Death of a Footman (Riley Rochester Investigates Book 8)

by Wendy Soliman

  ‘Very well. Thank you, Ida. We shall leave it there for now.’

  ‘If there’s anything else you need to ask, or anything you have to tell me for that matter, you know where to find me. As it is, I have had quite enough shocks for one day.’

  ‘Sorry to have been the bearer of unhappy tidings.’

  ‘Actually, I don’t mind all that much now that I have had time to get accustomed to the idea of sharing Ezra. If he had found true happiness with Nancy Wendall then I am glad for his sake. I just hope it wasn’t the reason for his death. He didn’t deserve to be brutally murdered simply for being a bit of a scoundrel.’

  ‘We are in agreement on that score.’

  ‘Does Nancy Wendall know about Ezra and me?’

  ‘Yes. He told her everything, including the fact that you were financing his business venture.’

  ‘And she didn’t mind sharing either?’

  ‘That is a question you will have to ask her.’

  Ida waved the suggestion aside. ‘I hardly think so. I am not yet reduced to comparing notes.’ She sighed. ‘Well anyway, at least he had good taste.’

  ‘Will you be dining at home this evening?’ Riley asked.

  ‘I will, yes,’ Ida replied, clearly surprised by the question. ‘Philip has no engagements and I have no stomach for society at the present. I’m finding it hard to…well, seem like everything is normal when in actual fact, nothing will ever be the same again. And Philip is being incredibly thoughtful. He knows how upset I am and is doing his best to keep my spirits up, bless him. He’s really very considerate to my needs. We shall have a quiet evening together and I shall endeavour not to be miserable.’

  Riley nodded his understanding. ‘Then I wish you a pleasant evening and leave you in the hope that you will find some peace of mind.’

  ‘Perhaps I should look for a replacement for Ezra,’ she said with a careless little laugh that lacked conviction. ‘They do say that the only thing to do after falling from a horse is to get straight back into the saddle.’

  Riley wasn’t sure how to respond, so he merely smiled. He hoped that she hadn’t been hinting at a partiality for him. Even if Riley had not been happily married, he would never be tempted by Ida’s charms.

  Ida rang the bell and Gregg materialised to show them out. He handed Riley and Salter their hats when they reached the entrance vestibule.

  ‘How well do you get along with Mrs Gideon Randall?’ Riley asked him, watching closely for his reaction. All he received in return was a miniscule blink of surprise, but his eyes showed a flicker of fear.

  ‘I serve all my master’s family with equal devotion,’ he replied pompously.

  ‘Which ain’t what the chief inspector asked you,’ Salter pointed out in a belligerent tone.

  ‘Mrs Gideon maintains her dignity,’ Gregg replied stiffly.

  And that, Riley knew, was all that he would say on the subject. But it was enough. They had planted the seed.

  ‘Verity hadn’t told Lady Randall about her rival, had she, sir? Lady Randall told the truth about that.’

  ‘She did, and I wasn’t surprised. She knew Ida couldn’t be blackmailed, or coerced, or however else we want to word it, into parting with funds in return for Verity’s silence. And she knew that Ida wouldn’t throw Ezra out even if she did learn of his affair with Nancy Wendall, so she chose not to reveal her hand.’

  ‘Perhaps because her thoughts had turned murderous? An ideal way to revenge herself upon Ezra for ignoring her and not rewarding her financially. She held a grudge against Ida for stealing Ezra from her and then against Nancy Wendall for the same reason, as well as inheriting all of her brother’s estate.’

  ‘Precisely.’

  ‘Why did you ask Gregg about Verity?’

  ‘I hoped to scare him into indiscretion. I want his movements monitored, Jack. He can’t leave here this evening, at least not until he has served at table, which is why I asked if Ida was dining at home.’

  ‘I’ll get Barton to arrange for the house to be watched.’

  ‘No, I’ll get Danforth to do it. And Verity’s residence, too. He won’t be known to anyone in either establishment, and he and his extended crop of sons and nephews are proving to be quite adept at this sort of thing.’

  Salter grunted, still unwilling to accept that Riley’s predecessor had his uses. ‘Whatever you say, sir.’

  ‘You get yourself off back to Clapham, Jack, and don’t forget to find out about those missing building supplies.’

