Death of a Milliner: Riley Rochester Investigates Book 9 (Riley ~Rochester Investigates)

by Wendy Soliman

  ‘He’s right, ain’t he, sir?’ Salter said glumly. ‘We think we know what happened but we can’t prove it.’

  ‘Not yet we can’t,’ Riley agreed. ‘But let’s see if Alfred’s prepared to be a little more forthcoming. If not, we’ll have Barton put him in the adjoining cell to his brother, or better yet in the same cell. Perhaps they will kill one another and save the hangman the trouble.’

  Salter chuckled. ‘I like the way you think when you get mad, sir.’

  They entered the room where Alfred was being held. He looked dishevelled, as though he had dressed in a hurry, which presumably he had, given that Carter and Soames had pulled him from his bed.

  ‘Congratulations. You are without doubt one of the most accomplished liars I have ever encountered,’ Riley said as Salter slammed the door behind them, causing Alfred to flinch. ‘I actually believed the previous account of your movements you provided, and I seldom take anything that a suspect tells me at face value.’

  Alfred paled. ‘What…what do you mean?’

  Riley sighed. ‘This becomes tedious. Remind him, Sergeant.’

  Salter repeated his earlier performance by yanking Alfred from his seat by the back of his collar. ‘Sure you haven’t been in contact with your mother?’ he asked, dangling the smaller man inches from the floor, choking him. When Alfred’s face mottled, at a motion from Riley, Salter slammed him back into his chair. ‘Try again.’

  ‘I didn’t tell you because I knew how it would look.’ Alfred massaged his Adam’s apple with his left hand. ‘I met my mother by chance here in town about a year ago. I didn’t feel that favourably inclined towards her, given the way she had neglected me. I intended to walk past without acknowledging her, but she recognised me and called out my name and…well, I was curious about her situation. She told me something about her own childhood, how hard it had been and how she didn’t know how to show affection to children, stuff I didn’t know before. She was contrite enough, but I realised why her ambition drove her. The only thing she cared about other than making a name for herself was our father, and he’d left her high and dry when we were still small.’

  ‘You forgave her, just like that, when you had been harbouring a grudge for so many years?’ Riley asked, no longer believing a word that fell from Alfred’s lips. Alfred gave the impression of being meek and insignificant, but Riley suspected that he was by far the cleverer brother.

  ‘Not at first, but she seemed keen to know me again. Told me it was to be our secret. She didn’t want Bernard or our father to know.’

  ‘Why ever not?’ Riley asked.

  ‘Ma liked her little games, and to be honest—’

  ‘That’d make a change,’ Salter muttered.

  ‘Pa was cosy as you please with that little gold-digger.’ Alfred’s features twisted with disapproval. ‘Suddenly, he didn’t need me helping him no more, so…’

  ‘So you decided to guilt your mother into parting with some of her fortune,’ Riley said, disapprovingly.

  ‘Ha! Fat chance of that. She was totally focused on her new premises and stealing a march on Madame.’

  ‘Did you know that Miss Cornish was also cosying up—as you put it—with your brother?’

  Alfred’s face darkened but he shook his head. ‘She wouldn’t,’ he said without hesitation. But Riley could see doubt creeping into his expression.

  ‘You knew he had approached her, trying to persuade her to sneak some of his substandard accessories into Madame’s shop.’

  ‘Of course. Doreen told me. Doreen and I have no secrets.’

  ‘That’s what you think,’ Salter said darkly.

  ‘Look, Chief Inspector, I didn’t tell you about Doreen and me because I knew you’d jump to the wrong conclusion. Ma and me had settled our differences and were on excellent terms. She’d run out of patience with Bernard and told me that she intended to change her will in my favour. So I had absolutely no reason for wanting her dead and every reason in the world to want her to stay alive. Bernard, on the other hand, if he’d got wind of her intentions, and I wouldn’t put it past Ma to have told him direct, there’s no saying what he might have done to prevent her.’

  ‘Did your mother know how close you and Miss Cornish had become?’ Riley asked, watching the man closely as he awaited his response. ‘Did she encourage the connection?’

  ‘Why would she not?’ But Alfred looked away to the left and Riley knew it was the first unconvincing lie he’d told.

  ‘Very well. You will remain here for the time being while I pursue my enquiries, since I am not satisfied with your answers.’

