‘Each suspect will have to be lured in a different way. That’s why I’ve just sent Carter and Soames off to Ware to give Huxton a progress report. That report will touch upon the discovery of private papers hidden in Adelaide’s room that have only just come to light and which we are hopeful will lend us a few clues as to her murderer’s identity.’
‘She can hardly have known she was about to be murdered,’ Salter pointed out.
‘No, but she would have been aware if someone was threatening her.’
‘Hmm.’ Salter didn’t sound convinced.
‘If you can think of a better way to scare the murderer into indiscretion, let’s hear it.’
‘No, you’re right.’ Salter nodded, warming to the idea. ‘We’ve got sod all else to go on.’
‘The aunt will, of course, be there to hear of this startling discovery and you can wager that word will reach the uncle, assuming he isn’t at home, before the end of the day.’
Salter grinned. ‘And Clement? How will you alert him?’
‘Stout did a good job of befriending him and getting him talking yesterday, once he’d poured a few tankards of ale into him, that is.’ It was Riley’s turn to smile. ‘I told Stout to use his initiative and he didn’t disappoint. He brought the conversation round to his “cousin” who’s a detective here at the Yard and implied that his family deplored his career choice. Fortunately Clement is not overburdened with intelligence and didn’t seem suspicious about Stout’s sudden appearance, or the nature of their discourse.’
‘And, let me guess,’ Salter said, his grin widening. ‘He said his mythical cousin was working on Adelaide’s case.’
‘Precisely. Clement had many disparaging comments to make about Adelaide’s profession but was more interested to learn if Stout’s cousin was aware of any imminent arrests.’
‘So today he will go back and mention the papers we’ve supposedly found?’
Riley nodded. ‘And speculate about the problems any suspects will have if they can’t account for their movements on the night of the murder. Stout will imply that we’re very keen to lock people up on the flimsiest of excuses, just to clear the case up.’
‘So being resented by the public at large might actually work to our advantage for once.’ Salter grunted his approval. ‘Someone like Clement will be well aware of the prejudices we struggle to overcome.’
‘I am depending upon it. I want him to wonder how much we know when we bring him in for questioning.’
‘And you’ll let me grill him?’ Salter asked, practically salivating at the prospect.
‘I was saving you for the uncle.’
‘Can’t you let me do both?’ Salter looked angry and Riley knew that despite his condemnation of their behaviour towards him the day before, his sympathies must reside with the girls forced by circumstances into the oldest profession. ‘What about Mirabelle? I get the impression that she’s still high on your list of suspects.’
‘She is.’ Riley allowed himself a reflective pause. ‘There’s just something about her smug satisfaction at Adelaide’s fate that gives me pause. It’s a harsh world those ladies occupy, competition is fierce and friendships are rare, but even so…all that spite.’ Riley shook his head. ‘I wish I knew why she disliked Adelaide so much. It has to go beyond jealousy, surely?’
‘If she was the guilty party she’d probably try and pretend remorse at Adelaide’s death, just to put us off the scent.’
‘Unless their relationship was so acrimonious that she knew we would be told about it, so preferred to tell us herself.’
Salter conceded the point with an abrupt nod. ‘Possibly.’
‘Anyway,’ Riley said with an expansive sigh. ‘We’ve allowed Mrs Sinclair to reopen for business but Adelaide’s room is still locked up. Peterson has charge of the key and no one is permitted entry. I had a feeling that we weren’t finished with that room, I just didn’t know why. Now I do. We shall go back there this afternoon, at a time when we can reasonably assume that all the ladies will be up and about, and ask to speak with them all together. At the same time we’ll have Peterson and Harper in their uniforms making an almighty racket, ripping up floorboards and what have you in that room. Whilst we are talking to the girls downstairs, I will be obliged to chastise Peterson for his indiscretion when he bursts in on us and announces in front of everyone that he’d found hidden diaries.’
Salter grinned. ‘It will be interesting to watch Mirabelle’s reaction.’
