Death of a Matriarch (Riley Rochester Investigates Book 7)

by Wendy Soliman

  ‘A stranger exploited her age and infirmity—’

  Kinsley gave a disgusted grunt. ‘Your mother was getting on in years but there was nothing infirm about her, physically or mentally.’

  Mrs Kinsley spoke across the interruption. ‘She gave our inheritance away to a stranger,’ she said, continuing to make her point. ‘Is that what you are telling us, Lord Riley? I find that incomprehensible. My husband is right to suggest that Mama’s mind was not feeble, nor was she the sort of woman who would give way to intimidation.’ Her sisters both nodded, for once in agreement. ‘She should have come to us. We would have sent the shyster packing in double quick time.’

  ‘I rather think she regretted not taking him in and treating him as her own,’ Riley said, wondering how they would react when they learned the true nature of Barlow’s relationship with their mother, and more significantly the generosity she had shown towards him in her will. ‘Suffice it to say that she sold all her jewels—’

  ‘Are you feeling quite well, Lord Riley?’ Mrs Kinsley asked. ‘Mama’s jewels are locked in her case upstairs. You yourself took the key for reasons I prefer not to dwell upon.’ She shuddered. ‘As though we would be crass enough to argue over which piece ought to belong to whom.’

  ‘What was it that you said about the Ceylon sapphires yesterday, Pamela?’ Mrs Axton asked sweetly.

  ‘That was merely an observation. It was not a claim to ownership,’ Mrs Kinsley snapped. ‘I am the only one of us with the right colouring to do them justice was all I meant to imply. And there is no need for you to look so smug, Susan. I have seen the way that you keep casting covetous eyes over Mama’s collection of jade ornaments.’

  ‘I have done no such thing, Pamela. Besides, you are in no position to adopt the moral high ground with me. I have seen you counting the silver spoons every day, just in case one of us has stolen one.’

  ‘I am merely acting as mistress of this house, much as I have done all my adult life.’

  Her sisters sent her identical scornful looks.

  ‘Ladies, please.’ Riley held up a hand and an uneasy silence descended upon the drawing room.

  ‘You see us at our best, Lord Riley,’ Kinsley said, sneering. ‘Whatever must you think of us?’

  ‘Bring the jewel case down, Sergeant Salter,’ Riley said, choosing not to answer Kinsley’s question, ‘so that the ladies can see for themselves that this is no cruel joke.’

  The tension was palpable in the silent room as its occupants awaited Salter’s return. Only Anthea and Clifford seemed relatively unconcerned about the sale of the jewellery. Anthea continued to sit close to her brother, offering him the occasional muted word of sympathy, which showed great goodness of spirit on her part, Riley thought.

  ‘Here we are,’ Salter said, returning and placing the heavy case in the centre of a table. ‘Mrs Kinsley, perhaps you would like to unlock it.’

  Salter handed her the key and Riley could see her hand shaking as she attempted to turn it in the lock. She succeeded at the third attempt but paused to close her eyes, as though in prayer, and took a deep breath before opening the lid. She then slowly extracted her mother’s diamond necklace and passed it to her husband.

  ‘It feels heavy,’ she said, sounding as though she wanted to believe its weight settled the matter of its authenticity. ‘Heavy enough to be genuine.’

  Kinsley took the necklace to the window and held it up to the light. Riley assumed he would know what to look for. He breathed on one of the stones and watched what happened, then shook his head.

  ‘Sorry, ladies,’ he said, ‘but Lord Riley is in the right of it. In my opinion this is a good fake, but a fake none the less.’

  ‘How can you be sure?’ Mrs Huxley asked.

  ‘You noticed me breathe on a stone.’ They all nodded. ‘The moisture and heat in my breath caused a fog to form. I hoped it would dissipate right away, which would confirm that the stone was real. Alas, it took several seconds to clear, so the signs are not good.’

  ‘We can get a jeweller to confirm,’ Mrs Huxley said, a desperate edge to her voice.

  ‘You can, of course,’ Riley said, ‘but there’s no mistake, I’m afraid. I myself have spoken to the Hatton Garden jeweller who purchased your mother’s jewels and made the paste replicas.’