  ‘Will do. And I’ll call on Mrs Wendall with Carter and Soames in the morning and go through her husband’s papers.’ Salter paused. ‘What am I looking for exactly?’

  ‘Anything to do with Verity.’ Riley slapped Salter’s shoulder. ‘See you tomorrow, Jack. My compliments to Mrs Salter.’

  Riley knew which tavern Danforth was to be found in at this time of day, and made his way there in a hansom. His former superior officer sent Riley a jaundiced look and offered him his hand.

  ‘I had a feeling you might be in need of my services. I heard about the murder of that footman. Bit of a scallywag, so I hear.’

  Riley purchased ale for them both and sat across from Danforth. ‘He was intimately involved with his mistress, Lady Ida Randall.’

  Danforth took the top off his ale and sniffed. ‘Good a way as any to get yourself killed, I’d imagine. What help do you expect from me? I assume that’s why you’re here.’

  ‘I need someone to watch Lady Ida’s butler and her daughter-in-law, Verity.’ Danforth didn’t ask why and Riley didn’t explain. ‘Can you manage both assignments and start this evening?’

  ‘I can.’ Danforth shifted position and winced. Riley pretended not to notice the evidence of his continued need for painful chastisement at the hands of expensive courtesans—an addiction that had cost him his career. Salter didn’t approve and nor could Riley. But he understood a compulsion so strong that it transcended every vestige of common sense, and felt some sympathy for a man whom he had never seen eye to eye with or respected. ‘Our usual terms?’

  ‘Indeed.’ Riley abandoned his half-drunk ale and stood up. ‘Send word to me at the Yard as soon as you have anything worth imparting. Good afternoon, Danforth.’

  Riley had one more call to make before returning home. Mark Buckingham was also a creature of habit and Riley ran him down at White’s.

  ‘Making any progress?’ Buckingham asked as soon as the two men found a quiet corner in which to converse. ‘Is it too early for me to call and express my condolences to Ida?’

  Riley shook his head, smiling in spite of himself. ‘You are incorrigible.’

  ‘Well, you know how it is, Riley.’ Buckingham spread his hands in an expansive gesture. ‘Us younger sons have to make the most of the opportunities that come our way. No time to observe the conventions or we’re beaten to the spoils.’

  ‘What can you tell me about Nancy Wendall? And more to the point, why didn’t you tell me about her yourself?’

  Buckingham shrugged. ‘Known her since she was a child. Used to pull her pigtails when our family visited hers.’ He chuckled. ‘She’s no longer a freckle-faced irritating child, though. I take it you’ve had the pleasure of making her acquaintance, in which case I’m not telling you something that you didn’t already know.’

  ‘I have, but I heard about her and Ezra from Reggie Lane, not you.’ Riley paused and took a sip of his wine, watching Buckingham squirm over the rim of his glass. ‘Why did you keep their relationship to yourself? You must have known I would find out about it.’

  ‘Not sure, to be honest.’ He lifted his shoulders. ‘Even I, jaded old rogue that I’ve turned into, still have some gentlemanly instincts, one supposes.’ He grinned. ‘Who would have guessed it? Life is full of surprises.’

  ‘Seemingly so. Either that or you have reasons of your own for obstructing a murder investigation.’

  Buckingham leaned towards Riley and his expression sobered. A burst of laughter from a ne
arby table briefly diverted both men, but not for long. ‘Ida makes no bones about the manner in which she takes her pleasures. I admire the fact that she really doesn’t give a damn about society’s views after what I did to her prospects in that area. Anyway, Nancy is the polar opposite. She adored Ezra, found solace in his arms after being ruthlessly bartered off into a loveless marriage. She deserved to be happy and I know for a fact that she would never have harmed Ezra out of some misguided jealousy or need for revenge. She knew about Ida and always had, so it’s hardly likely that she belatedly took exception to the arrangement.’

  ‘You told me that Ida had initially recommended you to Ezra, but Mrs Wendall claims that responsibility too.’

  Buckingham laughed. ‘Nancy told me of Ezra’s plans for the club and asked me if I would lend it my support. It sounded like the sort of opportunity that would benefit me and Nancy knew it, so I didn’t hesitate when she offered to introduce us. Then, blow me if Ida didn’t ask me to provide the same service. She didn’t know about Ezra and Nancy, and I didn’t feel it was up to me to enlighten her.’ He shrugged and rolled his eyes. ‘I ask you; the situations I get myself into.’