‘Indeed it will, sergeant.’ Riley leaned back in his chair and thought the matter through. ‘If Mirabelle’s feud with Adelaide dated back a while it’s reasonable to assume that she would have recorded details of it in her diaries. The discovery of those diaries will also give me a legitimate reason to question Ray Clement without revealing what his brother has already told me. A man who holds such extreme prejudices is seldom able to keep his opinions to himself when given the opportunity to voice them. Hopefully, if he is the guilty party, he won’t be able to help contradicting himself and then we’ll have him.’
‘And the uncle?’
‘Oh, we’ll haul him in here and let him know that we have evidence in Adelaide’s own hand that he lied to us.’ Riley grinned. ‘I shall wave a diary under his nose and say that it proves he saw her more often than he let on.’
‘We don’t know that he actually did,’ Salter said, scratching his head.
‘No, but we will when we see his reaction. If he thinks we have something in writing, he wouldn’t be able to talk himself out of trouble by continuing to lie.’ Riley leaned back and stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankle. ‘I hope—I expect even—that when he hears of the diary’s existence, he will come to us with a revised story. That, of course, will be equally suspicious.’
Riley and Salter spent an hour ironing out the details of their plan. They had just exhausted all anticipated reactions when a tap at the door preceded Sergeant Barton’s head appearing round it.
‘Urgent message for you,’ he said, passing Riley a folded slip of paper.
Riley thanked him, opened his message and spluttered with surprise. ‘That was fast work,’ he said, admiration in his tone.
‘What was?’ Salter asked.
‘Tom Morton offered to try and trace the solicitor acting for Adelaide and has found him already.’ Riley stood and reached for his hat. ‘Come on, Salter, we’re for Lincoln’s Inn.’
A short time later the two policemen were shown into the office of Mr Maurice Talbot, Solicitor and Purveyor of Oaths. He was a tall, thin young man, with a fresh, open face and keenly intelligent eyes.
‘Lord Riley,’ he said, using Riley’s title rather than the rank with which he had introduced himself. ‘Morton said you needed to speak to me about a client’s affairs.’ He motioned Riley and Salter to the chairs in front of his desk and then resumed his own. ‘But as you know there is the tricky matter of confidentiality.’
‘You haven’t heard then?’ Salter asked.
‘Heard what, sergeant?’
‘Miss Mary Huxton, or Adelaide as she preferred to be known, was unfortunately recently murdered.’
‘Murdered?’ Talbot’s expression reflected surprise, shock and then horror. ‘I read a few lines in the newspaper about a woman in her line of work meeting a sticky end, but I didn’t for one moment imagine that it would be Adelaide.’ He ran both hands down his cheeks, leaving pink tracks on his otherwise white face. ‘This is terrible. The poor, poor girl. She was so young. So vibrant and full of life.’
‘You knew her well?’ Riley asked.
‘Only in a professional capacity…my profession of course,’ he added hastily, his pasty complexion colouring. ‘I cannot recall why she first came to me for legal services. A recommendation, I suppose. However, I can tell you that she was a lovely young woman, determined and resolute. She knew her own mind, and having made it up there was no changing it, despite the advice I ga
ve her.’
‘You knew how she made a living?’ Salter asked.
‘Oh yes, she was never anything other than forthright on that subject.’
Salter scowled. ‘And that didn’t concern you?’
‘Sergeant, I am here to give my clients legal advice, not to stand in judgement upon their lifestyles. I leave that sort of thing to the clergy, although I gather that some of London’s more senior clerics were regular customers at Mrs Sinclair’s establishment.’ He shrugged. ‘Make of that what you will. For my part, hypocrisy is the first word that springs to mind.’
‘Adelaide discussed her clients with you?’ Riley asked.
‘Only in broad terms. No names were ever mentioned and I only know about her ecclesiastical clients because on one visit here we fell into a discussion upon religion. Adelaide held very strong and intelligent views in that regard, none of which our church leaders would have appreciated hearing voiced, since they would have had a hard time refuting them.’
