Definitely a social climber, Riley decided. There was also something about her that was off kilter. His gaze took in the half-empty wine glass on the table beside her and realisation dawned. At two in the afternoon, she wasn’t quite sober. Interesting.
‘I will ring for tea, if you’re prepared to risk it,’ she added, when Riley had allowed the silence to lengthen to an embarrassing degree. ‘I’m between maids at the moment and the girl I have now is a bit gormless, I’m afraid.’
‘Please don’t trouble yourself on our account,’ Riley replied graciously. ‘We shall not keep you for long.’
‘Oh, I don’t mind, Lord Riley,’ she said, making it clear that she knew of his connections. ‘I was not doing anything much. What is there to do in this backwater? I hope we shall not be living her for much longer. It’s not what I am accustomed to, but I was willing to make the sacrifice for the sake of Joseph’s career.’
‘You are not a native of Wimbledon?’ Riley asked, anxious to get her talking in the hope that the wine she had already taken would lessen her discretion.
‘Heavens, no! My father has a string of warehouses lining London’s wharf.’
Riley nodded. Her father was probably a self-made man and Mrs Milton had seen marriage to a barrister as a step up in the world. She would have brought money to the marriage, but clearly not enough to immediately fulfil the couple’s ambitions, as evidenced by their modest living standards and their inability to keep a well-trained maid. Mrs Milton’s dreams had been dashed and she now regretted her choice, Riley suspected. She was an attractive women who, with hindsight, probably thought she could have done a great deal better had she exercised a little patience. Despite her currently slurred words, she could be an asset to Milton and he probably struggled to satisfy his wife’s desire for exposure to the right circles. She was the type who disliked her own company but was unwilling to mix with Wimbledon’s elite, thinking herself above them, which accounted for her need to drown her sorrows as a means of passing the time and quelling her disappointment.
All of this Riley surmised after one assessing glance and his interpretation of the few sentences she had thus far uttered.
‘Your father has done well for himself,’ he said and Mrs Milton preened at the implied compliment. ‘Would I know his name?’
‘Oh, I expect so, if you ever go near the docks. Drayton and Sons is plastered all over the outside of Papa’s warehouses. You can’t miss them.’
‘You would like to live in the centre of London again.’
It was not a question on Riley’s part, more an educated guess, borne out by Mrs Milton’s enthusiastic nod. ‘Above anything.’
‘And now that Sir Robert is gone, your husband is the natural choice to head up his chambers.’
‘Every cloud, Lord Riley.’ Mrs Milton clearly recalled that Sir Robert had been brutally murdered and quickly quelled her fledgling smile. ‘It’s quite shocking what happened to Sir Robert. I wrote a note to Lady Glover, naturally, and will gladly bear her company if she needs me. However, she has not yet replied. She is probably too distraught.’
‘I am sure your offer of comfort is a great solace,’ Riley said, deliberately flattering the aspiring socialite. ‘However, Lady Glover has her daughters with her and perhaps they prefer to grieve in solitude.’
‘I expect that’s what it is.’ Mrs Milton reached for her almost empty glass, recalled what it contained and whom she was entertaining, and quickly changed her mind.
‘Did your husband and Sir Robert get along well?’ Salter asked, speaking for the first time.
‘They were partners, so it stands to reason that they must have done,’ she replied, making it sound as though partners never disagreed. ‘Joseph has known Sir Robert for years. Sir Robert encouraged him to pursue a career in the law. He took a personal interest in his progress, mentored him, for want of a better description, and eventually offered him a junior position in his chambers. Joseph proved his worth and eventually became a partner upon whom Sir Robert depended absolutely. Joseph says that he owes it to his friend’s memory to maintain his high standards and is confident that Sir Robert would not have trusted anyone else to do so.’
‘You say they have known one another for years,’ Riley said. ‘How did they first come to meet?’
Mrs Milton spread her hands. ‘I have absolutely no idea. Joseph has never said, and it never occurred to me to ask.’ She looked up at Riley, clearly anxious to be of use. ‘Is it important?’
