Chapter Twelve
Riley had only been deprived of Amelia’s company for one evening, but if felt more like a week. Sometimes he worried about how much he had come to depend upon her. The enemies he had made during the course of his career would recognise her as his Achille’s heel, since there was nothing he would not do, no compromises he would not willingly make in order to keep her safe.
Amelia instinctively seemed able to gauge his moods and brought him out of himself at the end of long days spent rubbing shoulders with the dregs of society and immersing himself in lies, deceit, intrigue and criminal activities. He felt a moment’s sympathy for Henry, who had been obliged to take Celia when it had been apparent to him, young though he had been at the time, that it would be a mésalliance of epic proportions. And now Celia, so proper and correct, every inch the imperious marchioness, had placed Riley in an impossible position. She was in great danger of making Riley’s family the focus of society’s gossip and destroying the career that Riley had laboured so hard to make a success of, thereby proving his detractors right about his impartiality when it came to dispensing justice across the social spectrum.
‘Damn you, Celia,’ he muttered as he made his way home, ‘I hope you are proud of yourself.’
Riley stopped at Sloane Street only long enough to change into evening attire before making his way to Amelia’s abode. He shouldn’t have been surprised that she sensed he had something on his mind the moment he stepped into her drawing room.
‘What is it?’ she asked after Riley had been served with whisky and Norris had withdrawn.
‘Am I that transparent?’ Riley smiled at his fiancée and kissed her gently, admiring her elegant deportment and the manner in which her brow wrinkled with genuine concern as her gaze rested upon his face.
‘You look tired, frustrated and…well, preoccupied.’
‘I am all of those things, my love,’ he replied with a protracted sigh, ‘for which I apologise. You deserve better.’
‘A good wife has a duty to ease her husband’s burdens.’
‘I hesitate to bring the tawdry situations I find myself dealing with into your drawing room.’
‘I am not that fragile, Riley. I shall not break. I have seen my share of the seamier side of life in my time and might even make a helpful suggestion or two.’
‘All the more reason to—’
‘Just tell me,’ she said, squeezing his hand. ‘Perhaps a fresh perspective will help.’
Riley nodded, aware that she was right. And so he told her about Henry’s visit and Celia’s startling behaviour, feeling the relief of a burden shared. Amelia recovered quickly from her shock, then laughed.
‘Sorry,’ she gasped, struggling to recover her composure. ‘I realise it isn’t the least bit amusing, and yet in a perverse sort of way it is. Celia, of all people! She so likes to sit in judgement upon others. I know very well that she tried to persuade you not to marry me.’
Riley gave her a startled look. ‘How did you—'
‘Oh, no one was sufficiently bad mannered to tell me, but her behaviour towards me spoke volumes.’
‘She is jealous because you are so lovely and we are happy, whereas she is sour and dissatisfied.’
‘Whatever her reasons, she has always held herself up as the epitome of respectability, quick to judge the smallest faults in the behaviour of others. Now I find she has fallen victim to one of society’s wildest rakes. I cannot abide hypocrisy.’ Her smile quickly gave way to a sober expression. ‘But worse, in forgetting herself she has left you in an impossible position, and that I can never forgive. Your honour, which means so much to you, is in danger of being compromised.’
‘It is already compromised,’ Riley replied, sighing and taking a long sip of his drink. ‘I have withheld her letters, which amounts to tampering with evidence.’
‘You did what you had to do to protect the integrity of your family.’ She touched the side of his face with gentle fingers. Riley took hold of them and kissed each one in turn. ‘Besides, you have not destroyed the letters, as others in your position would almost certainly have done. I don’t have the slightest doubt that if all avenues fail to produce results, then you will read them and decide what action to take based on their contents.’
‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.’ He paused. ‘Far from mending fences with Celia, I can expect no gratitude from her if I manage to keep her name out of things. I am certain this case will make matters worse between us. She already resents me, and you. Now she will feel that I am sitting in judgement upon her. She will never believe that I haven’t read her letters and have absolutely no desire to do so.’
‘Then she doesn’t know you nearly as well as she thinks she does. No gentleman worthy of the name would read a lady’s private correspondence without just cause. Nor would you ever use the information you hold against her or even mentioning it.’
‘She thinks only of herself and will never appreciate the risks I have taken on her behalf. If my superintendent knew he would be furious, but I rather suspect he would understand. But if Danforth were to find out…well, he wouldn’t hesitate to seize the opportunity. His gratitude when I saved his career has already worn thin. He feels as threatened by me as he ever did, even though he has no reason to, and he would welcome an opportunity see me dismissed.’
‘Don’t waste time worrying about Danforth. You have more intellect in your little finger than he has in his entire body. He will never get the better of you, and I suspect that your superintendent, if he were forced to choose, would get rid of him before losing your services.’
‘Thank you, my sweet.’ He touched her face and ran the pad of his thumb across her lips. ‘But your opinion is biased.’
