‘Significantly, we have also learned that Lady Pemberton told all her children a year ago that she would no longer act as their private bank. Perhaps this year’s birthday represented one last try to squeeze money out of her. One must assume that they didn’t necessarily take her threats seriously, given that she liked to make them grovel, but if Miss Colby’s to be believed—’
‘Is she, sir? It’s not like you to accept someone’s unsubstantiated word for anything.’
‘Oh, we will verify what she told us about her personal circumstances, especially with regard to the sleeping draught, but on the face of it, she doesn’t appear to have anything to gain by doing away with her friend.’
‘Unless she stands to inherit a packet.’
‘I shall speak with Isaac first thing tomorrow and ascertain the contents of Lady Pemberton’s will. However, as I was saying, if the three sisters did all apply to their mother for funds and those overtures were declined, it leaves us with a whole raft of motives. Lady Pemberton would not have turned them down graciously, I can assure you of that much. It would have rankled, Jack. They all tolerated her domineering ways because she was their mother, she was the matriarch who had control of the family fortune. She ensured their obedience by dishing it out to them in dribs and drabs but if she had grown weary of that game and they could no longer exploit her, then festering resentments would have boiled over.’
‘When you put it like that, I’m surprised she reached seventy before anyone bumped her off.’
Riley smiled, feeling energised at having a thorny case to wrestle with but weary of the sense of entitlement displayed by the victim’s relatives. ‘Let’s have the fragrant Miss Sutherland in here and see what we make of her,’ he said.
‘Right ho.’
Salter went off to fetch her, returning shortly thereafter with the attractive young woman in tow. Riley stood and indicated the chair that all the previous interviewees had occupied, and Miss Sutherland daintily lowered herself into it. She regarded Riley through huge eyes, moistened her lips and flipped a long strand of blonde hair over her shoulder in an affected manner; a deliberate attempt to appear vulnerable and invoke Riley’s protective instincts, he imagined.
‘A distressing first visit to this household,’ Riley said briskly, eyeing the young actress dispassionately, not taken in by her breathless little pouts. ‘I take it that this is your first visit.’
‘Yes. Lady Pemberton particularly wanted to meet me.’ Riley raised a brow, thinking it was the first he had heard of it. But she seemed to believe it, so presumably that’s what Clifford had told her. ‘She was quite specific on the point.’ She batted her eyes at Riley. ‘I took an immediate liking to her and we talked for ages.’
Now that, Riley thought, must be a gross exaggeration.
‘Did she like you?’
Miss Sutherland sat a little straighter, playing the innocent and doing it badly. ‘I beg your pardon, Chief Inspector.’
‘I believe you heard the question,’ Riley responded calmly. ‘How did Lady Pemberton react to your presence in her house?’
‘She went out of her way to welcome me into it. She is very fond of Clifford, she knew we were in love, so it stands to reason that she would be predisposed to like me.’
‘Does it?’
‘You might’ve been in love, but you weren’t in any position to marry as things stood before the old lady popped her clogs,’ Salter interjected, not an ounce of compassion in his tone.
Miss Sutherland blinked rapidly. ‘I am sure I have no idea what you mean by that comment,’ she said stiffly.
Riley was equally sure that she did. She was not the little innocent that she made herself out to be. Riley sensed that she was accustomed to attracting men and getting them to do just about anything she asked. She had certainly been assured of male attention in the drawing room earlier. Despite the circumstances, Riley had noticed more than one of Lady Pemberton’s sons-in-law sending her frequent admiring glances, which she encouraged. If Miss Sutherland was an innocent virgin then Riley was the Archbishop of Canterbury.
The helplessness was all an extravagant act, beneath which lurked a fiercely ambitious young woman who would do whatever it took to make a name for herself. Was Clifford’s inheritance vital to her in that regard? Vital enough to persuade him that his own grandmother had to die? It seemed tenuous but Riley knew a scheming female what he laid eyes on one. She wouldn’t be the first to use her looks and wiles to get a man to remove obstacles to her success.
‘Do you intend to be in London for the foreseeable future?’ Riley asked.
