Death of a Footman (Riley Rochester Investigates Book 8) Read online

  ‘No, Salter, I doubt it. They’re too fond of their mother to commit fratricide but they won’t weep too many tears over his demise either.’

  ‘Sounds to me as if Ezra wanted to prostitute young Ruth.’ Salter sniffed. ‘“Meet and greet and make them feel welcome” indeed. How did he think his sort of customers would respond to that sort of provocation from such a pretty lass?’

  ‘That is a question for another day, but it would, I suppose, give Sam a motive for murder, if he knew of his brother’s offer. He seems to have his ear to the ground around here and I would be very surprised if he hadn’t heard a whisper. It must have been difficult for those two seeing their mother holding Ezra’s behaviour up as a shining example when they knew what a rogue he actually was.’

  ‘Neither of them are exactly honest either,’ Salter pointed out. ‘And that comment about letting you know if he hears anything. Pure tosh, that, guv’nor. No one squeals to the coppers round here, not even if their lives depend on it.’

  ‘If he tried to corrupt Sam’s wife with pretty clothes and easy money, it would be enough to make any man take matters into his own hands. Sam is easily roused to anger, especially when it comes to Ezra, whom he resented. Anyway, what do we know about this Reggie Lane character?’

  ‘I’ve heard his name mentioned in hushed tones but never had the pleasure,’ Salter replied. ‘The local force might have more on him.’

  ‘Or they might be on his payroll,’ Riley added, sighing at that very real possibility.

  The streets improved slightly as they walked away from the Dawson household. Salter strode assuredly towards the Plough, this being his neck of the woods. He pushed open the doors to the taproom, which was half-full in the middle of a working day. All heads turned in their direction and conversations stalled.

  ‘Order us some ale and whatever they are serving for luncheon,’ Riley said, taking a seat at a quiet corner table, where his presence continued to draw curious glances.

  Salter returned with the required ale and told Riley that two plates of stew would be forthcoming. ‘Can’t guarantee what it’ll be like,’ he added, seeming to find Riley’s presence in such a place amusing. ‘Sorry you’re having to slum it, sir.’

  ‘I’ll survive. Did you tell the landlord that we require a word?’

  ‘I did. That’s Jed Bishop behind the bar, giving us the evil eye.’

  ‘I thought as much.’

  Their stew was delivered, and turned out to be better than Riley had anticipated. When Salter had finished his own and mopped up the remainder of Riley’s with crusty bread, Bishop joined them.

  ‘To your satisfaction, gents?’ he asked, eyeing the empty plates.

  ‘Perfectly so,’ Riley replied, going on to introduce them both, even though it was obvious that Bishop knew who Salter was. ‘We are making enquiries about the death of John Dawson.’

  ‘Most regrettable, but I want your lot to know that he was alive and well when he left this establishment,’ Bishop replied, far too quickly and defensively.

  ‘He was alive certainly, but not very well, from what we have been told,’ Riley replied.

  ‘He’d had one too many but there ain’t anything unusual about that with my customers.’

  ‘Who did he speak to while he was here?’ Salter asked.

  ‘Dunno. We was too busy for me to notice.’

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ Riley said, his upper class accent ringing out around the shabby tavern.

  ‘Beg pardon?’ Bishop blinked at Riley’s acerbic response.

  ‘I have yet to meet a landlord who doesn’t keep a weather eye on all his customers, especially the big-spenders, which I am sure Dawson must have been. He was the type who attracted attention, but not only because he had fat pockets and liked to flaunt his success.’ Riley paused, glancing at the pretty girl behind the bar trying to eavesdrop on their conversation. He could see a marked resemblance to the landlord. ‘You were worried about your daughter’s virtue, I dare say, as any good father should be.’

  ‘Here, what do yer…’

  ‘Answer the chief inspector, Jed, and don’t try telling no porkies or I’ll be down on this place like a ton of bricks, checking for the slightest infringement of the licensing laws.’

  Bishop puffed out his chest, highly indignant. ‘I run an honest establishment.’

  ‘Which is more than can be said for the answers you’ve given the chief inspector,’ Salter growled, leaning across the table and getting into Bishop’s face. ‘I can make life very difficult for you if you mess me about, and don’t you forget it.’

