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

  ‘I don’t see how.’ Riley frowned as he considered the matter. ‘We know he was at his place of work on the morning of the killing, even if he’d committed the murder before calmly reporting for duty. He couldn’t afford to be anywhere else and he hasn’t been to the shop since then.’

  ‘Miss Sharp has though. She’s got the run of the place. We found her going through the office if you recall, and she, Bernard and Hatchard are as cosy as you please.’

  ‘A very good point.’ Riley inclined his head. ‘I think we need to put some pressure on that young woman.’

  ‘She seems sweet on Hatchard.’ Salter stroked his chin. ‘Wonder how she’d react if someone tipped her the wink about him preying on young and innocent girls.’

  Riley chuckled. ‘You have a devious mind, Sergeant.’

  ‘Learned everything I know from you, sir.’

  ‘I assume it wasn’t a good time for you to talk to Maureen about the other apprentices.’

  ‘Actually I did. That’s what upset her and when she started blaming herself for Mrs Faulkner’s death. Reckons that if she’d stayed her full term with Mrs F then she’d still be alive today.’

  ‘I hope you emphasised that none of it was her fault.’ Riley gave a curt nod. ‘Your daughter was miserable at Mrs Faulkner’s establishment. The woman treated her badly and she couldn’t wait to go somewhere that offered her greater scope.’

  ‘Aye, I know that and so do you, but Maureen’s feeling a bit emotional, like. She doesn’t have an arrogant bone in her body, and it had never seriously occurred to her that she was better than any of the others, or that they might resent her.’

  ‘I can believe that of her.’

  ‘She reckons that Susan and Rose were nice enough but when I pressed Maureen about Beryl, the girl she shares a room with, it gave her pause. Apparently, she was Madame’s favoured apprentice before Maureen moved to Bond Street.’

  ‘She’s been hostile?’

  ‘Quite the opposite. She never gave Maureen any reason to suppose that her presence was resented. She says Beryl has been friendly enough but there’s a devious side to her character. I let Maureen run on, speculative like, once she dried her tears. She told me that several of the hats she was making suffered unexpected calamities.’

  ‘Someone sabotaged her work?’

  ‘Only in small ways. If a lady came to collect an order or to decide between two designs, tiny little things occurred that could have swung the decision in Beryl’s favour. It was almost always those two who came up with the competing designs. A ribbon or a foible, I don’t know what you call them, would be missing for unexplained reasons. As I say, Maureen never considered it might be deliberate, especially since her designs were often chosen anyway. Beryl was always full of concern if something went wrong, but she couldn’t always hide her envy when Maureen still won the day. Bear in mind that my Maureen’s in her first year and Beryl is close to the end of her indentures.’

  ‘Beryl and Maureen share a room.’ Riley took a moment to consider. ‘Maureen claims that Beryl was sound asleep when she woke early and discovered the body, but what woke Maureen? She must have been exhausted after working into the night.’

  ‘Funny, that. I asked her the same question. She says she had a design on her mind, but she also recalls hearing a loud noise.’

  ‘That was intended to wake her, perhaps. Beryl understood her habits and knew that once she was awake, she’d almost certainly go downstairs to the design room.’

  ‘I don’t see how Beryl could have made the noise,’ Salter said dubiously. ‘She’s a devious sort, but she don’t seem that bright.’

  ‘You underestimate the scheming nature of a female who has been usurped.’ Riley felt sombre. ‘If I’m right, Jack, then this was a well-planned and deliberate attempt to kill Mrs Faulkner and put the blame on Maureen.’

  ‘Which rules Madame out,’ Salter said. ‘She was always that keen to encourage Maureen’s talents. That’s not to say she wouldn’t have exploited them, mind.’

  ‘Quite.’ Riley paused. ‘Are Carter and Soames here yet?’

  Salter popped out to check and returned with all three of Riley’s detective constables in his wake.

  ‘Morning, gentlemen.’ Riley indicated chairs and they all sat. ‘What did you find out for me about Miss Cornish?’

  ‘Can’t find out nothing about her background, sir,’ Carter replied. ‘Ain’t nothing known. She was left on the steps of a foundling home in Clapham eighteen years ago.’

  ‘Poor scrap,’ Salter said.

  ‘There was nothing to show who her mother was—but that weren’t so unusual.’