‘Oh yes.’ She sent him a flirtatious look. ‘I am to play Ophelia for a month-long run. Rehearsals are almost complete. We open next week. I can get tickets for you…’
‘I hadn’t heard of a new production. Where is it being staged?’ Riley asked.
‘Oh, at the Dynasty Theatre.’ She made the admission grudgingly. ‘It’s only just opened, the theatre that is.’
‘In that case, we shall know where to find you if we need to speak with you again.’
‘Come and find me at any time, Chief Inspector.’ She fluttered her lashes at him again. ‘I shall always make time for you.’
Riley simply shook his head the moment she had left, ignored Salter’s ribald comments and told him to go and fetch Barlow.
‘I am sorry to have kept you waiting for so long,’ Riley told that gentleman the moment he sat down in Miss Sutherland’s vacated chair.
‘Think nothing of it, Lord Riley. You have an unenviable task ahead of you. How can I be of assistance to your enquiry?’
Riley took a moment to study Lady Pemberton’s friend. He seemed refined both in manner and mode of speech. Riley estimated his age to be around fifty. His thick iron grey hair was neatly trimmed, and he had the intelligent eyes and the weathered features of a man who preferred the outdoor life.
‘How did you and Lady Pemberton come to be acquainted? I am familiar with most of society’s leading figures and, excuse me for saying that I do not recognise you or your name.’
If Barlow was offended, he gave no sign. ‘That is because I don’t mix in London society; I find the entire rigmarole somewhat tiresome. Besides, I am not a member of the aristocracy.’ He calmly crossed his legs. ‘I’m a touch too middle-class for them, if I have to label myself.’ Barlow offered Riley a rueful grin.
Riley smiled. ‘I tend to agree with you, both about the tedium of society’s mores and our class structure.’
‘My family home is in Hertfordshire. My father was an engineer who developed a more modern version of the sewing machine. He earned a great deal of money from it, and financed his first love, which was exploration.’
‘Ah, he was a contemporary of Pemberton’s,’ Riley surmised.
‘Indeed he was. They were very good friends. I never met Pemberton and only made Lady Pemberton’s acquaintance by chance a few years ago. We realised the connection; she remembered my father as a younger man and we became friendly.’
‘Very friendly, if you don’t mind my saying so,’ Riley replied, ‘given that you were the only person outside of Lady Pemberton’s immediate family who was invited to her birthday celebrations.’
‘Myself and Miss Colby; you’re quite correct. But then we have something in common, Miss Colby and I, apart from Lady Pemberton. We are both on the board of a charity that looks after unmarried mothers, you see.’
‘How did that charity come to interest you particularly?’ Riley asked. ‘Ordinarily, it is female benefactors who fill the places on such committees.’
‘My father was a keen supporter himself, Lord Riley, but I did not know that until five years ago when he died and I was sorting through his papers. I became curious, wondering—as you appear to be—why it was so important to him.’ Barlow rapped his fingers on the arm of his chair and briefly glanced out the window, as though gathering his thoughts. Either that or deciding how much of his circumstances he was prepared to reveal. ‘W
hen I discovered that Lady Pemberton was one of its leading supporters and made the connection to her husband and my father…well, it all made sense. I became involved and a friendship sprang up between Lady Pemberton and myself.’
‘You are not a married man, sir?’ Salter asked.
‘No, Sergeant, I never took the plunge.’
‘What did you make of Lady Pemberton’s relationship with her family?’ Riley asked.
‘Contentious,’ Barlow responded without hesitation. ‘I expect you’ve been told that none of her sons-in-law have made much of their lives and were constantly at her for handouts.’
‘It has been mentioned once or twice,’ Riley responded, with the suggestion of a smile.
‘Parasites, she called them in private.’
‘And yet she allowed the marriages to go ahead.’
