Death of a Scoundrel Read online

  ‘Anyway, tempers cooled. The girl left our employ. I have no idea where she went, and frankly I was glad to see the back of her. With temptation out of his way, Francis came to his senses and we returned to normal. But Rod wouldn’t let it go. He said he was no longer prepared to live at home and needed money from Francis to pay for suitable lodgings. If he wasn’t paid, he would tell Francis’s wife exactly why he was moving out. Francis laughed in his face, of course, and told him to go right ahead. He has a family to support and has not been as frugal with his resources as I have managed to be as a single man with few overheads. Anyway, I could see that Rod was still furious and very likely would spread word of what Francis had tried to do. Any whiff of scandal attaching to our family name would have put paid to my chances of being elected. I wanted him out, aware that life would be a great deal more comfortable without him at Woodrow House like a perpetual thorn in our sides. So I agreed to pay him what he had demanded from Francis, thinking it would give me a hold over him and prevent him from speaking out of turn.’

  ‘Does your brother know?’ Riley asked.

  ‘No. The arrangement was between Rod and me. If Francis had known he would have tried to talk me out of it, but my thoughts were for my political future. Rod was a loose cannon, and he had to be controlled somehow.’

  ‘Thank you for finally being honest with us,’ Riley said, ‘but you must realise how it looks from our perspective. We have not found anyone else who had more reason to want your brother dead than you.’

  ‘But I did not…’ William threw up his hands, looking pale and desperate. ‘How can I convince you that—’

  Riley spoke over his protests. ‘You could easily have gone to Half Moon Street after leaving the Covingtons and waited for Rod to return home. He would have invited you in. Perhaps you did not mean to kill him, but you did intend to remind him of the terms of your agreement. You were tired of him turning up on your territory and stealing your thunder. Enough was enough.’

  ‘But I was not there, and I did not kill him,’ William replied, calmer now and more in control. ‘And what’s more, you cannot prove otherwise, since there is no proof to be found.’

  ‘In that case, can you suggest anyone else who might have wished him dead?’

  ‘Unfortunately not. Rod was universally popular, at least with the ladies. But if he was dallying with married women—well, I don’t envy you having to work your way through all of their husbands.’

  Riley stood. ‘Thank you for your cooperation, Mr Woodrow. We shall not detain you any further.’

  William looked surprised and then relieved that the grilling had come to an end. He stood with more speed than dignity and reached for his hat, which he had knocked to the floor during his first confrontation with Salter. He wished Riley a curt good morning and swept through the door that Salter opened for him, treating the sergeant as though he was not there.

  ‘He won’t be getting my vote,’ Salter grumbled as he left the room at Riley’s side. ‘Not if he can’t even acknowledge my presence.’

  Riley chuckled. ‘I don’t think he likes you much, Jack.’

  Salter grunted. ‘The feeling’s mutual.’ The arrived back at Riley’s office. ‘Do you think he did it, guv?’

  ‘I think he had been pushed to his limit, but I’m not sure he possesses the mettle to actually commit murder.’

  ‘Still an’ all, like you say, everyone has their limits. He was jealous of his brother’s popularity and thought it unfair that his father favoured the black sheep. Add to that, Rod seemed to be taunting him by turning up on his turf. He could have snapped.’

  ‘We’d never prove it on what we have thus far,’ Riley said, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. ‘He was fishing when he asked about the evidence, and you took the bait, sergeant. He’s no fool.’

  ‘Sorry, sir. What now then?’

  Before Riley could respond, Carter burst into the office without bothering to knock, looking excited.

  ‘Excuse me sir, but we’ve just brought a jarvey in who picked up a man answering to Durand’s description at midnight on the night in question. He dropped him at the Half Moon tavern.’

  ‘Well done, Carter, good work!’

  ‘I thought you’d want to talk to him, sir, what with you being the only one of us who knows precisely what Durand looks like.’

  ‘You thought right, Carter. Bring him in here. He’s not a suspect and I don’t want him to be intimidated by our interview rooms.’ Riley felt energised as Carter went off to fetch the cabbie. ‘I knew Durand wasn’t telling me everything,’ he said.