  ‘Timing’s about right,’ Riley muttered, half to himself. ‘I thought she might be the product of Madame’s liaison with Wakefield, and she could well be, but if she is Madame’s daughter she doesn’t appear to know it, nor is she shown any favouritism.’

  ‘I agree,’ Soames said. ‘The ’ostel where she lives is pretty grim.’

  ‘Even so, this will interest you, sir.’ Peterson spoke up. ‘I took a turn watching the shop premises last night just after it closed. Miss Cornish left in what appeared to be a hurry, so I followed her.’ He paused. ‘Right into the arms of Bernard Faulkner.’

  ‘Well done, Peterson!’ Riley felt energised. Suspecting they were close was one thing. Having definitive proof entirely another. ‘Now we’re getting somewhere.’

  ‘Our Bernard’s a busy fellow. He’s friendly with Miss Sharp as well,’ Salter pointed out.

  Riley told his team about his meeting with Rathbone.

  ‘You’re prepared to exonerate him on his word alone, sir?’ Salter asked, looking sceptical.

  ‘We can’t rule out the possibility that he had someone else arrange the murder on Madame’s behalf, but somehow I very much doubt it. He has too much to lose to leave himself exposed in such a manner. Madame, on the other hand, now has no alibi for the time of the murder. Not that she’d named Rathbone as an alibi, but I think she will when I press her.’

  ‘Are we going to press her, sir?’ Salter rubbed his hands in anticipation. ‘It’s beyond time that she graced one of our charming interview rooms. You know as well as I do how well the grim surroundings tend to concentrate a person’s mind.’

  ‘Yes, Jack. I think we need to have her in here this morning. And while you’re bringing her in, gentlemen, Salter and I will be at her premises, having a word with Beryl Boyd.’ Riley went on to explain why.

  ‘This case is all about jealousy,’ Soames said. ‘But who would have persuaded Beryl to persecute her roommate?’

  ‘Wouldn’t have taken much doing, I don’t suppose,’ Peterson opined. ‘Seems to me that whoever Madame favoured, her future was pretty much secured.’

  ‘What about Bernard and Miss Cornish, sir?’ Carter asked.

  Riley lifted one shoulder. ‘There’s nothing to say they can’t be friendly. Bernard’s a tough character and wouldn’t break under questioning about his personal life.’

  ‘She might though,’ Salter said, scowling.

  ‘Undoubtedly. But let’s speak with young Beryl and then Madame. No, let’s refer to her as Meg Butler. Madame sounds pretentious and I prefer to use her given name. Right, gentlemen. Two of you go to the premises and ask Meg to return here with you. Salter and I will follow you in ten minutes, once Meg is clear of the premises, and have a word with Beryl.’

  Miss Cornish looked startled when Riley and Salter entered the shop. Several customers examining displays of hats also eyed the detectives with relish, as though hoping to witness a vital moment in the investigation. Riley half suspected that voyeurism was the reason for their visit. They weren’t showing much interest in hats, anyway.

  ‘Madame has just gone…’ Miss Cornish lowered her voice when she realised that everyone in the shop was hanging on her words. ‘She has just gone out,’ she finished.

  ‘It’s Beryl we’ve come to speak with,’ Riley replied, keeping his voice low. He had yet to decid
e whether the girl had colluded in a murder and didn’t want to tarnish her character until he was sure.

  ‘Oh.’ Relief flitted through Miss Cornish’s expression. ‘She’s in the back room, with the others. What do you want her for?’

  ‘That ain’t none of your concern,’ Salter said with a scowl, sweeping past the girl and leading the way into the work room. ‘Which of you is Beryl?’ he asked when three faces turned to look at him.

  A plain girl with a round face and profusion of freckles turned pale. ‘That would be me, sir,’ she said, biting at her lower lip nervously.

  ‘Come with us,’ Riley said, leading the way into the office. ‘We have a few questions for you.’

  The girl was shaking so badly that Riley wondered if her legs would actually support her. Genuine nerves or a guilty conscience? Riley settled on the chair behind the desk and motioned Beryl to the one in front of it. Salter closed the door and leaned his shoulder against it, pencil poised as always.

  ‘Now then, Beryl,’ Riley said in a remote tone, ‘I gather you share a room here with Maureen Salter.’

