Death of an Artist (Riley Rochester Investigates Book 5)

  Riley Rochester Investigates

  Death of an Artist

  Wendy Soliman

  Riley Rochester Investigates Book 5 Series 1

  Death of an Artist

  Copyright © Wendy Soliman 2018

  Edited by Perry Iles

  Cover design by Jane Dixon-Smith

  This e-Book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places or events, the names, characters, incidents, and locations contained are from the author’s imagination and are not a resemblance of actual living or dead persons, business, or events. Any similarities are coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any method, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise without the prior written permission of

  The Author – Wendy Soliman

  This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction fines and/or imprisonment. The e-Book cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this e-Book can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the author.

  Chapter One

  London, February 1871

  ‘Welcome home, my lord. My lady.’

  ‘Thank you, Norris.’

  Riley Rochester took his wife’s elbow and escorted her into the entrance hall of her Chelsea residence; now Riley’s residence, too. The newlyweds removed their coats, leaving Riley’s man Stout and a footman to unload their luggage from the cab that had transported them from Waterloo station.

  ‘Come along, let’s get you warm.’

  Riley led Amelia through to the drawing room. A substantial fire sent flames shooting up the chimney and the lamps were already lit, creating a welcoming atmosphere. Thick velvet curtains had been closed against a rapidly darkening sky. Amelia sat beside the fire and held out her hands to the blaze. Riley chose to stand with his back to it, allowing the heat to seep into his bones, eradicating the chill created by a sea crossing in rough weather and the added effects of London’s freezing fog.

  ‘Some tea for Lady Riley if you please, Norris, and I will take a whisky.’

  ‘At once, my lord.’

  ‘Lady Riley.’ Amelia looked up at her husband when the butler left the room. ‘That will take some getting used to. I feel like an impostor.’

  ‘If that’s the case then all those people who gathered in St. George’s Chapel three weeks ago to envy my good fortune must have been hallucinating.’

  Amelia smiled. ‘I hope your colleagues enjoyed themselves. I was worried that they would feel out of their depth.’

  Lord Riley Rochester, younger brother of Henry, Marquess of Chichester, and his reluctant heir following the death of Henry’s only son, had disappointed his family by taking up a career as a detective at Scotland Yard. He held the rank of inspector, eschewing the possibility of promotion in favour of remaining in charge of some of the more high-profile cases in London and beyond, pitting his wits against murderers and scoundrels from all walks of life. His success rate when it came to solving murders was impressively high.

  ‘My sergeant would have been mortally offended if he had not been invited.’ Riley chuckled. ‘Jack told me, not so subtly, that Mrs Salter had already purchased a new hat for the occasion even before the invitations were sent out.’

  ‘And very dashing she looked in it, too. I am glad you invited your detective constables, as well as your superintendent and Sergeant Barton.’

  ‘Barton runs the front desk and has forgotten more about policing than the majority of us will ever learn. Whenever a particular type of crime is committed, he can reel off the names of the villains most likely to have carried it out. He knowledge of London’s underworld is invaluable. It’s taken me months to win his respect, him being one of the loudest critics of the establishment of an elite detective department. All that hard work would have been for naught if he hadn’t been invited.’ Riley chuckled. ‘You can be sure that he would have found a dozen little ways to make my life more difficult.’

  ‘God forbid! Anyway, they all relaxed at the wedding breakfast once the champagne started flowing.’

  ‘You and my incorrigible niece went out of your way to make them feel welcome, which was thoughtful of you both.’

  ‘I was glad to see Sophia shine. It’s been a difficult time for her, coping with the death of her brother as well as her mother’s resentment of you.’ Amelia paused. ‘Of us.’

  Riley sat beside his wife and took her hand. ‘Cabbage is far more astute than a fifteen-year-old has any right to be. She is to remain in London for the rest of the season, I’m pleased to say. I thought that her mother might insist that she return to Chichester now that she no longer has Jasper to fuss over, but happily that will not happen. Celia probably finds her effervescent character wearing, given that it’s diametrically opposed to her own state of near-permanent pessimism.’

