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

  ‘I’ve had doubts about Salter’s allegiances since the start of this case, as well you know. It seemed obvious to me that Archer would involve the women in his family to pump Salter for information, and I was right about that.’

  ‘You had someone watch his home?’ Riley asked, disgust in his tone.

  ‘Just as well, otherwise…’

  ‘If Salter assures me that he told Archer nothing then I am willing to take his word for it. He is a devout Christian and has never lied to me.’ He fixed Danforth with a steady look. ‘We all of us place ourselves in situations that could adversely affect our professional lives from time to time.’

  ‘Yes, well…’ Danforth had the grace to look chastened at this less than subtle reminder of his own rash behaviour in the recent past. ‘I want Salter off the case. His credibility is destroyed.’

  ‘Salter will remain on the case,’ Riley replied, his tone implacable.

  ‘That is my decision, not yours.’

  ‘Since you went over my head with this matter, I am perfectly willing to return the favour. I suggest we present the superintendent with the facts and allow him to decide.’

  ‘You went direct to him with your report yesterday,’ Danforth said, sounding like a petulant child.

  ‘Because you had left for the day.’

  ‘I’m willing to dig my toes in over this one, Rochester.’ Danforth’s small eyes glistened with malice. ‘You don’t run this department and make the decisions. I do.’

  Thanks to me. ‘No you don’t. Superintendent Thompson does, which is why in your absence I discussed the case with him. I apologise for not trying to find you yesterday evening,’ Riley said, his calm tone belying his growing anger. ‘Perhaps I should have taken the time to track you down in Clyde Street.’

  ‘What!’

  Mentioning that address had been a gamble, but Riley needed to win this particular battle of wills, and he needed to win it now. So he took a chance on Parker’s intelligence being up to the mark. It paid off when Danforth’s flabby cheeks drained of all colour. He looked shocked, probably thinking that he’d exercised more discretion in satisfying his personal needs this time around. His mouth flapped open and then closed again, but no words emerged from it. Riley hadn’t wanted to stoop so low as to make thinly veiled threats, but Danforth had brought it upon himself by pursuing his ridiculous vendetta against Riley. He knew very well that Salter’s misjudgement was merely a means to an end. It was Riley that Danforth really wanted to undermine, but thanks to Parker, Riley had been able to turn the tables on him. Both men knew that if his continued association with prostitutes became known to the superintendent, nothing would save Danforth’s career this time.

  ‘Get out,’ Danforth said, sounding weary and defeated.

  ‘Just so that we’re clear, Salter stays,’ Riley said, standing.

  ‘Provided he does things by the book. But I want Archer interviewed again. He can’t expect any favours.’

  ‘He will be, as will Miss Mottram’s husband.’

  ‘Stop looking for alternative suspects. How can a respectable solicitor who works hundreds of miles away possibly have done it?’

  ‘That is what I shall ask him,’ Riley said, quietly leaving Danforth’s office.

  He found Salter where he expected him to be, which was in Riley’s office, standing with his hands clasped behind his back and shuffling his feet like a recalcitrant schoolboy carpeted for some minor misdemeanour.

  ‘What the devil, Jack!’ Riley said, closing the door firmly behind him. ‘What were you thinking?’

  ‘Am I off the case, sir?’

  ‘No, you are not.’

  Salter let out an audible sigh. ‘Thank you very much for defending me. I didn’t know Reggie would be there, upon my life, and if I had—’

  ‘If I doubted you for one second I wouldn’t have fought your corner, but be clear, I’ve called in all my favours.’ Riley flopped into his chair. ‘Now, sit down, stop looking like you want to commit a murder of your own and tell me what actually happened.’

  ‘I was as furious as you obviously are when I found Reggie sitting in my kitchen, bold as you like, drinking tea and charming my wife and daughters like he didn’t have a care in the world.’