  ‘That’s right, sir. I have done ever since she came here.’

  ‘How do you get along?’

  Beryl shot a look over her shoulder at the man she knew was Maureen’s father. ‘Well enough. We have to work hard so there’s not much time for anything else.’

  ‘But you share a room.’ Riley frowned. ‘You must talk about something when you’re in it together at night. Do either of you have sweethearts?’ Riley saw Salter’s frown at the suggestion, but he managed not to voice a protest.

  ‘Oh no, sir, nothing like that.’

  ‘You are older than Maureen?’

  ‘By over a year. I’ve been here the longest and Madame seems satisfied with my work.’

  ‘But you are no longer her favourite. Maureen has more talent than you.’

  The bold suggestion drew an aggrieved grunt from Beryl. ‘Madame never said that.’

  Riley fixed the girl with a look that made her quail. ‘Tell me the truth, Beryl. If you lie to a policeman you will not enjoy the consequences.’

  She quaked at the implied threat. ‘I don’t know what you want me to say, sir.’ She sniffed and rummaged in the pocket of her skirt, producing a crumpled handkerchief that she used to blot her eyes. ‘Maureen is very good at what she does, but so am I and I have a lot more experience.’

  ‘Yet Mrs Faulkner was desperate to have Maureen back. Why was that? There are dozens of girls who aspire to become milliners. Why would Maureen be so hard to replace that Madame and Mrs Faulkner came to virtual blows over her?’

  Beryl become increasingly agitated. ‘I really couldn’t say, sir.’

  Salter seemed equally sure that she could, and Riley knew he would be itching to put pressure on the girl. Riley sent him a warning look. Salter’s methods, fuelled on this occasion by his determination to protect his daughter, wouldn’t achieve the desired result. The last thing Riley wanted was for Beryl to become hysterical, incapable of answering their questions.

  ‘Very well. Let’s talk about the morning of the murder. Maureen got up while you were still sleeping, which is how she came to discover the body.’

  ‘That’s what she says.’ Beryl showed a first spark of defiance.

  ‘She told us an untruth?’ Riley raised a brow. ‘You were not asleep?’

  ‘Oh no, I was. I was out for the count. I sleep like the dead, so I do. Everyone teases me about being able to sleep through thunderstorms.’

  ‘Was it unusual for Madame to allow you a late start?’

  Beryl looked momentarily confused. She wasn’t the brightest girl Riley had ever interviewed and he didn’t want her to become too befuddled. ‘She is very considerate. If she makes us work late to get an order ready, she often allows us a late morning.’

  ‘How often does she herself not sleep here?’

  Beryl blinked, as though it was a difficult question. ‘It’s not my place to say, sir.’

  ‘It is if I ask you.’ Riley smiled in an effort to lure her into indiscretion. The child was involved somehow in this miserable business. He was becoming increasingly certain of it from her agitated state. ‘Does she, for instance, not stay here for the night if you girls have been granted a lie in?’

  ‘Oh yes, sir.’ Her face cleared. ‘She’s very understanding that way.’

  Riley glanced at Salter. ‘Who asked you to lure Maureen downstairs?’

  Riley’s loud, firm tone caused the girl to quake. ‘I didn’t…I don’t…’ She laced her fingers together and looked close to passing out.

  ‘Don’t lie to me, Beryl.’ Riley fixed the now squirming girl with a stern look. ‘When did Mrs Faulkner first approach you?’ he asked, playing a hunch.

  ‘She…How?’ Her mouth fell open. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Just tell me and you won’t be in trouble.’

  Beryl shuffled on her seat, clearly struggling for composure. ‘She saw me one day in the street when I was on an errand for Doreen…Miss Cornish. I didn’t know who she was, but she seemed to know all there was to know about me.’ She shuddered. ‘It was spooky.’

  ‘She complimented you, one assumes,’ Riley suggested.

  ‘And why wouldn’t she?’ A note of defiance entered her tone. ‘I’m very good at what I do. I’m in the final year of my indentures.’

  ‘Go on,’ Riley said calmly.

  ‘Mrs Faulkner knew that, and she seemed to understand my problem too.’ When Riley didn’t interrupt her, she appeared to gain a little courage. The slump in her shoulders disappeared and she elevated her chin. ‘Madame had promised me that I would be her right-hand once I qualified but all that changed when…’ She broke off and looked warily over her shoulder at Salter.

