Death of a Prosecutor

by Wendy Soliman

  ‘Good point, Jack. I haven’t ruled him out but I can’t see Milton laying himself open to blackmail by involving someone so volatile in his efforts to be rid of Sir Robert.’

  ‘I’m surprised that Fuller admitted being there,’ Salter said as the two men finally emerged from the labyrinth into the cold drizzle of a November morning.

  ‘He only did so to prevent me from looking into his smuggling operation in that warehouse. He couldn’t risk my making good on my threat to send in uniforms heavy-handed. No telling what they would have turned up.’

  ‘Smuggling? How do you figure that one? Customs officials have counting house all over the warehouses.’

  Riley allowed himself a wry smile. ‘And all customs men are honest?’

  ‘Aye, good point.’ Salter gave an indifferent shrug. ‘What now?’

  ‘Tomorrow morning I want you to look into this Fortescue chap. Fuller seemed awfully keen to push us in his direction, which makes me suspicious. Find out if he works, and where. I want to catch him on his own and talk to him about Maisie. I haven’t seen his name in Hardgrave’s notes so I’m guessing he’s never been interviewed.’

  ‘And we shouldn’t be the ones doing the interviewing.’

  ‘Quite, but even so.’ They stopped at a tavern for a late lunch. ‘Think about it, Jack,’ Riley said as they ate. ‘If this young man thought himself to be in love and then found out about Maisie’s relationship with Caldwell, there’s no saying how he would have reacted in the heat of the moment to gain revenge on them both. He was prepared to give up everything for Maisie’s sake and she was giving her all to another man. How would you feel?’

  ‘I hear you, sir, but we’ll have a devil of a job proving it.’

  ‘Perhaps, but if I don’t believe what he tells me, I have a feeling his name will find its way to Caldwell’s barrister.’

  Salter chuckled as they left the tavern and then returned to the Yard, where a message from Jake awaited Riley.

  ‘Parker has information for us,’ he said, raising a brow. ‘Don’t take your hat off, Jack. You’d best come with me.’

  ‘That was quick,’ Salter said, following Riley out into the street again, where they hailed the inevitable hansom to convey them to Grosvenor Square.

  ‘Parker has means and methods that you and I can only dream about.’

  Parker himself let them into the house.

  ‘You have been busy, I hear,’ Riley said to him.

  ‘Some interesting facts have come to light,’ he replied, taking their hats. ‘Jake’s in his library, if you’ll come this way.’

  Jake rose to greet them and extended a warm welcome to Salter, taking a moment to enquire after his family. He then invited them to take seats in front of the fire and offered refreshments in the form of a decent claret which Parker poured for them all, himself included.

  ‘Parker’s the one who’s done the digging, so I will let him tell you what he found,’ Jake said, leaning back in his chair and sipping his drink. ‘Over to you, Parker.’

  ‘Well, I figured the best place to find out anything interesting about the boss’s son-in-law was from Drayton’s workers. So I took myself off to the tavern closest to their warehouses last night and fell into conversation with one of the old-timers. He remembers Milton as a youth very well. He was fresh from university and ready to conquer the world, so my drinking companion—who didn’t have a high opinion of him—told me. He was taken on as a manager but he wanted to run before he could walk. Thought he knew it all and had a dozen ideas for increasing trade.’

  ‘Sounds familiar,’ Riley remarked.

  ‘Hang on,’ Salter said, putting his glass aside and scratching his head. ‘I thought Milton went directly from university into the law.’

  ‘Evidently not,’ Jake said. ‘He’s now thirty, so if he’s been with Sir Robert for seven years, which I think you indicated was the case, Riley.’ Riley nodded in confirmation. ‘Then it follows that he spent a couple of years doing something else before changing direction.’

  ‘Working for Drayton and making himself agreeable to the boss’s daughter, I would imagine,’ Riley speculated.