  ‘Henry and Celia are staying for the season, too, I gather.’

  ‘Yes. Celia may be a prickly individual, but she is also a marchioness, so she’ll be invited everywhere. Society in full swing will be a welcome distraction from her grief. She will be too busy to mope.’

  Riley paused when Norris returned to the room. He thanked the butler when he delivered his whisky on a silver salver and took a healthy sip of his drink.

  ‘The whole family will join your mother in Rochester House?’

  ‘Yes, but I dare say you will have the pleasure of Cabbage’s company for a great deal of the time.’

  ‘I shall not mind that. She can help me plan the dinner that I am giving your family later this week.’

  ‘Don’t tire yourself, my love. Talking of which, how are you feeling?’

  ‘I’m sorry to have been so feeble in Paris, Riley, being unwell all the time. I hope it didn’t spoil things for you.’

  ‘Feeble?’ He crouched in front of her and claimed both of her hands ‘If you were –which you were not – then the blame is not yours alone.’

  Amelia managed a wan smile. ‘It does take two, I suppose, but still…’

  ‘Morning sickness is a normal consequence of your condition, so I’m reliably informed.’

  ‘But I have been sick morning, noon and night.’ She pulled a face. ‘We were in the city of lovers and I was…well, somewhat unlovely.’

  ‘I adore you, Amelia, even when you turn green.’ She playfully thumped his arm. ‘Had I known that you were increasing I would not have suggested a sea crossing to France at this time of year. You should have told me.’

  ‘And have you fussing over me?’ She shook her head. ‘I wanted to do things in the proper order and become your wife before contemplating motherhood. Besides, I wasn’t absolutely sure, not until a week or so before the wedding, and at that point, it was too late to stop the arrangements.’

  ‘Well, my own mother will be delighted by the news, and will pretend not to notice when our child arrives unfashionably early.’

  ‘Very delicately put.’ Amelia chuckled. ‘Just so long as it’s a boy.’

  Riley smiled as he took the seat beside his wife and placed a hand protectively over Amelia’s still flat stomach. ‘Even if it is not.’

  ‘Because she will be reassured about my capacity to…well, breed.’

  ‘You know how seriously she takes the future of the marquessate.’

  ‘And I would so like to ease the pressure of expectation by producing a healthy son, but if I do so then Celia, who already looks
upon me as a rival, will get into the most dreadful taking and likely never speak to me again.’

  ‘Celia is not a happy person. She never has been. And then Jasper, her pride and joy, her only son, succumbed to his ailments. I suppose she has a right to feel sour, but I will not tolerate that sourness being focused upon you. You have done nothing to deserve it.’

  Amelia leaned across and gently placed a kiss on Riley’s cheek. ‘Thank you. When shall we break the news to the rest of your family?’

  ‘At your dinner party, I suggest. It will be as good a time as any. Besides, if we do not, I suspect that my mother will notice the signs and be offended because she wasn’t immediately told. She deserves that pleasure.’

  ‘Very well. Your mother will fuss, but if we don’t tell her, we can’t tell anyone else. I’d like to spend as much time with you as I can before the world and his wife intrudes upon our domestic felicity.’ She flashed a whimsical smile. ‘Although, of course, since you are due to return to Scotland Yard the day after tomorrow, I suppose I shall have to become accustomed to sharing you with a mistress whose attractions I am quite incapable of competing with.’

  ‘There is nothing attractive about the capital’s underbelly, my love, but someone has to catch the scoundrels and murderers and I seem to have an aptitude for it.’ He slipped an arm around Amelia and she leaned her head on his shoulder. ‘I’m not sure what that says about my character.’

  ‘Leaving me to fret over your wellbeing while you chase after ne’er-do-wells.’

