Death of a Courtesan: Riley Rochester Investigates Read online

  ‘It looks as though we will be taking a trip to Ware in order to break the sad news, Salter.’

  Salter, in the throes of searching a valise, merely nodded.

  Satisfied that they were unlikely to find anything else, they consulted with Carter and Soames, who had found nothing incriminating in any of the other rooms.

  ‘Unless you count some of the clothing they wear,’ Carter said. ‘Oh, and none of the ladies recall a gentleman wearing a carnation,’ he added.

  ‘Then perhaps our killer did drop it. Either that or someone gave it to Adelaide as a gift,’ Riley mused as he led the way downstairs, the book of sonnets tucked beneath is arm.

  ‘Tell them that they can leave that room now, Carter, but this establishment does not open its door for business again until I give them leave. I want that clearly understood. And I want you, Peterson, to remain here for the time being. I will have someone relieve you later.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Er, what am I to do?’

  ‘Keep your eyes and ears open and report anything suspicious to me immediately. The girls and the staff will likely relax now that the shock’s worn off and we’ve gone, so they might say something of interest.’ Riley rubbed his chin. ‘One of them knows something, even if they are not yet aware of it.’

  ‘Very good, sir.’

  ‘Are we for the yard and Danforth?’ Salter asked, a gleam in his eye.

  ‘Oh yes. I think we’ve kept him waiting quite long enough. Don’t you?’

  Chapter Four

  Riley sensed the atmosphere the moment he and Salter walked into Scotland Yard. Either news of Danforth’s regular visits to the house in Maiden Lane had already leaked out or, more likely, his fellow officers were taking a particular interest in this case due to the nature of the victim’s profession. The girls employed by Mrs Sinclair were a cut above street walkers and were supposed to be protected. Speculation would be rife as to the reason for the murder, especially when facts were in short supply.

  ‘The superintendent wants to see you,’ Barton told him.

  ‘Damn,’ Salter muttered as the two of them walked through to the Detective Department, rain dripping from the shoulders of their coats and the brims of their hats. Riley was conscious of every man in the room watching them, probably hoping to be assigned to the investigation. ‘I suppose that means Danforth’s with him and I won’t get to witness his downfall.’

  ‘Your moment will come, sergeant,’ Riley assured him as he ran a hand through his dishevelled hair, simultaneously flipping through the messages left on his desk. None of them referred to this case, so they could wait. ‘This business is far from over. See if you can find out more about the men who were in attendance last night while I’m gone, Jack. Their business addresses would be useful, especially those who subjected themselves to Adelaide’s not-so-tender mercies. We’ll get more out of them if we visit them away from their homes and families.’

  ‘But we’ll threaten to call on them there if they aren’t forthcoming.’ Salter grinned. ‘Leave it to me.’

  ‘As you know, Mrs Sinclair had a note of their occupations, which girls they preferred to have entertain them, the regularity of their visits and so forth at the back of her ledger. Fortunately for us, she keeps more information about her clients than they realise, presumably as a failsafe in case one of them declines to pay or crosses a line in some way. Her fastidious record keeping will make our life easier. How many chemists are there in Barking by the name of Cowper, for instance?’

  ‘The men who were there last night are probably shaking in their boots, worried that we’ll track them down and embarrass them.’

  ‘I don’t intend to embarrass anyone, unless I think they are withholding information. Use as many men as you need on my authority.’ Riley chuckled. ‘You won’t lack for volunteers. But keep Danforth’s name out of it for now.’

  Salter looked disappointed. ‘Right you are,’ he said reluctantly.

  Riley slapped his sergeant’s shoulder. ‘This case has caught everyone’s attention and will doubtless find its way into the newspapers. I expect everyone to act professionally and to work diligently, or they will have me to answer to.’ Riley paused. ‘I sense that’s making you uneasy, Jack,’ he added. ‘If you would prefer to be assigned to another investigation I won’t think any the less of you.’

