Death of a Scoundrel

by Wendy Soliman

  ‘Course, we knew you were lying about that, given that you mentioned Half Moon Street in our hearing yesterday,’ Salter added from his place against the wall. ‘My inspector and I have been wondering what else you lied to us about.’

  ‘Nothing. I…’ He ran a hand through his greasy hair and sent Riley a look that was half-defiant, half-supplicating. His skin looked pallid and damp. Hollow cheeks and dark circles beneath his eyes reinforced his sharp deterioration. Kempton had clearly not slept, which didn’t surprise Riley. The cells at Scotland Yard were not for the faint-hearted. The bully who enjoyed hitting women and lording it over his employees had received a dose of his own medicine and had found it less than palatable. ‘Look, you said something about my wife writing letters to Woodrow. It was the first I’d heard of it and I wanted to get them back for fear that they might embarrass us both.’

  ‘You don’t seem surprised that she did something so reckless,’ Riley remarked.

  ‘I don’t know that she did.’ Kempton waved one hand to emphasise his point. Riley noticed that his nails had been bitten down to the quick. ‘She isn’t usually so foolish, but then that rogue did seem to make her act out of character.’

  Riley frowned at him. ‘Why didn’t you just ask her?’

  ‘I couldn’t do that!’ He seemed scandalised by the suggestion. ‘She would think that I didn’t trust her.’

  ‘Which you clearly do not,’ Riley replied. ‘Besides, you couldn’t be sure that she would have told you the truth.’

  ‘Perhaps he went back to the scene of the crime because he thought he left something there, sir?’ Salter suggested. ‘Don’t forget what we found—’

  Kempton leaned forward expectantly. ‘What did you find?’ He realised his error and tried to appear unconcerned. ‘Well, whatever it was, it cannot be to do with me because I have never been in those rooms before last night.’

  ‘If you are experiencing financial difficulties with your business,’ Riley said in an abrupt change of subject that saw some of the anxiety lift from Kempton’s taut expression, ‘why not borrow against your property? The house you inherited when you married Burton’s daughter.’ Riley watched the man squirm and realisation dawned. ‘You can’t, can you, because it’s in your wife’s name, like the bulk of her father’s fortune? Under the Married Women’s Property Act what’s hers doesn’t automatically become yours. You suspect that she’s been unfaithful with Woodrow and yet you have to tread a careful line because she holds all the aces.’

  ‘We have a perfectly amicable arrangement,’ Kempton replied stiffly.

  ‘If one ignores the fact that she doesn’t support you and, let’s face it, doesn’t actually seem to like you very much either.’

  Kempton attempted a look of lofty scorn. ‘My domestic arrangements are none of your affair, Lord Riley.’

  ‘They are when the other man that’s ploughing your wife’s furrow ends up brutally murdered,’ Salter replied. His tone wasn’t particularly harsh, but his words caused Kempton to flinch. ‘You’re our number one suspect. No one else we’ve spoken to wanted him gone as badly as you. And no one else knew precisely where he lived, for that matter.’

  ‘Given your precarious situation, I’m surprised that you allow your temper to get the better of you on occasion and strike your wife. If she decided to ignore the stigma and divorce you, you would be left with nothing,’ Riley said. ‘Ah, but then again, the child. I assume you are named as her father.’ A smug smile briefly graced Kempton’s chapped lips and Riley knew he had got it right. ‘You have told your wife that if she leaves you she will never see her daughter again.’

  ‘Blimey,’ Salter said, scratching his head. ‘I’d watch me back if I was you.’

  ‘First you seem to think that I am a killer, now you imply that my wife is the one with murderous tendencies, which is frankly ridiculous.’ Kempton leaned his elbows on the scarred table. ‘My only crime is attempting to protect her reputation. Unless and until you can prove anything else, I would appreciate being allowed to leave.’

  ‘You’re under arrest, sunshine, in case you’d forgotten,’ Salter growled.

  ‘You surely don’t mean to…’ His words trailed off and his mouth fell open as the enormity of his situation belatedly dawned on him. Riley would have felt sorry for him, but for the fact that his was a wife-beater at best, and possibly a murderer too.

