Death of a Prosecutor

by Wendy Soliman

  ‘And being obligated to serve Milton, whom you actively disliked, as well as Peter Dunlop and anyone else Sir Robert chose to employ?’

  ‘Yes well, we all have our crosses to bear in this life, Inspector.’

  ‘But you were willing to continue in your position, the devoted clerk, because Sir Robert had given you certain assurances. When your time came to retire, or when Sir Robert gave up his practise, you would benefit financially. Is that the case?’

  Price again pursed his lips, a habit, Riley supposed, that he adopted when required to think on his feet. ‘He did give me his word with regard to my future, it’s true. But then, why would he not? I gave him no reason to be dissatisfied with my service. Quite the reverse, in fact.’

  ‘So you had expectations.’ Riley leaned back in his chair. ‘You cannot have been best pleased when his long lost daughter appeared out of the blue and Sir Robert seemed so taken with her.’

  Price adopted a prim expression. ‘That was none of my affair.’

  ‘You weren’t too worried about his legitimate children. You know they were a severe disappointment to Sir Robert. Even so, I’m sure you made oblique references to Norman’s unnatural relationship with Boland at every opportunity, just to ensure that the friction between father and son endured.’ Riley paused to bestow a speculative glance upon Price. ‘It must have come as a terrible shock to you when you realised that Sir Robert had made a new will.’

  Price tutted. ‘How could I possibly have known about that?’

  ‘Enlighten our recalcitrant guest, Sergeant, if you would be so kind.’ Riley leaned one arm casually on the table in front of him, watching Price intently. He paled even more beneath Riley’s close scrutiny, probably aware that the game was up.

  ‘With pleasure, sir.’ Salter stepped forward, leaning close to Price, invading his space. ‘You forgot to mention that Sir Robert keeps a locked strongbox concealed in his private room.’

  ‘It seemed unimportant. I do not have access to it.’

  Salter grabbed the back of Price’s chair, rocking it from side to side until Price almost toppled out of it. ‘Don’t treat us like we came down in the last shower, sunshine! You’ve been misdirecting this investigation from the start and you seemed so obsequious, so devastated by Sir Robert’s loss that we almost fell for it. Almost.’

  ‘I am devastated,’ Price insisted, but his tone now lacked conviction and seemed almost desperate, as well it should.

  ‘It took us a while to realise that Sir Robert didn’t keep his personal papers at home, probably because he didn’t trust his son not to pry into them. So they had to be somewhere else,’ Salter said. ‘Then we remembered there was a key amongst those Sir Robert carried with him that we couldn’t match up to a lock. So I had another little look around his room today, after you came here to help us with our enquiries, and guess what?’ Salter sent the hapless Price a look of total disdain. ‘I can see that you don’t have to guess. You already know. Sir Robert kept everything that mattered to him in that strongbox that was missing from his room when we first looked through it.’

  ‘We didn’t pay much attention to the empty space in one of the drawers at the time, but we should have done,’ Riley added. ‘That was a grave error on our part. However, my sergeant took another look today and the strongbox is now back where it belongs, in that drawer. It contains a copy of his revised will, and the only other person who had a key was you.’

  Price wiped perspiration from his brow with the back of his hand. ‘I…well, that is…’

  ‘Don’t try and lie your way out of this because we already know the truth.’ Salter held up a meaty hand. ‘You expected a substantial legacy from Sir Robert. You felt you had earned it. But once Barchester had left and after Sir Robert himself quit chambers, you became suspicious so you removed the strongbox and had a gander. When you read the terms of his new will and realised he had left you next to nothing, giving it all to Mrs Barchester instead, you lost all sense of reason.’

  ‘And forgot to return the strongbox to its right place,’ Riley added. ‘You must have been mightily relieved when we didn’t ask awkward questions about that empty drawer.’