  ‘It looks as though he could be our man,’ Salter replied. ‘It would be too much of a coincidence for him not to be. It’ll cause quite a scandal amongst your lot.’

  ‘We thrive on scandal, Jack,’ Riley responded, with a wry smile. ‘We love it more than life itself. Haven’t you worked that out yet?’

  The unkempt individual whom Carter led into Riley’s office seemed disgruntled.

  ‘I hope someone’s going to make up for all the fares I’m losing,’ he huffed, scratching his scalp and agitating wisps of wiry grey hair that stood out from his bald pate like a halo. ‘Helping the police with their enquiries is one thing, but time is money. Wish I’d kept me trap shut now. Would have done if I’d known I’d be dragged down here.’

  ‘Glad to see you doing your civic duty, Mr…’

  ‘Hoskins. Albert Hoskins. You wanna know about the cove what I collected near Waterloo a couple of nights ago, so I hear tell. All right then. Get on with it.’ He lowered himself into a chair and flapped his gnarled hands. ‘What do you wanna know about him?’

  ‘What did he look like, Mr Hoskins?’

  ‘He was a right gent. Well spoken, like you, and dressed in evening clothes. He was fat, with grey whiskers, and he seemed angry. That’s all I noticed about ’im. One fare is much the same as another, far as I’m concerned. I dropped him at the Half Moon and offered to wait for him, but he paid me generously and told me not to bother. I assumed he had a doxy in there and was plannin’ to spend the night.’ The cabbie sniffed. ‘Wouldn’t be the first time me and Flash—that’s me ’orse—have conducted gentlemen to assignations of that nature.’

  ‘What time did you leave him there, Hoskins?’ Riley asked. ‘Can you remember?’

  This question required another sniff and a thoughtful pause. ‘Not much after twelve-fifteen. I remember ’cause it was a slow night, so Flash and me, we packed it in and went off home after that.’

  Satisfied that Hoskins actually had taken Durand to Half Moon Street, Riley recompensed him well enough to bring a smile to his face. He ensured that Carter knew where to find him if they needed to speak with him again and sent him on his way with the grateful thanks of Scotland Yard ringing in his ears.

  ‘Ask Sergeant Barton to send two uniformed constables to bring Lord Durand in,’ Riley said, firming his jaw. ‘I am tired of being lied to and treated like a fool.’

  ‘With pleasure, sir,’ Carter said.

  ‘That’ll take a while, always supposing they can find him. If he’s not at home he will be at Westminster. Tell them not to come back without him, and they need not be discreet about insisting that he accompanies them.’

  ‘I like it when you get angry with your own,’ Salter said, grinning. ‘It shows a marked lack of prejudice, if you ask me.’

  Riley sent his sergeant a wry smile. ‘No one did, but I take your point. Anyway, Jack, stay on top of things here. I shall be out for a few hours, and we can look forward to a frank exchange with Lord Durand when I return.’

  ‘Where you going?’

  ‘To speak to my friend about the bullion market.’

  Salter’s eyes widened. ‘What for? You still want to know about Kempton? Surely, now we have Durand on the ropes, that ain’t necessary.’

  ‘Let’s not count our chickens, Jack,’ Riley said, reaching for his coat.

  ‘You’re the boss,’ Salter replied, his express
ion bemused as he watched Riley leave.

  Chapter Nine

  Riley took a cab to Barton Street, where his friend Michael Eaton lived. Salter was not the only one who wondered why he felt the need to check out Mrs Kempton’s admissions. Her willingness to make them worried him. If she hadn’t spoken out, they might never have found out about Rod Woodrow’s profitable sideline that threw up a confusing number of suspects with good reason to want him dead.

  Mrs Kempton’s explanation for her forthrightness had rung warning bells in Riley’s mind, leaving him with an uneasy feeling that he was being manipulated. Would Mrs Kempton really risk her reputation because she was anxious to see the killer of the man she supposedly loved—the man who had fathered her child—brought to justice? Were her motives more sinister? He was no closer to deciding when he arrived at his friend’s home.