  Salter threw himself into a chair, still scowling like he bore the entire world a grudge. Danforth had that effect on people, Riley knew from experience. A leader and motivator of men he most definitely was not. Riley wondered, not for the first time, what kind of misguided fool had thought him capable of holding down the responsible position within Scotland Yard that he’d managed to procure. It certainly wasn’t Superintendent Thompson, who knew a good copper from a bad one. He also doubted his own wisdom now in having made it possible for him to retain that position when he’d been caught out frequenting a brothel in which a murder had been committed a few months previously. Clearly, no good deed went unpunished.

  Riley returned his wandering attention to his sergeant, who had continued speaking after a brief pause in which he appeared to have regain a modicum of composure.

  ‘I’d told Mrs Salter to stay away from him and she would have. I just didn’t imagine he’d have the brass neck to turn up at my door.’ Slater ground his jaw. ‘Perhaps I should have. Anyway, the conniving little shit probably knew I wouldn’t be home and that my wife didn’t have it in her to close the door in his face. But on my life, I didn’t say a word to him about the case, other than that we would be talking to him again today. He said not to bother to come and get him. He’d come to us. He’ll be here later this morning; he gave me his word, for what that’s worth. But he knows that if he doesn’t turn up he’ll have me to answer to, and if that happens then there ain’t a rock large enough for him to hide under. I’m happy to go into his studio mob-handed and arrest him myself, and you and Danforth and the Superintendent are welcome to come and watch. I tried to tell Danforth all that but he didn’t stop ranting for long enough for me to get a word in.’ Salter gave a disgruntled snort. ‘Not that he would have believed me anyway.’

  ‘Probably best that you didn’t try and defend yourself. You’d have lost that temper of yours and if you’d done that there wouldn’t have been anything I could have done to bail you out of trouble. I’ve told you before, Jack, think before you act.’

  ‘I know, guv’nor, but this was out of my hands. Like I said, Reggie was in my kitchen. What am I to do, take a room at an inn until he decides to go away? I wanted to tell Danforth to go to the devil and examine at his own conduct before he laid into me.’ Salter looked glum. ‘But then again, I knew he was right to tear me off a strip, even if it weren’t my fault.’

  ‘You realise that we shall have to arrest Reggie, unless we can come up with a viable alternative suspect, or unless he has an explanation for the knife. Whether we actually charge him with murder is another matter, but his connection to you and the fact that Danforth’s trying use it to bring me down means we have to go by the rules.’

  Salter rubbed his neck. ‘Won’t do him no harm to see the inside of a cell for a day or two. I’m more concerned about your future, sir.’

  ‘Thanks, Jack, but if the pair of us can’t get the better of Danforth then we don’t deserve to keep our jobs.’

  Salter flashed a grim smile and seemed more like himself again. ‘Right enough.’

  ‘The husband arrives later this morning. Barton’s sending someone to the station to collect him. In the meantime, hopefully Carter and Soames came up with something last night.’

  ‘I saw them just come in. I’ll go and fetch ’em.’

  Riley’s two constables entered the room, looking a little the worse for wear. Clearly, the lure of the ale in the two taverns Riley had asked them to police had been too much of a temptation. Riley shook his head, said nothing but left them to stand and suffer.

  ‘What did you find out?’ Salter asked.

  ‘Not much, other than the fact that we found one gent in the Greyhound, a regular who always takes a
table with a view over the road that leads from the station. He definitely saw Miss Mottram coming off the last London train. He remembers because he disapproved of a respectable young woman being out alone at such a time of night.’

  ‘He’s sure she came out of the station alone?’

  ‘He is, sir.’

  ‘Damn!’ Riley muttered. ‘What else did he tell you?’

  ‘Well, when I pressed him, asking if he saw anyone else he knew leaving that train he said he didn’t. But, here’s the interesting bit, he saw an individual lurking for a while in the shadows near where the lane leads to the station. He thought at first that the man was just having a smoke before catching his train, but the moment Miss Mottram emerged, he took off after her.’

  Riley sat a little straighter. ‘Did he actually join the victim?’

  ‘Not as far as Mr Linford noticed, but there were a few people who got off that train and he just kind of blended in with them. Linford didn’t think much of it.’

  ‘But he did notice,’ Salter remarked.

