Death of an Artist (Riley Rochester Investigates Book 5) Read online

  And she would, Riley knew, have made a point of looking. This did not bode well for Reggie Archer.

  ‘Is this yours?’ he asked, nodding to Carter, who produced Salter’s evidence bag and extracted the knife used to kill Miss Mottram from it.

  ‘Yes,’ she said without hesitation. ‘Where did you find it…oh my goodness!’ She clapped a hand over her mouth and finally fell into the seat that Riley had offered to her at the commencement of their interview. ‘Was it…it used to kill her?’

  ‘You haven’t answered my question.’

  ‘Yes, it’s mine.’ She had recovered a degree of composure but still looked chalk white. ‘I have two others just like it, but the handle on that one is loose. It had gone to be repaired.’

  ‘Where?’ Riley kept his expression impassive. ‘I understood that it had been lost, or stolen.’

  ‘I thought so, but I found it.’ She gave a mirthless little laugh. ‘We artists sometimes tend to be untidy when absorbed with our work. I lost the knife but found it again and noticed that the handle had come loose.’

  ‘Who offered to repair it for you?’ Riley asked, feeling a sinking feeling in his stomach because he suspected that he knew the answer to his own question.

  Miss Bowden allowed a long, reluctant pause, and Riley noticed that her fingers were trembling. ‘Reggie,’ she eventually said.

  Chapter Twelve

  Riley extracted a promise from Miss Bowden not to discuss the nature of their conversation with anyone else.

  ‘You can depend upon my discretion, inspector. I may not have had much time for Miss Mottram, but I am as anxious as you are to see this matter resolved and the culprit brought to justice.’

  Riley thanked her, but recognised her words for the hollow assurance that they were. There was something about the woman’s bluntness and lack of compassion that troubled Riley, leaving him with the disquieting feeling that he had been manipulated. She must have anticipated Riley’s need to question her, perhaps because she knew that Miss Mottram had been killed with her knife, and there was only one way she could have reached that conclusion.

  ‘She seemed genuine enough, sir,’ Carter observed as they left the studio.

  ‘A little too genuine,’ Riley replied. ‘She knew we would have heard about the rivalry between her and Miss Mottram, so she admitted to it.’

  ‘She might just have been telling the truth.’

  Riley sent his constable a wry smile. ‘That would be a refreshing change, Carter. Rest assured, she will talk to Reggie Archer at the first opportunity and somehow use the opportunity to recover lost ground now that the competition has been permanently removed.’ He paused. ‘It’s that knife that concerns me. Reggie told us she complained it had been stolen, but forgot to mention that it had been found and that he’d offered to get it repaired for her. Somehow I can’t see him bothering with something so mundane when she could easily have arranged its repair herself. Why lie about its whereabouts and deliberately place suspicion on Reggie, the man she supposedly loves?’

  Riley neither liked nor trusted the woman and, unlike Carter, had not been taken in by her performance. She was holding something back; she knew or suspected more about the murder than she had revealed and, crucially, held vital information about that knife. Riley sighed, wondering if the day would ever dawn when people with clear consciences were transparently honest with him.

  ‘Miss Bowden is a determined woman, accustomed to getting whatever she wants and not too particular how she goes about doing it. She wasted her youth caring for her ailing father, possibly missing out on the opportunity to meet potential husbands while she was still young. Now that she is free to put herself first, she can’t have been too happy when a more attractive female occupied Reggie’s attention when she was on the point of securing a partnership of one kind with him, no doubt hoping it would lead to another, more permanent type of partnership.’

  Carter sniffed. ‘Even so, it ain’t looking too good for Archer, is it, sir? He had possession of the murder weapon and can’t account for his time at the end of the evening.’

  ‘If he did. He told us otherwise and I can’t see what he had to gain by lying when he must have known we’d catch him out. He told us that he saw four French students off on the ten o’clock train, then went home, so that could account for his absence.’ Even so, what Miss Bowden had told them—whether fact or fiction—was deeply disturbing. ‘That knife is another matter entirely.’

