‘It’d be a hell of a risk,’ Carter said.
‘True,’ Riley agreed, pondering upon Salter’s insistence that Verity was involved and knowing better than to dismiss his sergeant’s instincts out of hand. ‘She was the family member who voiced her objections to Lady Randall’s affair the most vociferously.’
‘Would she do that if she was the guilty party, sir?’ Peterson asked.
‘Possibly, since she was known to disapprove. It would look odd if she suddenly changed her tune,’ Riley replied. ‘And highly suspicious. Let’s try and get a decent description of the woman Ezra was seen with, Jack, then we will have a better idea if it was Mrs Gideon Randall or not.’
‘Fair enough, sir.’
‘I need you to look into Patrick Randall as well,’ Riley added. ‘Decide between you who does what. The Randall gentlemen were both occupied with ladies last night. Patrick was with a Mrs Jane Hardy, and claims to have spent the entire night with her. Tread carefully, Carter. The lady is married and we will not embarrass her unless we think she is being dishonest.’
‘Ha!’ Salter grunted. Riley sent his sergeant a warning look, and he kept his opinion about her conduct to himself.
‘What about Sir Philip and Lady Randall?’ Soames asked. ‘Are we sure that neither of them is the guilty party?’
‘They were at an engagement and returned home together. That has been confirmed by several of the household servants. Whether one of them went out again is another matter. Have a word with their coachman, Carter, see what he has to tell you. If either of them did leave the house with the specific purpose of heading to Clapham, I doubt whether he or she was stupid enough to go in their own carriage.’
‘How would they have got back if they did go?’ Peterson asked. ‘The trains would have stopped running.’
‘A very good point, Peterson,’ Riley replied, impressed not for the first time with his newest recruit’s powers of reasoning. ‘A cab, one assumes, which wouldn’t be a problem for Sir Philip, but for a lady of quality out alone at that time of night it would be a very different matter.’ Riley shook his head. ‘If Lady Randall had argued with Ezra, or wanted rid of him, there are easier ways she could have gone about it.’
‘Right,’ Salter agreed. ‘She could have just dismissed him. Can’t see any reason to bump him off in such a manner. It ain’t as though he could buy her silence about their affair, since Sir Phillip knew all about it.’
‘His masters at Whitehall might take a less tolerant approach,’ Riley mused, ‘but I don’t see Ezra as a blackmailer. From what I know of his character, it’s not his style. He would have done all in his power to retain Lady Randall’s affections, and I am satisfied that he was successful in that regard.’
Salter nodded. ‘I tend to agree, sir.’
‘Lady Randall’s daughter Sarah Heston and her husband Mark were at the Adelphi with friends. They took a box so it should be easy to verify with the theatre manager that they actually did so. They went on to the Savoy for supper. Check that too, please, Soames.’
‘Sir.’
‘So, gentlemen, to recap. We have reason to suspect James, but you will have checked out the rest of the family’s alibis for me by the end of the day. In the meantime, Sergeant Salter and I will speak with the victim’s family and with the landlord of the tavern where he spent his last hours. Let’s meet back here this afternoon and compare notes.’
A scraping of chairs against the boarded floor preceded his constables leaving the room.
‘Give me fifteen minutes to hear an update on my inspectors’ other cases, Jack, and then we can depart.’
A short time later, the detectives were installed in a hansom bound for Clapham.
‘Of course, the omnibus is always good enough for me,’ Salter said, sniffing. ‘That or the train.’
‘Quicker this way,’ Riley replied absently.
‘You’re quiet, sir. What are your initial impressions?’
‘Who do I think did it?’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t have the first idea but I am very interested in Ezra’s involvement with the Earl of Buckingham.’
‘What involvement?’
‘Sorry, Jack. I forget to enlighten you earlier. Something my sister’s husband mentioned last night raised my suspicions. I heard rumours about Buckingham not behaving well and I know for a fact that he’s permanently short of cash. I also know that he was once romantically involved with Ida.’
