t seem to realise the significance of our being called in,’ Salter said, as the two detectives ascended the stairs.

  ‘No, but you can be sure that the family do, if they are aware of our presence. I’m surprised that none of them accosted us,’ Riley shrugged. ‘That pleasure I will gladly postpone.’

  They reached the threshold of the room in question. Riley paused, steeling himself to confront the sight of the dead matriarch, and thrust the door open.

  ‘Ah, Lord Riley.’ The middle-aged doctor whom Riley had known for more than a decade stood from the chair he had been occupying by the window and shook Riley’s outstretched hand. ‘A sad day.’

  Riley glanced at the still figure, neatly laid out on the bed, and cursed the fact that someone had moved her. If this was a murder, seeing the victim as she had been found would form a vital part of the investigation. But he kept his thoughts to himself and introduced Salter, who also shook the doctor’s hand.

  ‘You have some concerns,’ Riley said, nodding towards Lady Pemberton’s inert form.

  ‘What do you notice about her?’ Dr Hayward replied.

  Riley studied the woman’s pale face, surprisingly unlined for a woman of her advanced years. The covers were pulled up to her chin, shielding the rest of her body, and her hands were laid neatly on top of the sheet, one over the other.

  ‘She’s been laid out,’ he said, attempting to keep the censure out of his voice.

  ‘Not by me,’ Hayward replied with asperity.

  Riley flexed a brow. ‘Then by whom?’

  ‘The family claim to have left her as she was found by her maid. It was the first thing that I noticed about her and it immediately roused my suspicions too.’ He paused for emphasis. ‘And the second thing that stands out?’

  ‘Red splotches on her face, neck and in her eyes.’ It was Salter
who answered, having lifted one of Lady Pemberton’s closed eyelids. ‘She was smothered. We had a case like this not long ago, only the victim was fifty years younger. Still an’ all, his lordship recognised the signs then and I ain’t never forgotten them.’

  ‘Very good, Sergeant,’ Hayward said with an approving nod.

  ‘It’s almost as though her killer regretted his actions, hence the respectful posing of the body,’ Riley mused.

  ‘The same thought had occurred to me,’ Hayward replied. ‘He or she—’

  ‘Could a woman have done it?’ Salter asked. ‘Would she have had the strength to hold her down? I don’t suppose Lady Pemberton just lay there and allowed herself to be suffocated.’

  ‘Yes, I would imagine so,’ Hayward replied. ‘If she’d waited until Lady Pemberton was sound asleep, by the time she woke and tried to fight back, it would have been too late for her to save herself.’

  ‘The murderer would have done better to turn her on her side and make it seem as though she had simply not woken up,’ Riley said.

  ‘It probably happened like you said, sir. The murderer felt remorse.’

  ‘It’s one possibility to bear in mind, Jack.’ He turned to Hayward. ‘Have you told the family about your suspicions?’

  ‘I thought it best not to,’ Hayward replied. ‘I simply said that it was normal procedure to alert the police when there’s a sudden death.’

  ‘And they believed you?’ Salter asked, raising a bushy brow.

  ‘Mr Kinsley seemed to think it was unnecessary, but his wife told him to be quiet. And he was.’

  ‘Hmm. Salter, send a runner to summon Doctor Maynard,’ he said, referring to the police pathologist. ‘And another to the Yard. We need a uniform at the door to keep the family in and the gawpers out. We also need a photographer and the rest of your detective constables to help with the interviews here.’

  Salter nodded and left the room at a trot.

  ‘What can you tell me about Lady Pemberton’s state of health?’ Riley asked.

  Hayward shrugged. ‘Not much to tell. For a lady of her age she was remarkably fit. Of course she was always out walking. Famous for it, she was, convinced that daily exercise and regular exposure to fresh air kept her limbs supple. Not sure if it did or not, but I do know that she suffered very few of the aches of pains that we normally expect to accumulate with the advancement of the years.’

  ‘She had no heart ailments, or anything of that nature?’

  ‘She certainly never consulted me complaining of chest pains.’ Hayward smiled. ‘Come to that, she scarcely saw me at all. Lady P did not approve of ill health. She considered it to be an indulgence that the weak-willed fell back on.’

  Riley chuckled. ‘I can well imagine.’

  ‘If there is nothing more that I help you with, Lord Riley, I shall be on my way. There isn’t anything else that I can do here for now. I certainly shall not be signing a death certificate until the precise cause of her ladyship’s demise has been established, but I do have other calls to make.’

  ‘Please.’ Riley held out his hand. ‘Thank you for your keen observations. I am glad you were not struck by a conflict of loyalties.’

  ‘Lady Pemberton was my patient, not her grasping family, Lord Riley. I didn’t hesitate to call you the moment I realised all was not as it should be.’

  Riley was left to ponder upon the doctor’s enigmatic statement regarding the family, but it wasn’t long before Salter returned, having carried out Riley’s instructions.

  ‘What now, sir?’ he asked.

  ‘Now, Salter, we lock this door until Maynard arrives and introduce ourselves to the family.’

  ‘That’ll go down well,’ Salter replied, looking unperturbed by the shock they were about to deliver to all but one of the people in the drawing room. ‘I wonder who stands to benefit the most from her death.’ He glanced around the opulent bed chamber. ‘Seems she was worth a bob or two.’

  ‘That is one of the questions we shall be asking.’

  Riley wanted to cover Lady Pemberton’s face but that would have to wait until the police photographer arrived to take pictures of her as she had been found, and until Maynard had completed his examination of her body. It seemed an indignity to leave her as she was, even though she looked to be at peace. Riley was satisfied that she had not suffered for long, if at all.

