Death of a Milliner: Riley Rochester Investigates Book 9 (Riley ~Rochester Investigates)

  Riley Rochester Investigates

  Death of a Milliner

  Wendy Soliman

  Riley Rochester Investigates

  Death of a Milliner

  Edited by Perry Iles

  Cover Design by Clockwork Art

  Copyright © Wendy Soliman 2020

  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

  October 1882

  A chill wind heralded the onset of autumn as Riley Rochester stood on the terrace at Ashdown, his recently-acquired Bromley estate, and watched the sun rising over the woodland at the end of his garden. Bruno, his ungainly mongrel, frolicked through a carpet of russet and red leaves, nose pressed to the ground as he followed a scent deemed worthy of canine investigation.

  Riley smiled at his antics as he enjoyed the serenity of the early morning with nothing other than the dog to disturb his peace. He breathed the fresh country air deeply into his lungs, content with the privileged hand that life had dealt him. Not many men who didn’t need to work to support their families would bother with a career that was not always rewarding and which frequently set him at odds with his own class. He had been taken to task more than once and accused of letting the side down. Marquesses’ heirs did not, it seemed, lower themselves to chase around London and beyond, risking life and limb in the pursuit of murderers and assorted ne’er-do-wells.

  Perhaps his critics made a valid point, but nothing anyone said had turned Riley’s thoughts to resigning. Someone had to protect the citizens of a rapidly expanding city from the nefarious activities of the less scrupulously inclined and most of the time Riley found the work stimulating.

  He had left his wife Amelia sleeping. Carrying their second child far too soon after the birth of their son Simon, Riley was concerned for her health, but so far Amelia appeared to be blossoming. Pregnancy suited her, but even so Riley was taking no chances when it came to the wellbeing of the woman who owned both his heart and his soul.

  A light footstep alerted Riley to the fact that he was no longer alone.

  ‘Oh, sorry, my lord. I didn’t mean to startle you.’

  Ruth, the young woman they had engaged to care for Simon, looked surprised to see Riley standing outside, dressed and ready to leave for work at such an ungodly hour.

  ‘That’s perfectly all right, Ruth.’ Riley smiled at the pretty young woman, glad that she had made the adjustment from living in cramped conditions in Clapham, where she’d been bullied by a jealous and possessive brute of a husband, to life in the country that probably seemed quiet and deadly dull by comparison. The husband in question was now, thanks to Riley’s efforts, securely behind bars. Riley had known when he made the arrest that Ruth wouldn’t have been able to support her children without her husband’s income and would likely have resorted to the oldest profession of necessity. The family’s nanny had given notice and Riley had an empty cottage on his estate and acres of land for Ruth’s two children to romp in, so it seemed like the perfect solution. Thus far Ruth had given exemplary service.

  ‘I like to make an early start. Master Simon will be stirring about now and he’s growing accustomed to me.’

  ‘Your own children?’

  ‘Don’t you worry none about them, m’lord. They’re having their breakfast and are as happy as Larry.’

  Riley didn’t doubt it. The same could be said for Ruth. She had lost that haunted look and no longer sported the bruises that had regularly been inflicted by the aforementioned angry husband. Country life wasn’t for everyone, especially those who were accustomed to the bustling city, but Ruth and her family had so far taken to it like naturals.

  ‘In that case, I shall not worry.’

  ‘Sadie’s started at the village school and already knows her letters.’ Ruth beamed with maternal pride, the gesture lighting up her beautiful face.

  ‘I am very glad to hear it. Her ladyship is still sleeping. Try to ensure that Simon doesn’t wake her.’

  ‘I’ll give him his breakfast upstairs in the nursery, then take him with me when I walk Sadie to school, m’lord.’

  ‘Then I shall leave things in your capable hands and take myself off to the city.’

  ‘Here’s Mr Stout come to drive you, I expect.’

  Riley smiled when his man winked at the girl, making her blush.

  A short time later Riley was installed on the train that would take him into London and thence to Scotland Yard where he enjoyed a position as Detective Chief Inspector in the relatively new Detective Department. He was hoping for a quiet day in which he would find the time to make a twice delayed call upon his sister, who wanted to speak to him as a matter of urgency. He idly wondered which member of his extended family required his assistance on this occasion.

  Riley greeted Barton, the burly desk sergeant who always appeared to be on duty, before making his way to his office. He flipped through the reports of the previous night’s arrests, glad that there was nothing that required his personal intervention. His detectives could investigate the burglaries that had been reported and an attempted abduction without his help.

  ‘Morning, sir.’ Jack Salter, Riley’s dependable detective sergeant, put his head round the door and flopped down into a chair in front of Riley’s desk. ‘There’s a nip in the air. Winter’s on its way.’

  ‘Morning, Jack. There are one or two things to interest you here. A young woman claims that someone attempted to snatch her off the street in Mayfair last night. It will have to be looked into.’

  ‘Aye, right enough.’ Salter sniffed. ‘Of course, young women have no business being out and about at night alone. It ain’t safe for ’em.’