‘I suggested the same thing to her once, implying that she only had herself to blame. Needless to say, she wasn’t having that!’ He chuckled. ‘Susan was the first to marry, and her husband painted a far rosier picture of his circumstances than was in fact the case. Even so, Susan was of age and could make her own decisions. Mavis was next and Violet, in her own words, was both appalled by Axton’s vulgarity and enthralled by his superficial charm. She thought him amusing, and I have to tell you that there’s a sad lack of laughter in this household, or would be if it weren’t for the more straightforward Anthea and her obvious joie de vivre. I tell you true, Lord Riley, that child is a breath of much needed fresh air, and Violet idolised the ground she walked on. She was determined that her granddaughter would not throw her life away in the manner that her daughters had.’ Barlow rubbed his chin. ‘I sometimes thought that Violet blamed herself for allowing that situation to evolve, which is why she took so much interest in Anthea. Well, that and the fact that they were similar in so many ways. Anthea has inherited her grandmother’s empathy, although it quite bypassed all her daughters.’
‘I see.’
‘Pamela married very late in life. She was the last of the sisters to tie the knot. Some might argue that she was desperate not to be left on the shelf, which is why her choices were limited. Violet told me that Kinsley was the best of a very mediocre bunch.’
‘Perhaps Pamela’s own circumstances explain why she is so very determined to see Anthea married, before she runs out of options,’ Riley suggested.
‘Possibly,’ Barlow conceded, ‘but times have changed since Pamela’s day. Violet could see that, but Pamela turned a deaf ear to that argument and seemed to think it would reflect badly on her if Anthea didn’t marry. There again, I sometimes wondered if it was more to do with the fact that Anthea is a very pretty girl who enjoyed her wealthy grandmother’s patronage. Doubtless Violet would have supplied her with a substantial dowry should the need have arisen, which would have widened her prospects, enabling her to attract a high-born suitor in a position to look kindly upon his struggling father-in-law.’ Barlow waved a negligent hand. ‘But then again, I’m known for my cynicism.’
‘Did you hear any movement during the course of the night?’ Riley asked.
‘My room is directly across the corridor from Violet’s. I’m a light sleeper and didn’t hear anyone approach it.’ He paused, reflectively rubbing the side of his index finger against his lips. ‘But I did hear someone creeping about at the other end of the corridor, now that I come to think about it. I hadn’t attached much importance, but perhaps…’
Riley and Salter exchanged a glance.
‘Any idea of the time?’ Riley asked.
‘Past midnight, probably closer to one in the morning. I assumed either that someone had got up to visit the bathroom or else…well, I wondered if it was Clifford paying a nocturnal call upon his intended.’
‘They are intimately engaged?’ Riley asked, ignoring Salter’s disapproving scowl.
‘I really couldn’t say, but it wouldn’t surprise me. Miss Sutherland is well aware of her physical attributes and doesn’t waste an opportunity to flaunt them. To put it bluntly, she flirts with every man who crosses her path, me included. I dare say she tried it with you as well. She can’t seem to help herself. It comes as naturally to her as breathing, and her requirement for admiration appears limitless. That sort of confidence can only, in my experience, be born of…well, experience.’
‘She has flirted with you in front of Clifford?’ Riley asked.
‘She enjoys flaunting herself in front of him and invoking his jealousy. I suppose she imagines it will keep him on his toes. In his position, I would walk away. If she cannot be faithful before she has his ring on her finger, what hope does he have of her fidelity after their marriage? But then I doubt Clifford is thinking coherently at present.’ Barlow chuckled. ‘He certainly isn’t thinking with his brain. Violet saw through her, actively discouraged Clifford from thinking in terms of marriage and claimed that she had no intention of digging into her purse if he insisted upon going through with it.’
Riley sat forward, momentarily distracted when a thrush landed on a bush immediately outside the window and started singing its heart out. Behind the bush Riley noticed that the skies were a cloudless blue, and the bird appeared to be announcing the arrival of spring and the start of new life. An incongruous day for a murder. ‘She made that clear to him, about the money, I mean?’ he asked, returning his attention to Barlow.
‘I really couldn’t say, but I do know the turn her thoughts had taken. She discussed her opinion of the young woman with me soon after the introduction had been made.’
‘Miss Sutherland’s feelings are not engaged, in your opinion, despite her determination to marry Clifford?’
‘That is my view, yes. And it was Violet’s too. Clifford is an affable and decent-enough looking chap who shares her love of the theatrical world but there’s nothing out of the ordinary about him. I can’t think why she was so determined to have him, unless of course he exaggerated his expectations in respect of Violet’s will.’