‘That don’t narrow it down a lot, guv’nor.’ Salter rubbed his nose. ‘Why would one of your lot involve himself with a scheme for a club in Clapham which, I assume, is what you are thinking?’
‘That, Jack, is what I would very much like to know, but if I had to hazard a guess, it would be the lure of a quick profit. Men from all walks of life like to gamble, or watch fights, or see animals tearing each other to shreds.’
‘True, I suppose,’ Salter agreed. ‘Can’t see the appeal myself, but there you have it.’
The cab made its way past the grand houses of affluent merchants that bordered Clapham Common. It progressed into less affluent streets and finally deposited them beside a row of rundown terraced houses.
‘You sure this is the place you want?’ the cabby asked, eyeing Riley’s pristine tailoring and then the squalid area with scepticism.
‘It is, thank you,’ Salter told him, paying the fare. The cabbie didn’t offer to wait for them and was gone as soon as he could persuade his tired-looking horse to move off again.
Several grubby children surrounded the two detectives as they made their way to Mrs Dawson’s abode. Salter shooed them away but they regrouped and came back at them with a barrage of questions and open palms.
‘You can’t go in there, mister,’ one of them said. ‘It ain’t proper. The old woman’s been weeping and wailing fit to wake the dead.’
‘Her son is dead, you great lummox.’
The insult resulted in the inevitable fist fight and the two combatants rolled around in the dirty street, cheered on by their contemporaries. Riley and Salter left them to it and made their way into the building. Riley looked mildly surprised when instead of knocking, Salter pushed the front door open and made for the rickety wooden stairs, stepping around a small girl with a dirty face dressed in an even dirtier pinafore sitting on the bottom step. The smell of dirt and deprivation inside the building caused Riley almost to gag.
‘It’s the first floor we want,’ Salter said, leading the way but glancing back at Riley with a wry smile. ‘A bit of a come down for you, sir, I quite realise that. I’m thinking you imagined the Dawsons occupied the entire house.’
‘Evidently not,’ Riley replied, his expensively shod foot avoiding a wet pile of something that smelled suspiciously like cat urine on one of the steps.
‘Four families at least in this house, and lucky to have the space,’ Salter added, seeming to enjoy educating Riley on the insanitary living conditions of the vast majority of London’s inhabitants. ‘One privy in the backyard between the lot of them, and I’d strongly advise against making use of it.’
‘I shall bear your advice in mind, Jack.’
Riley was glad to reach the relative safety of the first floor landing, conscious of several pairs of eyes peering down at them through the bannisters leading to the upper floors. He heard voices coming from behind the closed door of Mrs Dawson’s apartment. They stopped abruptly when Salter knocked and the door was wrenched open.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ a man said. ‘You’d best come in. I take it you’ve come to tell us who did this to me brother.’ He seemed to notice Riley for the first time and narrowed his eyes in suspicion. ‘What’s this toff doing ’ere?’
‘This is Chief Inspector Rochester, Sam, so keep a civil tongue in your head. Sir, this is Sam Dawson, the victim’s brother.’
‘The victim had a name, yer know.’
‘More than one, I believe,’ Riley said calmly, stepping into the crowded but mercifully clean room. ‘You have my sympathy.’
/> ‘Fat lot of good that’ll do us,’ Sam muttered, but refrained from saying more when Salter’s glare silenced him. ‘This is Mrs Dawson, John’s mother,’ he said, indicating a thin woman swamped by the chair she sat in, fussed over by two younger women, one of whom was exquisitely pretty. The brothers’ wives, presumably. ‘Mrs Dawson, this is my boss, Chief Inspector Rochester, who wanted to come and see you himself to offer his condolences.’
‘All well and good,’ said another man who looked so much like Sam that he had to be his brother, Paul. He had the bulging muscles and ham fists of a manual worker, but seemed slightly more in command of himself. Both men were handsome individuals, as was the mother, even in her time of grief. Riley could understand now why Ezra had appealed to a woman of Ida’s eclectic tastes. ‘But begging your pardon, we’d prefer you to be finding the person wot did this terrible thing.’
