Death of a Courtesan: Riley Rochester Investigates Read online

  ‘Sundays, surely,’ Salter suggested.

  ‘Ha, Sunday nights are one of the busiest.’ She dealt Salter a cynical look. ‘Once sins have been atoned for, our gentlemen seem anxious to repeat the offence. Some of the clergy enjoy offending, too. Mondays and Tuesdays are quieter, but business picks up again mid-week. Anyway, to answer your question I have no idea what her highness got up to away from here.’

  ‘Was there a particular customer who was fixated on Adelaide?’ Riley asked.

  ‘They all liked her. She had a way with her, I’ll give her that. A natural…aloofness, I suppose, that made her all the more interesting. That sounds like an odd way of putting it, given her profession, but she was detached. Men wanted to own her mind as well as her body, but none of them ever got anywhere near doing it. She was better educated than the rest of us. Could talk intelligently on just about any subject and wasn’t slow to express her opinion about politics, religion…you name it. They found that fascinating, I think. A woman who would do just about anything they wanted her to but also had a brain in her head.’

  ‘No one was obsessive?’

  Mirabelle shrugged, starting to get annoyed, Riley sensed, because the conversation still centred upon her rival, even in death. He thanked her, asking her to return to the salon with the others and send the next girl in.

  They filed in, one by one, and all said more or less the same thing about Adelaide, albeit not as forcefully as Mirabelle. Only the final girl, Ruby, a fifteen-year-old already versed in the ways of the adult world yet clinging to an innocence that probably appealed to certain clients, had a good word to say for her.

  ‘She took me under her wing,’ she said, sniffing and looking genuinely upset. ‘Told me I was a natural. She promised to teach me how to survive by blocking things out. They can have your body, Ruby, she used to say to me, but they can’t own your mind and they never will. They’re the desperate ones, they’re the ones with the deviances, not us. Always remember that, she said. I do, and it helps.’

  ‘How did she help you to improve?’ Salter spoke kindly to Ruby, the first female in the house who had earned his compassion.

  ‘Oh, just a few little tricks. Ways to move, how to flirt. And she was teaching me how to…well, to do some of the things that she did.’

  Riley and Salter exchanged a glance. Ruby was not in Mirabelle’s league when it came to looks and sophistication, but she was young and had to be considered a rival. Why would Adelaide behave so generously towards her when she had deliberately shunned the other women?

  ‘Do you know why she was being so helpful?’ Riley asked. ‘The other ladies have suggested that she wasn’t friendly towards any of them.’

  Ruby shook her head. ‘I really couldn’t say. She did once remark that someone had mentored her when she had been my age, starting out, and she was returning the favour.’

  ‘It sounds as though she was a true friend,’ Salter said.

  ‘She was. I could ask her anything. She never minded.’ Ruby produced a handkerchief and blew her nose. ‘And she lent me books. Said it was a good idea to immerse myself in a fictional world to escape the realities of this one. She always had her nose in a book herself. All I’d ever read before was the bible. Novels were frowned upon in our house, so Adelaide’s books opened up a whole new world for me.’

  ‘Where’s home, love?’ Salter asked.

  ‘Oh, Streatham. My Pa’s a minister,’ she added casually.

  ‘In the church?’ Ruby nodded. ‘Does he know where you are and what you’re doing?’

  ‘No, and I don’t want him to.’ Ruby’s fresh features turned stony, giving Riley a glimpse of the hard woman this business would soon turn her into. ‘I’m never going back there, even if he does find me. I’m better off here, even without Adelaide.’

  It didn’t take a huge stretch of the imagination for Riley to conclude what traumatic event caused her to prefer being a high-class whore to a parson’s daughter.

  ‘Adelaide was planning to leave here,’ Ruby said into the ensuing silence. Riley and Salter exchanged a look and sat a little straighter. ‘I think that’s why she wanted me to be able to replace her. Not that I ever could, of course. There’s more to it than you might think. A lot to learn. Anyway, Mirabelle wouldn’t have allowed it.’

  ‘Surely that would be Mrs Sinclair’s decision?’

  Ruby lifted a slender shoulder. ‘Mirabelle is quite bossy and sulks if she doesn’t get her way. She has quite a temper on her, too.’