  As they left the room, Salter locked the door and slipped the key into his pocket.

  ‘Ready, Sergeant?’ Riley asked, as they descended the stairs and paused at the threshold to the drawing room, behind the closed doors to which the sound of muted conversations could be heard.

  ‘As always, sir.’ He sniffed. ‘Reminds me of our last big case, when Sir Theodore Allen was murdered in his own home and we interviewed all his supposedly grieving relatives in the house. Course, he was a lot younger than her ladyship. I suppose Lady Pemberton did at least get to live a long and active life until someone decided it was time to bring it to an end. Same couldn’t be said for Sir Theo.’

  ‘I remember it well, Jack. I rather suspect we’re in for a similar time here.’

  Salter gave a long sigh. ‘Let’s get it done, sir. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.’

  ‘I am relieved to hear it.’

  Aldridge, who had been hovering nearby, clearly overheard Salter’s remarks. The butler looked totally shocked to learn that his mistress had been deliberately killed, but his training came to the fore, he pulled himself together and thrust open the door to the drawing room, standing back so that Riley and Salter could pass through it before him. Riley thanked Aldridge, stepped into the room and took stock of the ten—no, eleven—people in occupation of it. They all looked sombre but only two of them appeared to be genuinely upset. Riley recognised one of the distraught occupants as Miss Anthea Kinsley, the lady whom his mother had tried to thrust upon him, much to their mutual embarrassment. He recalled that much about Anthea at least. Most females considered suitable marriage material were more than happy to put themselves forward, but Anthea had been as indifferent to the possibility as Riley himself had.

  A pretty child, her face blotchy from crying, Anthea looked up from the shoulder of an older lady—definitely not her mother—who also seemed very distressed. A young man stood behind them, ineffectually patting Anthea’s shoulder. Riley knew that she had a brother. Presumably that was him. The young woman seated on Anthea’s other side held a handkerchief to eyes that showed no signs of tears.

  ‘Lord Riley, thank goodness it’s you.’ Kinsley stepped forward looking suitably grave, his hand outstretched. ‘It’s come as a most terrible shock, don’t you know? My mother-in-law was in excellent health at her birthday celebrations last night. We can only assume that the party was too much for her heart.’

  ‘Did she suffer from a weak heart, sir?’ Riley enquired politely, already aware that she did not.

  ‘Not as far as we are aware, Lord Riley.’ It was his wife, Pamela Kinsley, as dry-eyed as her daughter was distraught, who answered him. ‘But then Mama would never discuss her health with us. She said it was between her and Doctor Hayward and no one else’s business.’

  Riley glanced at the rest of the assembly. He assumed the other two ladies were Mrs Kinsley’s sisters and the two men standing at Kinsley’s shoulder would be their husbands. But there was another gentleman sitting a little apart at the back of the room; the only person other than Anthea and the older lady who appeared to be struggling to keep his emotions in check.

  ‘For those of you who do not know me,’ Riley said, ‘I am Chief Inspector Rochester and this is Sergeant Salter.’ He nodded towards Salter who stood with notebook poised, licking the end of his pencil as he prepared to take notes. ‘May I know who you all are, please?’

  ‘Come now, Lord Riley.’ Mrs Kinsley stepped towards him, her shoulders thrust back. ‘Must you pester us when we are all in shock. Poor Mama is dead and I really cannot see why you need to involve yourself.’

  ‘Perhaps
,’ Riley responded calmly, ‘that is because you are unaware that your mother did not die of natural causes.’ A general gasp greeted this pronouncement. ‘I regret to tell you that she was murdered.’

  Chapter Three

  A stunned silence gave way to a cacophony of indignant protests. Looks were exchanged, heads shaken, comments made about the inefficiency of Scotland Yard’s elite and much criticised Detective Department. Only Anthea and the older lady failed to question Riley’s pronouncement. Because they had colluded in her murder or because they had already suspected foul play? Riley was unable to decide.

  ‘You have made a mistake, Lord Riley,’ Mrs Kinsley said curtly, her strident voice cutting across the rumbling discontent. ‘Either that or this is some sort of cruel joke, and I am sure you are above such things.’

  ‘Hayward would have said something,’ one of the other ladies insisted.

  ‘I can assure you there is no mistake, madam,’ Riley told her. ‘Hayward suspected that something was not right, which is why he sent for me.’

  ‘He should have told us first, damn it!’ Kinsley said, thumping his thigh with his clenched fist. ‘We had a right to know.’

  ‘Hayward acted entirely responsibly.’ Riley held back the commiserations that sprang spontaneously to his lips, sensing that they would not be appreciated. ‘The pathologist is on his way, and he will confirm Doctor Hayward’s findings.’

  ‘Or not.’ One of the other ladies looked up at Riley with bitterness in her expression. ‘And if that is the case we shall expect a full apology from you.’

  ‘We shall see. My detectives are on their way to interview the servants and look over the house.’

  ‘I say, is that really necessary?’ one of the husbands asked. ‘Seems a bit intrusive.’

  ‘So is murder,’ Riley replied, his voice hardening. ‘Now then, I am acquainted with Mr and Mrs Kinsley.’ He pointed them out for Salter’s benefit. With blonde hair and a trim figure, Pamela had aged well. Riley examined everyone else in the room, anxious to see if the guilty party’s demeanour would give him or her away. He noticed nothing other than shock and suspicious glances being exchanged between them. They would, he knew, be wondering who had the most to gain from the old lady’s demise. Riley was wondering the same thing himself. ‘And this young lady is, I believe, Miss Anthea Kinsley.’