  ‘What? But you can’t…’

  ‘I can and I will, and I’m tired of being played for a fool. Have him locked up, Sergeant. Best not put him in the same cell as his brother. Barton gets annoyed when he has to clear up too much blood.’

  ‘Bernard is here?’

  ‘Where else would he be?’ Riley asked, sweeping from the room.

  Riley returned to his office, feeling as though they were making progress, even though he was no closer to deciding which brother was responsible for his mother’s death.

  ‘Well, sir, which one is your money on?’

  Riley answered Salter’s question with one of his own. ‘Why did Alfred lie about his mother’s disapproval of his relationship with Doreen Cornish?’

  ‘She was loyal to Madame, and we know Mrs Faulkner hated the woman, so…’ Salter spread his hands and left his words hanging.

  All three of his detective constables stumbled into the room. ‘Nothing incriminating in Alfred’s room, sir,’ Carter said. ‘We tore the place apart but there’s nothing. I’ll stake my life on it.’

  ‘Damn,’ Riley muttered.

  ‘I have better news for you, sir,’ Peterson said breathlessly.

  ‘Then let’s hear it,’ Riley said indicating chairs, which the three constables occupied. ‘We could certainly do with some good news.’

  ‘I spoke with the grocer, who confirms that he remembers Alfred loitering outside on the morning of the murder, but it weren’t first thing.’ Everyone in the room jerked forward to catch Peterson’s next words. ‘He says he never sets out his goods himself before opening up, he leaves that to the lad he employs. But he did go outside an hour after opening to deal with a spilled box of apples, which is when he saw Alfred.’

  ‘Well done, Peterson,’ Riley said.

  ‘There’s more, sir. The grocer reckons he only noticed Alfred because he made a point of speaking to him. He thought that was odd because although he knew who he was, having seen his comings and goings to his father’s apartment over the years, Alfred had never loitered outside before, or made a point of striking up a conversation.’

  ‘He was establishing an alibi,’ Salter muttered, ‘and assumed the grocer wouldn’t recall what time it was when they spoke.’

  ‘There’s more.’ Peterson’s eyes gleamed with triumph. ‘He said the other brother, the one who has an eye for the grocer’s daughter, didn’t speak to him at all that morning.’

  Riley fixed Peterson with a probing look. ‘Bernard was there as well? Are you absolutely sure?’

  ‘Oh aye, he arrived out of breath and the two brothers walked away, heads close together in deep conversation. He reckons they were oblivious to anyone who might have been watching.’

  ‘Why is he only telling us this now?’ Riley asked.

  ‘Says no one asked. Said one of our lot asked if Alfred had been outside his premises that morning and he confirmed that he had been. He didn’t realise the time was so important.’

  ‘They’re in it together, the two of them,’ Salter said, scratching his head. ‘But why?’

  ‘Why indeed.’

  ‘Perhaps they were worried about their mother losing her fortune if her venture failed, so they decided to get their hands on it straight away,’ Soames suggested.

  ‘Could be,’ Salter agreed. ‘They both reckon they’d made their peace with their mother, but their resentmen
t over their neglected childhoods—especially Alfred’s—ran deep.’

  ‘Either way, we have enough to charge them both now,’ Riley said. ‘We’ll have them brought up, tell them individually what we know, and give each of them a chance to confess. Whoever does so first will be treated more leniently. My guess is that they will turn on one another.’

  ‘There’s a solicitor here to see you, sir,’ Barton said, putting his head around the door. ‘Says it’s to do with Mrs Faulkner’s estate.’

  ‘Makepeace, from Clapham, one assumes,’ Riley said.

  ‘One assumes wrong,’ Barton replied, aping Riley’s upper-class accent. ‘Man by the name of Lipton from Grey’s Inn.’

  Riley probably looked as bemused as he felt. ‘Show him in please, Barton. You three go and write up your reports,’ he added to his constables, ‘while Sergeant Salter and I find out what Mr Lipton has to say for himself.’

  The man who was shown into Riley’s room was of middling years, well-dressed and with an air of efficiency about him. Riley introduced himself and Salter and invited Lipton to sit down.

  ‘I assume, since you haven’t been to see me, that you are unaware Mrs Faulkner consulted me last week about her legal affairs,’ Lipton said, getting straight to the point.