‘We will do our best in that regard, I can assure you.’ Riley’s refined tone and air of authority immediately quelled the barrage of complaints.
‘Get a chair for the gentleman,’ Mrs Dawson said, snapping the fingers of the hand that was not clutching a crumpled handkerchief, ‘and one of you girls make him some tea.’
Several children appeared from various corners of the room and stared at Riley as though he was some sort of exotic creature.
‘Thank you,’ Riley replied, seating himself on the stool that someone produced. ‘But tea won’t be necessary.’ A commodity that he took for granted would, Riley knew, be an expensive luxury for people living in such squalor. ‘I am very sorry for your loss,’ he said to Mrs Dawson, meaning it.
Mrs Dawson’s red eyes leaked fresh tears. ‘You are very kind, sir. My John was a good boy and I’ll give an argument to anyone who says differently. He was making something of hisself, working in that big posh house, but he came to see me every week, regular as clockwork. He always brought somefink nice with him. Food and little treats for me and his family. He was a good boy that way.’ She paused to mop up the tears and blow her nose. ‘I don’t know what I shall do without him, so I don’t.’
She convulsed with renewed sobs, clutching her middle as she bent double, and Riley already knew that she wouldn’t be able to shed any light on the reasons for her son’s murder. A slight noise drew Riley’s attention to the brothers, standing side by side with their thick arms folded across barrel chests. One of them had just noisily cleared his throat. It was already obvious that John had been the favoured son. These two didn’t share their mother’s view of his saintly qualities, but would never express their reservations in front of her, especially not at such a time. They would turn on one another soon enough—Riley had seen it frequently in families from all walks of life—but for now they were more or less united in their grief.
‘Ma needs to lie down,’ one of the wives said, slipping a comforting arm around her shoulders. ‘It’s all too much for her.’
‘Take her through,’ Sam ordered, ‘and make her comfortable. We’ll answer the chief inspector’s questions.’
Both wives helped the older lady to her feet and took her into the back room, presumably a bedroom, shooing the children out ahead of them. Alone with the two sons, Riley lost no time in asking his questions, aware that privacy was a rare commodity in such dwellings.
‘What do you know about the reasons for your brother paying an unscheduled visit to Clapham?’ he asked. ‘He told his employer that your mother was unwell but clearly that wasn’t the case.’
The brothers looked at one another and simultaneously shrugged.
‘He were a law unto himself,’ Sam replied, a bitter edge to his voice. ‘We could have got ’im a decent job on the building site but it weren’t good enough for him. He ’ad ambitions.’
‘And he weren’t too fussy ’ow he went about getting what he wanted,’ Paul added. ‘But we had no idea he’d bin to Clapham. We got families to feed and can’t afford to piss our pay away in taverns. Besides, he wouldn’t have come down to see us. He did pop in to see Ma, but only for a few minutes.’
‘What do you know about him opening a sporting club for working men in this area?’ Salter asked.
They shared a look of astonishment.
‘Him? Doin’ wot? Don’t know nuffink about that,’ Paul said for them both. ‘And what’s more we don’t wanna know. John’s scheming were always on the dodgy side and we don’t want no trouble with the law.’
‘You must have heard something about it,’ Riley said. ‘Or know what premises he intended to use.’
‘We don’t know nuffink.’ Sam repeated his brother’s words with conviction, as though that was the end of the matter. Riley got the impression that not many people offered any argument once Sam had pronounced his opinion.
‘You look frightened,’ Salter said, deliberately taunting the bigger man.
‘Bloody right I am. I ain’t afraid to back down if I ’ave to.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ Riley asked.
‘Look, all the gaming and fights around these parts is in the hands of Reggie Lane. He’s a tough bugger, and trust me, no one steps on his toes without learning a lesson real fast.’
‘It’s interesting that you simply assume your brother intended to flout the law,’ Riley remarked.
Paul gave a hollow laugh. ‘John? He was never much of a one for rules.’
‘Look, Chief Inspector,’ Sam added. ‘We didn’t get along with John and we didn’t like the way he fawned all over Ma, making her think he walked on water. But she ain’t had an easy time of it since Pa were killed, and John made her happy, so that was one good thing he did do for this family.’