  Carter shrugged. ‘Perhaps it’s the truth. She gave the knife to him to get it mended, I mean, and she thought we already knew.’

  Riley shook his head. ‘It doesn’t add up, Carter. We’re missing something. If Archer intended to kill the girl, he’s no dimwit and wouldn’t do so with a knife that could be traced back to him.’

  Carter shrugged. ‘Perhaps he had it with him when he saw the Frenchies off. Miss Mottram got off the train, he demanded to know where she had been, things got out of hand and…well, he acted without thinking it through. Clever people do daft things in the heat of the moment.’

  ‘All possible but for the fact that we know Miss Mottram arrived back on a later train. Besides, why would Archer have a knife with a loose handle about his person and, more to the point, why would he kill his meal ticket; the woman who was on the point of securing his financial future? He lacks motive, Carter. Still, we shall have to ask him about that knife again, I suppose, and try to establish which train the Frenchmen actually left on. We haven’t followed up on that yet. If it was later than ten o’clock then your theory becomes plausible. Have another word with the station master. Ask him if he recalls the party of Frenchmen, which train they caught and whether Archer saw them off in person.’

  ‘Will do, sir. Do you want me to wait until Archer returns and bring him back to the Yard?’

  ‘No, he can wait until tomorrow. It will be interesting to see if he changes his account of things following our little chat with Miss Bowden, details of which she is bound to acquaint him with, despite her promise.’

  Riley fervently hoped, but did not add, that Archer’s story wouldn’t change and that he could somehow account for the conflicting stories about the murder weapon. If they caught him out in a lie when he was already Riley’s most viable suspect, there was nothing he could do to protect Salter’s family from the ensuing unpleasantness. Despite Archer’s roguish behaviour, Riley had taken a liking to him. He was clearly passionate about art and Riley admired the way in which he had exploited the system, hiding his identity behind Miss Mottram’s vivacious appeal. The majority of serious art buyers were men and Miss Mottram would have been adept at charming them into loosening their purse strings.

  Riley’s instincts told him that Archer might not be averse to bending the law in order to get ahead, but that he was no killer. Then again, he wanted that to be the case, if only for Salter’s sake, so his instincts couldn’t be depended upon on this occasion.

  They caught up with Salter and Soames, neither of whom had discovered anything in Riley’s absence to help the enquiry along. He left Carter and Soames to continue asking questions and walked with Salter towards the station.

  ‘How did it go, sir?’ Salter scowled. ‘I don’t like that look on your face. Best tell me and get it over with. Nothing Reggie does will ever surprise me.’

  Even so, Salter looked devastated when he heard what Miss Bowden had told Riley.

  ‘Mrs Salter will be that upset,’ he said, shaking his head.

  ‘Don’t tell her, Jack, not until we know more. That young lady has her own agenda; take my word for it. Anyway, you know very well that you shouldn’t tell Mrs Salter anything about an ongoing investigation, especially one involving her own kin. Protect her from the bad news for now at least.’

  ‘Aye, you’re right.’

  ‘Besides, I wouldn’t put it past Miss Bowden to have got rid of the competition herself. She is a determined young woman who wants your nephew at any price.’

  ‘She can have
’im, far as I’m concerned,’ Salter grumbled. ‘And good riddance.’

  ‘Come along.’ Riley increased his pace when he saw the London-bound train pulling into the station. ‘We’ll get back to the Yard and compare notes. I also want to know if Treadwell has responded to our telegram and what time we can expect him tomorrow. I’ll have someone meet him at the station and bring him straight to the Yard. I don’t want him conferring with Mottram first.’

  Salter fell to brooding and was worryingly quiet for the journey into London. Riley left him to his deliberations and mulled over a situation that seemed more complex by the minute. He also wondered how little he could get away with telling Danforth about the interview with Miss Bowden. When he heard what she had alleged, it would provide him with the excuse he sought to have Archer arrested and Salter removed from the case.