  ‘Precisely. Drayton has two sons,’ Parker said, ‘but only one daughter—who was, and still is, the apple of her father’s eye. He never could deny her anything, apparently. He even let Milton run with a few of his expansion ideas but only because, my new friend seems to think, the daughter persuaded him to give the dashing young man a chance. They failed because Milton cut corners—’

  ‘That impatience of his again. We keep coming across it,’ Riley said, tapping the fingers of one hand absently against the stem of his glass. ‘He’s a man in a hurry to make a name for himself, and he doesn’t like to mark time.’

  ‘That seems to be about the size of it. The daughter fell for him and insisted upon marrying him, against parental advice, accounting for the bad feeling between Drayton and Milton. At about the same time Sir Robert took on a case at another warehouse that involved fraud, and Milton offered to gather information for him, perhaps because he realised that Drayton would never trust him to do things his way again.’

  ‘That’s good work, Parker.’

  ‘Not sure if it’s any help though,’ Parker replied with a negligent shrug.

  ‘Everything helps. The more we know about the various suspects and what drives them, the easier it will be to home in on the guilty party.’

  ‘What Milton did at Drayton’s is similar to what he’s tried to do with Sir Robert,’ Salter said. ‘He wants to expand into defence work as well as prosecution, since defending is usually better paid. Sir Robert felt they had more than enough to keep them busy in the field of prosecution and refused to be persuaded.’

  ‘He had a conscience and a firm belief in right and wrong,’ Riley added. ‘Milton is not troubled by similarly high standards of morality.’

  Parker refilled their glasses as they continued to mull over the case in general, but the discussion threw up nothing definitive, other than to have it confirmed that Milton’s ambitions exceeded his conscience. He would do just about anything to prove to his sceptical father-in-law that the son of a humble shipping clerk was a worthy husband for his precious daughter. A daughter who, it seemed, took every opportunity to spend time in London with her family but without her husband.

  Darkness was encroaching upon the capital as the two detectives left Grosvenor Square.

  ‘Go home, Jack,’ Riley said, struggling to suppress his frustration. ‘We will come at this again fresh tomorrow.’

  ‘Are you going home too, sir?’

  ‘I am. A few hours away from the case might cause inspiration to strike. One lives in hope.’

  ‘Don’t take it so much to heart, sir. I know you’re keen to find justice for Sir Robert, and I’m sure we will. These things take time. You know that. We’ll get there. We usually do.’

  ‘I hope you’re right, Jack, I hope you’re right. I still keep feeling that we’ve overlooked something fundamental, but I can’t for the life of me think what it might be.’ He slapped Salter’s shoulder and turned in the opposite direction. ‘My regards to your wife. I shall see you in the morning.’

  ‘Bright and early, sir, just as soon as I’ve looked into Fortescue. I have a feeling that we’ll get to the truth tomorrow and Mrs Salter will tell you that my feelings are never wrong.’

  Riley chuckled, raised his hand in a parting gesture and strode off in the direction of his townhouse. His report for the superintendent would have to wait until the morning.

  Chapter Twelve

  Stout had been equally industrious, and regaled Riley upon his return home with the information he had gleaned regarding Fuller.

  ‘Everyone locally appears to be terrified of him, my lord,’ he said, spooning asparagus soup into Riley’s bowl. ‘Including his own family. Especially them. There is talk that Maisie found the courage to stand up to him—’

  ‘Be
cause someone had convinced her that she had self-worth.’ Riley paused with the spoon halfway to his mouth. ‘Fortescue perhaps.’

  ‘Fuller lives well. He always seems to have money, according to the fellow I fell into conversation with in a local tavern. He was willing to talk nonstop, provided I kept his tankard full.’

  ‘We already suspect Fuller of involvement in tobacco smuggling.’

  ‘My drinking partner made no mention of smuggling and I thought it better not to ask. He is employed in the same warehouse as Fuller, and could well be involved with the nefarious goings-on in the place. Either that or he turns a blind eye. I don’t suppose anyone ratting out Fuller could expect to live a long and fruitful live.’

  Riley nodded. ‘Very likely not.’

  ‘I struck up a conversation with the man about Maisie’s murder, and he was happy to talk about the Fullers in general. Anything else would have roused his suspicions.’