‘About the only thing,’ Paul added bitterly.
‘But whatever he got himself into that got him killed, he didn’t deserve it, and Ma won’t know no peace until you find out who did it. If we knew anything about this club business you’d be the first to know.’
Riley nodded, unsure if he believed Sam.
‘We’ll ask around,’ Paul said, ‘and let you know if we hear anything.’
‘Thank you.’
Riley stood and picked up his hat. They had only just emerged into the street and were blinking their eyes to adjust to the brightness of the outside world when someone ran out behind them calling Salter’s name. They both turned and saw Sam’s pretty wife running after them. Her name, Riley recalled being told a few minutes previously, was Ruth.
‘The walls in that place are thin and I heard everyfink wot was said,’ she told them, struggling to regain her breath.
Riley took her elbow and guided her out of sight of the house she’d just left, away from the gaggle of curious children, who dispersed when Salter glowered at them.
‘Is there something you want to tell us?’ Riley asked gently.
‘My husband didn’t have no time for John. Well, you must have gathered that much. He was the black sheep but he was also good company. He was always laughing at stuff and not taking anything too seriously. Ma called him a breath of fresh air and I have to say she was right about that. A bit of a lad, but then they’re always the best fun, I find.’
‘You knew he was opening a club?’
‘Sure. He told me all about it. Dead keen, so he was. And he offered me a job in it.’
‘Doing what?’ Salter asked, scowling.
‘Meeting and greeting the customers, he called it. He said I’d have to dress up all pretty and do my hair nice and make everyone feel welcome. Said he’d arrange the right clothes and that I needn’t worry about that.’ She glanced down at her shabby grey dress. ‘I liked the idea, I don’t mind telling you, but I knew it was pointless getting my hopes up. Sam would’ve had a fit if I’d told him, and he wouldn’t of let me do it. It would of put the kibosh on any liking he had for John an’ all. Besides,’ she added glumly, ‘I have two littluns and another on the way. My place is at home with them.’
‘Do you have any idea where the club was going to be?’ Riley asked. ‘Think carefully. It’s importa
nt.’
‘Oh yes. John took me to Nine Elms and showed me. There’s them big train works up there.’
‘Where they build the steam engines?’ Riley asked.
She nodded. ‘That’s it. John told me they built bigger sheds a few years back but a couple of ’em don’t get used no more. He were negotiating to lease them.’
Riley shared a look with Salter, nodding as he thought it through. It made sense to hide in plain sight. Not that there would be any need to hide an official establishment, but from what he knew of Ezra’s character, operating legally, conforming to the regulations and paying taxes would not allow him to make a fast enough profit. Riley was sure that he intended to make more money by staging bare-knuckle fistfights and perhaps cock and dog fights, which were strictly illegal. No one would think to look in such a busy location for illegal activities, especially if the local constabulary was paid to look the other way—which was not an unlikely possibility. The men from the engine sheds would probably be some of the club’s keenest supporters. Riley rubbed his chin, privately acknowledging Ezra’s keen business sense.
‘Do you know who his partners were?’
‘The lady wot he worked for,’ Ruth replied. ‘She was one of ’em, and there was a gent an’ all. A toff. What was his name?’ She paused, wrinkling her brow as she endeavoured to recollect. ‘Buckin’am,’ she said, snapping her fingers. She glanced over her shoulder and shuddered, looking petrified when she noticed her husband shading his eyes with his hand and scouring the street, obviously looking for her. ‘I have to go or I’ll be in trouble. Don’t tell Sam what I told you or I’ll be in for a thrashing.’
And she was gone as quickly as she’d arrived.
‘That took courage,’ Riley said, watching her go.
‘It did, right enough.’ The two men commenced walking at a brisk pace, followed by a gaggle of grubby and inquisitive children. ‘Those brothers, Sam especially, didn’t like Ezra, or approve of his lifestyle. Do you suppose one of them did for him, sir?’
Death of a Footman (Riley Rochester Investigates Book 8) Page 8