  ‘Does she indeed,’ Riley said in a speculative tone. ‘Did Adelaide tell you where she intended to go?’ he asked.

  ‘No, she said it was better that I didn’t know.’

  ‘Do you think one of her gentleman planned to set her up as his mistress?’ Salter asked.

  ‘I thought that might be the case. I saw her once in the street, arguing with a man. She didn’t see me and I knew she’d be angry if she thought I was spying on her, so I just walked away.’

  ‘Had you seen the man before?’ Riley asked. ‘Does he come here?’

  Ruby shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. I only caught a glimpse of him. He was older, in his forties, I suppose. He had dark whiskers that were turning grey and mean eyes. I know because he strode past me a few minutes later, muttering to himself, and I noticed a scar running down his left cheek.’

  ‘You are very observant,’ Salter said.

  ‘It helps in this business.’

  But there was nothing more she could add to the information she had already supplied, so they let her go. Once the door closed behind her they paused to consider what they’d learned.

  ‘Adelaide planned to leave, but it doesn’t sound as though the man with the scar was her intended meal ticket,’ Riley said. ‘They’d hardly be arguing if that was the case.’

  ‘Unless he was pressing her to leave before she was ready to go.’

  ‘But how did she meet him? Ruby said she hadn’t seen him here and although she’s young, she’s already proved to be observant.’

  ‘Someone from her past, perhaps?’ Salter suggested. ‘Besides, the ladies aren’t prisoners here. They must go out sometimes. They could have met anywhere. Adelaide was a beautiful woman. She would have attracted attention without trying to.’

  ‘We still don’t have her family’s address. We need to find it, then we will know more. Someone wanted her dead very badly. They took an almighty risk to carry out such a brutal crime.’ Riley scowled as he thought the matter through. ‘A crime of passion committed by an angry man, I’ll wager.’

  ‘She obviously wasn’t completely hard-hearted in the way Mirabelle suggested, or she wouldn’t have taken such an interest in young Ruby.’ Salter thumped his clenched fist against his thigh. ‘I wish that little girl didn’t have to do what she does.’

  ‘Don’t make this personal, Jack. I know you’re thinking of your own lass, but—’

  ‘If a parson can’t keep his daughter on the straight and narrow, what hope is there for the rest of us?’

  ‘A good deal more, I would imagine,’ Riley replied briskly. ‘Ruby said she was only ever allowed to read the Bible, if you recall. She must have grown up in a pretty austere household. She’s a pretty girl, a lad probably took an interest in her and…well, here she finds herself.’

  Salter grimaced. ‘So much for Christian charity.’

  ‘Right, let’s talk to the maid and the cook. Then we’ll tackle Tennyson.’

  The maid, Lily, explained that her duties finished at midnight, at which time no one was interested in being served food or drink. She retired to her basement room because she needed to be up early in the morning, long before the rest of the household stirred.

  ‘My first duty is to change the linens in the upstairs rooms and tidy them up. They can sometimes be left in a bit of a state.’

  ‘I am sure they can be,’ Riley sympathised. ‘You found Adelaide? That must have been a terrible shock.’


  ‘Oh, sir, upon my life, you don’t know the half of it.’ Lily clapped a hand over her scrawny breast. ‘Just for a second I thought she’d fallen asleep. Then I saw all the blood and I knew something terrible had happened. Screamed the house down, so I did.’

  ‘What time was this?’

  ‘Just before seven o’clock. I always do that room first because Adelaide is…was, really fussy and if it wasn’t all neat and tidy she got into a right old taking.’

  ‘You found Adelaide and screamed. What happened then?’

  ‘Mr Tennyson came belting up the stairs first, then all the others appeared. Mrs Sinclair took me downstairs and gave me some brandy, for the shock like. She told all the others to come down and left it to Mr Tennyson to call the police.’

  Which, Riley knew, he didn’t do immediately He would have been aware of how to contact Danforth—after all, he enjoyed the services of the best female in the house free of charge. It stood to reason that in return he would be expected to protect Mrs Sinclair’s interests, so he would have been Tennyson’s first port of call.