  ‘Yet you have managed to confirm my own suspicions about the man, Stout. I don’t suppose we shall ever know whether or not he killed his daughter himself, but I will find a way to have him for smuggling if I possibly can. I despise bullies but dislike rapists even more, especially when the rapist in question picks upon a member of his own family. If we don’t stop him…well, there are two more daughters in that household who won’t be able to avoid him indefinitely.’

  ‘Quite so,’ Stout replied, removing Riley’s empty soup dish and returning to the kitchen to fetch the fish.

  There had been no news awaiting Riley from Chichester, or from Amelia either. The silence on both fronts had an unsettling effect, and Riley found it hard to concentrate with his usual single-minded clarity. Never had he had greater need of Amelia’s comforting presence, but her absence was a timely reminder of the fact that he couldn’t afford to depend upon her. Not unless…until she agreed to marry him. And not even then. Not completely. There were some aspects of his working life—daily examples of man’s inhumanity towards man—to which he would never expose her.

  He turned his thoughts towards Mrs Barchester, hoping her husband had not reacted violently to the news that Sir Robert was her father. He had resisted the urge during their latest conversation to suggest places where she could go and be safe from her husband’s cruel possessiveness. He knew better than to become personally embroiled in witnesses’ travails, but sometimes it was difficult to remain detached.

  Shortly after arriving at Scotland Yard the next day, he was surprised when Salter appeared close on his heels.

  ‘I thought you were looking into Fortescue,’ Riley said. ‘I didn’t expect to see you for a while yet.’

  ‘I was. Found him at the tobacco auctions. The moment he realised who I was, he insisted upon coming back here with me to the Yard, only separately. Didn’t want to be seen with me. He’s just arrived. Barton’s hidden him away in a small room. He insisted upon that as well and wants to talk about Maisie. But he will only talk to you.’

  ‘Well then, let’s not keep our loquacious friend waiting,’ Riley said, getting to his feet immediately with a strong feeling that finally they were making progress. ‘It’s not every day when someone whose activities interest us returns that interest.’

  ‘Can’t help wondering why he didn’t come to Inspector Hardgrave sooner, if he has something to say,’ Salter mused as they made their way to the room where Fortescue awaited their pleasure. ‘Still, gift horses and all that.’

  ‘He sounds skittish. Something or someone has frightened him. Threatened him even, but he’s found the courage to fight back. We shall soon know.’

  Riley walked into the interview room, where a well-dressed and fair-haired young man of about twenty paced anxiously back and forth in the confined space, muttering to himself. When the door opened he glanced up at Riley liked a frightened rabbit and took an involuntary step backwards. The room was not particularly warm but a thin layer of perspiration decorated Fortescue’s face and his hands were unsteady.

  ‘I am Inspector Riley, Mr Fortescue,’ Riley said in his most unthreatening tone. ‘You have already made my sergeant’s acquaintance,’ he added, waving a hand in Salter’s direction. ‘Thank you for coming to see me. Please sit down. I gather you have information regarding Maisie Fuller’s death that you would like to share with me.’

  Fortescue pushed a shock of hair off his forehead with the fingers of both hands and regarded Riley through wary grey eyes. He sat on the edge of a chair and leaned his elbows on the scarred table top, swallowing several times as he fought for composure. And, Riley suspected, courage.

  ‘You were acquainted with Maisie Fuller?’ Riley asked softly as he took the chair opposite the anxious young man.

  ‘I adored her,’ he said, a flash of defiance flaring in his watery eyes.

  ‘I hear she was very beautiful.’

  ‘She was an angel!’ he cried.

  ‘But your father would not have approved of your devotion to her, which is why you were obliged to keep it a secret.’

  ‘No one understood Maisie. Not in the way that I did. Her father is a bully and a brute, Inspector. Even my own father, who employs him, is afraid of him. Not that he will ever admit it, but still…I hate him!’

  ‘Tell me everything you know.’ Riley adopted a casual, non-threatening pose. ‘From the beginning. How did you first come to meet Maisie? I don’t suppose your paths would ordinarily cross.’