‘Not in the least,’ Riley lied smoothly, more interested by the minute in the circumstances that had thrown the two men together. Increasingly convinced that something in their past would explain Sir Robert’s interest in Joseph Milton; a man fifteen years his junior and a barrister with a very different set of principles to Sir Robert’s own. ‘It was idle curiosity on my part. The more I learn about Sir Robert’s background, the easier it will be for me to run his killer to earth.’
‘We all hope you manage to do that, Lord Riley.’ She clutched a hand to her bosom and heaved a theatrical shudder. ‘We cannot have a cold-blooded killer running amok in Lincoln’s Inn. Whatever next?’
‘What indeed.’ Riley resisted the urge to emulate his niece’s example. The minx tended to risk disapproval by rolling her eyes when a person said something inane. If ever a situation was worthy of an expressive eye-roll…
‘Tell me, Mrs Milton,’ Riley said conversationally, ‘what time did your husband leave the house the morning before last?’
‘Surely you don’t suspect him!’ Her mouth fell open in a most unattractive manner and she looked totally shocked.
‘Not at all, but I am obliged to ask everyone who worked with him the same question. If I do not, I am sure that an intelligent lady such as yourself will have no difficulty in seeing that the defence counsel acting for anyone subsequently arrested will want to know why I didn’t check on the whereabouts of everyone who stands to benefit from Sir Robert’s death.’
‘Oh well yes, put like that I suppose I can understand.’ She paused, glanced longingly at her glass and made do with nibbling the end of her index finger. ‘However, Joseph’s routine is like clockwork. He always catches the same train every morning.’
‘At what time?’ Salter asked, pencil poised.
‘Oh, the eight-fifteen from Wimbledon Hill.’
‘And you saw him off?’ Riley asked.
‘Me?’ She looked aghast by the question. ‘Good heavens no! I never leave my bed before ten. Joseph wouldn’t expect me to.’
‘So you did not see him that morning,’ Riley gently probed. ‘He didn’t disturb you when he arose?’
‘No, we have separate rooms. He is considerate of my feelings and never comes in to wish me goodbye. But I expect they will remember him at the station.’
‘You don’t have live-in help?’
‘Not at present.’ Which Riley took to mean never. ‘As I say, Joseph is a familiar figure at the railway station. Anyway,’ she added, giving way to temptation, picking up her glass and draining its contents in one unladylike swallow, ‘I would not have seen him that morning even if I had left my bed. I stayed overnight in London with Mama and Papa, you see.’ Riley sensed Salter tense behind him and resisted the urge to do the same thing himself. ‘I had been shopping all the afternoon and stayed to dine with my family.’
‘Your husband did not join you?’
‘No, he had an engagement elsewhere. I don’t know what it was, but he didn’t require my company, and naturally I would not return home alone at night on the railway.’
‘Naturally not, but your husband did so rather than join you with your parents?’ Riley asked.
She looked off to the left. ‘Yes.’
She didn’t elaborate but Riley was left with the impression that her husband and parents were not on the best of terms.
Having established that Milton had no one to collaborate his movements on the vital morning, the two detec
tives took their leave of Mrs Milton, not without some difficulty. The lady swayed as she stood to bid them adieu and held onto Riley’s hand in a suggestive manner that implied he would be welcome to visit her again at any time of his choosing.
Alone.
‘I hope you find whoever did this terrible thing,’ she said, looking up at Riley and actually batting her lashes at him. Ye gods!
‘I can assure you, madam, that I shall,’ he replied, extracting his hand from hers and escaping as soon as politely possible.
‘Well, well,’ Salter said as they retraced their steps towards the station. ‘Looks as though you’ve made another conquest.’
Riley gave a long-suffering sigh. ‘Sometimes I surprise myself.’
‘Well anyway, the plot thickens.’
‘Indeed it does. It’s obvious that Milton didn’t coach her in advance. Either he assumed that we wouldn’t call upon her or he preferred not to ask her to lie for him. There again, perhaps he’s innocent and so he didn’t need to influence her either way.’
‘He wants to impress her by living up to her expectations?’
‘Yes, I think you’re right about that, Jack. The question is, how far would he be willing to go in order to gain her approval? It seems odd to me that such a young couple should sleep separately.’
‘Your lot do.’