  Salter scratched the side of his chin. ‘No, I’m all right. It’s just…well, it was a bit of a shock when I first went in there. I don’t frequent brothels.’

  ‘No more do I, but we can’t pick and choose who gets murdered, or where.’

  ‘Yeah, but all those whips, and stuff.’ Salter shook his head. ‘Why would anyone want to put themselves through that?’

  Riley lifted one shoulder. ‘Gratification takes many forms.’

  ‘But still, it don’t seem right, them girls having to sell themselves and do all the stuff the men expect of them. I blame the customers. They should have more self-control.’

  ‘The girls in that house have it better than most. They don’t have to walk the streets in all weathers. They have somewhere to live, they have regular medical check-ups and they’re well paid. It’s called the oldest profession for a reason, Jack. The demand will always be there and the ladies in Maiden Lane would probably be the first to admit that the work is less arduous and considerably better paid than being, say, a housemaid.’

  Salter sighed. ‘Yeah, you’re right, I’m being prudish.’ He straightened his shoulders. ‘Let’s concentrate on catching the bastard what did this.’

  ‘That’s the spirit!’ Riley turned towards the door. ‘Right, I’m off to face the music.’

  Salter chuckled. ‘Wish I could be a fly on the wall.’

  Riley used the time it took him to reach the superintendent’s office to compose his thoughts. A glance through the door to Danforth’s domain as he passed it showed an empty room. That being the case, Riley wasn’t surprised when he reached Superintendent Thompson’s door and discovered a hapless Danforth seated across from their joint superior—a man for whom Riley had a great deal of respect.

  ‘Ah, Rochester,’ Thompson said, looking haggard, ‘there you are. Come in and close the door. Have a seat.’

  ‘Good morning, sir,’ Riley replied, taking the chair beside Danforth and nodding to him. Danforth looked ghostly pale, mortified, as well he should.

  ‘You will have discovered by now, I dare say, that Danforth was a guest of Mrs Sinclair’s last night.’

  ‘I have, sir,’ Riley replied, keeping his expression bland and deciding not to state the obvious, which was that Danforth should have told him himself.

  ‘Most irregular.’

  Thompson glowered at Danforth, who seemed to shrink in on himself. He shifted his position in his chair, unable to look either Thompson or Riley in the eye, and winced. Presumably he’d just received a reminder of his escapades from the night before. Riley had noticed Danforth’s discomfort on more than one occasion in the past but if he’d thought about its origins—and he was unsure if he actually had—he would have put the occasional twinge down to the burden of the excess weight he carried. Clearly he had got that wrong.

  Riley leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, wondering why he wasn’t enjoying Danforth’s humiliation more. The man had always resented Riley’s privileged background and done his level best to undermine him at every turn. Yet Riley found that he had a certain sympathy for his superior’s plight. This job had taught him that humans were fallible at all levels. Nothing surprised or shocked him any more, and he made a point of not standing in judgement over those whose foibles were brought to his notice when they themselves had committed no crime.

  ‘The chief inspector is hereby suspended from active duty until this case has been resolved,’ Thompson said briskly. ‘You will want to interview him, of course, and since he tells me that he was alone with the woman who was subsequently murdered, he will be treated as a suspect, just like everyo
ne else.’

  Danforth’s head fell into his splayed hands and he groaned.

  ‘You will make yourself available to Rochester whenever he wishes to speak with you, Danforth. Do I make myself clear?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Danforth lifted his head and spoke for the first time since Riley had entered the room. ‘Is it common knowledge yet?’

  ‘No one other than Salter and myself know of your association with the place,’ Riley told him, ‘and we will endeavour to keep it that way. However…’ Riley spread his hands, not thinking it necessary to explain that Danforth’s involvement was bound to leak out sooner or later. Danforth sent him a suspicious look, clearly thinking that Riley was exacting some sort of revenge. Riley had expected that, well aware that if their positions had been reversed, Danforth would have taken great pleasure in shouting about Riley’s deviances from the rooftops and glorying in his spectacular fall from grace.