Salter turned a reluctant chuckle into a cough. Riley felt a moment’s sympathy for his sergeant, whose firmly held Christian values were being severely tested by this case. Riley himself was less circumspect. He thought of the aunt’s stringent religious beliefs that had been forced upon Adelaide from an early age and had a good deal of sympathy for the dead girl’s point of view.
‘You admired your client,’ he suggested.
‘Very much so. I know nothing of her past circumstances but I do know, mostly from the things that she didn’t say, that she felt disillusioned and badly let down by those who should have protected her.’
‘I understand she saved almost every penny she earned.’ Talbot inclined his head. ‘Are you able to tell us how much that amounted to and who benefits from her demise?’
Talbot hesitated, then reached into a drawer, flipped through some files and extracted the appropriate one. He opened it and quoted a figure. Riley looked sharply at the solicitor, thinking he must have misheard him. When Talbot stared directly back at him without blinking Riley realised that he had not, and uttered an astonished oath.
‘Blimey,’ Salter breathed. ‘We’re in the wrong line of work.’
‘I don’t think you should be considering a new career,’ Riley replied, chuckling. ‘I doubt whether your services would be in much demand.’
Salter grunted.
‘I assume you advised Adelaide upon her investments,’ Riley said, returning his attention to Talbot.
‘I enjoyed that privilege.’ He went on to tell them where her money had been placed. ‘As to who benefits…’ He paused to flip through more pages. ‘A lady by the name of Celeste Clement with an address in Battersea is the sole beneficiary.’
Riley and Salter exchanged a significant look. ‘Is Mrs Clement aware that she stands to inherit?’
Talbot spread his hands. ‘I have absolutely no idea, Lord Riley, but if she is, she didn’t hear it from me.’
‘Has she been in touch with you?’ Salter asked.
‘No. I was unaware that Adelaide was dead until you came here this morning.’
‘And if we had not tracked you down, you would have remained in ignorance. What would have happened then?’ Riley asked.
‘Adelaide was cautious by nature. We had an arrangement whereby she called here once a quarter to discuss her investments.’
‘Her investments?’ Salter scowled. ‘Was that strictly necessary?’
‘If you think I invented the necessity in order to increase my income then you mistake the matter, sergeant,’ Talbot said crisply. ‘The meetings were Adelaide’s idea but I will confess that I looked forward to them. We always enjoyed a lively exchange of views. I liked her forthright manner and cynical attitude. But to answer your question, Lord Riley, if for any reason she did not keep one of her standing appointments then I had instructions to enquire of Mrs Sinclair as to her welfare. That is how I would have discovered what had happened to her.’
‘She feared that she might be killed?’ Riley asked, sitting forward expectantly.
‘She worked in a dangerous profession and had no one other than me to protect her interests. I asked her once about her family but she wouldn’t tell me anything about them and was adamant that if anything did happen to her then they were not to be involved in her affairs. She even left instructions for her funeral, which is not to be religious, and to which none of her family are to be admitted.’
Riley wasn’t surprised to hear it. Adelaide knew how to bear a grudge and probably considered that she had earned the right.
‘I shall have to contact Mrs Clement and make the necessary arrangements.’
‘Not yet, if you don’t mind. Adelaide’s body is still with the police pathologist and I would like for it to remain there for the time being. I hope to be able to bring the murderer to justice in a short time from now and would prefer for Mrs Clement not to know of her windfall before then. She is aware of Adelaide’s death but not, as far as I know, that she stands to benefit from it. She isn’t a suspect but people connected to her could be, especially if they somehow knew of Adelaide’s arrangements.’
‘Very well,’ Talbot said, standing and extending his hand. ‘I shall do nothing until I hear from you again, Lord Riley.’
Riley shook it, thanked him and he and Salter left the premises.
‘You are thinking, I suppose,’ Salter said as they hailed a cab to take them to Maiden Lane, ‘that if Michael Clement knew of Adelaide’s intentions it now makes him a suspect. Ray was getting harder for him to control and was asking awkward questions about his involvement with Adelaide. Perhaps he’d also followed Michael to Battersea and seen Celeste. There are any number of possibilities that might have made it expedient for Michael to do away with his would-be partner. A partner whom he’d only needed for her money. If she was dead then her money would come to him through his wife anyway.’