Riley sent his sergeant a droll look. ‘My lot, as you so eloquently describe them, live in houses a great deal larger than the Miltons’ abode.’
‘You think she’s denying him his marital rights because he’s disappointed her?’ Salter flexed his brows. ‘Milton’s motives are building by the second.’
‘Rather than the reasons for their sleeping arrangements, I’d dearly love to know what bound Sir Robert to a man of Milton’s ilk. That’s the second reference we’ve heard to something in their combined past.’
‘You could just ask Milton,’ Salter suggested as they reached the railway station.
‘I could, but I probably wouldn’t get a truthful answer. What I can predict however, is a visit to the Yard from Milton tomorrow, demanding to know why we have been quizzing his wife about his whereabouts.’
Salter sniffed, unimpressed. ‘A man in his line of work should have anticipated it would be routine.’
‘He didn’t lie to us,’ Riley continued musingly, ‘at least insofar as he didn’t tell us that his wife could collaborate his movements, but he must have known that we would think she could and that we would ask her.’
‘Unless he is so arrogant that he assumes he is above suspicion.’
Riley gave a wry smile. ‘Once again, you’ve hit the nail on the head, Sergeant.’
They continued to discuss the rather insightful interview with Mrs Milton throughout the short journey into central London. Back at Scotland Yard, Soames and Carter had news to impart.
‘No joy with the two previous convicts,’ Carter said. ‘One was working at Billingsgate in front of dozens of witnesses at the time of the murder. Didn’t express much sorrow at Sir Robert’s passing, but he’s definitely in the clear himself and couldn’t afford to pay someone else to do the deed.’
‘And the other was a guest of our colleagues in Edgeware, having got himself into a drunken brawl the night before, so he’s out of the frame.’ Soames sent Riley a pleading look. ‘Please don’t get us going through the rest of those old cases, guv. It’s made my eyes go all squinty, so it has.’
Riley smiled. ‘Don’t worry. I think we have enough suspects to keep us occupied. How did it go with Percy Caldwell?’
‘An interesting individual,’ Carter replied. ‘He makes a compelling case for his brother’s innocence, without painting him as whiter than the driven snow. He’s well aware of his penchant for young gals. So is his wife evidently, and she wouldn’t have kicked him out the door over it. Percy Caldwell reckons the investigation was slipshod and that not enough attention was focused upon Maisie’s other men friends. The chit was attractive, apparently, and none of them gave her up voluntarily. However, his entire family will attest to the fact that Percy was at home, having breakfast with them on the morning Sir Robert was killed, before opening up the bootmakers for business. If he was anywhere near Lincoln’s Inn, sir, we’ll have a hard time proving it because his family will swear on the bible that he was at home with them—and frankly I believe them.’
‘Right, good work. That means that tomorrow we concentrate upon Glover and Boland. And, of course, Milton. I also hope to know a little more about Barchester by then. Go home all of you, and let’s come at this with fresh eyes in the morning.’
Chapter Nine
Riley himself was not destined for home. First, he needed to call on Jake and Olivia and hear their impressions of Barchester. Then he must search out Giles Griffin for the same reason.
Parker admitted him to the Torbays’ mansion with a wry smile.
‘There’s full-scale warfare going on in there,’ he said, taking Riley’s hat and nodding towards the drawing room. ‘Sure you want to risk it?’
‘I’ll take my chances.’ He sent Parker a cagy look. ‘The disagreement is not due to anything Olivia volunteered to do on my behalf, I hope.’
Parker chuckled. ‘Go in and find out for yourself, if you dare.’
‘Ah, there you are, Riley,’ Olivia said, breaking off from a lively exchange with Jake to offer him a sparkling smile. ‘Just in time to tell my over-protective husband that he worries too much.’
Riley held up his hands, palms towards her, as though warding off an attack. ‘I’m afraid you mistake me for a man of courage, Olivia.’
She laughed. ‘Well, I don’t really need your help, I suppose. I am perfectly capable of standing up for myself.’
‘I don’t doubt it,’ he said, kissing the back of her hand and then shaking Jake’s.
