Death of a Matriarch (Riley Rochester Investigates Book 7)

by Wendy Soliman

  Stout’s lips quirked. ‘I shall endeavour to keep her at arm’s length, my lord.’

  Riley smiled at his departing man’s back, finished adjusting his attire and then went to take his leave of Amelia. She lifted her head from her pillows as soon as he opened the door and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  ‘Are you absolutely sure you don’t mind that I’m having another baby?’ she asked. ‘You have not said much about it.’

  ‘I am delighted by the prospect,’ he assured her, perching on the edge of their bed and kissing her soundly. ‘And am now doubly determined to find us somewhere pleasant in the country to live and raise our growing family.’

  ‘I am warming to that idea,’ she told him. ‘Would you like me to start making enquiries. I am sure Olivia would be willing to help me.’

  ‘So too am I, but leave it to me, my love. You have another prune to worry about, as well as a stray horse.’

  Amelia laughed. ‘I am capable of doing more than one thing at once.’

  ‘I know that,’ he said, kissing the end of her nose. ‘But I would much prefer it if you took things easy. I worry about you being in a delicate condition again so soon after Simon and would never forgive myself if you overtaxed yourself.’

  ‘Stuff and nonsense, Riley. I shall lose all patience with you if you become too protective. Don’t make me resort to doing things behind your back to avoid a scolding.’

  ‘Well, that’s me told.’ He kissed her again and stood. ‘I shall try not to be late this evening. Are we expecting company?’

  ‘No, we have no engagements.’

  ‘Good. In that case I shall have you to myself.’

  Riley smiled for the duration of the cab ride to Scotland Yard, thinking how fortunate he was to be in possession of wealth, a position in society, employment that he enjoyed and a wife whom he absolutely adored, as well as a growing family.

  Salter gave him a prolonged sideways glance when he joined him in his office.

  ‘You’re in a good mood, sir,’ Salter said jovially. ‘I trust Lady Riley is well.’

  ‘She thrives, thank you, Jack.’ He motioned his three detective constables into the room, where they occupied a group of chairs around an empty and rather ugly iron fireplace. ‘Now then, gentlemen, there have been developments.’

  Riley spent the next ten minutes telling them what he had learned about Kinsley’s investment scheme, and from Stout regarding the Axtons’ situation.

  ‘Ha! One of them,’ Salter said enigmatically, referring to Kinsley’s financial mismanagement.

  ‘Precisely so, Salter. We don’t have any actual proof as yet but all the indications are that Kinsley is swindling his clients.’

  ‘It makes him look suspicious though, sir,’ Peterson said. ‘If he’s in danger of being found out, he’ll need to get his hands on funds quick like, in order to keep himself out of gaol.’

  ‘My thoughts precisely, Peterson,’ Riley replied, more and more impressed by his newest constable’s clarity of thought. ‘But as to Kinsley killing his mother-in-law…well, I’m not sure.’ Riley rubbed his chin between his thumb and forefinger. ‘I am far from convinced that any man would have risked entering her ladyship’s bedchamber, especially after she had retired. If Lady Pemberton happened to be still awake—and a lot of older people sleep lightly or not at all—then she would have screamed the place down. Besides, I keep coming back to the neat way in which she was laid out, and I’m convinced that was a woman’s work.’

  ‘Mrs Kinsley would do anything to avert public scandal,’ Salter said. ‘Happen she did it to help her husband out.’

  ‘Now that is a very real possibility, Salter, and I would take it a great deal more seriously if I had not learned something else very interesting about Lady Pemberton’s circumstances.’

  Riley went on to tell his officers about the blackmail and Lady Pemberton’s fears for her life.

  ‘Blimey,’ Carter said, scratching his head. ‘How the devil do we prove who was blackmailing her and why?’

  ‘Now that, Carter, is a very good question. As usual, we shall have to be both thorough and logical. If we can eliminate those whom we think are definitely innocent, it will narrow the field considerably. To that end, how did you get on with Lady Pemberton’s correspondence?’

  ‘Nothing that’s the slightest bit suspicious has come to light thus far,’ Soames replied. ‘Just letters from the odd friend, from the vicar who chairs the committee helping fallen women and from associates of her late husband.’