  Price dropped his head into his splayed hands and wept. ‘He promised me. Promised most faithfully that he wouldn’t forget me. I confronted him after Barchester left, before I looked at the new will, wanting to ensure that he was all right. He told me he’d had enough of the law, of the constant pressure placed upon him both by his cases and by his ungrateful family.’ Price became increasingly agitated. His voice rose and he flapped his hands to emphasise his point. ‘He intended to sell out to Milton and take a world tour with his daughter to get her away from Barchester’s clutches. He said she was worth saving. But what about me?’ He removed his glasses and rubbed his tear-stained eyes with the back of one hand. ‘What about all the sacrifices I had made helping Sir Robert to build his reputation? It was one of my proudest moments when I watched him knighted for services to the crown. He couldn’t have done it without me. He often said as much. And yet I subsequently discovered that I was to get a miserable legacy of fifty pounds a year after his death and nothing before then.’

  ‘So you sped his death along,’ Salter said, a brutal edge to his voice.

  ‘I was so angry. All the resentment I had bottled up over the years came to the fore and when I couldn’t make him see how unreasonable he was being. How unfair…well, I just snapped.’

  ‘No, Price, you did not snap,’ Riley said. ‘If you had stabbed Sir Robert during the course of your argument after Barchester left chambers, that could be described as a heat of the moment reaction. But you waited until the following morning, planned all night how you intended to proceed and get away with it, and then stabbed him in the back with his own dagger, rather as you felt he had stabbed your back, metaphorically speaking.’

  ‘That is premeditated murder, and you will hang for it,’ Salter said, not an ounce of sympathy in his tone.

  ‘Charge him, Sergeant, take his statement and lock him up,’ Riley said, weary all of a sudden and no longer able to face the man who had killed his friend. He got up and left the interview room without another word.

  Salter joined Riley in his office a half-hour later. ‘He’s made a detailed statement, sir,’ he said, slumping into a chair. ‘It’s over.’

  ‘You see, Jack, your concerns about sexually motivated crime were unfounded on this occasion. Price killed out of a sense of injustice. His son’s unnatural preferences didn’t come into it. Anyway, you’re right. It’s over. I’d best go and enlighten the superintendent and Danforth.’

  ‘But you are not going to let Fuller get away with his smuggling either, are you, sir?’

  ‘That’s a matter for the Board of Customs and Excise. I am more concerned with getting the charges against Caldwell dropped.’

  ‘A word in your friend Lord Isaac’s ear about Fuller’s abuse of his daughter ought to do the trick.’

  It seemed that all of Scotland Yard knew that an arrest had been made and Riley accepted the congratulations of his colleagues as he made his way to the superintendent’s office, where Danforth joined him. Riley explained how they had arrived at the truth and that they had a signed confession.

  ‘Well done, Rochester!’ The superintendent looked pleased with the outcome.

  ‘Quite,’ agreed Danforth, not quite so enthusiastically.

  ‘Price would probably have got away with it if he hadn’t used that dagger and if he’d taken Sir Robert’s valuables,’ Riley conceded. ‘Thankfully, his resentment and arrogance worked in our favour.’ He paused. ‘Eventually.’

  Riley went on to explain his doubts about Caldwell’s guilt. ‘I realise it isn’t my case, but it doesn’t sit well with me to see Caldwell stand trial.’

  ‘Steady on, Rochester,’ Danforth said. ‘Caldwell’s been charged. He was having sexual relations with a young girl and her murdered body was found on his doorstep. Seem
s he has a case to answer and if he’s innocent, that’s for a jury to decide.’

  ‘Even though her father was the first to have what you describe as sexual relations with her? He ruined her life and now cries crocodile tears over her demise. No one will convince me that he didn’t kill her himself. Not only had she stopped letting him anywhere near her but he somehow got wind of the fact that she planned to leave England with the son of his employer. If he allowed her to go it would have spoiled Fuller’s lucrative sideline since he would have been blamed by his employer for encouraging his daughter to smile at Fortescue’s son and summarily dismissed.’

  ‘Even so, Inspector Hardgrave ought to be told of this new evidence,’ Danforth insisted dogmatically.

  ‘And he would be, if he was here, but he is still on leave,’ Riley pointed out in a reasonable tone.