‘Indeed.’
Riley agreed with Barlow in that he too believed Miss Sutherland to be ruthlessly ambitious. If Clifford had described his grandmother as a wealthy eccentric in an effort to impress Miss Sutherland, she had likely assumed that she would be able to charm her into backing a performance. Lady Pemberton’s husband’s memory was still revered and his widow’s support would go a long way to getting Miss Sutherland noticed.
Riley found Barlow refreshingly forthright. He believed that his friendship with Lady Pemberton was not self-serving and that he had not killed her. But he also got the impression that he was holding something back. He was entitled to his secrets, of course, provided that they hadn’t pre-empted the old lady’s murder.
‘Shall you return to Hertfordshire today?’ Riley asked.
‘I certainly don’t intend to remain here and watch Violet’s daughters squabbling over the spoils,’ he replied with a shudder. ‘I have business in London that will keep me here for another week. You can find me at my club, should you need me.’
Salter jotted down details, Riley thanked Barlow and he left the room.
‘What now, sir?’ Salter asked. ‘We have half a dozen family members with compelling reasons to want the old lady dead. None of them seem to have had much time for her and were only interested in what she could do for them. But we have no way of deciding which one of them actually did it.’
‘Not yet, Sergeant, but it’s early days.’
‘Perhaps they’re all in it together. I mean, no one saw or heard nothing.’ Salter screwed up his features. ‘It ain’t natural.’
‘So we do what we always do, Jack. We dig a little deeper.’
‘Course we do,’ Salter replied, rolling his eyes.
He stood and Salter followed him into the entrance vestibule, where Aldridge lingered, looking suitably sombre.
‘Who is left in residence?’ Riley asked him.
‘The three ladies, my lord, and Miss Anthea, who is in her room. The gentlemen have all left.’ Aldridge’s st
oic expression underwent a fractional alteration and briefly displayed distaste. ‘Mrs Kinsley is demanding the key to her mother’s bedchamber.’
‘Ah, I thought as much,’ Riley replied, thinking that explained Aldridge’s disapproval.
Salter let out a sound that could have been anything from a grunt to a curse.
Riley entered the drawing room to a frosty atmosphere in which the three ladies sat drinking tea, putting on an unconvincing display of grief and clearly uncomfortable in one another’s company.
‘Ah, Lord Riley.’ Mrs Kinsley half stood, then thought the better of it and resumed her chair. ‘What progress do you have to report? I hope it will not take you long to find out who did this dreadful thing.’
‘You will be the first to know when we uncover the culprit’s identity,’ he responded calmly. ‘May I ask why you are asking for the key to your mother’s room?’
Mrs Kinsley sent him a combative look. ‘May I ask why you are keeping it locked? We are perfectly entitled to…’
‘Lady Pemberton’s valuables form part of her estate. Please contain yourselves until after the reading of the will.’
‘Well, really. I must protest.’ Mrs Kinsley looked to her sisters but both of them pretended not to notice and distanced themselves. ‘As though we would lower ourselves to poring over Mama’s possessions before she is even cold in her grave.’
‘Perish the thought,’ Riley responded mildly. ‘Your mother’s jewellery is locked away, in case you are wondering about it. I shall give the key to Lord Isaac myself and I dare say you will be hearing from him in the fullness of time. Good day to you, ladies.’
‘What a shower,’ Salter grumbled as the two detectives climbed into a Hansom.
‘Indeed.’ Riley fell into momentary contemplation. ‘Right, Salter, drop me at home first, then get off yourself. Time’s getting on and we’ll come at this fresh tomorrow. I want to catch my mother and I am fairly sure she will be with Amelia about now. I want to tell her about Lady Pemberton myself and also pick her brains with regard to her grasping family. I’m very interested in Lady Pemberton’s obsession with the unmarried mothers’ charity. She became intimate with Miss Colby and Barlow thanks to that organisation. I cannot help wondering why it meant so much to her.’
Death of a Matriarch (Riley Rochester Investigates Book 7) Page 6