  ‘Why did your wife’s father go to such lengths to keep your hands off his property and yet give you free rein with his business?’ Riley asked, his voice hardening. ‘If you want to walk out of here then it is in your best interests to tell me what hold you had over Burton.’

  Kempton fell silent for so long that at first Riley thought he would continue to deny the situation, in which case Riley wouldn’t hesitate to send him straight back to the grimy cells until he came to his senses.

  ‘Them cells ain’t going anywhere,’ Salter pointed out helpfully, leaning forward and drumming his fingers impatiently on the table top immediately in front of Kempton.

  ‘Very well, I’ll tell you.’ Kempton let out a slow breath and took a moment to choose his words. Riley and Salter waited him out in brittle silence. ‘Burton was a hard taskmaster, always striving for perfection and emphasising the need for integrity. Nothing I did was ever good enough, and if I so much as smiled at his precious daughter…well, it was made clear to me that I wasn’t fit to spit on her shoes. But all the time I knew what he’d done to get where he was.’ Kempton snorted. ‘What corners he’d cut. What tricks he’d pulled. What shady characters he’d done business with. Yet he’d set himself up as being beyond reproach.’ Kempton screwed up his nose. ‘I cannot abide double standards. Oh, I was good enough for his precious girl once she’d spread her legs for someone else and needed the protection of my name for her bastard child.’ He sniffed. ‘And I took her, forgave her and loved her unconditionally. Her child too. I treat that baby like she was my own and no one will ever tell you differently.’

  ‘What did Burton do?’ Riley asked, recalling Kempton’s attention, which appeared determined to dwell upon his own mistreatment.

  ‘During the war a lot of rare coins of questionable provenance found their way out of France and Spain.’

  ‘Stolen?’ Salter suggested.

  ‘Stolen, Sergeant. Those coins fell into the hands of profiteers. Burton didn’t ask questions and managed to mix them with his own legitimate collections, thereby saving his business from floundering.’

  ‘How did you find out?’ Riley asked.

  ‘I heard him arguing one day in the same room you spoke to me in yesterday. As you know, the walls and the door are thin. I got the gist, followed the man when he left the premises and, for a price, persuaded him to give me details of the collections that the coins originally came from. They had been reported missing, all the details logged with the French and Spanish authorities, and Burton would have been finished if that information were to come to light.’

  ‘Which explains why he allowed you to take over the business but ensured you couldn’t get your hands on his money or property,’ Riley said. ‘You were not married to his daughter at the time so why did he take that precaution? More to the point, why didn’t you challenge it? You knew he needed you to save his family’s honour. Seems to me that you had the upper hand.’

  ‘Because he didn’t know,’ Salter said when Kempton looked away and failed to respond. ‘He just assumed that everything Burton owned would become his. And he was too keen to marry Miss Burton to delay, just in case Burton found someone more suitable who’d be willing to overlook her indiscretion and take her on.’

  ‘Something of that nature,’ Kempton said, focusing his attention on the tips of his dusty boots. Riley was mildly surprised that such a weak man had survived the night in a communal cell and emerged with such good quality boots still on his feet. Perhaps he was tougher than he appeared—or maybe the criminal fraternity had been less observant than usual.

  ‘Woodrow found
out that history had repeated itself, didn’t he?’ Riley asked. ‘You purchased coins of questionable provenance when you found yourself to be in difficulties and Woodrow threatened to expose you. The only way he could have known that was if your wife told him. She somehow discovered what you had done and was disgusted.’

  ‘But to confide in Woodrow. That must have seemed like the ultimate betrayal,’ Salter added, taunting Kempton.

  ‘You already felt emasculated because your wife owned the property and controlled the purse strings. Then you discovered that she was still communicating with the man you knew she was in love with. That must have rankled. No wonder you resorted to violence. I don’t condone such behaviour, not under any circumstances, but I can quite see how a lesser man would be provoked into such a reaction.’

  ‘Did Woodrow try to blackmail you?’ Salter asked.

  Kempton sat a little straighter. ‘He did not.’