  He was shown in immediately and greeted with warmth by Eaton, a man who had survived the rigors of Eton and then Oxford alongside Riley.

  ‘I was just wondering if I could find the energy to venture out in this weather,’ Michael said, shaking Riley’s hand, ‘but your arrival has made the decision for me.’ He waved his servant away and stood to reach for a decanter that rested on the sideboard. ‘You’ll have a glass of this rather pleasant burgundy with me?’

  Riley smiled. ‘Since you ask so persuasively.’

  ‘Looks like you could use it,’ Michael replied, sending Riley a sympathetic look. ‘Scotland Yard still extracting their pound of flesh, are they?’

  ‘They keep me fully occupied.’

  ‘Not so busy that you can’t find the time to woo the delectable Mrs Cosgrove.’

  Riley smiled at the mention of Amelia’s name. ‘Ah well, priorities and all that.’ He took a chair across from Michael in front of the fire and sipped at the wine. It was excellent, as he had known it would be.

  ‘Your very good health, Riley,’ Michael said, raising his glass in a salute. ‘And congratulations upon your forthcoming nuptials, you lucky dog. None of the rest of us have managed to get a look in with the lady, and not for the want of trying, I do assure you.’

  Riley laughed. ‘I thought you were a confirmed bachelor.’

  ‘Amelia Cosgrove could have changed my mind had she shown the slightest interest in me, but for reasons that completely escape me she’s only ever had eyes for you.’ Michael shook his head, sending his shaggy blond hair flying in all directions, looking boyishly perplexed. Riley knew it was all for show. Michael was wealthy, well-connected, the best possible fun—and a habitual target for the matchmakers. ‘It’s funny how these things go. Your poor nephew struggling to cling to life all that time, bringing so much sorrow to your family. Then you and Amelia giving them something to smile about again. Life goes on.’

  ‘Not sure Celia will smile for a while.’

  ‘She was never one for smiling anyway,’ Michael replied with a one-shouldered shrug. ‘Poor old Henry. Your brother did the right thing and look where it landed him. Anyway, I’m sure you didn’t call to make me jealous with talk of your domestic felicity. No doubt you are busy sleuthing away and need someone with an ounce of intelligence to help you make sense of some conundrum or other.’ He put his glass aside and grinned. ‘Go on then. Pick my considerable brains and then take all the glory when I point you in the right direction.’

  Riley chuckled. ‘Rod Woodrow,’ he said. ‘What can you tell me about him?’

  ‘A bad lad, but you don’t need me to tell you that. I’m frankly not surprised that some poor husband or other finally ran out of patience and did him in. Not that he ever did me any harm. Always good company. He was universally adored by ladies of all ages, which would not have sat well with the husbands, of course.’

  ‘What do you know of Giles Kempton’s business?’

  ‘Ah, Rod dallied with the delightful Mrs Kempton, did he? Can’t blame him for that, if the lady was willing.’

  ‘My lips are sealed on the subject.’

  ‘Enough said.’ Michael picked up his glass, held it up to the light to examine the wine’s colour and, apparently satisfied with what he saw, took a thoughtful sip. ‘Never could understand what made her settle for such a…well, such an average husband. She could have done a whole lot better for herself. I was interested myself, as far as that goes, but…well, I guess I never got around to doing anything about it.’

  ‘He was Burton’s protegee, I gather. Kempton, that is. Groomed to take over the business when Burton retired. Perhaps Miss Burton was part of the deal and did what her father told her to.’

  ‘Hardly. I knew Burton well. Did a lot of business with him and I can tell you that he had lofty ambitions for his beautiful daughter which certainly didn’t include marriage to his junior partner.’ Michael sighed. ‘A partner who’s proved that he’s hopelessly out of his depth when it comes to taking overall control.’

  Riley sat a little straighter. ‘His business is in trouble?’

  ‘I’ve heard rumours to that effect. The bullion side chugs along, but that’s about it.’

  ‘I thought the market had slumped.’