  ‘Yeah, I asked him about that and he said that everything about the incident had stuck in his mind, given Miss Mottram was found dead the following morning.’ Riley nodded, imagining that it would have. ‘But as to the man, he just assumed that he’d been there to meet someone who hadn’t got off the train, accounting for the fact that he disappeared amongst the gaggle of passengers.’

  ‘What does he do for a living, your Mr Linford?’

  ‘He’s a caretaker at the college, sir.’

  ‘So he would know Renshaw, Archer and the Vermonts by sight.’

  ‘He would, sir, but was adamant that he’d never seen the loiterer before.’

  ‘Could he describe him?’ Riley asked, more in hope that expectation.

  Both constables shook their heads. ‘Only in general turns. Tall, thin, dark clothing. Hat pulled low. Well, it would have been. It was a cold night, which made Mr Linford wonder what had possessed him to loiter. Anyway, the hat prevented him from seeing his face or hair colour.’

  ‘Right. Well that’s something to dwell on. Did you speak with the station master as I asked?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Soames replied. ‘He recalls the party of Frenchmen. Noisy buggers they were, causing quite a racket by all accounts. Archer was with them, saw them onto the train and then went off.’

  ‘That was an hour before Miss Mottram returned.’

  ‘It was.’

  ‘Hmm, I wonder where he went. Not back to the tavern, or Miss Bowden would have seen him.’

  ‘Unless she lied about him coming back for some reason,’ Salter suggested.

  ‘We might have to talk to the other people in the artist’s party that night,’ Riley mused.

  ‘Already have, sir,’ Carter replied. ‘And have a list of their names. They all say that Archer left with the Frenchmen and didn’t return. A bit peeved they were ’cause it was his round an’ all.’

  ‘I’m sure they’d remember that, if nothing else.’ Riley turned to Salter. ‘What time did Archer arrive at your house?’

  ‘Mrs Salter said late afternoon.’

  ‘And we know he left Dulwich in the early afternoon, so where did he go beforehand?’ Riley looked up at Carter. ‘Take yourself off to Manson’s gallery in Bond Street. I have a feeling that Archer visited him yesterday.’

  ‘Reggie would want to know where he stood financially, given the young woman’s death.’ Salter pursed his lips disdainfully. ‘I’ll wager that’s where he was.’

  ‘I agree, but we need it confirmed. I don’t trust your nephew to tell me the truth.’

  ‘Very wise, sir.’

  ‘Press Manson for details of their meeting. Threaten to arrest him for obstruction if he prevaricates, Carter, and then get back here and let me know what you found out as soon as you can. Archer’s coming in this morning and I want to interview him from a position of strength. Soames, I’ll need you with me for that one. In the meantime, Salter and I will speak to the husband.’

  While they waited for his arrival, Riley told Salter about Parker’s investigations into Treadwell’s background.

  ‘He suggested that Treadwell wouldn’t be much of a husband if he let his wife go without at least trying to see her and understand why she felt the need to leave, and I have to say that I agree with him,’ Riley said.

  ‘Unless they’d argued already about the reason and he knew what it was.’

  ‘Right, but in a small village such as Cockington, his reputation as a professional who was above reproach would have been irredeemably tarnished if it became common knowledge that his wife had walked out on him.’

  ‘Yeah, but we’ll never—’

  ‘Treadwell’s here,’ Barton said, putting his bristly head round the door.

  ‘Thank you, sergeant.’ Riley stood. ‘Come along, Jack. I’m curious to meet the man.’

  They made their way into the room where Barton had left Treadwell under the impassive gaze of one of his uniformed constables. Riley dismissed the officer and turned his attention to Treadwell, who had stood when Riley walked in.

  ‘Mr Treadwell,’ he said, extending his hand and examining the man with a practised sweep of his eyes. Tall and lean, he possessed a firm handshake, a strikingly handsome face and an abundance of light brown hair. There was evidence of strain around his eyes but otherwise he seemed to be maintaining his composure. ‘I am Inspector Rochester and this is Sergeant Salter. We are very sorry for your loss. Please accept my condolences.’

  Riley sat and motioned Treadwell back to the chair he had just vacated.

  ‘Thank you, inspector. This news has come as the most terrible shock, as I am sure you can imagine.’