  ‘How well do you know Verity Randall?’

  ‘Better than I want to.’ He shuddered. ‘She made constant demands upon her brother when he was still alive and has made Nancy’s life even more of a misery since his death. Vile creature! Ida cannot stand the sight of her either. Why? Do you suppose she has anything to do with Ezra’s death? It wouldn’t surprise me if she did. The word vindictive was invented with that woman in mind. She’s contesting her brother’s will, you know.’

  ‘Yes, I do know.’ Riley paused to assess Buckingham, whose expression was open and helpful. ‘Is there anything else you know about this affair that you haven’t told me? Now would be a good time to come clean.’

  ‘Good heavens, am I a suspect? Well, I suppose the facts could be twisted to make me appear so, always supposing you’re desperate to pin the blame on someone. I knew the victim, I used to be romantically involved with one of his wealthy lovers and I am good friends with the other.’ He flashed another irreverent grin. ‘In your situation, I’d be tempted to slap the handcuffs on myself.’

  ‘I shall avoid doing anything quite that drastic, at least for the time being, but if you do think of anything else, you know where to find me.’ Riley drained his glass and both men stood to shake hands. ‘I’ll be hearing from you, no doubt.’

  Buckingham nodded, then stood where he was, watching Riley walk away.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Riley enjoyed a quiet evening at home, with just his wife and son and what was proving to be a very faithful dog for company. Amelia was brimming with ideas for turning their new house into a home. She and Olivia had already looked at furniture and Amelia was bubbling with excitement as she showed him sample swatches of fabric for curtains and bed hangings. Riley pretended to take an interest but preferred to watch Amelia’s animation, counting his blessings for having secured the love of such a vibrant and compelling woman.

  ‘What do you think of the twill satin?’ she asked, recalling Riley’s wandering attention. ‘It would be perfect for the drawing room windows, exactly the right shade and thickness to make the most of the light, but I fear the cost will be prohibitive.’

  ‘Spend as much as you think necessary, my love,’ he said, kissing her.

  ‘You are too generous!’ she cried, her lovely face coming alight with the joys of planning the next stage of her family’s life.

  ‘Just promise me that you will not over-exert yourself.’

  Would that all females became so animated about a length of cloth and Regency striped wallpaper, Riley thought, smiling as he made his way to Scotland Yard the following morning. Most would require diamonds at the very least and endless additions to their wardrobes to bring the same sparkle to their eyes.

  He was in a relaxed frame of mind as he worked with Inspectors Turner and Grayson on their respective cases and updated his own paperwork, which took most of the morning. There was nothing he could do about the investigation into Ezra’s death until Salter finished his assignments in Clapham.

  Having caught up with his outstanding work, Riley leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, glad for a moment’s peace in which to think without interruption. All his detectives were out and he had the place almost to himself. Only the distant sound of Sergeant Barton barking orders at some hapless constable and the heavy tread of someone’s feet on the boarded floor outside his room penetrated the walls of Riley’s domain.

  He mulled over everything they had now established regarding Ezra’s lifestyle and became increasingly convinced that Verity Randall was the architect of his demise. He was also fairly sure that she had arranged for her brother to be killed, presumably with the intention of blackmailing Mrs Wendall into sharing his estate with her—an estate which she looked upon as hers by right for reasons Riley had yet to establish. She probably imagined that Mrs Wendall would pay up in order to protect her reputation and avoid being suspected of Ezra’s murder.

  She ought to be a suspect, Riley conceded. If Ezra had found reasons not to disassociate from Ida, that would be sufficient cause for a jealous woman to seek revenge. The fact that she had been willing to share Ezra with Ida was the one aspect of Mrs Wendall’s account that Riley had found hard to accept. Most females who formed relationships with engaging men of Ezra’s ilk would not find that situation acceptable. Riley wondered why he had believed that Mrs Wendall had done so without pressing her on the point. She was a resident of Clapham and knew where Ezra would have been at the vital time.