  ‘It has, which makes it a good time to buy. The gold price never dips for long, and those of us in the know take the opportunity to invest when prices are low. All of us bar Kempton, that is. He didn’t follow that trend, I hear tell. The rare coin side of Burton’s business was the real money spinner, but Kempton made some expensive mistakes recently. Got taken in by some excellent forgeries and had to swallow a massive loss.’

  Riley frowned. ‘Are you telling me that a man with his training was unable to detect fake coins? I don’t care how convincing they were. Surely there are methods in place to safeguard against that sort of thing?’

  ‘There are.’ Michael stood to refill their glasses and then resumed his seat, his expression pensive. ‘What I’m telling you is all hearsay, you understand, but having said that, my sources are fairly reliable. A convincing confidence trickster did the rounds with a bagful of gold Rands that he’d smuggled out of South Africa. He invented some story about needing to liquidate them quickly, and was willing to let them go for half their value for that reason. A close friend of mine who’s heard every tall story going was almost fooled, so convincing was the seller’s story. He tested a couple of the coins and they were genuine, but something about the man seemed off to him and so he trusted his instincts and passed on the deal.’

  ‘You think the majority were not authentic?’

  ‘The man would have been an idiot if they were the real thing and he let them go for the amount he was asking. That’s what made my friend suspicious. Even in a hurry, he could have got a lot more than he was asking, just so long as he waited a few extra days for them all to be tested. Anyway, my friend suggested he try Kempton and after that there was no word of the man touting the coins elsewhere, so I assume he fell for the ruse, to his considerable expense.’

  ‘And embarrassment if word got out, of course.’

  Michael nodded. ‘Precisely.’

  ‘How much money are we talking about?’

  Riley let out a low whistle when Michael told him. He thanked his friend and returned to Scotland Yard in a pensive frame of mind. A loss of that size would have severely affected Kempton’s ability to remain in business. Riley was absolutely convinced that Kempton would have been required to swallow his pride and go cap in hand to his wife in order to save his livelihood. Whether his wife helped him for the sake of her late father’s reputation, turned him down flat or bailed him out provided Kempton did something for her in return he had yet to decide. Stout was making a few discreet enquiries about Kempton’s activities, and might come up with something else that would help Riley. But then if Durand couldn’t give a satisfactory explanation for his nocturnal wanderings at the vital time, then Kempton’s behaviour would cease to be relevant.

  He arrived to a scene of uproar. There were raised voices, and even Sergeant Barton looked flustered. Riley removed his hat, shook the rain from its brim
and asked what all the commotion was about.

  ‘Lord Durand,’ Barton replied shortly. ‘Thinks he’s above the law and shouldn’t be here. Threatening all sorts of dire consequences. He’s demanded to speak to the superintendent, who wants to see you the minute you get here.’

  ‘Thank you, Barton,’ Riley said calmly. ‘Lord Durand is to be treated no differently than anyone else who is brought in to answer questions. Make that clear to him, and tell him I shall be with him as soon as I can.’ Barton looked doubtful, but complied.

  ‘Are you sure about this?’ Superintendent Thompson asked Riley when he explained to his superior why Lord Durand had been brought in. ‘You only have the word of a jarvey against that of a belted earl.’

  ‘In my experience, sir, being born into a position of authority does not guarantee integrity. Durand lied to me. I sensed it when I spoke to him but I could not prove it. Now I think I can. If the situation were reversed and Durand had accused the jarvey of committing a murder, we wouldn’t hesitate to take his word for it.’

  ‘Well, yes but—’

  ‘Durand has a short temper, a high opinion of himself and would do almost anything to protect the interests of his only child. A volatile combination. I aim to discover just how far those protective instincts drove him.’

  ‘Well, I hope you’re right, or I’ll never hear the end of it.’ He let out a slow breath. ‘Best go and calm him down before he turns the air blue.’

  Riley collected Salter and took a moment to tell him what he’d learned about Kempton’s situation.

  ‘You were right then.’ There was reluctant admiration in Salter’s tone. ‘If he had to go to his missus for a handout so soon after taking control of the business, there’s no telling how she would have reacted. But still, Lord Durand…’