  Riley sat forward. ‘I should like to see the correspondence with those people myself.’ He tapped his fingers on the surface of his desk. ‘I am convinced that the blackmail has something to do with Lady Pemberton’s past. The only transgression she ever made, to the best of our knowledge, was conceiving a child out of wedlock.’

  ‘A pretty major transgression,’ Salter muttered.

  Riley ignored his sergeant’s moral indignation. ‘If anyone was attempting to disclose that fact, I am fairly certain she would have told Barlow and then told the blackmailer to go ahead and damn the consequences,’ he said, smiling in his recollection of the old lady. ‘After all, it would affect him too. But I am satisfied that she did not, and so…’

  ‘And so perhaps the scandal was to do with her late husband, whose memory she would be much more cautious about protecting,’ Salter said. ‘She might not have loved him, but she owed him everything because he saved her from disgrace and she was loyal to a fault as a consequence.’

  ‘Precisely so, Jack. Were there any diaries or appointment books?’ he asked.

  ‘There were, sir,’ Carter replied, ‘and we’re still going through them. She doesn’t exactly express her feelings, plans or intentions like most people do in their diaries, but she frequently condemns the behaviour of others.’

  Riley leaned back in his chair. ‘I’m told that she sold her jewels and made her latest will about a year ago. I’d like to see her diaries and anything else that you have relating to that time.’

  ‘I’ll fetch it all, sir,’ Soames said, leaving the room.

  ‘You and I have an appointment at the Fox and Ferret at midday,’ Riley told his sergeant as they waited for the delivery of the promised documents.

  ‘We do?’ Salter raised his busy brows, always more than willing to pay visits to taverns.

  ‘We do.’ Riley chuckled. ‘With one Ernest Dakin, coal merchant.’

  ‘The fella we caught abusing his horse yesterday,’ Salter said, frowning. ‘What the devil does he have to do with this business?’

  Salter roared with laughter when Riley explained how Sophia had saved his nag from the slaughterhouse. ‘She’s got some pluck, that niece of yours, I’ll give her that.’

  Riley rolled his eyes. ‘That fact has long gone undisputed within the family.’

  ‘And now you’re in danger of becoming a laughingstock by having such a miserable nag eating its head off in your mews among all the finely-bred stallions and carriage horses.’ Salter appeared to find that possibility endlessly amusing.

  ‘Not a bit of it. I am thicker skinned than that, and if any of my neighbours take exception to Sophia’s kindness, they will have me to answer to.’

  Riley thanked Soames when he returned with the required documents. He flipped through Lady Pemberton’s appointment book and sighed when he noticed an engagement recorded for the following day, Lord T. 11.30.

  ‘That would have been her appointment with Jake,’ Riley surmised. ‘She asked to see him in Grosvenor Square, not at her own home, which implies she didn’t want Pamela Kinsley to know about the engagement.’

  ‘Or Miss Colby.’

  ‘Indeed. I have not forgotten about her.’ Riley continued to flip through the appointment book. ‘Lord I. 10.15 on the 7th of May. I shall check with Isaac but I’m willing to wager that appointment was made with regard to her legal affairs. Perhaps she intended to change her will. We’ll never know now.’ Riley looked up from the
book, his mind full of possibilities, none of which made much sense to him. ‘Has anyone spoken to the jeweller who purchased her gems?’

  ‘Not yet, sir. Why? Is it important? We know she sold them but she’s hardly likely to have confided her reasons for so doing to the man who took them from her.’

  ‘Let’s do that ourselves in a moment or two, Jack, before going onto the engagement with Dakin. I want to know if she was in a hurry to sell, or if she accepted a low price for her jewellery.’

  ‘How will that help us?’

  ‘Not sure yet.’ Riley had picked up the journal corresponding with the time that she sold the jewels. ‘Damn! Soames was right. She gives little away about her own thoughts. It’s almost as though she was afraid that someone in her household would read her private papers.’

  ‘Wouldn’t put it past any of her lot,’ Salter groused.

  ‘Who the devil is PT?’

  Salter looked over Riley’s shoulder. ‘She met with someone with those initials twice just before the jewels were sold. He or she must be the blackmailer. The initials don’t correspond with anyone involved thus far. Miss Colby might know.’

