Riley stored that information away and then told them what progress they had made at the Randall residence.
‘Blimey,’ Carter said, looking bemused. ‘Nice work if you can get it.’
‘But not worth dying for,’ Soames added, receiving nods of agreement.
‘I assume Doctor Maynard has the body,’ Riley said. ‘Any news yet on the cause of death?’
‘I’ll chase it up,’ Salter said, scribbling a reminder.
‘Write up your notes, gentlemen,’ Riley said, stretching his arms above his head, ‘and we will convene here again tomorrow morning for a progress report. But for now, time’s getting on and Salter and I must return to Portman Square shortly and interview the rest of the family.’
‘Blimey, sir,’ Soames said. ‘I don’t envy you having to speak to Sir Philip about the death of his wife’s fancy man.’
‘Such are the demands of our profession, Soames,’ Salter said, sighing.
‘You two,’ Riley added, pointing to Soames and Carter, ‘need to visit a young lady called Molly Briggs in Kentish Town. She works as a chambermaid in the Corner House Hotel and was supposedly at the playhouse with James Fuller, one of Lady Randall’s footmen, last night. Pin her down on what time James picked her up, where they went, what play they saw and what time James walked her home again. James was Lady Randall’s favourite before Ezra came along, so he could have held a grudge against Ezra.’
The constables acknowledged their orders and had barely left Riley’s room before Salter returned with Doctor Maynard in tow.
‘Lord Riley,’ Maynard said affably, offering Riley his hand. ‘I thought I’d come and relate my findings regarding the unfortunate Dawson in person.’
‘Good of you to attend to the matter so quickly,’ Riley replied, shaking his proffered hand and ushering him to a chair.
‘Murder is an urgent business. And this one was a mite unusual.’ The doctor settled himself more comfortably in his chair, stretched his long legs out in front of him and crossed them at the ankle. ‘In short, I suspect he’d been poisoned.’
‘Poisoned?’ Riley nodded. ‘I rather thought he might have been, given the report I just received from my constables. How sure are you at this early stage?’
‘Fairly sure. We are doing more tests on his internal organs. Quite interesting actually.’
‘Spare us the details, Doctor,’ Salter said from his position against the wall.
‘Sorry, Sergeant. I tend to forget about your squeamishness. Anyway, he’d frothed at the mouth. The evidence was there, long after the event, because he’d fallen on his face and there was still some spume dried on the sides of his mouth and on his chin. In his throat too. I suspect that he’d been about to be sick when he was killed.’
‘He was also seen staggering about in the tavern,’ Riley said. ‘It was generally supposed that he was drunk, but poison would give him cramps, would it not?’
‘Strychnine would, Lord Riley, if that’s what was added to his drink, and it would act fast too.’
‘Wouldn’t he have noticed the taste?’ Salter asked. ‘I thought it was bitter.’
‘It is, but mixed with a strong liquor like whisky or brandy in small quantities he wouldn’t have been any the wiser until it was too late. It doesn’t have an odour either.’
‘I thought he was hit over the head,’ Salter said.
‘He was, and it was the blow that killed him. As I say, the poison would have been administered in small quantities, not enough to kill him. It merely debilitated, making it impossible for him to defend himself.’
‘So a weak man or even a strong woman could have finished him off,’ Riley said, rubbing his chin as he thought the matter through.
‘I’d say so, and it would make more sense of the need to debilitate. Either that, or someone really didn’t like him and wanted to make a point.’ Maynard stood. ‘Anyway, I shall let you know when I am absolutely sure, but thought what I’ve found might help your enquiry.’
‘Indeed it will.’ Riley stood too and shook his hand. ‘Thank you, Dr Maynard.’
‘This case gets more curious by the minute,’ Salter said after the doctor had left.
‘That it does, Jack. And I’m now highly suspicious of the woman he was seen talking with. One assumes he wouldn’t have been on his guard with her, or worried about the contents of his glass.’
‘She could have slipped the poison in and her accomplice could have been waiting outside to finish him off.’