  ‘Very well then. Go and wait in your office, Danforth. Rochester will want to talk to you once we’re finished here. But first, I want to hear his report on progress thus far, and you cannot be involved.’ Danforth shuffled to his feet like an old man. ‘We will discuss your position here once this case has been resolved.’

  ‘Damned idiot,’ Thompson muttered as the door closed behind Danforth. ‘What the hell was he thinking, involving himself in a place like that, laying himself open to blackmail, coercion, or worse?’

  ‘How much did he tell you about his predilections?’

  Thompson shuddered. ‘He merely said that the place was discreet and catered for particular requirements. I didn’t ask for details.’

  Riley wasn’t surprised to hear it. Thompson, like Danforth, was a family man, but that was as far as the similarities went. Thompson respected Riley’s qualities as a detective and didn’t seem to resent his lifestyle. Danforth did. Riley explained what it was that drew Danforth to Mrs Sinclair’s establishment.

  ‘For what it’s worth, sir, I don’t think he’s likely to be blackmailed. Every man who goes to that place does so because he harbours obscure desires that he wouldn’t want to have made public, even if he’s unmarried. We are talking about middle-class men with businesses to run and reputations to maintain. That’s why they reply upon Mrs Sinclair’s discretion.’

  ‘But he was there openly, using his own name.’ Thompson, red in the face with anger, shook his head. ‘The stupid fool seems to think that he’s untouchable. I gather he didn’t pay for the services he received, which I assume gives the madam a hold over him.’

  ‘A tenuous one,’ Riley conceded, wondering why he was still defending Danforth. ‘He would no doubt use his authority to have her business raided, shut down even, if he felt she had betrayed his trust.’

  ‘Ha!’

  ‘Anyway, sir, I shall naturally try and speak with as many of the men as possible who were there last night, but I am fairly confident that none of them carried out the murder.’ Riley went on to explain why. ‘I have slight reservations about the only man living there. I think he had developed feelings for the murdered girl. Protective feelings, ludicrous though it might sound, that could have become obsessive. It seems she had that effect upon men. Even the other girls—most of whom didn’t like her—admit that much. I shall delve more deeply into Tennyson’s background but I can’t see him resorting to murder if she refused to listen to his advice.’

  ‘So, an intruder, you think?’ Thompson leaned back in his chair, sliding a paperknife through his fingers and scowling at the wall. ‘Not much chance of catching him, then.’

  ‘I think it was personal, sir, not random, and that the perpetrator planned it carefully in advance. It couldn’t have been an opportunistic crime committed by one of the men there last night, because the victim was seen alive and well after the last of the visitors left. I am hoping that something in Adelaide’s past will lend us a clue.’

  ‘And I have every faith in you, Rochester.’

  ‘Well then, sir, if there’s nothing further, I’d best go and put the chief inspector out of his misery.’

  ‘Don’t you dare! Give him hell. It’s less than he deserves.’

  Riley smiled. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

  Riley tapped on Danforth’s closed door and was gruffly invited to enter. Danforth had regained a little colour but still looked like a condemned man whose career had been compromised.

  ‘I suppose you’re enjoying this,’ was his opening gambit.

  ‘I am doing my job, nothing more.’ Riley seated himself without being invited to do so. ‘I will protect you as much as I can but we both know that will not be possible indefinitely. Gossip will prevail, as always. The best that you can hope for is that your presence there will become known and no man will condemn you for it. If they discover the precise nature of your needs, I’m afraid you will become a laughing stock.’

  ‘Dear God!’ Danforth shook his head from side to side, causing his jowls to wobble. ‘I’m a bloody fool!’

  Riley couldn’t abide self-pity. Danforth had brought this upon himself and must deal with the consequences. ‘Then why take the risk?’ he asked briskly.