  ‘Indeed she might.’ Riley stood. ‘Come along, Jack. We’re for Hatton Garden. Then there should just be time to call at Ebury Street and speak with Miss Colby before going on to meet Dakin.’

  They took a cab to the premises of Joseph Pinewood and Son, Jewellers. The moment they entered the shop, the man behind the counter summed Riley up with one swift sweep of his eyes, taking in the splendour of his tailoring. His attitude became instantly deferential.

  ‘Blimey, he thinks I’m a servant or a poor relation,’ Salter complained in an undertone when the assistant barely spared him a glance.

  ‘Cheer up, Jack. I’m known to treat my poor relations with generosity.’

  Salter harrumphed.

  ‘How may I be of service to your lordship?’ the clerk asked, bowing.

  Riley introduced himself by rank, affording Salter the same courtesy. ‘Are you Pinewood?’

  ‘I am not, Chief Inspector. May I ask what brings you to our door? You can be sure that we operate an honest and reputable business.’

  ‘And I’m just as sure you’d tell us if you weren’t.’ It was Salter who responded. ‘But we need to discuss our business with Mr Pinewood, not the hired help.’

  The clerk swallowed back the retort that he wisely decided against voicing. ‘If you would have the goodness to wait for a moment.’

  And a moment was all it took. An elderly gentleman with a profusion of white whiskers, a thick beard and glasses perched on the end of a prominent nose, dressed in a quilted gown over a full suit, stepped into the shop.

  ‘Lord Riley,’ he said, hand extended. ‘What a pleasure. I have had the honour to be of service to several members of your family over the decades. How can I help you today?’

  Another customer entered the shop and the clerk scurried off to serve her.

  ‘Is there somewhere private we can talk?’ Riley asked, unsurprised that the man knew who he was. Purveyors to the wealthy made it their business to recognise the aristocracy and commit their names to memory.

  ‘Of course, gentlemen. Follow me.’

  They did so and found themselves in a small office. Gemstones were arranged in neatly piled trays and a jeweller’s loupe lay discarded beside them. Pinewood invited them to take seats. Riley did so but Salter remained standing, using the back of the door to support his shoulder.

  ‘You will have heard of Lady Pemberton’s death,’ Riley said, getting straight to the point.

  ‘I was very saddened by the news.’ Pinewood bowed his head. ‘A lady of taste and refinement who will be sorely missed.’

  ‘She sold her famous and valuable collection of jewellery to you in September of last year.’

  ‘Indeed she did,’ Pinewood replied without hesitation, confirming Riley’s estimate of the date. ‘Very fine pieces they were too.’

  ‘Was she in a hurry to sell?’ Riley asked.

  ‘Why no, Lord Riley. Or at least if she was, she didn’t permit her anxiety to show.’ He chuckled. ‘Her ladyship proved to be a very shrewd negotiator.’

  ‘I don’t suppose she told you why she had decided to sell.’

  ‘Hardly, and it wasn’t the sort of question I would dream of asking. Ordinarily, such a sale suggests a shortage of funds, and it would be crass to force such an admission.’ Pinewood furled his brow. ‘She did mention something about the jewels being more of a liability than a pleasure nowadays. I think she was concerned about their security and said it would be a relief not to have to worry about them. She knew their worth, I offered her a fair price and we concluded our business on the best possible terms.’ He paused. ‘I am not familiar with the cause of Lady Pemberton’s death but since you are here, one must assume that the circumstances were suspicious. Oh dear, I hope there was not a burglary with her jewels as the target.’

  ‘You made replicas for her?’

  ‘I did. I think pride prevented her from telling her family what she had done. She said they would be none the wiser until after her death, and I am almost sure that she struggled not to smile when she said it. I dare say that it will come as quite a shock to her family to learn that the heirlooms are all gone.’

  ‘They were heirlooms?’ Salter asked.

  ‘Yes, Sergeant, I believe some of them had been in the family for generations.’

  ‘That makes it even harder to explain her desire to sell the whole lot,’ Riley said pensively.

  Pinewood spread his hands. ‘All I can tell you is that the transaction was entirely above board. I can show you the paperwork if you doubt my word.’

