Death of a Scoundrel Page 16

  ‘Trouble in paradise?’ Salter asked in a scathing tone. ‘Surely she realised that he would have to marry sooner or later.’

  ‘Perhaps she assumed that she had purchased his exclusive company,’ Riley suggested. ‘That’s the impression that I get from her letters.’

  ‘Giving her a good motive to get rid of him if she discovered otherwise. But why risk putting her feelings in writing?’

  ‘Perhaps Rod persuaded her to, the way he seemed to be able to persuade any woman to do anything. He probably assured her that he destroyed her letters and she believed him.’

  ‘Even so, seems risky.’

  ‘She tells him all about her father’s determination that she marry Kempton. She explains that she intends to do so, if only to ensure that her child isn’t branded a bastard. She also says that she can control Kempton—much as Rod controlled her I would imagine—thus making it easier for her and Rod to continue meeting.’

  ‘And yet she told you that they didn’t meet after her wedding.’

  Riley rolled his eyes. ‘Well, Jack, that certainly wasn’t the first lie we’ve been told in our line of work.’

  ‘Does she say why her father appointed Kempton as his deputy before talk of an alliance with his daughter came about, sir?’

  ‘She does not, but we will ask both Kemptons about that later today.’ Riley continued to read. ‘Well, well,’ he said, sitting back and mulling over what we have just read. ‘Another suspect enters the fray.’

  ‘Oh good. Like we don’t have enough of them already. Who is it, sir?’

  ‘Lady Eldridge’s son, Duncan. Seems Mrs Kempton had heard his name linked with Laura Durand’s and crowed about it to Rod.’

  ‘But if Eldridge somehow discovered that Laura’s affections had already been engaged by a man extorting money from his mother—’

  ‘I doubt he knew that. It’s hardly something his mother would shout about.’

  ‘Even so, sir, we will need to talk to him.’

  ‘We will indeed,’ Riley replied, putting aside the last of Mrs Kempton’s many letters and leaning back. ‘Add him to the list.’

  ‘Where first, sir?’

  ‘Oh, Mrs Kempton, I think.’ Riley stood and grabbed his coat. ‘Come along, Jack. I dare say she’s expecting us and it’s bad manners to keep a lady waiting.’

  Salter growled. ‘From what she wrote in them letters, sir, she ain’t no lady.’

  Chapter Eleven

  Riley’s first thought when he arrived at Mrs Kempton’s house was that she didn’t look at all well. Pale and seemed distracted, something that looked suspiciously like a bruise coloured one side of her face.

  ‘Lord Riley,’ she said, standing and offering him a slender hand. She waved away the butler who had shown them in without first asking if they would like refreshments. He left, closing the door on his interest in this visit from Scotland Yard detectives. ‘I had hoped,’ she added, glancing at Salter, ‘that you would grant me the courtesy of continuing to call alone, as well as offering me advance warning of any visit you felt it necessary to make.’

  ‘Sergeant Salter is discreet and trustworthy. But if you had been completely honest with me, Mrs Kempton, another visit might not have been necessary.’

  ‘I am sure I don’t know what you mean,’ she said a little too hastily, ushering them to the chairs facing the settee she occupied. ‘Do you bring good news?’

  ‘A number of suspects have come to light, but we are not yet ready to make an arrest.’ Riley stretched his legs in front of him and crossed them at the ankle, making it clear through his relaxed posture that he didn’t intend to be hurried. ‘I do however have some more questions for you.’

  ‘Naturally, I will do all that I can to help.’ Mrs Kempton’s offer sounded forced. She laced her fingers together and then released them, only to repeat the gesture. Clearly, she was on edge. A guilty conscience, genuine grief for Woodrow’s loss—or frustration because Riley had not arrested her husband? He was unable to decide upon the cause of her nervousness.

  ‘You told me when I called on the previous occasion that you had no further contact with Roderick Woodrow after your marriage.’

  ‘I did not.’

  Riley fixed her with a hard look. ‘And yet you continued to correspond and meet…’

  ‘Correspond?’ She sat bolt upright, looking horrified. ‘Rod kept my letters?’ Riley nodded. ‘He promised me that he had destroyed them.’ She reached out a hand, as though expecting Riley to produce them from thin air. ‘May I have them back, please?’