  ‘I have eight children, Rochester. Eight. Ten of us live in a house not much larger than your drawing room. It’s bedlam. Oh, I love my wife and family, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes…well, I just need a little personal attention. I have responsibilities here, more responsibilities at home. When I’m with Adelaide she knows what I need and I can abdicate from all those demands upon me, if only for a fleeting moment in time. I’ve never met any other woman like her, but that only made my cravings worse. I could control them after a fashion before I came across her. Now…well, I don’t know how I’ll survive without those visits to look forward to.’

  ‘The cravings must be very strong.’

  Danforth winced. ‘You have no idea. None whatsoever, so I wouldn’t expect you to understand. Just don’t judge, that’s all I ask.’

  ‘Tell me about last night.’

  Riley’s no-nonsense tone seemed to communicate itself to Danforth. He sat a little straighter and became more like his usual gruff self as he started to talk.

  ‘I arrived late. It was past nine and the party was already under way. Adelaide was engaged and I had to wait for her. She saw me at about ten and I left just after eleven.’

  ‘You spent an hour with her?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘How did she seem?’

  ‘What do you mean? She seemed like she always did. Alluring, commanding, dominant, slightly aloof and mysterious.’

  ‘Nothing seemed to be worrying her? Her service was as efficient as always?’

  ‘I didn’t notice anything untoward.’ Danforth screwed up his eyes in an effort to recollect. Presumably he realised that if he were to supply information that helped to break the case, then the prospects of saving his career would improve exponentially. ‘I was…well, concentrating upon my own requirements.’

  ‘Understandable.’ Riley paused. ‘Have you noticed during the course of your visits to Mrs Sinclair’s establishment any men who seemed resentful of the attention Adelaide received from others?’

  ‘She was a whore, Rochester, albeit a high-class one. I was inordinately fond of her myself, but I didn’t feel possessive and didn’t see her as anything other than what she was.’

  ‘But you wouldn’t settle for anyone else,’ he pointed out calmly.

  Danforth’s face flushed. ‘She was damned good at what she did. Exceptionally good.’ He looked away from Riley. ‘You probably think that just about anyone could satisfy the needs of her clients, but that ain’t so. She was all business and discouraged any talk about her own affairs.’ He exhaled loudly. ‘I shall always blame myself for what happened to her. I was there, damn it! But I didn’t kill her. I didn’t feel possessive, but to be honest I had grown perhaps a little fond of her, if that makes any sense. I think everyone she serviced fell victim to her mystique to a greater
or lesser degree.’

  ‘If I even suspected that you’d had a hand in her death, this conversation would not be taking place in this room and I would not be conducting the interview alone.’

  ‘I appreciate your discretion, Rochester.’ Danforth laced his fingers together and stared down at his hands. ‘Good of you, under the circumstances.’

  Riley produced a list of the names of the men who had passed through Adelaide’s evidently capable hands the previous night and laid it on Danforth’s desk.

  ‘What can you tell me about these men? I need to find them all and talk to them.’

  ‘These were Adelaide’s clients last night?’

  ‘They were. I left your name off in an effort to protect you.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Danforth picked up the paper and studied it. ‘I know Rawlings. He’s a solicitor with Badcott & Co. in Lincoln’s Inn. And this one too.’ He flicked a finger against the fourth name on the list. ‘Farmer is an ironmonger in Cheapside. But the other names don’t mean anything to me. I’d probably know them by sight if you paraded them in front of me, I might even have spoken to one or two of them, but I can’t put faces to any of the names.’

  ‘One last question. Did you notice anyone wearing a buttonhole at the party last night?’

  Danforth scowled and appeared to be on the point of asking Riley’s reason for the question. He remembered at the last minute that he was there to answer questions, not ask them, and shook his head. ‘Can’t say that I did.’

  ‘Very well.’ Riley stood. ‘Thank you, sir. I will let you get off home now.’

  Danforth inclined his head. ‘My wife…you won’t need to come to the house?’

  ‘I will likely need to speak to you again but I will send word and you can come to me.’

  ‘Thank you, Rochester. I won’t forget this.’