  ‘No, we didn’t know that,’ Riley confirmed. ‘We were under the impression that she was represented by a firm in Clapham.’

  ‘She was, but had decided to transfer her business to me. I have been on holiday and not read the newspapers so I only discovered upon my return to the office today that she had been killed. Most distressing.’

  ‘My understanding is that she had previously left her entire estate to her son Bernard,’ Riley said. ‘Am I right in assuming that Alfred is now her beneficiary?’

  ‘You are entirely wrong, Chief Inspector.’ Lipton cleared his throat. ‘My instructions were to draw up a new will in favour of her daughter.’

  Chapter Twenty

  ‘Daughter?’ Riley and Salter asked in unison.

  ‘We were unaware that she had one,’ Riley said alone.

  ‘I asked her for proof of birth since she had informed me she had two sons and I anticipated a wrangle over her estate when the time came.’ Lipton offered Riley a wry smile. ‘I have seen families come to physical blows over inheritances more times than I care to recall. Mrs Faulkner said she had no proof of having given birth to the girl and offered me an explanation for that situation. Not that it signifies. The lady can leave her estate to whomsoever she wishes, as can anyone, Chief Inspector.’

  Lipton cleared his throat and adjusted his position on his chair. ‘She told me that she was not legally married to Faulkner and that he abandoned her with two young boys. By the time she realised she was again expecting, she knew better than to try luring him back to her but she couldn’t handle another child either, so…’

  ‘So, she left her on the steps of the foundling home,’ Riley finished for him, appalled by such heartless behaviour. ‘Her daughter is Miss Doreen Cornish.’

  Lipton inclined his head. ‘Precisely so, Chief Inspector.’

  ‘Is Miss Cornish aware of this?’

  ‘No, and Mrs Faulkner was adamant that she would only tell her when the time was right—if indeed it ever proved to be so.’ Lipton paused. ‘She told me that her sons were a grave disappointment to her; the elder bitter and resentful, the younger grasping and idle. She had always felt guilty about abandoning her daughter, but she realised who she was when she saw her working in a rival milliner’s shop. She has a distinctive birthmark on her neck, it seems, and has also developed her mother’s passion for millinery. Mrs Faulkner has been watching over her for a while with an approving eye.’

  ‘Riley nodded, thinking that would account for Mrs Faulkner’s added determination to eclipse Madame. ‘I assume she intended to offer Miss Cornish employment in her new establishment,’ he surmised. ‘Did she also intend to reveal their relationship at that point?’

  Lipton shook his head. ‘That I cannot say. She didn’t confide in me and I didn’t ask. She did tell me that from her observations, her daughter worked hard and was more deserving of her inheritance than either of her sons, given that she’d had to fend for herself since the cradle.’

  ‘Whose fault was that?’ Salter muttered. Riley sent him an admonishing look and his sergeant kept the rest of his thoughts to himself.

  ‘Did she intend to tell her sons what her plans were?’ Riley asked.

  Lipton paused in the act of standing. ‘That I couldn’t say.’ His expression remained grim. ‘But if you asked me to hazard a guess, I’d say it was likely, wouldn’t you, given subsequent developments?’

  ‘I would,’ Riley agreed, standing also to shake the man’s hand. ‘Thank you for coming to see me, Mr Lipton. You have provided me with the motive for a terrible act of violence that has thus far eluded this investigation.’

  ‘A pleasure to be of assistance. Please ask Miss Cornish to come and see me when you have completed your enquiries. She will be very glad that she did. Good day to you, Chief Inspector.’

  ‘That certainly explains why Mrs Faulkner was in such a tizzy about Alfred and Bernard both sniffing around Miss Cornish,’ Salter said, once they were alone again. ‘Hopefully neither of them compromised her. That would make it incest.’

  ‘Seems like Mrs Faulkner had a conscience after all. She felt guilty about abandoning her daughter and approved of her work ethic. There were some redeeming features buried beneath that tough exterior.’ Riley stood. ‘Right, Jack, have the brothers brought up. It’ll be interesting to see which of them cracks first.’

  Salter disappeared to carry out Riley’s orders and returned a short time later to confirm that both men were now installed in separate interview rooms.

  ‘Who shall we try first?’ Salter asked.