  ‘How do we know that it was Mama who sold them and not someone who had ready access to them?’ Mrs Axton asked, glowing at Pamela.

  Pamela placed her fisted hands on her hips and sent her sister a blistering look. ‘What are you suggesting?’

  ‘Ladies, please.’ Again, Riley was obliged to intercede to prevent a full scale dispute developing. ‘The jeweller knew your mother and confirmed to me that she herself brought her jewels to him and insisted upon selling them. She also informed her attorney, Lord Isaac Arnold, that she had done so. Whether or not she was coerced into acting that way by Sir Joseph’s son, I am not yet in a position to say, but I do know she told Lord Isaac that it was a relief to be relieved of responsibility for them.’

  A deafening silence greeted Riley’s pronouncement. Riley and Salter allowed it to endure, giving the family time to absorb this terrible blow to their fortunes. He almost felt sorry for Lady Pemberton’s daughters. Greed notwithstanding, those jewels had been in the family for a long time and it was remotely possible that they valued them for sentimental as well as monetary reasons. Then he recalled that one of them was likely the murderer and his fledgling sympathy evaporated.

  ‘Well, for my part,’ Mrs Axton said primly, ‘I am more than satisfied with my twenty thousand guineas, none of which will pass into Alan’s hands. Not now.’

  ‘As am I,’ Mrs Huxley added, less than convincingly, as both sisters turned sanctimonious looks upon Pamela.

  ‘Twenty?’ Kinsley sent his wife a look of astonishment. ‘But you told me you only received ten. Your sisters have swindled you.’

  ‘Nonsense!’ Mrs Axton smiled sweetly. ‘We all received the same amount. I know because Mama called us all together and told us that she had decided to give us part of our inheritance now. Alas, she did not tell us that it had come from the sale of her jewels.’

  ‘Then what the devil…’ Kinsley glowered at his wife, his cheeks bulging and his breathing erratic.

  ‘Not now, Steven.’ Pamela spoke in a tone that prevented the dispute her sisters clearly intended to provoke. So much for sisterly affection, Riley thought, sharing a wry glance with Salter.

  ‘Do you think that this man, this son of my grandfather’s, killed Grandmamma?’ Anthea’s calm voice diverted attention away from her father’s ire.

  ‘It is certainly a possibility,’ Riley replied, his gaze resting upon Mrs Kinsley as he spoke.

  ‘It seems obvious to me,’ that lady said with asperity, ‘and is where you ought to be concentrating your efforts. Find this man, the case will be solved, we can bury my mother and try to pull our lives back together.’

  ‘Since you seem to have it all worked out, ma’am,’ Salter said in a dry tone, ‘perhaps you’d care to explain how this man gained access to a locked house in order to carry out the deed and no one heard a thing.’

  ‘How in heaven’s name should I know?’ Pamela’s pale face flooded with colour. ‘You are the detectives.’

  ‘More to the point,’ Riley added, ‘why would he kill your mother if she was financing his lifestyle?’ He turned away from them. ‘I am sorry to have been the bearer of bad news but I thought it best that you know where you stand.’

  Mrs Axton astonished Riley by throwing her head back and roaring with hysterical laughter, tears streaming down her face. ‘I wonder if my husband’s little doxy will be quite so keen on him now that I shall not be inheriting as much as I supposed. The loss is almost worth it, just to see the look on his face before I throw him out of the Audition Club and have the locks changed.’

  ‘It is your club, ma’am?’ Riley asked, surprised.

  ‘Oh yes, Lord Riley. Mama purchased it for us as a wedding g
ift, but insisted that the title deed remain in my name, which is possible nowadays, of course. A woman’s property does not automatically become her husband’s when she marries. Mama was fond of Alan. He flirted with her outrageously and made her laugh, but she also warned me that he would not respect his wedding vows and would eventually break my heart.’ She sniffed. ‘How right she was. Of course he charmed me too, and I allowed him free rein with our income, which I suppose is why he thought he would profit from my inheritance.’ She recalled that Clifford was in the room and reached across to pat his hand. ‘My only regret is that you have been played for a fool too, my dear, but at least you can learn from the experience and find someone more worthy of your affections. It will take me a little longer to recover.’