  ‘Of course you may—when the investigation reaches a satisfactory conclusion.’

  ‘But they are mine.’ She sounded like a petulant child on the point of throwing a tantrum if she did not get her way.

  ‘You didn’t really imagine that he would just throw them away did you?’ Salter asked, sounding incredulous.

  ‘I had no reason to doubt his word, if that is what you mean to imply,’ she replied stiffly. ‘Rod was a gentleman, we were devoted to one another and he would never knowingly have embarrassed me.’

  ‘Even though you are married to Kempton?’ Riley asked.

  ‘Oh that.’ She flapped a hand as if her marriage was a trifling irrelevance. ‘I have already admitted to you that I don’t love Giles, but he wanted me, he’d always made that abundantly clear. He couldn’t believe his luck when I finally accepted his proposal.’

  ‘Did he know why you agreed to marry him?’

  Mrs Kempton studied Riley for a prolonged moment before responding. ‘He was aware of my condition. I did not deceive him in that respect, but he did not ask who was responsible for it and I did not volunteer that information. Ever since then, we have pretended that my daughter’s is Giles’s own.’

  ‘He must know, even if he didn’t ask you outright,’ Riley said. ‘I cannot believe that any man would be content to remain in ignorance about such a matter.’

  Mrs Kempton lifted one shoulder in an elegant shrug. ‘Perhaps. I suppose he could have made an educated guess. He saw Rod and I together on a number of occasions and probably heard my father complain about my attachment to him.’

  ‘Did your physical relationship with Rod Woodrow continue after your marriage?’ Salter asked.

  ‘It did not.’

  ‘That is what you told me on my previous visit, but not the conclusion we reached, having read your letters,’ Riley told her, fixing her with an appraising look. ‘Your feelings for him lost none of their potency and you had a daughter in common, in whom Rod took a great interest.’

  ‘Being a devoted father was not a crime the last time I checked.’ Mrs Kempton set her chin at a defiant angle. ‘Really, Lord Riley, I cannot imagine why you are wasting your time here with me, asking me embarrassing questions, when you have a killer to catch.’

  ‘Oh, I think you know exactly why I am here, Mrs Kempton.’ Riley leaned forward, his expression uncompromising. ‘You are anxious for us to look towards your husband because you think it was he who killed Rod Woodrow.’

  ‘What! Of course I do not think that. How could you even imagine…’ She gave an unconvincing shudder. ‘I came forward in good faith—and at considerable risk to my own reputation—in order to help you, and this is how you repay me.’

  ‘I rather think we are behaving precisely as you hoped we would,’ Salter remarked, scratching his nose.

  ‘You mistake the matter,’ Mrs Kempton replied coldly.

  ‘We know from your letters that you were upset with Rod because his name was linked with Laura Durand,’ Riley pointed out.

  ‘That much is certainly true.’ She seemed relieved by the change of emphasis. ‘I thought she was too young, too immature to hold the interest of such a sophisticated man.’ Mrs Kempton sat a little straighter but failed to meet Riley’s eye. ‘It would have been a mistake that he’d have come to regret. He could have done a great deal better for himself.’

  ‘You didn’t like the idea of the father of your chi
ld marrying a woman who was younger and better connected than you, did you?’ Salter leaned forward, his expression harsh. ‘You were jealous, stuck in a loveless marriage to a cove you have no respect for. You were faced with the prospect of losing contact—as well as the occasional tumble—with the only man who made your life worthwhile.’ Salter held up a hand. ‘And don’t try to convince us that you weren’t still spreading your legs for him because we ain’t gonna believe you.’

  ‘Really, Sergeant, there is no need for such vulgarity.’

  ‘You seriously expect us to believe that the physical side of your relationship with Woodrow ceased the minute you married the man who saved your reputation.’ Riley raised a brow, watching her attempting to formulate a response that would satisfy him.

  ‘I regret that I did not tell you the complete truth in that respect,’ she eventually settled for saying, looking away from him. ‘I did not want you to think less of me. So few people understand the love that Rod and I shared. A love that refused to be suppressed, no matter how hard we both tried.’