  Lily couldn’t tell them much more. Nor could the cook.

  ‘At least we’ve ascertained that Adelaide was still alive at the end of the evening,’ Riley said when he and Salter again found themselves alone. I don’t think the ladies lied about seeing her.’

  ‘Which means her killer got in…how?’

  ‘A very good question, Jack. We’ll take a closer look at the kitchen door, I think. That seems the most likely place.’

  ‘To get in, perhaps. What with the place being so busy, a man could watch through the window and choose his moment when the kitchen was temporarily unattended. Then blend with the crowd, slip up the stairs and conceal himself until he was assured of Adelaide’s undivided attention. I’m thinking the man with the scar on his face is the only lead we have so far.’

  ‘Me too, Jack.’

  ‘All well and good.’ Salter scratched the back of his neck as he pondered upon the conundrum. ‘But how did he get out again? The doors would have been locked and bolted. If cook had found the kitchen door unlocked, she would have said so. You asked her and she didn’t hesitate when she said it was locked, just like always. I believed her.’

  ‘Perhaps our man didn’t leave until this morning,’ Riley suggested. ‘There are numerous places where he could have hidden without fear of detection. Tennyson handed the gentlemen their hats and coats, which would have satisfied him that everyone was gone. It was the end of a long night. Everyone was tired. I doubt he’d have given the inside of the place more than a cursory glance once he’d locked up. Then, this morning when Adelaide was found, everyone was together in that salon, getting over the shock. He could easily have slipped out of the unlocked kitchen door again.’

  ‘Hmm. A needle in a haystack.’

  ‘Don’t be such a pessimist, Jack. We’ll get him.’ Riley flexed his knuckles and arranged himself as comfortably as the increasingly uncomfortable chair permitted. ‘Right, time to have a frank discussion with Tennyson.’

  Tennyson responded to Riley’s summons, and it quickly became apparent that he blamed himself for the breach in security that led to Adelaide’s death.

  ‘You were fond of her?’ Riley asked.

  ‘She was a spirited lass. Not popular with the others but in great demand with the gentleman. They liked her waywardness, I think, and the fact that she seemed unattainable, even though she…well, it’s hard to explain but there was just something about her that the gents found fascinating.’

  Riley surmised that he’d been a little in love with the unattainable Adelaide himself, but decided not to ask if that had been the case. He hadn’t known Adelaide in life, but was convinced nonetheless that she would have wanted nothing to do with Tennyson on a personal level. Adelaide, it seemed, had been a solitary individual who did not form personal friendships. She had taken Ruby under her wing, that much was true, but that was a matter of practicality. She intended to leave Mrs Sinclair’s employ and didn’t want Mirabelle taking her place for reasons of spite, revenge…Riley couldn’t say.

  Yet.

  Further questioning about Tennyson’s activities elicited answers that mirrored Mrs Sinclair’s so closely that they could have been scripted. Riley decided to cause a diversion by asking a question that had probably not been anticipated—one that would hopefully elicit an unrehearsed answer.

  ‘How did you summon the police?’

  ‘What…?’ Momentary panic filtered through Tennyson’s expression. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I think you understand me very well. Did you send someone to the local police station to report the crime?’

  Salter slapped his hand on the table top with sufficient force to make the objects on it jump as he leaned towards Tennyson, invading his space. ‘Don’t be coy, sunshine, it don’t suit you. You sent a message to Chief Inspector Danforth, didn’t you? Hoping he’d use his influence to hush things up?’

  Tennyson shrugged his massive shoulders and didn’t attempt to deny it. ‘Seemed like the easiest way to get things done. I had a houseful of hysterical women on my hands and a dead body leaking blood all over the rugs. It seemed prudent to go straight to the top of the tree.’

  ‘Because Danforth enjoys the services offered in this house free of charge, and could be expected to cooperate?’ Riley suggested.

  ‘But Danforth’s been too busy covering his own flabby arse. Bet you got a shock when you saw Inspector Rochester walk through the door,’ Salter added gleefully.

  ‘No one here murdered the girl,’ Tennyson said belligerently. ‘Why would we? She was the house’s best earner. But if you’re implying that my first concern was to downplay the scandal then you’re right, and that ain’t no crime.’