  Riley didn’t believe him, but knew the man wouldn’t condemn himself with his own words. If he was the guilty party, he would have to find another way to make him confess.

  ‘I shall not press charges at this point,’ he said into the ensuing silence, ‘but that does not mean that I will not do so at a later date.’

  ‘Thank you.’ The air left Kempton’s body in an extravagant whoosh. ‘Are there really any letters written by my wife to that…that man?’

  ‘I am not at liberty to discuss the matter with you, Kempton. If you want to know, I suggest you ask your wife.’

  ‘Constable,’ Salter said loudly. The door opened and a uniformed constable stepped through it. ‘Arrange for Kempton’s release. The charges of breaking and entering remain on file but he’s free to go.’ Salter allowed a long pause, regret writ large across his scowling face. ‘For the time being. Make sure we know where to find you in case we need to talk again, Kempton. No sudden trips abroad.’

  ‘This way,’ the constable said to Kempton, who got up from the table so fast that he knocked his chair over backwards.

  ‘How the devil are we gonna make him confess that Woodrow blackmailed him, or tried to?’ Salter asked as they watched them go.

  ‘I have absolutely no idea,’ Riley replied, ‘but I dare say we’ll think of something.’

  ‘Mrs Kempton sounds like a manipulative piece of work. I mean, Kempton saved her bacon but she ain’t willing to return the favour.’

  ‘That lady wants everything her own way, Jack. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that she had an accident planned for Kempton, thereby leaving her free to marry the father of her child after a decent interval.’

  ‘Which means she wouldn’t have arranged to have him killed.’

  ‘Unless she knew about Alice, of course.’

  ‘Ah, right. Anyway, Rod wouldn’t have married Mrs Kempton.’ Salter shook his head decisively. ‘He was enjoying himself too much playing the field, and he seems to have been genuinely attached to Alice. If he married her, he could have had the best of both worlds.’

  ‘Yes well, let’s take ourselves off and have a quiet word with Duncan Eldridge, then we can reassess what we know.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  For once it wasn’t raining, and the chill wind seemed to have lost much of its bite. Riley and Salter arrived at the Defence Secretary’s offices, where clerks seated on high stools beavered away industriously, the scratching of their nibs and the occasional cough the only sounds breaking the silence. The chief clerk approached them and asked their business. When they’d identified themselves and asked to speak with Eldridge they were shown into a small room and politely asked to wait whilst the young aide was summoned. If the clerk wondered what they wanted with him, he was too well trained to ask.

  After no more than two minutes, a tall man with a shock of red hair and clear hazel eyes joined them.

  ‘You gentlemen are from Scotland Yard,’ Eldridge said amiably, ‘and no doubt wish to speak with me about the death of my friend, Rod Woodrow. A terrible tragedy,’ he added, taking the seat across from Riley and arranging his rangy body in an elegant sprawl, ‘but I did try to warn him that he sometimes went too far.’

  ‘You were friends?’ Riley asked.

  ‘You look surprised, Inspector. Rod did have friends, you know.’

  ‘Thus far we have only been able to find mourners amongst the ranks of the fairer sex.’

  ‘A whole bevy of them, I shouldn’t wonder.’ Eldridge chuckled. ‘He did have a way about him when it came to the ladies. That is what I tried to warm him about. Tolerant husbands do not have limitless patience; not if they’re in danger of being made fools of. Rod treated it all as a game, of course, but he was so convincing that the ladies read more into his attentions than was wise, and were not always as discreet as they should have been. That sort of thing can bring the wrong sort of attention upon a family’s honour, don’t you know.’

  Riley knew all too well.

  ‘How long had the two of you been friends?’ Salter asked, notebook at the ready.

  ‘Since our first day at preparatory school. I was small for my age at the time, if you can believe that. Didn’t start sprouting until I turned twelve, which made me a prime target for the bullies—that and the colour of my hair of course, which was a good deal brighter when I was a lad. Rod used his fists to protect me, claiming that he couldn’t abide bullies, and…well, that was that. I took a liking to him and we remained friends from that point on. Believe it or not, Rod had a caring side to his personality and always supported the underdog. No disrespect intended, but that’s why he sometimes bestowed his limitless charm upon the less attractive, largely neglected wives.’