‘I’d be failing in my duty if I didn’t think along those lines, Salter,’ Riley agreed as he climbed into the cab that rattled to a halt at the curb, ‘but I still can’t see Michael as the throat-cutting type. Besides, he was in France at the time.’
Salter allowed himself another grunt. ‘So was Derek Huxton. Supposedly.’
‘I shall find a way to ensure that Michael and Celeste Clement learn of the existence of the diaries, too,’ Riley assured his sergeant. ‘Just to be thorough.’
‘We seem to be gaining more suspects, rather than eliminating them,’ Salter replied gloomily.
Riley nodded, feeling frustrated because they appeared to be taking one step forward followed by two in the opposite direction. ‘Perhaps this is all about the money, after all,’ he mused, ‘and the superintendent was right to make that suggestion. Hopefully time will tell.’
Peterson and Harper, following Riley’s orders, were waiting for Riley and Salter at Maiden Lane, conspicuous in their uniforms. Tennyson opened the door to them, still in shirtsleeves, his sparse hair standing up at odd angles, as though he had not long been out of bed and hadn’t given any thought to his personal grooming.
‘Oh, it’s you lot. What do you want this time?’
‘Access, if you please,’ Riley replied, thrusting his hat at him and striding past the man into the entrance salon. ‘Be so good as to have Mrs Sinclair and all the girls join me in this room. Peterson, you and Harper are to tear Adelaide’s room apart. We are missing something and I don’t want you to stop until you find it.’
‘Very good, sir.’
‘Here, you can’t come in here, throwing your weight about and destroying things,’ Tennyson protested.
Salter stood very close to him and poked his chest with his forefinger. ‘I think you’ll find that we can. What’s more, we can arrest anyone who stands in our way and throw him in a cell. Think on that before you start telling us what we can and can’t do.’
Tennyson looked down at Salter’s finger, as though giving serious consideration to the idea of snapping i
t like a twig. Common sense prevailed and he moved away with an angry snarl. Meanwhile the two uniformed constables lumbered up the stairs in their heavy boots, making enough noise to wake the dead. Riley had the satisfaction of hearing doors opening on the top floor and female voices demanding to know what was going on.
‘Rustle up some tea whilst we wait, Tennyson, there’s a good chap,’ Salter said.
Tennyson scowled, then shrugged his massive shoulders and stomped off towards the kitchen, muttering under his breath.
They had just been served with their tea by a nervous-looking Lily when Mrs Sinclair appeared on the stairs, impeccably attired as always.
‘Lord Riley,’ she said, descending slowly, one elegant hand sliding along the polished bannister. ‘This is an unexpected pleasure. Do you have news of the investigation?’
‘We are making steady progress.’
‘I don’t suppose you can tell me much. But still, it was kind of you to permit us to reopen our doors. Life must go on. Understandably, business is slow and the girls are on edge. None of us will feel safe until Adelaide’s killer is found.’
She took the chair across from Riley and he resumed his own. ‘As I say, we are making headway, which is what we came to talk to you about.’
‘I will gladly do anything I can to help but I have already told you everything I know.’
‘Tennyson is asking the other girls to come down. Once they are all here, I will explain what point we have reached, which will save me from having to repeat myself.’
‘How intriguing.’ Mrs Sinclair folded her hands in her lap. ‘I assume you have a suspect.’
‘Oh yes,’ Salter said, more loudly than necessary since the rest of the girls were now straggling down the stairs, unable to avoid hearing every word that was spoken. Mirabelle, Riley noticed, was standing apart from the others and paying particular attention. She also looked distinctly uneasy.
‘Come and join us, ladies,’ Salter said, standing and giving them an exaggerated bow. ‘It ain’t like you’re shy now, is it?’
‘Salter,’ Riley said in a mildly castigating tone.
Death of a Courtesan: Riley Rochester Investigates Page 22