  Riley smiled. ‘I am indestructible.’

  ‘Such arrogance is likely to be your undoing.’ She sat upright again and finished her tea. ‘Well, I suppose I had better go up and change for dinner.’

  ‘Rest for a while first. There’s no rush. It is just the two of us tonight.’

  ‘Oh, I dare say Stout has organised something special by way of celebration to mark our return,’ Amelia said. ‘I know he is your personal valet, and technically junior to Norris, but I suspect that all my servants will wind up deferring to him. He is rather like you in that respect. He exudes a natural authority that makes people want to please him.’

  ‘Just as long as I please you, that is my only concern.’

  ‘Well, I suppose you will do,’ she said, tilting her head in a pensive manner.

  Riley smiled and kissed the end of her nose. ‘You don’t play fair, my lady. All the time you are increasing, I cannot take my revenge for your wicked teasing.’

  ‘I won’t break, Riley. Besides, if I hadn’t told you about the baby, your own wickedness wouldn’t have stopped.’ She nibbled the end of her index finger. ‘I wish now that I had not. Told you yet, that is.’

  Riley laughed and shook his head. ‘Well, there are degrees of wickedness, and I am nothing if not inventive.’ He drained his glass and put it aside. ‘Don’t worry about the smooth running of the household, or that Norris’s nose will be put out of joint. Stout isn’t given to throwing his weight about, and your servants will soon adjust to the changes.’

  They left the drawing room together and dined in intimate solitude an hour later, waited upon by Stout, who had indeed made a special effort to mark the occasion. He had always approved of Amelia and actually smiled when Riley told him that they were engaged to be married. Stout seldom found reason to smile at anything.

  Riley and Amelia both thanked him when they were replete and then retired early.

  They spent the following evening with Riley’s family. His mother, the dowager marchioness, had laid on a celebratory dinner for them at Rochester House, where she resided since she had made London her permanent home. Riley’s brother Henry, whose house it was, didn’t spend a great deal of time in the capital but that situation would change now that Jasper was dead and the memories in Chichester were so painful for him. He was present that evening, as was Celia, who looked miserable the entire time and made little effort to contribute to the conversation.

  ‘Tell me all about Paris, Uncle Riley,’ Sophia said, bouncing up and down in her chair.

  ‘Refined young ladies do not bounce, Sophia,’ Riley’s mother reprimanded.

  ‘Was it terribly romantic?’ Sophia ignored her grandmother’s chastisement and continued to pepper Riley with questions. ‘I have always wanted to go. Mama said that we would but then Jasper became ill and so of course we couldn’t, and then…’

  Riley held up a hand to stem her flow of words, laughing. ‘It was cold and grey for the most part, but we managed to enjoy ourselves.’

  Daniel Gaston, Riley’s brother-in-law, choked on a laugh. ‘I can quite imagine how,’ he said.

  Riley’s mother scowled at him.

  ‘You were the most beautiful bride in the history of brides, Amelia,’ Sophia said earnestly. ‘Everyone said so, even Mama,’ she said, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. Celia had temporarily left the room, and was not there to overhear her daughter’s indiscreet remark. ‘And she doesn’t very often say anything nice about anyone.’

  ‘Sophia! What a thing to say about your mother.’

  ‘Well, Grandmamma,’ Sophia replied with wide-eyed disingenuity, ‘it’s true, and you have always encouraged me to speak the absolute truth.’

  ‘Thank you, Sophia,’ Amelia said hastily, before Riley’s mother could deliver a set-down that would spoil the ambiance, ‘but all brides have a duty to look their very best on their wedding day.’ She glanced at Riley. ‘Especially when they are marrying through choice.’

  ‘Why would anyone marry for any other reason?’ Sophia asked, wrinkling her brow.

  Ah, the innocence of youth, Riley thought with a fond smile.

  ‘Shall we go through?’ his mother asked hastily when her butler announced that dinner was served.