  ‘Leave it with me, Rochester,’ the superintendent said after a brief pause. ‘I know one or two people at the top of the Board of Customs and Excise who can be trusted. I’ll point them in the right direction of the smuggling at Fortescue’s and ensure they are aware that Fuller’s up to his neck in the business. We’ll see what comes out of that and take it from there.’

  Riley nodded, aware that it was the best he could hope for. He returned to the main room shared by the detectives and congratulated those who had helped him to solve the case, not forgetting Sergeant Barton and his uniformed constables, Peterson and Harper. He then left Salter to tidy up the paperwork and took himself home.

  But the rest he had hoped for was dashed by the sight of the telegram boy leaving his stoop and the black-edged telegram that awaited him in the hall.

  ‘It’s happened then,’ he said to Stout.

  ‘Seems that way, my lord. My condolences.’

  ‘Thank you, Stout.’

  Riley opened the cable and had his worst fears confirmed. His nephew had died quietly in his sleep earlier that afternoon, surrounded by his immediate family. Riley was now the Marquess of Chichester’s official heir. He dictated a response for Stout to send, confirming that he would be in Chichester the following day.

  ‘It’s not all doom and gloom, my lord. Mrs Cosgrave has returned and asks if you will dine with her this evening.’

  The news was bittersweet. ‘I will indeed,’ he said.

  Two hours later, bathed and suitably attired, Riley prepared himself to walk the short distance to Amelia’s residence in Chelsea.

  ‘Wish me luck, Stout,’ he said, accepting his hat and gloves from his man.

  ‘Good luck, my lord. Although somehow I doubt whether you will need it.’

  Riley wished he felt equally confident.

  He arrived at Amelia’s home and was admitted by Norris, her long-standing butler.

  ‘Good evening, my lord.’ He took possession of Riley’s outdoor garments. ‘Madam is in the drawing room and expecting you.’

  Riley paused on the threshold of the room in question, suddenly beset by nerves. Never had he wanted something so much, and never had he been quite so unsure of his reception. He took a deep, fortifying breath and, aware of Norris with his hand on the doorknob sending him curious sideways glances, somehow pulled himself together and walked through the door when it opened before him.

  Amelia stood in front of the fire, her back to him, apparently deep in thought. She wore a gown in a becoming shade of raspberry that fitted her svelte form a little too graphically for Riley’s comfort. The creamy skin of her bare shoulders shimmered beneath the candlelight. Her lovely profile, accentuated in light and shadow as she turned to face him, took his breath away. Amelia was the soulmate he had almost given up on ever finding, and she understood him like no one else ever would. But if she had decided against him—and it was impossible to tell from her expression whether she had or not since it gave nothing away—what would he do then? How would he recover from his disappointment?

  She seemed pleased to see him, as evidenced by the smile that lit up her features when their gazes clashed. Even so, perhaps the smile was intended to soften the blow she planned to deliver as she let him down gently. He didn’t want to be treated gently, damn it! He just wanted her for his wife. If she declined he now had no choice but to select someone else and the thought was abhorrent to him.

  ‘There you are, Riley.’

  She walked towards him, hand outstretched. Riley took that hand in both of his own and kissed the back of it.

  ‘How is your aunt?’

  ‘Irascible, and finding fault with everything, which is the best possible sign. She is on the mend and has no further need of my company.’

  ‘I am very glad to hear it. I found myself jealous of an old lady for depriving me of your society at a time when I was dearly in need of it.’

  ‘Chichester?’ she asked, her hand still in Riley’s.

  Riley lowered his eyes. ‘Jasper died this afternoon.’

  ‘I am so very sorry. I know it was not unexpected, but it is still so terribly sad. Your mother and brother must be devastated. And the news places a terrible strain and responsibility upon you. I can quite see that.’ She reclaimed her hand and turned towards Norris, who hovered in the doorway. ‘Whisky for Lord Riley, please,’ she said.

  The whisky was delivered and Norris discreetly withdrew. Riley waited for Amelia to seat herself in the corner of a settee and then, swishing the tails of his coat aside, took the place beside her.