  ‘You and your wife were estranged?’

  ‘Temporarily, I had hoped.’

  ‘Why did she leave you?’

  Treadwell hesitated. ‘Is that relevant to your investigation, inspector?’

  ‘I shan’t know unless you tell me.’ Riley crossed his legs. ‘I regret the need to ask intrusive questions but I’m afraid that privacy had no place in a murder investigation.’

  ‘The fact of the matter is that I don’t know.’ Treadwell spread his hands wide, his attitude bewildered yet cooperative. ‘I came home from work one day and found a note on the table saying that she felt stifled and was going away for a while. That was six months ago and she hasn’t been back since.’

  Riley studied the man quizzically, unsure what to make of him. On the face of it, he appeared to be telling the truth, but his story seemed almost too plausible. ‘What did you do to entice her back?’

  ‘Nothing. I was angry at first. How would you feel if the woman you treasured and adored threw all your efforts back in your face in such a dramatic and public fashion?’ A hint of anger fuelled his expression but was quickly eradicated. Treadwell, Riley decided, seldom allowed the true nature of his feelings to become apparent. That in itself wasn’t any reason to suspect him. Most men preferred to retain their dignity and keep their emotions in check; especially when speaking with strangers. A stiff upper lip was the British way. ‘I thought I had given her everything she could possibly want. She had certainly never complained, and she knew very well that she was treasured. That’s why her desertion was so much harder for me to understand.’

  Treadwell reached into his pocket, produced a cigarette and lit it. It was a perfectly normal thing to do, but Riley sensed that it was a delaying tactic; am excuse for his words to trail off. He wondered about that. The man had had sufficient time during the train journey into London to anticipate Riley’s questions and formulate responses that avoided mentioning contentious issues in their marriage. But why would he feel the need to prepare, if he had nothing to hide? Perhaps it was embarrassment, having to admit that he was a deserted husband. He was a handsome young man with a promising career; not the sort to expect a woman to become tired of his company. If that was what had happened.

  ‘Do you seriously expect us to believe that she walked ou
t for no reason?’ Salter asked, his tone bordering on the belligerent. ‘That she was sufficiently unhappy to make such a major step and you had no idea beforehand?’

  ‘Believe what you like, sergeant. That’s what happened.’

  ‘Your wife’s father knew where she was,’ Riley said, running with Salter’s theme. ‘She informed him of her whereabouts, but not you. If you had not argued, I cannot help wondering why she put his mind at rest and not yours.’

  ‘I really couldn’t say.’ Treadwell blew smoke at the ceiling. ‘But I can assure you that we had not argued. Frankly, I’m at a loss to understand her behaviour. She had a very comfortable life with me, miles removed from having to care for someone else’s children, but there you have it.’ He spread his hands. ‘The workings of the female mind remain a mystery to me, a mere man.’

  ‘You and her father remain on friendly terms.’

  ‘We do. I don’t hold him responsible for Melanie’s behaviour.’

  ‘He told you where she was.’ Riley made it sound like a statement of fact.

  ‘He did, to put my mind at rest.’

  Riley tried another tack. ‘And you came up to town to see her.’

  Treadwell sat forward, looking startled. ‘I did no such thing. Who suggested otherwise?’

  ‘In your position, if my perfectly contented wife walked out without explanation, I would want to see her and find out why,’ Riley replied calmly. ‘I take it you loved her.’

  ‘Passionately, and she knew it.’ His unblinkingly direct look convinced Riley that he spoke the truth—at least in that regard.

  ‘But clearly didn’t return your feelings, otherwise she wouldn’t have gone anywhere. And certainly not without telling you why.’

  ‘I work hard. Long hours. I’m keen to advance my career. There are two junior solicitors in our practise, myself and another man. One of us will be promoted soon, when one of the senior solicitors retires, and that promotion will be based upon income generated for the firm. I want that promotion. Perhaps Melanie felt neglected but didn’t know how to tell me.’

  ‘The scandal of being deserted by your wife at such a vital point in your career would not have enhanced your chances of achieving that promotion,’ Riley observed.