  ‘My father is training me to take more responsibility for the warehouses, so I am there every day, overseeing things.’ He flapped a hand. ‘Or trying to.’

  ‘And seeing a great deal that you are not supposed to, I would imagine,’ Riley remarked.

  Fortescue shot Riley another of his startled looks. ‘You know about that?’

  ‘I guessed, but it doesn’t matter for now, unless it relates to Maisie.’

  ‘It doesn’t, not precisely. Her father is in the thick of it, of course. He’s a law unto himself and no one dares try to clip his wings. Anyway, one day I caught sight of Maisie. She had run down to the warehouse with a message for her father. We got talking. That’s how it all began.’

  ‘She confided in you?’

  ‘Over time.’

  ‘What did she tell you? I think I know what her father did to her,’ Riley added when Fortescue hesitated, ‘but I need to hear it from you.’

  Fortescue’s features filled with rage. ‘He is a vile, disgusting, depraved beast! He is the one who should be dead. Not Maisie.’

  Slowly, Fortescue was persuaded to confirm what Kitty had already told them. Fuller had been forcing himself upon his daughter on a regular basis ever since she had turned twelve.

  ‘She told her mother once, but she just waved Maisie off, if you can believe it. She told her to close her eyes and put up with it.’

  Riley could only begin to imagine the impotent rage that Fortescue must have lived with in the months since he and Maisie had become close. He was not a strong physical specimen and would have been no match for Fuller. Nor could he go to his father, who would not interfere in Fuller’s domestic affairs since he was afraid of his employee. Besides, Riley suspected that Fortescue Senior either knew that Fuller diverted the impure tobacco that was supposed to be destroyed in the kiln and turned a blind eye, or was involved in the venture himself.

  ‘Fuller had told Maisie so often that she’d brought what he did to her upon herself that she believed it,’ Fortescue said. ‘I wanted to strangle him with my bare hands. I’m sure he knew that I knew. He used to give me a sneering look, as though daring me to…’

  Fortescue’s small hands clenched and unclenched and tears of frustration blurred his vision. David and Goliath sprang to Riley’s mind, and he understood now what had been less clear to him the previous day. Fuller had given him Fortescue’s name because he knew he could prove nothing. Maisie was dead and could no longer corroborate anything he said. But Fortescue had turned Maisie against her father and he wanted his revenge
. Fortunately, from Riley’s perspective, he had underestimated the young man, mistaking his physical weakness for cowardice.

  ‘What did you and Maisie have planned?’

  ‘My father intends to send me to America when I reach my majority in a few months’ time in order to manage our warehouses on that side of the Atlantic.’ Riley nodded, unable to imagine him making a success of it, but that was not his affair. ‘Maisie was going to come with me.’

  ‘Not as your wife?’ Salter asked.

  ‘No.’ Fortescue gave his head a sad little shake. ‘That would not have been possible. Not immediately, at any rate. She was underage and my father…well, he would not have agreed to the match. I was going to find rooms for Maisie and take care of her, over there where no one knows us and would not have interfered.’

  ‘Yet she was seeing Caldwell,’ Riley said. ‘Did you know?’

  Fortescue looked stricken. ‘I knew she had given herself to other men as well as her father. As I say, that’s all she thought she was worth, but she was saving the money they gave her, hoping to accrue enough to eventually escape from her hateful father. I persuaded her that she was better than that. What she had become was not her fault. At least, I thought I had persuaded her.’ He sighed and again ploughed his fingers abstractedly through his hair. ‘I discovered by accident that she still entertained Caldwell. I saw them together once just before she died. We argued violently, but she told me it meant nothing. She was dead inside when she was with him and she used the money he paid her for lessons to improve her reading and writing, her deportment and elocution.’ A tear slipped down his cheek. ‘She was determined not to let me down and wanted me to be proud of her, you see. She thought that if she was better educated, my father would come to accept her in time. Anyway, I convinced her that I was immensely proud of her courage and loved her just the way that she was. She didn’t need Caldwell and she promised me she would stop seeing him. She met him on the night she died to break it off.’