  ‘Bernard,’ Riley replied without hesitation. ‘He won’t hesitate to put the blame on his brother to save his own hide if it comes to it, but we have a few surprises up our sleeve for that slippery individual.’

  Riley and Salter entered the room where Bernard was being held. He looked dishevelled and considerably less sure of himself. A brief sojourn in the cells tended to have that effect on even the most robust of suspects, Riley knew.

  ‘Why did you lie about your whereabouts on the morning of your mother’s murder?’ Riley asked without preamble. ‘And before you make matters worse, be aware that we know you’ve been dishonest, and that in itself gives me sufficient justification to charge you with murder.’

  ‘I was with a woman,’ Bernard said after a prolonged pause.

  ‘Try again,’ Riley replied. ‘You were seen colluding with the brother you supposedly have nothing to do with.’

  Bernard’s worried expression cleared. ‘Ah, I’d forgotten that I saw him. Alfred’s such a damned prude.’ Bernard sighed. ‘Look, I’m sorry I was untruthful, Chief Inspector, but the fact of the matter is that the lady’s married. I was thinking of her reputation, to say nothing of what her husband will do to her if he finds out.’ He threw back his head and closed his eyes. ‘She lives in my father’s apartment block, on the floor below him. I met her several times when calling on Pa. We passed on the stairs, exchanged pleasantries and…well, one thing led to another. Her husband travels for his work and she sometimes feels neglected.’

  Salter made a disapproving sound at the back of his throat.

  ‘Alfred, like I say, disapproves. He was loitering outside for some reason on the morning in question. He saw me come out, guessed where I had been and took me to task for it. I told him to mind his own damned business and that it would be on his conscience if he took it upon himself to warn the woman’s husband and she suffered the consequences.’ He spread his hands. ‘I went straight to work after the confrontation with Alfred and that was it. I’d forgotten all about his interference.’

  ‘Didn’t you wonder why he was hanging about in the street?’ Riley asked.

  ‘Not really. He disli
kes our father’s lady friend, so I assumed he was trying to establish if she’d spent the night with him. He feels threatened by her, you see, because Pa prefers her to Alfred.’ Bernard chuckled. ‘Well, you’ve probably seen the lady, so who can blame him. She’s certainly a damned sight more fun than Alfred, but my brother is very possessive when it comes to Pa, and he likes to control him.’

  ‘Were you aware that your mother planned to change her will?’ Riley asked.

  ‘Actually, yes. She mentioned it several times but I didn’t take much notice. My mother was vindictive, Chief Inspector. She took great delight in telling me that she had reconnected with Alfred. Like I was supposed to care.’

  ‘But surely you must have?’ Salter suggested. ‘After all, you were her heir.’

  ‘So she said, but she held the prospect of my inheriting over my head, thereby assuring that I danced to her tune, constantly threatening to change her intentions if I stepped out of line. I didn’t stop my sideline when she told me to because I knew I couldn’t stake my future on her whims and had to put myself first. She was furious when she realised I’d gone against her wishes and told me I was undeserving.’ He shrugged. ‘Not long after that she told me that she and Alfred were on speaking terms again and that he was a model son.’

  ‘That worried you?’ Riley asked.

  ‘Not especially. I knew my mother well enough to appreciate just what an unpleasant, conniving individual she was, and I also knew that Alfred would do something sooner or later to earn her displeasure. That wouldn’t be difficult, since everything displeased her.’

  ‘You describe your mother as being unpleasant and unpredictable. Leaving aside the tenets of the fifth commandment, it seems you took exception when she played you and Alfred off against one another. Did you run out of patience and do away with her?’ Salter asked.

  Bernard smiled and shook his head. ‘A week before she died, she asked me to meet her for tea. I wondered what I’d done to displease her on this occasion, but I was surprised to find Alfred there too. It was the first time we had seen one another for long enough to exchange more than a word or two for years. That was when, in the middle of a tea shop, she calmly told us that we were both grave disappointments to her. She fixed me with a hard look and told me that she didn’t approve of adultery, amongst my other failings—which she listed at tedious length. That was Alfred’s doing; her knowing about my affair, I assumed. He’d taken delight in tattling on me, and I will admit that I did feel murderously inclined at that moment—but towards my brother, not my mother.’