  Riley had not lost sight of the fact that it was an angry woman who had accosted Ezra in the Plough. She couldn’t risk killing him in her own home and expect to avoid both suspicion and scandal, but was she really calculating enough to come up with such an elaborate ruse? She could simply have offered him an ultimatum while she had him in her house—her or me. Perhaps she had done so, Ezra had found a way to prevaricate, and Mrs Wendall’s patience had run out.

  No. Riley shook his head. This wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment crime of passion, nor was it an argument that had run out of control. It was a cold-blooded, carefully planned murder. Even so, Riley was unable to decide why he was so sure of Mrs Wendall’s innocence, despite the anomalies he had identified. Was Salter right? Had he been influenced by her beauty, her poise and her air of tragic dignity?

  Riley hoped he wasn’t as shallow as that. He had learned to depend upon his instincts ever since setting out to become a detective. His mentor, Jake Morton, the Earl of Torbay, had encouraged him to evaluate people every bit as closely as he examined evidence—to watch their reactions and draw conclusions from the things that they did not say. Mrs Wendall had struck him as an honest person who had answered his questions without being evasive. A lady who was genuinely distraught by the death of the man she had so unwisely fallen for and had hoped to spend the rest of her life with.

  ‘She didn’t do it.’

  ‘Talking to yourself, sir?’

  ‘Ah, Jack, there you are. It’s gone midday. I thought you’d got lost. How did you…’ Riley glanced up at his ordinarily stalwart sergeant and half rose from his chair in alarm. ‘Good heavens, you’re wearing an expression like thunder. What on earth has happened to get you so riled up?’

  ‘Ruth Dawson lost her baby last night.’ Salter fell into a chair, muttering expletives beneath his breath. ‘Sam came home drunk, picked an argument and punched her so hard in the stomach that…well, you get the idea.’

  ‘Damn it!’ Riley thumped his right fist against his opposite palm. He could not abide men who used violence against women. ‘How do you know this? Is she all right?’

  ‘Well, she’s alive, which is more than can be said for the poor bairn, God rest its soul. And I only found out by chance. I happened upon Doc Ash last night. He’d just come back from tending to her. Told me Sam would only let him do the minimum, then sent hi
m away. Said there was no money for doctors and that she was making a fuss about nothing. The doc reckoned Ruth ought to be in the hospital, but there’s no question of that happening. Still an’ all, I made him go back, went with him in fact and shamed Sam by saying that a benefactor had paid the doctor’s fee, given that Sam had refused to do so himself.’

  ‘You are a good man, Jack,’ Riley said, well aware that his sergeant, with a large family to feed, didn’t have much spare cash. ‘I will cover the cost.’

  ‘Nah, it’s done. It were my Christian duty and I won’t shirk it. Probably my own fault an’ all.’

  ‘How did you reach that conclusion?’

  ‘I asked questions at Clapham station about the building site thefts, like you told me to.’ Salter sniffed. ‘I reckon whoever’s on the thieves’ payroll heard about it and warned the blaggards. If Sam Dawson’s involved, then he knows we’re onto him and he took his frustrations out on his wife.’

  ‘Ah, I see what you mean.’

  ‘I had a quiet word with Sam’s brother when I went back with the doc and made Sam let him in. His wife was looking after Ruth as best she could, but he was that glad to see the doctor come back. The poor lass was still bleeding and Sam didn’t give a shit.’ Riley raised a brow. It was almost unheard of for Salter to swear, and a testament to the extent of his anger. ‘Anyway, Paul told me that his brother has a vicious temper.’ Salter rolled his eyes. ‘Like we didn’t already know that. I only had to look at the state of his poor wife and see how scared of him his two kids are to work that out for myself.’

  ‘Paul is a different type?’

  ‘Yeah. I really don’t think he’s involved with Sam’s sidelines. Not that I had a chance to get Paul to tell me what Sam was up to. He wouldn’t have done anyway. He’s scared of him too. But he did tell me something interesting. He said that Sam was desperate to get involved in Ezra’s club.’

  ‘Whereas Sam pretended disinterest when we asked him about it, if memory serves.’

  ‘Nothing wrong with your memory, sir. Seems as Sam were jealous of Ezra’s easy life and his ability to make money and wanted some of it for himself. He gets right moody when things don’t go his way.’