‘It’s one possibility. Anyway, let’s keep what we know about the poison to ourselves for now, and not let anything slip when we interview the family.’
‘Poison is a lady’s weapon of choice. I’ve heard you say that before, sir. All the women we know about were half in love with him though, and didn’t wish him any harm.’ Salter harrumphed. ‘Seems one of them might have done, though, if she felt she had a grievance. Perhaps she’d found out about Lady Randall.’
‘Possibly. I fancy we shall be making a visit to Clapham ourselves tomorrow, Jack, but in the meantime we’d best get ourselves back to Portman Square and talk to the family.’
‘Right you are, sir.’
They left Scotland Yard together and took a cab for the short trip.
‘James and Gregg are our most obvious suspects from those beneath Lady Randall’s roof,’ Salter said, ‘and you have the lads checking James’s story out. But what about Gregg?’
‘He will be more difficult to catch out,’ Riley replied, ‘which is why I intend to put Stout on that particular assignment. He has a network of useful informants amongst London’s senior servants. I suspect he might be more successful in discovering anything that’s hidden beneath the surface than we will be if we go in asking intrusive questions.’
‘That’s reassuring,’ Salter replied. ‘Your man has a way of ferreting out the truth.’
Riley chuckled. ‘That he does, Jack.’
‘What do we know about Sir Philip? I mean, what sort of man marries an heiress with a sordid reputation, then allows her to run amok with her servants? I reckon he married her for her fortune, but she says she kept control of that, so it makes no sense.’
‘I know you disapprove of Ida’s liberated behaviour, but try to keep an open mind. I have never met Sir Philip, although I know of him by reputation.’
‘Not in your social class, sir?’ Salter asked impudently.
‘Precisely, but I shall be interested to make his acquaintance and take his measure, then perhaps the picture will become clearer.’
They were admitted to the Portman Square house by a grim-faced Gregg, who could barely disguise his disapproval at the intrusion, despite knowing they were expected.
‘It is Sir Philip’s birthday,’ he pointed out.
‘It’s the day after Ezra Dawson’s murder,’ Salter replied, an edge to his voice.
Gregg took their hats without further comment. ‘Sir Philip is expecting you, gentlemen. He is in his library. Please follow me.’
A tall man with a shock of thick white hair and intelligent grey eyes, who had to be a good ten years older than his wife, stood from behind a large desk neatly piled with papers when Gregg announced them.
‘Lord Riley.’ Sir Philip extended his hand and smiled. ‘Good to make your acquaintance. I only wish it could have been under different circumstances.’
‘Sir Philip.’ Riley shook his hand. ‘This is Sergeant Salter.’
It was a point in Sir Philip’s favour that he also shook Salter’s hand, as far as Riley was concerned. Men who had high opinions of themselves did not always acknowledge his subordinate.
‘Please sit down, gentlemen. I dare say you have questions for me.’
‘Thank you.’ Riley took a chair to one side of the fireplace and Sir Philip took its twin. Salter, as always, remained standing, notebook and pencil poised.
‘Can I offer you something to drink?’ Sir Philip asked amiably.
‘Thank you, but no,’ Riley replied for
them both. ‘I know you are planning a celebration this evening, so we won’t detain you for any longer than is absolutely necessary.’
‘Ha! Getting a year older is no cause for celebration in my book, but Ida will insist on making a big deal out of it.’ His smile faded. ‘You will have questions about the poor footman, I dare say. Presumably, since he was my wife’s lover, I am the prime suspect.’
‘Hardly,’ Riley replied, surprised by the other man’s candour. A genuine desire to help or a clever ruse to put Riley off the scent? He was unable to decide. ‘My first and most obvious question is about your willingness to allow the affair to go on beneath your roof.’
‘It is not my roof, Lord Riley, it’s Ida’s. Her money paid for the house and continues to pay for its upkeep.’
‘Even so, she is still your wife.’