  *

  Riley turned up his collar against the freezing fog the following morning and took a cab to Scotland Yard. He walked in to his workplace to be greeted by a subdued cheer and several handshakes. But he sensed an atmosphere.

  ‘Something amiss?’ he asked Sergeant Barton.

  ‘Danforth’s on the warpath,’ Barton replied, sniffing. ‘He’s made our lives merry hell while you’ve been living it up in places foreign.’

  Why?’ he asked, baffled.

  Barton sniffed. ‘Couldn’t rightly say but if you asked me to hazard a guess, I’d say your chief inspector’s peeved cos you didn’t invite him to your nuptials.’

  ‘Ah.’

  Danforth had perverse sexual appetites which had come to light during a previous murder investigation headed by Riley. The chief inspector’s predilections had become general knowledge, causing him acute embarrassment and weakening his position of authority. He had been obliged to weather a storm of ridicule, and it was only thanks to Riley that he had retained his position as a senior detective. Instead of showing gratitude, his resentment of Riley appeared to have increased exponentially. Riley had no interest in games of petty one-upmanship and absolutely no desire to see a man of his questionable morals at his wedding ceremony. Clearly, his exclusion from the invitation list would cause additional friction between them but Riley didn’t have the energy to care.

  ‘Talk to Jack Salter,’ Barton said, rubbing his nose. ‘He’s borne the brunt of Danforth’s displeasure.’

  ‘Right. Thank you, Barton. Seems like nothing’s changed in my absence.’

  ‘Not so as you’d notice.’ Barton sniffed. ‘Your usual lowlifes keeping us busy, an’ all.’

  ‘That’s the spirit.’

  ‘The superintendent wants to see you, once you’re settled back in.’

  Riley removed his hat and walked through the detectives’ room, where he was greeted with warmth by his constables.

  ‘Welcome back, sir,’ Carter and Soames said in unison.

  ‘Ah, there you are, sir.’ Jack Salter appeared form behind a tower of paperwork, hand outstretched. ‘You’re a sight for sore eyes and no mistake.’

  ‘Come along in and get me up to date, sergeant
.’

  Riley opened the door to his office—the same office he had left a little over three weeks previously in anticipation of his wedding day. He had not imagined returning to the musty space facing the prospect of fatherhood. Or the mild concerns that Amelia had expressed about his career. A career he hadn’t intended to give up for a good while yet, but thoughts of a baby coming into the world—a baby whose welfare would be his primary concern—gave him pause. Perhaps his mother was right and there were easier, more gentlemanly ways for him to occupy his time. It wasn’t as though he needed to work, but he couldn’t imagine himself living a life of idle dissipation, either.

  As Salter settled in the chair on the opposite side of Riley’s desk, the sense of despondency he had already recognised in his constables was exacerbated by his sergeant’s long face and mournful expression.

  ‘I trust Lady Riley is well, sir. It was a right fine wedding. Mrs Salter ain’t stopped talking about it.’ He chuckled. ‘I reckon her friends are sick of the sound of your name, no disrespect intended.’

  ‘I am glad she enjoyed herself, Jack. Now, what’s been happening in my absence?’ Riley settled himself in his chair and tutted as he ran a finger through a layer of dust that had accumulated on the surface of his desk.

  ‘I’ll get someone to clean that up,’ Salter said. ‘It’s about all I’m good for.’

  ‘Explain.’

  ‘There’s been a couple of murders, but Inspectors Parkin and Knight are investigating them. A few other deaths that ain’t suspicious, like you’d expect at this time of year, what with the cold an’ all, and the usual burglaries and what have you.’

  ‘You, Carter and Soames were not asked to help with the murders?’ Riley flexed a brow. ‘I’d told my colleagues that they could borrow you, as you know. You especially are valuable in any investigation, Jack. We’ve solved our share of difficult cases over the years, and your suspicious mind is useful in difficult situations.’