  Clifford roused himself sufficiently to return the pressure of his aunt’s hand and grunt something unintelligible.

  ‘Perhaps Alan killed her,’ Mrs Kinsley said spitefully, maliciously rubbing salt into her sister’s open would.

  ‘Perhaps he did,’ Mrs Axton replied with commendable calm. ‘Nothing would surprise me about his behaviour and I am through with making excuses for him.’

  ‘We shall be in touch as soon as we have further news to impart,’ Riley told them, turning towards the door. ‘Good day to you all.’

  ‘What now?’ Salter asked, when they were outside. ‘I’m still not sure why you did that.’

  ‘I did it, Jack, because I want to force them all, most especially Mrs Kinsley, into making a mistake. I’ll wager that she will leave the house within the hour and lead Danforth straight to Horton.’

  Salter considered that possibility as they climbed into the Hansom he had hailed. ‘You sure about that? He turned tail and ran the moment he knew he wouldn’t get his hands on her dowry.’

  ‘True, but that was twenty or more years ago. He has just been released from gaol with no visible means of support. He’s depending upon her, she’s anxious to escape from a claustrophobic marriage and well…ladies are attracted to scoundrels. We have daily proof of that fact in our line of work. Mrs Kinsley has suffered a massive disappointment. She had been counting on her share of the value of the jewels and she will turn to Horton for consolation, aware that at the very least she still stands to inherit part of the value of the house. She probably holds out hope that she will get the lot, given that she’s always lived there. Anyway, let’s get back to the Yard. Time will tell if I am right.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  Riley had been back at his desk for a little more than an hour, studying reports left for him by his other inspectors, when Barton told him a message had arrived from Danforth.

  ‘He followed Mrs Kinsley to an address in Cheapside. A boarding house. She went to the first floor front and stayed an hour.’ Barton sniffed. ‘Not sure why you’re giving Danforth work that we could do for you, but I suppose you know what you’re doing.’

  ‘Let’s hope so, Sergeant. Be so good as to send two of your men to that address and bring the resident of the first floor front in for questioning. I have a feeling it will turn out to be our friend Horton. And get your officers to search his rooms while you’re at it. Anything that looks as though it found its way there courtesy of Mrs Kinsley’s light fingers needs to be brought back here too.’

  ‘Right you are.’

  Salter grunted when he heard the news. ‘Glad I didn’t bet against your instincts, sir,’ he said. ‘But what makes you think that Mrs Kinsley’s already filching her own inheritance?’

  ‘Didn’t you notice the gaps in the porcelain cabinet, Jack?’

  Salter shook his head. ‘Can’t say that I did.’

  ‘Lady Pemberton had some valuable Meissen trinket boxes and other pieces. I admired them when I first went into that room and noticed this time that they’ve been rearranged to disguise the fact that the collection is depleted. Mrs Kinsley watches everything like a hawk, worrying that her sisters will help themselves when she herself is doing precisely that. Make no mistake, Jack, if anyone other than her had taken those boxes, she would have noticed and raised merry hell.’

  ‘If you say so. Peterson just got back from Hitchin, by the way.’

  ‘Ah, Peterson. What did you find out?’

  ‘The Dean confirmed that the two ladies being tutored in Barlow’s house have been offered places at the college, subject to their passing the entrance examination, sir. The man spoke highly of Barlow. This isn’t the first time he’s financed the education of girls from middle class backgrounds. I asked around in the town and no one has a bad word to say for him, nor can I discover that he has any unpaid debts. All the tradespeople I spoke to confirmed that he settled far quicker than most.’

  Since Riley hadn’t asked Peterson to delve that deep, he was pleased that the young man had used his initiative.

  ‘Well done, Peterson. No, don’t take your coat off. Get yourself round to Ebury Street and ask Mrs Kinsley if she will have the goodness to accompany you back here. It’s not a request that you will permit her to refuse, but remain polite and don’t tell her anything about Horton being brought in. I want to take her by surprise.’

  ‘Right you are, sir.’

  Peterson trotted off, eager to please.

  ‘When Horton gets here, Jack, have him put in the first interview room and watched over by one of Barton’s constables. But leave the door open. I want Mrs Kinsley to see him when she is brought to my office.’