  ‘That will not be necessary,’ Riley replied. ‘She told her lawyer that she had sold her jewels and was satisfied with the price she received for them, and that also satisfies me.’

  ‘That is a relief. One relies upon one’s reputation, don’t you know.’

  Riley did know. He asked how much Lady Pemberton had received for her jewels and was unable to prevent himself from letting out a low whistle when he was told. He stood to indicate that the interview was at an end, shook Pinewood’s hand, thanked him for his help and he and Salter left the premises.

  ‘That sort of money could keep several families in comfort for decades,’ Salter remarked as soon as they were alone. ‘I wonder what she did with it.’

  ‘One assumes she paid the blackmailer,’ Riley replied, grinding his teeth. ‘All that remains now is for us to discover his identity. ‘Let’s call upon Miss Colby. Hopefully, she will know something that will point us in the right direction, even if she doesn’t realise it.’

  Chapter Eleven

  Miss Colby was at home and glad to receive the detectives. The three sisters were also in residence and sharing the drawing room with Miss Colby in an atmosphere of taut decorum. Lady Pemberton’s blood relatives resented Miss Colby’s continued presence in the house but even they wouldn’t try to evict her from it until after their mother’s funeral. Frustratingly for them, they also couldn’t find a way to convince themselves that she had murdered her benefactress. But Riley knew that it would take little persuasion to have them pointing the finger of suspicion at one another, if only to divert attention from their individually compelling reasons for wanting their mother dead.

  ‘Lord Riley.’

  It was Mrs Kinsley who rose to her feet to greet Riley and Salter, as though attempting to pull rank. Riley noticed her sisters exchange a disdainful look at their elder sibling’s presumption. All four ladies were garbed in deepest black and a mourning wreath had been affixed to the outside of the front door. All the curtains were partially closed, adding to a gloomy atmosphere exacerbated by the barely concealed hostility in the room.

  ‘I hope you have called to tell us that you have discovered the identity of the person who did this terrible thing.’

  ‘Actually,’ Riley replied. ‘I called to speak with Miss Colby, but not because I
think she had anything to do with your mother’s death.’

  ‘Well, of course she did not,’ Mrs Kinsley replied, less than convincingly. ‘She had a very comfortable living here and appears to be in no particular hurry to give it up.’

  Mrs Kinsley fixed Miss Colby with a look of mild condemnation, deliberately attempting to give offence. Miss Colby showed a great deal of dignity by sitting perfectly straight and allowing the insult to wash over her without showing any reaction.

  ‘You would throw poor Miss Colby on the street before we have even buried Mama?’ Mrs Axton asked in an accusatory tone, dabbing at dry eyes with the corners of a lace handkerchief. ‘Mama would be appalled.’

  ‘Not a bit of it,’ Mrs Kinsley replied loftily, resuming her seat but looking on edge. ‘It’s just that Miss Colby ought to be thinking about her own future, as must we all. There is nothing for her here anymore.’

  ‘When can we bury, Mama?’ Mrs Huxley asked. ‘We have arrangements to make but cannot do so until…well, until we know.’

  ‘I have absolutely no idea, but you will be informed,’ Riley replied. ‘In the meantime, I am sure you would all prefer to exercise a little patience while we endeavour to get to the truth. Then Lady Pemberton will be able to rest in peace.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Mrs Kinsley replied. ‘I keep trying to persuade my sisters to return home. They have duties to attend to, husbands and families who are in need of them. I can manage things here perfectly well, just as I always have, and will tell them the moment there is anything they need to know.’

  ‘We should grieve together,’ Mrs Huxley said. ‘It’s only seemly.’

  Miss Colby followed the exchange with a look of mild amusement but refrained from comment. Riley admired her restraint.

  ‘May we offer you some tea, Lord Riley?’ Mrs Axton asked. Her elder sister looked annoyed, but whether it was because Mrs Axton had remembered her manners or because Mrs Kinsley felt that it was her duty to assume the role of hostess, Riley was unable to decide.

  ‘Thank you, but no,’ Riley replied. ‘And since you are all so comfortably settled, I shall ask Miss Colby if she would mind joining me in the morning room for a moment. That way none of you will be inconvenienced.’