  ‘Not so perfect that he wasn’t still looking for a wife elsewhere,’ Salter said harshly.

  She tossed her head. ‘He had to live on something.’

  ‘He might perhaps have considered the idea of working for a living,’ Riley remarked.

  Mrs Kempton folded her hands in her lap, at which point Riley noticed more bruises ringing both of her wrists. ‘He was a sensitive soul, not suited to the rules of society or being told what to do by others. One cannot cage a wild bird.’

  Salter made a disparaging sound that could have been a grunt or a guffaw.

  ‘Why did your father select Kempton as his second in command and pass control of the business to him?’ Riley asked.

  Mrs Kempton seemed surprised by the question. ‘Well, he is my husband, so…’ She spread her hands, implying that the answer ought to be obvious. Riley had an uncanny feeling that they were somehow being coerced into to playing into those self-same hands.

  ‘And yet your father passed day to day control to Kempton before there was any question of the two of you marrying. It is our understanding that Kempton was keen to make a good impression upon you, but you took no interest in him whatsoever.’

  ‘Until such time as you required a man to save your reputation,’ Salter added harshly.

  ‘I imagine my father appreciated Giles’ aptitude for the business and groomed him to assume his position for that reason.’ She glanced off to the left, feigning boredom. ‘Papa never discussed such matters with me.’

  ‘I would prefer it if you told me the truth, Mrs Kempton,’ Riley said, his voice hardening.

  Her head snapped round, her expression wavering between outrage and anxiety. ‘I am being entirely truthful.’

  ‘Your husband, in the short time that he has had complete control of a previously thriving business, has made some disastrous mistakes. The people who work there all agree that he is both incompetent and unwilling to take advice from wiser heads, so your father must have known that about him, too.’ Riley paused, fixing her with a probing look. ‘What hold did Kempton have over your father that forced him to cede control of a thriving business to such an unsafe pair of hands?’

  ‘Nothing as far as I am aware,’ she said, less than convincingly.

  ‘Your father set great stock by his reputation. From what I understand, he had not been considering retirement, yet suddenly pulled back from his involvement and left matters to Kempton even before you married the man.’ Riley’s perplexed expression did not have to be feigned. ‘My sergeant and I have been wondering why he would do such a thing.’

  ‘You will have to ask my husband that.’

  ‘We intend to.’ She must be aware that their talking to Kempton about the murder of the man who had fathered his wife’s daughter would violate the privacy she had previously insisted upon, but the prospect didn’t appear to worry her unduly. ‘In the meantime, perhaps you would tell me how you reacted when Kempton came to you, begging for a handout to save a thriving business that he had taken to the point of ruin in a few short years. And please don’t bother to say that he didn’t, since I shall not believe you.’

  ‘He did mention the situation, as it happens,’ Mrs Kempton said into the heavy silence that followed Riley’s pronouncement. ‘He said my father’s good name depended upon my helping him, but I’m afraid I refused. Giles had made his bed, so to speak, and it was up to him to find a way to recover his position.’

  ‘Your lack of loyalty must have rankled,’ Salter said. ‘After all he had done to save your reputation.’

  Mrs Kempton gave a contemptuous huff but remained silent. The gesture told Riley more about her opinion of her husband than she probably intended. Here sat a very unhappy, disappointed woman who did not like to be gainsaid, vindicating Riley’s conviction that she knew more about Rod’s death than she had thus far revealed.

  ‘The bruises on your face and wrists are the result of your having said no, I imagine,’ he said. ‘Your husband is given to fits of rage and turned violent.’

  She instinctively touched the side of her face. ‘I fell,’ she replied, less than convincingly.

  Riley allowed the lie to pass uncontested. ‘Your husband approached you at the same time as you realised you were losing Rod’s attention. He really did intend to marry Lady Laura, and you were beside yourself with fury. After all you had done for him. All the financial help you had given him, to say nothing of satisfying his physical needs, and this was how he planned to repay you. Your anger must have festered like an open wound, but you were powerless to do anything about it. Until Kempton required something from you, which is when you recognised an opportunity to gain the ultimate revenge. You couldn’t abide the thought of Woodrow in some other woman’s bed, so if you couldn’t have him then nobody would.’