  ‘Devious, that’s what you are, sir.’ Salter chuckled. ‘I like it.’

  ‘I thought you would, knowing your opinion of those who disregard their marriage vows.’

  Half an hour later, Horton was brought in. Riley watched him from behind a partition and recognised him at once, even though his once handsome features had been ravaged by a combination of time and a prolonged period of incarceration. Even so, the arrogance endured, and in a cultured voice that belied his poor quality clothing he demanded to know why he had been dragged into Scotland Yard. Barton, unimpressed by his posturing, had him conducted to the interview room that Riley had selected for him and told him belligerently that he was here to answer questions, not ask them.

  ‘This what you were hoping to find?’ Barton asked, producing two exquisite trinket boxes and the receipt for the sale of another.

  ‘Thank you, Barton. That confirms my suspicions.’

  Not five minutes later, Peterson appeared with a very angry Mrs Kinsley. This time, Riley stepped up to the front desk to greet her himself.

  ‘Thank you for coming in, Mrs Kinsley.’

  ‘As though I had any choice in the matter. Really, Lord Riley, don’t you think you have inconvenienced my family enough for one day? We are still reeling from your earlier revelations.’

  ‘It would not have been necessary for me to trouble you if you had been honest with me.’ Riley pushed open the half-door that separated the front desk from the rest of the police station and ushered Mrs Kinsley through it. ‘This way please.’

  ‘Oh, very well, if I must. But I resent the fact that you question my honesty, Lord Riley. I should have thought better of a man in your position.’

  Riley made sure that she was walking on the side nearer to the interview room containing Horton as they passed the open doorway. She glanced inside, audibly gasped and her legs buckled beneath her. Riley grasped her elbow to prevent her from collapsing. Alerted by the commotion, Horton looked up from his bored inspection of the scarred tabletop in front of him and didn’t seem to share the lady’s surprise. A speaking look passed between them as Horton winked at her.

  ‘Friend of yours?’ Salter asked cheerfully, appearing from a doorway in front of them and falling into step on her other side.

  Pamela Kinsley had recovered a little poise by the time she had been conducted into Riley’s office. She straightened her shoulders and elevated her chin in haughty disdain. But when she noticed the trinket boxes sitting in the centre of Riley’s desk her posture slumped and a long gasp slipped past her lips.

 
‘Where did you…’ She pointed a shaking finger at the objects.

  ‘Sit down, Mrs Kinsley.’

  Riley waited until she had done so, and then took his own chair behind his desk. Salter closed the door and leaned against it, notebook and pencil in hand. Mrs Kinsley glared at Riley with a combination of seething anger and trepidation. Her toe tapped restlessly against the floor and a tic worked beneath one eye. This, Riley knew, was one very worried lady. What she had to be quite so worried about, other than the discovery of her clandestine affair with an unworthy man, he had yet to ascertain. Her unwise romantic attachments were of no concern to Riley, but the possibility that the two of them had colluded to commit murder most definitely was.

  ‘What time did Horton arrive at your mother’s house on the night of her death?’ Riley asked curtly, going on the offensive before she had an opportunity to regain her equilibrium.

  The anger gave way to a terrified expression. ‘I don’t know what you mean. Was that Mr Horton I caught a glimpse of next door? I haven’t seen him for years and barely recognised him.’

  Riley smiled and shook his head. ‘Please don’t insult my intelligence, madam. I know you were deeply attached to Horton before your marriage to Kinsley but your mother forbade the match.’ Riley adopted a conciliatory tone. ‘I understand how much you must have resented her and why you married Kinsley on the rebound.’

  ‘You know nothing,’ she said, less than convincingly.

  ‘To make matters worse, Kinsley has been a grave disappointment to you. He has been a poor provider and has kept none of his promises,’ Riley continued, ignoring her interruption. ‘You on the other hand, have done your duty, provided him with two children and kept his business afloat by passing him all the funds that fell into your hands whenever your mother felt generously inclined towards your requests for assistance. Now the love of your life has returned and the time has come to put yourself first. I understand, I absolutely do. But my sergeant here…well, he is another matter entirely. He has strong Christian beliefs and takes a very dim view of members of either sex who do not take their wedding vows seriously.’