  Riley could think of another reason why such creatures engaged his attention but was not yet prepared to share his thoughts in that regard with Eldridge. He still looked upon him as a suspect, albeit an unlikely one on the face of it.

  ‘You think he brought his murder upon himself?’ Riley asked.

  ‘Don’t you, Lord Riley?’ Eldridge seemed open and relaxed, as evidenced by the fact that he had now casually draped one ankle over his opposite thigh. ‘You’re one of us. You know how men react when it looks as though they can’t control their wives.’

  ‘Any particular man in mind?’ Salter asked.

  ‘Afraid not, Sergeant. The field is too wide for me to be able to narrow it down. Ladies of all ages adored him. Ask my mother if you doubt it. Speaking of whom, she’s hosting a small reception early tomorrow evening in his memory. I’ll wager half the females in London will be there, wailing and gnashing their teeth. Their husbands will most likely tag along, if only to toast his demise.’

  ‘I was not aware that Lady Eldridge had such a function in mind,’ Riley remarked.

  ‘I tried to tell her it wasn’t in the best possible taste, but she seldom listens to my advice.’ He stretched his arms above his head and yawned. ‘Anyway, for what it’s worth, Rod was charming, attentive to the ladies, didn’t take life seriously and was the best possible fun. I shall miss him.’

  ‘Even though you were vying for the affections of the same lady?’ Riley asked.

  ‘Lady Laura?’ Eldridge scratched his chin. ‘That did get a bit sticky for a while, I’ll grant you, but Rod didn’t plan to pursue his interest in her, despite being offered every encouragement. It had reached the point where she was even prepared to defy her father, which would have taken courage. I think he just pretended to go along with Laura’s plans in order to shake old Durand up a bit. It’s just the sort of thing that he excelled at. He can be a bit of a stuffed shirt, Durand that is, when it comes to his daughter’s wellbeing. Well, and most other things, for that matter.’

  ‘Are you absolutely sure about that?’ Riley asked, sharing a perplexed look with Salter. ‘About Rod giving up on Lady Laura, I mean.’

  ‘Certain,’ he said, without hesitation. ‘But if he did decide to tie the knot and Laura turned out to be the lucky lady, I would have been the first to wish him joy.’

  ‘Even though you ar
e in love with the lady yourself?’ Salter asked.

  Eldridge blinked. ‘Who said anything about love? Oh, Laura’s a good enough sort but it would be bad form to stand in the way if her affections were engaged elsewhere. I wouldn’t want a wife who spent her time pining after my best friend. Besides, it was her father who encouraged me to pursue her.’ He spread his hands. ‘I know how that must sound to you but needs must. I have political ambitions of my own and Durand is in a position to help me in that regard. He wields a great deal of influence in the political arena.’ Eldridge saw the look that passed between Riley and Salter and let out a low whistle. ‘You really do think that I murdered my friend over Laura.’ He shook his head and then laughed. ‘You couldn’t be more wrong. The only thing I’m capable of killing is my minister’s politically suicidal ideas—of which, believe me, he has a vast number.’

  Riley produced Lady Laura’s last letter to Rod from his coat pocket and handed it to Eldridge, who read it quickly.

  ‘He wasn’t going through with it,’ Eldridge reiterated, appearing completely honest and unconcerned as he handed the letter back to Riley. ‘We discussed it in his rooms just a couple of nights before he died. Rod confided in me that he had fallen in love. I laughed myself silly, I don’t mind telling you. Never thought the day would dawn, but there you have it. Seems the lady in question was not quite top drawer, if you follow my meaning, but Rod wasn’t deterred by that. Like I said before, he had great sympathy for the underdog. He said he was tired of all the social rigmarole, who had the best connections, who was worth pursuing, who had been invited where and by whom, and so forth. Well, you know how it is, Lord Riley.’ Riley nodded but said nothing for fear of interrupting Eldridge’s flow. ‘Rod said he’d found something good and pure and worthwhile that restored his jaded spirit.’