  That difficulty was resolved when they returned to the Yard and Barton told Riley that Danforth had left for the day.

  ‘Some sort of prior engagement,’ the sergeant said with a guffaw. ‘He hung about as long as he could, getting annoyed when you didn’t come back. He wanted to know how things were going. Can’t imagine what appointment he had that was too important for him to miss it.’ He slapped his backside and grinned.

  Riley was too relieved to chastise the desk sergeant for his ribald behaviour. He too wondered if Danforth had taken to satisfying his perverse sexual needs in daylight hours. The rumours regarding his involvement with a dead courtesan who specialised in flagellation would have reached Mrs Danforth’s ears, humiliating her in the eyes of her family and friends. Presumably she kept a closer watch on her husband’s leisure activities as a consequence, forcing him to satisfy base needs too strong to be suppressed, despite all the risks, at times when he was supposed to be working.

  Riley knew he hadn’t been shocked into abstention. He’d noticed him wincing too often whenever he sat down for there to be any doubt. But still, it was none of his concern. He was just grateful that his inefficient superior was not around to create mischief for Salter for no reason other than that his resentment of Riley. It was ironic really. Riley had defended him and saved his career, thinking it unfair for the man to be dismissed because of an addiction it was beyond his ability to control. Danforth seemed to think that Riley had done so out of some sort of twisted desire to command the moral high ground and have Danforth obligated to him. After an initial period of gratitude, Danforth’s resentment had become increasingly apparent, and Riley knew that he wouldn’t hesitate to bring him down at the first opportunity.

  And separating him from Salter would be a masterful first step.

  ‘Next time I’ll leave him to his fate,’ Riley muttered, shuffling through his messages.

  Treadwell had sent a telegram confirming that he would arrive the following day, mid-morning. Riley asked Barton to have someone meet him at the station and bring him directly to the Yard. He then sent Salter home.

  ‘I’ll take advantage of Danforth’s absence and update Thompson direct. Then I’ll leave myself,’ he said. ‘You get along and reassure Mrs Salter as best you can. Send her my regards.’

  ‘That I will, sir.’

  ‘Ah, Rochester, there you are.’ Thompson leaned back in his chair and indicated that Riley should take the one on the opposite side of his desk. ‘What progress?’

  Riley gave his superintendent a succinct update. He listened, taking everything in, nodding occasionally and not once interrupting, as Danforth would most definitely have considered necessary, even though he seldom had anything to say that added new dimensions to any investigation.

  ‘You seem to be awash with suspects,’ Thompson said, scratching his ear when Riley ran out of words. ‘The unfortunate victim certainly seemed to have stirred up a lot of trouble in a very short space of time.’

  Riley gave a wry smile. ‘That she did, sir. Lord Vermont, his son and his wife all had their reasons for wanting rid of her.’

  ‘Not his wife, surely?’ Thompson looked shocked. ‘This isn’t a lady’s crime.’

  ‘I don’t think she did it, but only because she is slight of build. She disliked and resented Miss Mottram, as most females seemed to, but lacks the physical strength to carry out such a violent crime. Miss Mottram wouldn’t have felt wary of her employer’s wife if she met her on her way through the grounds though, so we cannot discount her completely. Nor Vermont, either.’

  ‘He thought he’d bought her off. That she would leave now that her art career was blossoming thanks to his patronage.’

  ‘He did, until he spoke to his son, who wasn’t willing to let her go. That’s what they were arguing about at Brooks’s club on the night she died. You know how hot-headed young men in love can be. He might easily have made an almighty fool of himself, to say nothing of sealing his family’s impecunious fate by insisting upon marrying her. He was genuinely unaware that she was already married, I’d stake my life on that. Anyway, his family’s standing matters more to Lord Vermont than anything, which makes me wonder about him.’

  Riley adjusted his position in his chair. ‘Then there’s Daniel himself. He was in love with the girl; no question. I have yet to ascertain where Miss Mottram went after taking tea with Daniel’s landlady. He says that by the time he returned to his lodgings she had left, but we know she went back to Dulwich on the last train, so several hours remain unaccounted for.’