  Bishop’s shoulders sagged and he let out a sigh. The fight had gone out of him. ‘I honestly didn’t see much,’ he said. ‘But yeah, my Sal turned pink every time he walked into this place. He knew it of course and made a habit out of flirting with her. Had to have a word with him about leading her on not that long ago.’

  ‘A good reason to want to see him dead,’ Salter muttered.

  ‘Aw, come on now, Jack. My Sal’s a pretty lass. If I whacked every cove what came in here and chatted to her I wouldn’t have no customers left.’ Riley nodded to concede the point. ‘I would of had something to say to him if he’d tried to take her outside, but he never went that far. Too busy making money to dabble with the riff-raff.’ Bishop sniffed. ‘Can’t say as I liked him much, but his brass was as good as anyone else’s.’

  ‘Did John Dawson ever offer your daughter a job, Mr Bishop?’ Riley asked.

  Bishop’s puzzled frown appeared genuine. ‘Nuffink I knew of,’ he answered. ‘Not that I’d of let her go walking out of here with the likes of him.’

  ‘He was seen in here that night talking with a woman. Any idea who she was?’ Riley asked.

  ‘I noticed her but I ’adn’t never seen her before.’

  Salter thumped the top of the table with his fist. ‘You’re starting to get on my wick now,’ he growled. ‘Use what brains God gave you and think about it. If the woman was a stranger, and if she had a hand in Dawson’s death, it’s in the best interests of this establishment for you to tell us what you remember about her.’

  ‘I thought he’d bin whacked over the ’ead,’ Bishop replied, scratching his own head, as though bewildered by the turn the conversation had taken. ‘A little slip of a thing like that couldn’t of done it.’

  ‘Dawson, by your own admission, was fond of the ladies,’ Riley pointed out. ‘You had to watch him to make sure he didn’t tempt your daughter outside. Now, if this lady showed willing…’

  ‘Right, see what you mean.’ Bishop’s face briefly brightened, but then the scowl returned. ‘But I don’t think he would of been tempted. It was crowded in here that night, a lot of noise, but even so, I thought I heard them arguing.’

  ‘That’s more like it,’ Salter said encouragingly, as though talking to a child. ‘Now, what were they arguing about?’

  ‘That I don’t know,’ Bishop said, emphatically shaking his head.

  ‘Can you at least describe the woman?’ Riley asked. ‘You mentioned that she was small.’

  ‘She were, and she was laying into Dawson good and proper. He looked shocked to see her, as did I, to be honest. She wasn’t the type you’d expect to see in this place.’

  ‘Why?’ Salter asked.

  ‘Too well dressed. She had an ’at on, with a little veil that hid her eyes, but I could see that she had a thin face and a sharp nose. She wore good quality clothing an’ all, like she was gentry. But she came in here on ’er own with the specific purpose of cornering Dawson; that much I’m sure about.’

  ‘Did they leave together?’ Riley asked. ‘Think carefully. It could be vitally important.’

  But Bishop refused to be drawn. ‘He were staggering about drunk soon after I saw them speaking, but after that…sorry, I really couldn’t say.’

  ‘He just described Verity Randall, didn’t he, sir?’ Salter asked, as they left the tavern. ‘I knew she had to be involved.’

  ‘He d
id indeed, Jack. Seems that couple were both fully occupied that night. Gideon with his mistress and Verity with bearding her mother-in-law’s paramour in his den. But what I’d very much like to know is how she knew where to find Ezra.’

  ‘Ah, I see your point. Still, she must have been desperate to come down here alone and confront him.’ Salter looked puzzled. ‘We’re back to the discussion we had earlier about how she got here. She wouldn’t have risked using her own carriage, would she? Besides, Bishop said he didn’t see a carriage waiting outside.’

  ‘It could have waited for her just up the road and her coachman could have been outside, ready to escort her back to it. Of course, that means she would have had to take her servants into her confidence, and I doubt whether she’d have done that, especially if she came with the intention of killing him. It would be too risky. Even so, we will have someone ask them before we interview her at Scotland Yard.’

  ‘That’s what I like to—’

  ‘Pa! What are you doing here at this time of day?’

  Salter swung round at the sound of his daughter Maureen’s voice. ‘I could ask you the same question.’

  ‘Good afternoon, Lord Riley,’ Maureen said, executing an elegant curtsey.