Sir Philip smiled. ‘Ida is a unique woman.’ Salter cleared his throat and Riley knew he would be itching to say what he really thought. Riley shot him a warning glance over his shoulder. ‘Hard as it might be to accept for anyone who doesn’t understand our marriage, I am devoted to her, and she to me. She has given me three children, and they are all my progeny, to save you the embarrassment of asking. Ida and I have no secrets from one another and she did not stray from the marital bed until after she had done what she described as her duty and given me two sons. She understands my burning need to serve my country by playing political games in the corridors of Whitehall, and I understand her requirement to satisfy her appetites with younger men.’
‘An unusual arrangement in many respects,’ Riley remarked.
‘Honesty, do you mean? I could name a dozen marriages of convenience where one or both parties have taken lovers, but their conduct is never discussed, it’s just accepted. I would take great exception to being cuckolded. After our youngest was born and my desire no longer matched my wife’s, she asked me what we ought to do about it. As she herself pointed out, it would be impossible for her own reputation to be tarnished since it hadn’t ever recovered from her youthful folly. Despite her wealth, she was shunned by society, which precluded her from making the spectacular marriage she had been raised to aspire to. She laughs it off, but I know it still rankles. Anyway, she said that she would try not to embarrass me, and I have to say that she’s kept her word.’
‘Until now,’ Salter said, speaking for the first time.
‘Even now, Sergeant,’ Sir Philip said, an edge to his voice. ‘All society will know is that a footman employed in this household met with an untimely end. I hope the precise nature of his relationship with my wife will not have to come out, but if it does she will continue to enjoy my full support and we will weather this storm, just as we have weathered others before it.’
‘Thank you for your candour, Sir Philip,’ Riley said.
‘I see little point in prevarication. You already know what some might look upon as the sordid facts.’ Sir Philip offered Salter a meaningful glance.
‘I understand you attended a social engagement with your wife last night, and that you returned here together,’ Riley said.
A faint smile touched Sir Philip’s lips. ‘Well, I wasn’t in Clapham murdering my wife’s lover if that’s what you mean to imply. Although, of course, I understand that you have to ask. We dined with Granville, the foreign secretary, who was entertaining visiting dignitaries. Ida always shines in such situations, although I find them tedious. Anyway, we returned home at about ten o’clock. Gregg will confirm that, as will my valet.’
‘Thank you, Sir Philip.’
‘Anything more?’ he asked politely.
‘Just one thing. Were you aware that Ida planned to invest in a sporting club that Ezra hoped to open? It was to be a very large investment.’
Sir Philip raised a bushy brow. ‘No, I was not. She must have been very fond of him. She doesn’t ordinarily allow her heart to rule her head.’
Riley thought it telling that Sir Philip had not asked precisely how much his wife had intended to invest but, before he could formulate another question the door burst open and a young woman shot through it, looking distraught.
‘Papa, I have just heard the terrible news!’ she cried. ‘I can scarce believe it. Oh, hello, who are you?’
Riley stood, aware without having to be told that this must be Verity, Sir Philip’s son Gideon’s wife, and the lady whom Ida held in such low esteem. She was rail thin with sharp features and small eyes, expensively dressed in a dove grey gown that didn’t suit her sallow complexion. He also knew that she would have been told that Sir Philip was engaged and with whom. Even so, he inclined his head when Sir Philip made the introduction, pretending not to be irritated by the interruption.
‘Scotland Yard.’ She said the words as though she had a noxious smell beneath her nose. ‘Well, I cannot think why you are troubling dear Papa over this tawdry business. It has absolutely nothing to do with him.’
‘You must allow the officers to conduct their enquiries, Verity,’ Sir Philip said mildly.
‘It’s all so beastly.’
‘We are finished for the time being, Sir Philip,’ Riley said. ‘Thank you for your time. But as you are here, Mrs Randall, may I ask for a moment of your time?’
‘Me?’ She pointed a finger at her thin chest and widened her eyes. ‘What on earth for? I didn’t even know the man. He was nothing to me.’
‘Use this room, Lord Riley,’ Sir Philip said. ‘I must go and change. All my family members are here and will give you their full cooperation.’
‘Of course we will,’ Mrs Randall said, suddenly all sweetness and light.