  ‘You think that time gap could be vital?’

  ‘I do indeed, sir. A woman alone in London at night after the museums and galleries had closed. What could she possibly have done? It occurs to me that she could have met Daniel after all. He might have declared himself, although he says he did not, but either way we know she couldn’t accept him. She wasn’t in a position to marry anyone. Perhaps she admitted that she already had a husband and Daniel lost his temper with her for leading him on.’ Riley ran a hand through his hair. ‘But that doesn’t work either. She was definitely killed in Dulwich, I haven’t found anyone who saw Daniel there and besides, I keep coming back to the murder weapon itself.’

  ‘Ah.’ Thompson nodded grimly.

  ‘I shall be speaking with Miss Mottram’s husband when he arrives in the morning. I find it hard to believe that he simply accepted his wife’s desertion and carried on regardless. And then there’s Peter Renshaw. He gave up a promising career in order to follow Miss Mottram to London, thinking she returned his feelings. But he’d served his purpose and she didn’t want to know him. He could well have followed her when she left her train…but again, the problem is access to the murder weapon.’

  ‘You sound highly suspicious of the American lady who owned the knife.’

  ‘I am. She makes no secret of the fact that she disliked Miss Mottram. Our victim had done in a few short months what Miss Bowden had failed to achieve herself. She attracted Reggie Archer’s amatory interest, or so Miss Bowden thought because they were so often closeted together. She is unaware that Reggie was painting pictures that Miss Mottram put her name to and misinterpreted their time together as romantic interludes. She is not the type to accept competition, graciously or otherwise, so Miss Mottram had to be removed from the equation. When angry, Miss Bowden would be strong enough to overcome Miss Mottram, who wouldn’t have felt physically threatened by her presence. She would definitely have been perfectly capable of stabbing her rival. Life has not treated Miss Bowden fairly and she carries about a lot of pent up anger.’

  ‘Why would she volunteer the fact that Archer had the murder weapon in his possession?’ Thompson leaned back in his chair, frowning. ‘Surely she would want to protect him?’

  ‘That is a stumbling block, I’ll grant you. If he had it, that is. Frankly, I’d believe him over her any day.’ Riley paused as a possibility occurred to him. ‘Of course, if she discovered that Archer was the father of Miss Mottram’s unborn child that would have been enough to tip an unstable women who was already riven with jealousy over the edge. By her own admission, Miss Bowden left the tavern alone.
If she saw Archer and Miss Mottram walking away from the station together, having encountered one another by accident, that would have angered her.’

  ‘So she followed them?’

  ‘Probably. If she did, she would have seen Miss Mottram let herself into Vermont’s house by the side gate and watched Archer kiss her goodnight. Most likely passionately. Then he left and Miss Bowden acted. She slipped through that gate and confronted Miss Mottram, who laughed in her face and blurted out the truth about the baby, just to annoy her rival.’

  Thompson frowned. ‘Why would she? The lady was secretive.’

  Riley spread his hands. ‘I have no idea, unless she had actually fallen in love with Reggie Archer. Most women seem to, so perhaps even Miss Mottram wasn’t impervious to his charms. She disliked what she described as the dull discipline of the life as a rural solicitor’s wife. Archie is the polar opposite to her husband; outgoing, popular, happy-go-lucky, and I can easily see her being attracted to his bohemian lifestyle.’

  ‘So Miss Bowden took the ultimate revenge,’ Thompson mused. ‘She had given that knife to Archer but he hadn’t done anything about getting it fixed. She happened to have it with her for some reason…’ Thompson paused. ‘That’s where your theory falls down, Rochester. It keeps coming back to that damned knife. You really do need to talk to Archer about it.’

  ‘I intend to, sir. In the morning, immediately after I’ve spoken with Treadwell.’

  ‘Be off with you then, and well done. You seem to be making progress.’

  ‘Good night, sir.’

  Riley returned to his office to collect his hat and coat, wishing he shared that view.