  ‘No, it’s not,’ Riley said pleasantly. ‘And since you are in the mood to cooperate, perhaps you’d care to speculate upon the murderer’s means of entry.’

  Another shrug. ‘I’ve been thinking about nothing else, but I do know that all the gents left here before I locked up and all the girls were alive and well at that point. There’s no sign of forced entry.’ Riley nodded. He already knew that because he’d checked for himself. ‘All the windows were closed and locked because of the rain.’ He spread his massive hands. ‘It’s a mystery that suggests cunning and forward planning.’

  ‘Someone accustomed to the house who knew its layout, perhaps?’

  Tennyson twisted his lips. ‘Possibly,’ he conceded. ‘But we get a lot of people through here during the course of a week, so that don’t narrow it down much.’

  ‘Indeed it does not,’ Riley said wearily, thanking the man and letting him go.

  ‘He could have done it,’ Salter said. ‘He’s got the strength. He’s the only person in the house who does. And it’s obvious he was sweet on Adelaide. Perhaps he decided that he’d have a little taste but she refused to oblige him, he lost his temper and…’

  ‘That would be too easy,’ Riley said. ‘And even if it’s true we’ll never prove it, because there were no witnesses and Tennyson won’t confess.’ He sighed and stood up. ‘We’ll keep him in mind and take a closer look at his background, but in the meantime, let’s inspect the ladies’ rooms.’

  Before they could make their way upstairs, Carter and Soames reported upon their search of the room in which Adelaide had been found.

  ‘Nothing the least bit suspicious, give or take a vicious looking whip or two,’ Soames said, grinning.

  ‘That’s not what I wanted to hear,’ Riley complained.

  ‘Except this.’ Soames produced a red carnation, the sort that a gentleman normally wore in his buttonhole. ‘It was just under the bed, like it had fallen there.’

  ‘Doubt whether it belonged to the murderer though,’ Salter said. ‘Can’t imagine he’d come dressed for the opera.’

  ‘Stranger things have been known to happen,’ Riley said.

  ‘That window was lo
cked shut,’ Carter added. ‘Even if someone had the means to climb up to it, they never would have got in through it. Would be more likely to break their neck attempting it in this rain.’

  ‘Right. Go and ask the ladies if they remember anyone wearing a red carnation last night,’ Riley said. ‘They are all still in the small salon. When you’ve done that, join Salter and me on the top floor. I want to take a look in all the rooms before we let the residents loose again.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  The accommodation on the top floor proved to be as sparse as Riley had imagined would be the case—the equivalent of the servants’ quarters, with the exception of Mrs Sinclair’s two rooms, which were elegant and comfortably furnished. Adelaide’s room was surprisingly tidy. There was no indication that the neatly-made bed had been touched since, presumably, Lily had made it the previous day. The closet contained an array of clothing suited to Adelaide’s profession, and as much again for everyday use. The garments that fell into the latter category were surprisingly sedate and of good quality. There was a pile of books on the table beside the bed. Mostly novels, but a few heavy tomes of a geographical nature.

  ‘Perhaps she was thinking about travelling,’ Salter suggested, flipping through one of them.

  ‘We are looking for letters, anything that will give us a clue as to her background or to links beyond this place.’

  ‘This?’ Salter produced a tatty rag doll from the back of the closet.

  ‘She obviously loved it at one stage,’ Riley said, feeling disproportionately saddened by the reminder of lost innocence.

  They searched methodically. There were no diaries, of course, nothing that told them anything more about Adelaide’s ambitions, her mysterious past or her plans for the future. On the point of giving up, Riley noticed an especially well-thumbed copy of Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnets from the Portuguese.

  ‘She had a romantic nature after all,’ he said, picking the book up and flipping through it. ‘These are love sonnets.’ He glanced at the flyleaf and saw that Adelaide had inscribed the book with her name, “This book belongs to Mary Huxton”. Her hand was that of a child still, round and precise. Its date meant that Adelaide would have received it when she was fourteen and liked it sufficiently to bring it with her. Adelaide had obligingly written her address beneath her name.