  ‘You are still worried about Maureen leaving the family nest, one assumes.’

  ‘One would be right about that,’ Salter replied irreverently. ‘You’re a father yourself now, sir, and you’ll understand how I feel soon enough. Or will once you have a daughter to worry about. Not that any daughter of yours will need to work for a living though, so…’

  ‘Careful, Sergeant,’ Riley warned mildly.

  ‘Sorry, sir.’ Salter scratched his ear. ‘But you’re right. I know it’s a great honour, our Maureen being selected by the famous Madame Boise to finish her apprenticeship at her establishment here in London. If I was ever in any doubt about it, you can be sure that Mrs Salter would be happy to remind me. Proud as a peacock, she is. But me, well I can’t stop worrying. Maureen’s only fifteen.’ Salter shook his head. ‘It’s the policeman in me, I suppose. I know what pitfalls await the unwary and our Maureen has had a sheltered upbringing. My fault, I suppose, but still…’

  ‘Upper Bond Street is
a respectable area, Jack. Very respectable.’

  ‘So is Mayfair, but someone tried to snatch a woman off the streets.’

  ‘We don’t know the particulars yet. Quite likely a member of the woman’s own family was responsible and she’s attempting to cause mischief. But still, I’m sure you can find out and deal with it appropriately.’

  ‘Yep, that I can do,’ Salter replied distractedly and with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

  ‘Maureen earned her place in that establishment on her own merit.’ Riley sensed that his sergeant was especially worried about his daughter that morning for reasons of his own and attempted to placate him. ‘The hat that my niece modelled at the charity event at Alexandra Palace which caught Madame Boise’s attention was superb, innovative and earned just about every other accolade going. You should be inordinately proud.’

  ‘Expert in ladies’ headwear are we now, sir?’

  ‘Not me, Jack. That’s the universal opinion of every female in my family, and they know about that of which they speak.’

  ‘I am proud of my little girl but…well, begging your pardon, I do wonder if your family’s support, their insistence that she design their hats, might have had a bearing.’

  ‘I doubt it. Madame Boise, I’m reliably informed, already has an impressive client list. She must have, to be able to afford to set up shop in such a prestigious location.’

  ‘Aye, I know but there’s been some unpleasantness. I didn’t know the full extent until my wife let something slip last night. That’s what’s got me ruminating, as you’d put it.’

  Riley sat forward. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, the woman who our Maureen was apprenticed to in Clapham, Mrs Faulkner. She was none too happy to let Maureen go.’

  ‘I recall your mentioning it, but my understanding is that you purchased her out of her indentures and paid over the odds for the privilege.’

  ‘I did, but she still only grudgingly let her go in the end because she realised what I do for a living.’

  ‘It’s a feather in Maureen’s cap if Mrs Faulkner was so reluctant to release her,’ Riley replied. ‘I’d imagine there are dozens of aspiring milliners willing to take her place.’

  ‘There’s more to it than that.’ Salter scowled at the wall. ‘Some sort of grudge situation between Mrs Faulkner and Madame Boise. Boise is the younger woman by a good fifteen years. Maureen tells me that she served her indentures under Faulkner, then set up on her own and eclipsed her.’

  ‘Their professional rivalry has nothing to do with Maureen, even though Faulkner probably looks upon it as history repeating itself.’ Riley shrugged. ‘Since Maureen no longer has anything to do with Mrs Faulkner, I can’t see that it’s her problem. Or yours.’

  ‘Nah, most likely not, but I have this feeling, see. I can’t shake it. Anyway, I’ll look into this attempted abduction and see what’s what.’

  Salter got up as Sergeant Barton put his head round the door, looking uncharacteristically troubled. Riley rose to his feet instinctively, watching as Salter wandered off to his own desk, still brooding about his daughter.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked Barton.

  ‘A suspicious death in New Bond Street.’

  Riley felt a spike of anxiety. ‘Where precisely?’

  ‘At a milliner’s establishment.’ Barton paused to rub his chin, looking sombre. ‘A woman stabbed to death. And a girl was caught red-handed, quite literally, what with her hands being covered with the victim’s blood.’

  ‘What are you not telling me, Barton? Spit it out, man.’

  ‘The girl is Sergeant Salter’s daughter, sir, and she was found standing over the body, clutching the murder weapon.’

  Chapter Two

  Riley swore beneath his breath as he assimilated the basic facts. If anyone other than Salter had articulated fears for his daughter’s wellbeing moments before she became involved in a murder investigation, then it would have set alarm bells jangling. Riley didn’t ordinarily believe in coincidence. But these were far from ordinary circumstances. Salter was solid, reliable, devout and had instilled his own Christian morals into all of his children. He was the best possible man to have one’s back in difficult situations, as Riley had discovered on more than one occasion during the course of the years they’d worked together.

  ‘What do you want to do, sir?’ Barton asked, looking as disturbed as Riley felt.

  ‘I assume we are referring to Madame Boise’s establishment, and that she is the victim?’