‘She will be the death of me yet,’ Jake said, running a hand through hair that was heavily threaded with grey. ‘Whisky for Riley, Parker. I dare say he could do with it. I know I could. My wife drives me to it.’
‘Ha!’ Olivia said defiantly. ‘I simply provide you with an excuse.’
‘Thank you,’ Riley said. ‘It’s been a long day.’
Riley took a chair and then the glass from Parker’s hand with a nod of appreciation. Parker remained in the room. He served a similar purpose for Jake to that which Stout provided for Riley, in that he had informants all over London who often yielded useful information in Jake’s search for vigilante justice. Not that he took on so many cases nowadays, and Riley pretended not to know about them when he did, preferring to channel his friend’s resources into helping with official Scotland Yard enquiries.
‘Dare I ask how the lecture went?’ Riley asked, having fortified himself with a healthy sip of excellent Irish whisky.
‘I am the wrong person to ask,’ Jake said. ‘I had forgotten that I had another engagement this afternoon that I was unable to break.’
‘Ah, I see.’ Riley nodded sympathetically. ‘And Olivia and Eva didn’t see why they shouldn’t go alone, I imagine.’
‘Precisely.’
‘Even after all these years of marriage,’ Olivia said impatiently, ‘Jake still seems to think that I am a helpless female, without wits or guile, who needs protecting the entire time.’
‘Since you have a propensity to turn the most innocent of outings into a war zone, you can hardly expect me to apologise for wanting to keep you safe,’ Jake pointed out mildly.
‘Oh tosh, Jake!’ She waved a hand impatiently at her husband and turned her attention back to Riley. ‘Eva and I did attend and found it very interesting. Barchester is a dry old stick, but his passion for Egypt shines through and is quite infectious.’
‘She now wants to see the pyramids for herself,’ Jake said gloomily. ‘And it’s all your fault, Riley.’
‘Sorry,’ Riley said meekly. ‘But I assume you are not in such a taking because Olivia has become enthused by Egyptology. So
mething else must have happened.’
Jake shook his head, flapped a hand in defeat and allowed his wife to answer.
‘Refreshments were served after the lecture and Barchester circulated, generally making himself agreeable and answering questions. I think his real purpose was to solicit financial support for his next expedition, so Eva and I were obvious targets for him to cultivate.’ Olivia took a sip of her tea, her eyes bright with enthusiasm. ‘We engaged him in conversation and asked about the level of lawlessness in Egypt, expressing a desire to go there but implying that our enthusiasm was tempered by fear for our safety. Barchester assured us that we would never be left unescorted and that his own wife felt safer in Egypt than she did in London.’
‘Which naturally gave them the opening to mention Sir Robert’s murder,’ Jake said, lacking Riley’s earlier self-restraint and rolling his eyes.
‘Eva asked Barchester if he was acquainted with Sir Robert and the strangest thing happened,’ Olivia said. ‘No one will convince me that his eyes did not change colour, like some people’s do when they are furious but attempting to disguise their feelings.’
‘Furious or frightened?’ Riley idly speculated.
‘I wouldn’t put anything past him,’ Olivia said. ‘Frankly, he made my skin crawl. I cannot see him allowing anything to stand in his way of his ambitious efforts in Egypt, or anywhere else for that matter. Anyway, mention of Sir Robert caused his eyes to flare with contempt but he eventually managed to recover his composure, said he’d not had the pleasure of making his acquaintance and excused himself with a speed that bordered upon rudeness.’
Riley shared a look with Jake. ‘He knew of his wife’s association, it seems. I thought that he might. Well done, Olivia.’
‘You see.’ She beamed with pride. ‘You really are making a fuss about nothing, Jake. Barchester didn’t suspect our true motive. Even Riley can see that.’
Riley refrained from taking sides but privately thought that Olivia had a point and that Jake was being over-protective. But then again, if Amelia had done something similarly impulsive, he doubted whether he would have felt quite so forgiving about her behaviour. If Barchester was the murderer and even suspected that Olivia…well, suspected him, as she herself had said, he wasn’t the type to allow anyone to get in the way of his aspirations. That possibility had clearly not occurred to Olivia, but Jake understood it all too well.
Death of a Prosecutor Page 14