  ‘You will go to Chichester?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, tomorrow. I should really have gone before now, but Sir Robert’s murder…’

  ‘Have you got to the truth? Somehow I think you must have. Tell me.’

  Riley did so, explaining the blind alleys they had followed before suspecting the identity of the killer. He avoided the subject of his unanswered proposal that hung between them like an uninvited and unwelcome guest. All the time that Riley didn’t press her for a response, he reasoned, there was still cause for hope.

  ‘I should like to witness Norman Glover’s reaction when he learns the truth about his father’s estate,’ she said with satisfaction. ‘He sounds most unworthy.’

  Riley didn’t respond. He couldn’t. He felt choked, maladroit and unworthy of the lovely creature who sat beside him.

  ‘You want my answer,’ Amelia said into the heavy silence that was in danger of becoming embarrassing.

  ‘Only if it is a positive one,’ Riley said, finishing his drink in one swallow and setting the empty glass aside.

  ‘You must be aware that my feelings are engaged, Riley.’ She turned to face him, her eyes moist with tears. ‘More than engaged. I am deeply, passionately in love with you. I have been almost since first making your acquaintance.’ Riley’s spirits lifted and he dared to hope. ‘But I fear that will not be enough.’

  ‘Don’t be such a widgeon. It will be more than enough. What are you so worried about?’ he asked, thinking he already knew the answer to his own question.

  ‘Your mother. She has expectations for you that don’t include me. In fact, she does not like me. She’s made that abundantly clear.’

  ‘I have a confession to make,’ he replied, taking her hand. ‘Don’t be angry with me, but she came to see me a few days ago, just before she left for Chichester, reminding me yet again of my responsibilities. My mother can be very assertive, as you will know, and is fiercely protective of the family’s image, but she was very unhappy and…well, I know I have teased her for too long and wanted to reassure her.’

  ‘That is what worries me. She will never be reassured by my presence in your life.’

  ‘Underneath that sometimes gruff exterior she is very affectionate and wants me to be happy. So I told her I had proposed to you and that you were keeping me waiting for an answer.’

  Amelia covered her mouth with her hand. ‘She must have been appalled. She thinks I am barren.’

  ‘And I put her straight on the point. Don’t worry, she can be very discreet and won’t tell a soul.
But I fear she will now be very nice to you indeed because, as I say, she wants me to marry for love.’ Riley smiled. ‘Be warned, you might find being on her good side more trying then when you are at odds with one another.’

  Tears streamed down Amelia’s face. ‘Are you still absolutely sure this is what you want, Riley. I shall not hold you to your proposal if you’ve had a change of heart.’

  ‘A change of heart!’ He pulled her into his arms. ‘I would have caught Sir Robert’s killer on the first day if I had not been distracted by thoughts of you, caught up as I was in a state of agony until I received your response.’

  She laughed up at him. ‘Did you really think I would turn you down?’

  ‘I really did.’

  ‘Poor Riley.’ She reached up and touched his face. ‘I didn’t mean to make you suffer. I was just so worried about your family’s reaction and being needed by my aunt gave me an opportunity to distance myself from you and think long and hard. I find it very hard to think coherently when you are on hand to distract me.’

  Riley kissed his future wife, hard and passionately. They were both breathing deeply when he reluctantly released her.

  ‘I would come to Chichester with you, but it seems inappropriate.’

  ‘Best not, my love. It seems wrong to make the announcement quite yet. Let’s wait until after Jasper’s funeral, then we will tell the world.’ He smiled at her. ‘I have waited this long for you. I can wait just a little longer.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Two weeks after Jasper’s funeral, Riley and Amelia, now officially engaged to be married, attended a dinner party hosted by Jake and Olivia. Isaac and Eva were in attendance too. Congratulations were offered and warmly received by the affianced couple. After the torment of Jasper’s funeral it was pleasant to be back in London, amongst friends who were truly pleased for them both.

  ‘Have you decided upon a date yet?’ Olivia asked. ‘I realise you are still in mourning for your nephew, Riley, but…’