Riley waited until Sir Philip had left the room, motioned Mrs Randall to take the chair he had just vacated and then resumed his own.
‘Why do you disapprove of your mother-on-law?’ Riley asked, going on the offensive.
‘What do you mean? How dare you suggest…’
Riley continued to watch her, his expression implacable, remaining unmoved by her efforts to appear superior. Eventually she understood what ought to have been apparent to her the moment she walked into the room. Riley was not an ordinary detective. He was a member of the aristocracy, accepted and respected wherever he went. As the division between the social classes became less distinct, people like Verity Randall saw opportunities to improve their standing. From middle class roots, she had married well and now threw her slight weight about in an effort to appear superior. Riley could have told her that real class didn’t have to flaunt itself, and that anyone who mattered would see through her in a heartbeat.
When Riley and Salter continued to watch her and made no effort to apologise for supposedly offending her, her cheeks flushed and an angry hiss slipped past her lips.
‘Ida lowers the tone,’ she said shortly. ‘Carrying on so openly with the hired help. It is beyond insulting to her children and to dear Sir Philip.’
‘Sir Philip minds?’ Riley asked, arching a brow.
‘Oh, he puts on a brave face. What choice does he have? But of course he must mind.’ She rippled her thin shoulders indignantly. ‘No man likes to be made into a laughing stock.’
‘Are people laughing at Sir Philip?’
‘I am sure they must be, although they will be too well bred to do so to his face.’
‘I fail to understand why. Have the goodness to explain,’ Riley invited.
‘Isn’t it obvious? Ida was carrying on with a footman.’ She made it sound like a hanging offense and Riley was already tired of her affected manner. ‘Standards are there for a reason.’
‘Who outside of this household knew about it?’
‘Oh, I am sure lots of people must have. Servants talk, you know. Ida’s reputation is appalling, and it has been since long before poor Sir Philip offered her the respectability of his name.’
‘And yet you married into the family,’ Riley said mildly. ‘One cannot help but wonder why, if you are so offended by Ida’s behaviour.’
‘Well…it was hardly Gideon’s fault.’
/>
‘I assume you dined with the foreign secretary last night, along with Sir Philip and his wife.’
‘No.’ She made the admission grudgingly. ‘Gideon does not yet occupy a high enough position to be included in affairs of state, but it’s only a matter of time, just as long as nothing happens to hamper his career prospects.’
‘And yet Ida, for all her supposed misdeeds, was on the guest list.’
‘Yes, well, I expect Granville is taken in by her. A lot of men seem to be.’
‘Where were you last night, in that case?’
‘Me?’ She gave a trill little laugh. ‘You cannot surely think that I had anything to do with this terrible business?’
‘Don’t tell the chief inspector what he does and doesn’t think, ma’am,’ Salter growled. In the face of the woman’s ridiculous posturing, Riley was surprised it had taken his sergeant so long to open his mouth.
‘Well really!’ She paused. ‘Gideon had an engagement to do with his work. I was at home. You can check with my servants. Now, if there is nothing further…’
Riley stood. ‘Have the goodness to ask your husband to join us, Mrs Randall.’
Salter opened the door for her and she left the room without bothering to thank him, still muttering under her breath about the indignities they were being exposed to.
‘Good heavens,’ Salter said while they waited. ‘On balance I think I prefer Lady Randall—and I never thought those words would pass my lips.’
Riley laughed. ‘She isn’t very pleasant, but social climbers of her ilk who find themselves out of their depth seldom are. It will be interesting to see what we make of Gideon, but if he is half as ambitious as his wife, then my suspicions will become very aroused.’
The door opened and a man in his late twenties walked through it, tall and confident. His dark hair showed early signs of receding, but his expression was open and friendly and Riley could see resemblances between him and his father around his eyes and mouth.
Riley went through the introductions and invited Gideon to sit down.
‘Terrible shame about Ezra,’ Gideon said, as open and down to earth as his wife had been hostile and pretentious. ‘I rather liked the chap.’
Death of a Footman (Riley Rochester Investigates Book 8) Page 5