  ‘Good afternoon, Maureen. How are you enjoying your apprenticeship?’

  ‘Very much indeed. Madam sent me out on errands so I can’t tarry.’

  ‘Maureen’s design for a lady’s hat is being included in an exhibition in a few days’ time.’

  ‘If I can find someone suitable to model it,’ Maureen replied, biting her lip.

  ‘Where is the exhibition taking place?’ Riley asked.

  ‘It’s a huge event, and the hats are a very small part of a charitable show with the proceeds going to the homeless. It is being staged in the Alexandra Palace,’ Maureen said in hushed tones. ‘Only imagine.’

  ‘I barely can,’ Riley replied, smiling at the girl.

  ‘Maureen’s design is one of only two chosen from dozens submitted for her employer’s consideration,’ Salter said, clearly bursting with paternal pride.

  ‘But I have no one of note to model it,’ Maureen repeated, pouting. ‘So I don’t suppose anyone will notice my efforts.’

  ‘I shall see what I can do for you,’ Riley promised.

  ‘Will you, Lord Riley?’ Maureen brightened considerably. ‘That’s so very kind of you.’

  ‘On your way now, lass,’ Salter said gruffly. ‘You don’t want to be in trouble with madam for being too long.’

  She agreed that she did not and rushed off.

  ‘That was a kind offer, sir,’ Salter said, ‘but you shouldn’t be putting yourself out.’

  ‘Not in the least. It sounds like something right up my niece’s street. Cabbage would be the ideal person to help your daughter out, and I know that she would love the attention.’

  ‘Lady Sophia?’ Salter looked astounded. ‘Blimey,’ he said, ‘that would do it.’

  Chapter Six

  Riley and Salter arrived at Scotland Yard at the same time as the three constables. Riley updated them on their discoveries in Clapham, and when they learned of Verity’s presence in the taproom they exchanged satisfied looks, ready to believe that the case had been solved in record time.

  ‘Verity Randall must have done it, sir,’ Carter said.

  ‘Not alone, she didn’t,’ Riley replied. ‘I’m able to believe that she was involved in the plot to do away with Ezra and that she knew it had to happen well away from Portman Square. If he met with an accident there, suspicion would fall on the family the moment we discovered that he was intimately involved with his mistress. Lady Randall’s children are familiar with her openness about her affairs, and they’d have known she wouldn’t keep it under wraps. Verity didn’t approve of Lady Randall’s behaviour and believed that her relationship with a footman could blight her husband’s career if it became public knowledge. Or perhaps she got wind of the fact that she’d promised to invest a large amount in Ezra’s sporting club, depriving Verity of part of what she looks upon as her husband’s inheritance.’

  ‘But why Clapham, sir?’ Peterson asked.

  ‘Because that’s where Ezra was from,’ Salter replied. ‘Perhaps Verity somehow arranged for a message to be sent to Ezra to say that his mother was ill. We haven’t discovered any other reason for his rushing off the way he did, but we know he was very fond of his Ma and would have gone right away if he thought he was needed.’

  ‘And finding nothing wrong with her, his natural next step would be the tavern,’ Soames added, nodding.

  ‘Precisely,’ Riley said. ‘If we’re right then it was a bold move, and Verity could not have carried it out alone. She must have paid someone to watch Ezra when he went to Clapham so that she could familiarise herself with his habits. Such is her ambition for Gideon that she’s prepared to do whatever it takes to keep his name free from scandal. Goodness only knows what she would do if she were to find out about Gideon’s paramour. Anyway, that’s irrelevant as far as our investigation is concerned. Returning to the murder, I remain to be convinced that she bashed the man over the head herself in a dark alleyway in a part of town that was strange to her.’

  ‘She’d ’ave had help,’ Peterson said.

  ‘Very possibly,’ Riley agreed, ‘but don’t lose sight of the fact that Sam might have killed his brother. He resented his popularity and his willingness to flout the law in order to make easy money while Sam and Paul laboured away laying bricks for paltry reward. Add in the fact that Ezra tried to persuade Sam’s wife to work for him in this club of his—’

  ‘Ruth insists her husband didn’t know,’ Salter pointed out.

  ‘But we cannot afford to ignore the possibility that he might have found out. He’s a big man and I suspect that few things scare him. Even so, he wasn’t afraid to admit that Reggie Lane, the kingpin of illegal gambling south of the river, was a man to treat with respect. Or better yet avoid altogether. He most definitely wouldn’t want his wife involved in his business.’