  ‘You were usurped by a girl in her first year. That must have rankled.’

  ‘It what?’

  ‘The chief inspector uses big words sometimes, but what he means is that a younger girl proved to have more talent than you and became Madame’s favourite,’ Salter said, not unkindly.

  ‘Well yes, and it weren’t fair.’ An edge of malice had crept into the girl’s expression. ‘I’m just as good as Maureen. Madame was pleased with me but kept going on and on about Maureen’s flair and creativity. She said her natural ability was rare and ought to be nurtured, whatever that means.’

  Riley sighed. ‘What did Mrs Faulkner ask you to do?’

  ‘She said she wanted to talk to Maureen, to bring her to her senses. She said that Madame had stolen her away and that it wasn’t fair.’ The words spilled from her lips in a rushing tumble. Beryl wasn’t a bad sort, Riley suspected, and felt guilty about whatever she’d done to get rid of her rival. It was probably a relief for her to own up. ‘She said that she had grand plans, that she was on the point of opening her own establishment in Knightsbridge and that Maureen would jump at the chance of being given free rein, if only she could talk to her and explain her plans.’

  ‘You saw an opportunity to be rid of her,’ Riley said. ‘How did you go about it?’

  ‘Mrs Faulkner gave me five pounds.’ Beryl’s eyes were as round as saucers. ‘Five pounds, all for myself. Can you imagine that? I’ve never had half as much before. I have to give most of what I earn to me ma to help with the little ones.’ Beryl sniffed. ‘Anyway, all I had to do for my five pounds was to get Mrs Faulkner and Maureen in the same room together. I didn’t think it could be done. Madame had banned her from the premises and it would be more than my position’s worth to defy her wishes. Then I remembered that we had the order to finish and that we’d be allowed to stay in bed the next morning. I knew Madame wouldn’t sleep here, so I said I could leave the side door open for Mrs Faulkner.’

  ‘All night?’ Riley frowned. ‘That was taking an almighty risk.’

  ‘No. I waited until the others were asleep, then slipped down the stairs in the early hours and opened it.’

  ‘How could you be sure that Maureen would wake and go do
wnstairs?’ The girl blushed and looked away from Riley, her expression furtive. ‘You made a noise to wake her. You dropped a heavy tool of some sort that you use in your trade. If we were to go up to your room, what would we find under your bed? A wooden hat block is my guess. You could easily have leaned out of bed, banged it against the floor at the agreed time, probably when you heard the town clocks strike the hour, and then pretend to be asleep again. Maureen would have woken up and felt disorientated. She wouldn’t have realised the noise came from your side of the room. But it was enough to rouse her, so she got up and decided to work downstairs on her latest design, just as you knew she would.’

  Beryl sent Riley a defiant look but made no comment.

  ‘What happened then?’

  ‘I felt guilty, truth to tell. Maureen’s always been that nice to me and I was ashamed of my jealousy. But five pounds… Anyway, I knew Maureen didn’t like Mrs Faulkner and I was a bit afraid of her myself. She told me once that she has quite a temper, so I thought I ought to be nearby, just in case Maureen needed help. I followed her from our room almost immediately. I was on the turn of the stairs and had a good view through the bannisters. I clearly saw her almost trip over the body.’ She sobbed. ‘It were awful. All that blood. I’ve had nightmares ever since.’

  Riley sensed his sergeant’s surge of relief. ‘Let me be clear,’ he said. ‘You followed close behind Maureen and saw Mrs Faulkner on the floor, already dead, or dying.’

  ‘Yes sir.’

  ‘Did you see or hear anyone running away?’

  ‘I think I must have fainted from the shock or something, just for a second or two. Then Maureen screamed, and so did Doreen when she arrived, and we all rushed downstairs and that’s all I know.’

  ‘You didn’t think to tell us all this before?’ Riley admired the restraint in Salter’s voice. ‘You could have cleared Maureen’s name beyond any doubt, but you kept quiet.’

  ‘I would have lost my position if Madame discovered that I had let that woman into the shop.’ Tears spilled down her face. ‘I expect I’ll lose it now anyway. Then how will my family cope? They depend on me.’