  ‘Nonsense!’

  ‘You told your husband that you would help him if he helped you. Oh, you didn’t tell him the truth, of course. You and the truth are barely on nodding terms.’

  ‘How dare you!’ Mrs Kempton’s bosom swelled in a convincing display of indignation.

  ‘Oh, I dare, madam, never doubt it.’ Riley allowed a significant pause. ‘You told your husband some story or other about Rod wanting access to his daughter…or to you. That would be enough to send a jealous man over the precipice. He had always sensed your affection for Rod and wanted rid of him once and for all, especially if that meant you would bail your father’s business out of trouble by way of reward.’

  ‘A charming hypothesis, Lord Riley,’ she said, appearing to have regained a little composure. ‘But that is all it is. Complete conjecture. Really, if that is the best you can come up with then I am not surprised at the level of criticism levelled at Scotland Yard’s supposedly elite Detective Department. Sadly however, your deficiencies mean that Rod’s killer will likely never be brought to justice.’

  ‘Unless, of course, it’s one of the many other ladies Woodrow slept with.’

  Salter’s throwaway comment had the desired effect. Mrs Kempton sat bolt upright and glowered at both detectives. ‘There were no others,’ she said dismissively, but the expression in her eyes had turned wary. She had not known, Riley surmised, not for sure, but she must have had her suspicions.

  ‘You think you were the only lady financing his extravagant lifestyle?’ Riley asked, standing to take his leave. ‘Think again. And whilst you are at it, consider telling me the truth about what information your husband used against your father in order to improve his prospects.’ He held up a hand to prevent her from protesting. ‘I accept that you may not know, not for sure, but I believe that you suspect there is something. Make your husband tell you. I am perfectly sure you know how to persuade him, and then you will tell me.’

  ‘Why would I do that, always supposing there is anything to tell?’

  ‘Because I will find out eventually.’ He fixed her with a penetrating look. ‘Never doubt it. And if you put me to that tr
ouble, I will have no reason to behave with discretion. But if you tell me yourself and it has no bearing on Woodrow’s death then I give you my word that the particulars will remain confidential and your father’s memory will not be sullied. Think on it. Good morning to you, madam. I look forward to hearing from you.’

  ‘Well, sir,’ Salter said, once they were again outside in the freezing conditions, sleet blowing into their faces. ‘What did you make of that?’

  A tavern on the corner of the street attracted their attention. It was now early afternoon and hunger drew them towards it. Riley waited until they had ordered lamb stew and seated themselves with tankards of ale before responding.

  ‘Her husband is given to fits of jealousy and beats her,’ he said in a reflective tone. ‘She did not have those bruises when I spoke to her a couple of days ago. Perhaps she failed to deliver on her promise to bail Kempton out of trouble after he had played his part in her wily scheme, and he lost his temper with her.’

  ‘It strikes me that she’s very good at goading men into doing her bidding. She was definitely jealous of Rod’s attachment to Lady Laura.’ Salter chuckled. ‘Good job she didn’t know about Alice.’

  ‘What’s to say that she didn’t?’ Riley asked mildly.

  Salter looked up at Riley and blinked. ‘No, she couldn’t have. No one did.’

  ‘Never make assumptions, Jack. Mrs Kempton was fiercely possessive of Rod, and has a lot of time on her hands. Rod regularly walked out with Alice on her afternoon off. He never missed. If he’d always declined to meet Mrs Kempton on a Wednesday, it would have aroused her suspicions. So she followed him, or had him followed. Only imagine, discovering that he was in cahoots with a girl from the working classes.’

  ‘God forbid,’ Salter replied with a wry smile.

  ‘Exactly. At least Lady Laura was from the right walk of life. But to have the man she adored, supported and took so many risks for preferring an apprentice milliner would have been totally unacceptable. The ultimate betrayal.’ Riley nodded decisively. ‘Oh yes, our Mrs Kempton could not have permitted such an insult to pass unavenged.’