  All heads nodded in agreement.

  ‘How did you get on checking alibis, gentlemen?’

  ‘Mr and Mrs Heston were where they said they were, sir,’ Peterson replied. ‘I spoke with the theatre manager. He remembers them quite clearly. He says Mrs Heston is difficult to overlook.’

  Riley smiled. ‘Without question.’

  ‘The party of six went on to the Savoy and didn’t leave until gone eleven. They couldn’t have done it, sir.’

  ‘Fair enough. Good work, Peterson.’

  ‘Mrs Steel confirms that Gideon Randall was with her—but, get this, he didn’t arrive until gone midnight and he only stayed an hour,’ Soames said.

  ‘Well, that ain’t what he told us,’ Salter growled. ‘He said he dined at his club, went to see his lady friend and was at home by eleven. Why the devil can’t anyone tell us the truth?’

  ‘He and his wife both have questions to answer,’ Riley said.

  ‘Perhaps they did it together, sir,’ Carter suggested.

  ‘Highly possible, but for the fact that we’re fairly sure it was Verity who went into the taproom,’ Riley pointed out.

  ‘Maybe she did that so she could drug his drink. He wouldn’t have suspected her of going there to give him anything more than a tongue-lashing. Gideon wouldn’t have wanted to get into a fist fight with Ezra, so he had to be incapacitated,’ Salter said. ‘Even drunk, he would likely have overpowered Gideon. Ezra grew up on the streets and knew how to handle himself.’

  ‘We will speak with them both in due course,’ Riley said. ‘Did any of you manage to track down Gideon’s coachman?’

  ‘They don’t keep a carriage, sir,’ Carter said. ‘And they only employ a couple of servants. Well three all told. A cook, a maid of all work and a footman.’

  ‘Damn,’ Riley muttered. ‘So how did they get to Clapham, always supposing either of them was there?’

  ‘There are ways,’ Salter said darkly.


  ‘So as things stand, we have Gideon and Verity with questions to answer, Sam Dawson, who might well have compelling reasons to get rid of his brother, and James, Lady Randall’s footman, who wasn’t where he said he was and whose nose had been put out of joint because Ezra had replaced him in Lady Randall’s affections. Added to that we have Bishop, the landlord of the Plough, who was worried about his daughter’s attraction towards Ezra. We don’t know whether that affection was reciprocated—but we do know that Ezra was an impossible flirt with an eye for a pretty face.’ Riley paused. ‘There is, of course, also a possibility that he offered Sally a position at this club of his.’

  ‘And if Bishop was aware of that,’ Salter added, ‘it would give him a motive too, so he wouldn’t have admitted it to us. We didn’t ask him if Reggie Lane frequents his establishment, but you can be sure that Bishop will know of him anyway, and he’d be more frightened of him than of us.’

  ‘Ezra must have had some front to go up against him, in that case,’ Soames said. ‘Mind you, he could well have paid the ultimate price before his club even got off the ground. Men like Lane ain’t shy of doin’ away with the opposition.’

  ‘A good point, Soames,’ Riley replied, ‘which is why I intend to track down Lord Buckingham today. According to Ruth Dawson, he was involved with Ezra’s club in some way. Hopefully he will be able to shed some light on their intentions. We have also yet to ascertain why Gregg argued with Ezra just before his death. It’s entirely possible that Sir Philip’s butler took matters into his own hands, or worked in conjunction with Verity.’

  ‘And the servants in that household are scared of Gregg, so they’ll say whatever they’re told to,’ Salter added.

  ‘We haven’t spoken with Sir Philip’s coachman yet, sir,’ Peterson said. ‘He wasn’t there when I went round earlier and I wasn’t sure if you’d want me talking to the other servants, alerting them to our suspicions, like.’

  ‘I am glad you did not, Peterson. Stout is trying to find out a bit more about Gregg, so we’ll leave him and Sir Philip for later. In the meantime, Jack, I want you back in Clapham since it’s your stamping ground. Grill Bishop on Reggie Lane and find out just how tight his hold actually is on local gambling. Talk to the daughter as well, on her own, and try to get her to open up to you about her friendship with Ezra. She won’t say a word if her father’s around.’