  ‘The body’s been found on her premises but I have no idea as to the victim’s identity. One of my constables was flagged down by a hysterical female. Once he could make sense of what she was trying to tell him, he went back to the place and got a right shock when he saw the body, and all that blood. Only just managed to hold on to his breakfast, so he did. Anyway, he pulled himself together and recognised young Maureen. He had no idea what to do, so he sent word to me.’

  Riley gave a grim nod. ‘Is Maureen still there?’

  ‘Aye. And the woman who flagged Bennett down. Name of Cornish. She works there too. I’ve sent some more men to keep the place secure.’

  ‘Thank you, Barton. Keep this under your hat until I know what’s what.’

  ‘Are you gonna tell him?’ Barton nodded in Salter’s direction.

  ‘I have no choice. It’s best coming from me.’ Riley shuddered at the prospect. ‘I’ll take him to the scene with me, then decide what’s to be done. One thing’s for sure, Barton,’ Riley added, rubbing his chin, ‘Maureen is no murderer. If she carried out the crime, it will have been in self-defence. But hopefully there will be another explanation.’ Even so, Riley couldn’t allow Maureen’s relationship to his sergeant to cloud his judgement. ‘Wish me luck,’ he added, squaring his shoulders.

  So much for his quiet day.

  He made his way to the detectives’ room and noticed that the remainder of Salter’s team were all there: Carter, Soames and Peterson. Just as well, he would need them.

  ‘Right, everyone,’ he said. ‘We have a situation. Jack, a word.’

  Salter got up and followed Riley into his room, his expression quizzical. ‘Problem, sir?’ he asked.

  ‘Sit down.’ Riley closed the door behind his now bewildered-looking sergeant. ‘There’s been a suspicious death,’ he paused. ‘At Madame Boise’s establishment.’

  Salter leapt so swiftly from his chair that it fell over backwards. ‘Maureen’s been hurt! I knew it! I sensed something this morning. Couldn’t shake the feeling.’

  ‘Calm down, Jack. Maureen’s fine as far as I’m aware.’ He swallowed. ‘But she was found standing over the body with the murder weapon in her hands.’

  ‘She didn’t kill no one…’ Salter’s deep voice had turned almost shrill with worry. ‘Maureen won’t even kill a spider.’

  ‘Things are seldom the way they seem in this business, Jack. You know that, and I’m perfectly sure that Maureen will have an explanation.’ Riley slapped Salter’s shoulder. ‘Come on. Let’s go and see what we have.’

  By the time Riley and Salter joined the others, it was obvious that the news had spread. They sent Salter a mixture of wary and sympathetic looks that Riley’s burly sergeant didn’t appear to notice. Riley knew that sympathy wouldn’t go down well and saved his own, instead ordering Peterson to arrange transport for them.

  ‘Let me handle this, Jack,’ Riley said in a quelling tone as they approached Madame Boise’s elite establishment.

  ‘Not a chance! Maureen will need me…’

  ‘Jack, I’m bringing you along as a professional courtesy and because you’re my friend.’ Riley paid the fare and the two men left the hackney that had conveyed them to the scene. ‘Don’t make me regret it. Maureen is either a suspect or a witness.’ Riley hardened his voice. ‘I wouldn’t ever normally allow relatives a look in on cases like this. One word in the wrong ear and I’ll be made to take you off the case. You’re here with me to comfort Maureen, but keep your
eyes open for anything. We both know she didn’t kill anyone but if she’s seen to have received special treatment…’

  ‘I’ll try,’ Salter said sullenly, lengthening his stride as they approached the shop.

  One of Barton’s uniformed constables stood guard outside the elegant establishment. A striped awning shielded pedestrians from the elements when they walked below it so that they could stop and examine the elaborate hats displayed in the window. Riley wondered if any of them were Maureen’s handiwork. Madame Boise’s name was picked out in gold filigree lettering over the door. A small crowd of onlookers had gathered, held back by another of Barton’s uniformed constables, who kept telling them to move on because there was nothing to see.

  ‘Steady!’ Riley placed a restraining hand on Salter’s shoulder when he tried to barge past the constable. He felt his sergeant’s muscles bunch with the strain that it took him not to physically remove Riley’s hand. ‘We’ll go in together, Jack,’ he said with authority, leading the way. Riley already knew that keeping Salter in line during this investigation, no matter which direction it took, would be challenging.

  The shop premises were tidy and undisturbed. Voices coming from the back room, a woman’s sobs and the acrid tang of blood led them in that direction. Riley stopped in his tracks when confronted by the body, still lying where it had fallen. The victim lay on her back with her eyes wide open and an expression of faint surprise frozen onto her features. There was a great deal of blood pooling around her smart grey clothing which had not yet congealed, leading Riley to suppose that she had been killed very recently.

  The woman was not Madame Boise.

  ‘Has Maynard been sent for?’ he asked the uniformed constable standing guard, who looked a little green around the gills. The man nodded once and gulped.

  ‘The women are in that room over there.’ The constable pointed a shaky finger.

  ‘Thank you, constable.’