‘Of course it is, but no less accurate for all that.’ She smiled up at Riley. ‘Henry must be beside himself. No man likes to think his wife would behave in such a fashion. And coming so close after Jasper’s death…’
‘Don’t feel too sorry for my brother. He is hardly a model husband. Anyway, he is coming up to town after Christmas and I have persuaded him to bring Cabbage with him. Her mother takes precious little interest in her, so she is not needed in Chichester.’
‘I’m glad. She will divide her time between your mother and sister, I imagine.’
‘And probably inflict herself upon you. She adores your company, which shows great good judgement on her part. I hope you will not mind.’
‘Not in the least. She is a delight and keeps me on my toes with her endless questions and insightful remarks.’
‘Then I shall soon have her as well as you to keep my spirits up.’
‘Poor Riley.’ Amelia leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed. ‘Talk to me about the other suspects. It will help to clarify your thoughts. I know them all. I’ve socialised with them from time to time.’
He explained about the Kemptons. ‘Salter wants it to be him, but I remain to be convinced. He is arrogant and, to put it in pugilistic terms, punching above his weight in terms of a wife whom he doesn’t have the least hope of impressing. He is not a pleasant individual—but frankly neither is she. Anyway, if Kempton falls for my clumsy ruse and visits Rod’s rooms this evening, he will have the pleasure of spending the night in a cell, along with some of the lowliest criminals pulled in tonight by my uniformed colleagues. Doubtless that experience will make him more loquacious come morning.’
‘I am sure it will, but I doubt whether he will admit to committing murder. Quite the reverse in fact, since an unpleasant night in gaol will make him realise that he can only expect more of the same as he awaits his appointment with the hangman. If he felt the slightest inclination to confess, he will have reason to reconsider.’
Riley shrugged. ‘Perhaps, but then people never fail to surprise me. Sometimes, the weight of guilt forces confessions for the most unlikely suspects. Not that I think Kempton possesses a conscience to trouble him, but still…’ Riley placed his glass on a side table. ‘William Woodrow is still high on my list of suspects, but again I have absolutely no way of proving his guilt. Lord Durand is similarly insulated.’
‘But he’d have had to have done it himself—Durand that is. Woodrow would have admitted him to his rooms, but wouldn’t have let in a stranger engaged by Durand to do the deed.’ She gave Riley a dubious look. ‘Can you really see an earl stooping to murder?’
‘Aristocrats are not immune from criminal behaviour, as I myself have proved today by withholding Celia’s letters.’
‘That is entirely different, as well you know.’
‘Do I?’ Riley felt the tension stretching across his shoulders. ‘Either way, Durand was desperate to save his daughter from a disastrous marriage and Salter tells me there is little a father would not do in such circumstances.’
‘I dare say he’s right. What would you do if Sophia found herself in that situation? You are not even her father?’
Riley conceded the observation with a nod. ‘Fair point, although I would like to think that Cabbage possesses more sense.’
Amelia laughed. ‘All young women are susceptible to flattery from handsome and attentive gentlemen. Even I, who should know better, couldn’t resist you.’
‘Witch!’ Riley leaned back and closed his eyes. ‘Anyway, there is also the question of Lady Eldridge’s son. I have it on good authority that he was keen on Lady Laura and his interest met with her father’s approval.’
‘Because Duncan Eldridge holds a responsible position in the government and could be useful to Durand, I would imagine. Durand is a political animal and likes to have as many sympathetic eyes and ears as possible close to the seat of power.’
‘I haven’t spoken to Eldridge yet. He’s first on my list for tomorrow.’
‘He and Rod Woodrow were friends, you know.’
Riley sat a little straighter. ‘No, I did not know. Where did you hear that?’
‘I saw them together several times when I was married. They seemed to be on the best of terms. That surprised me since Rod wasn’t naturally a man’s man.’
Riley rolled his eyes. ‘And you speak from experience because he had you in his sights, I dare say.’
‘If he did, I failed to notice.’
Riley chuckled. ‘Your inattention probably dented the poor man’s pride. He was unaccustomed to failure when it came to the fairer sex.’
‘I think I heard somewhere that they were at school together and formed a friendship there.’
‘A friendship that probably suffered due to their interest in the same woman. Thank you, my sweet.’ Riley kissed Amelia’s forehead. ‘You have pointed me in a new direction. Rod would definitely have allowed his friend into his rooms and offered him a drink.’
‘But I cannot see him as a killer somehow. I’ve always rather liked Mr Eldridge.’
‘Jealousy, envy, call it what you will, makes people act out of character.’
‘I suppose it does. Anyway, if you are right and Mrs Kempton knew about Alice,’ Amelia mused, ‘I wonder why she didn’t arrange for Alice to meet with an accident. That way, she could have been on hand to console Rod in his hour of need.’
‘She wasn’t about to get her own hands dirty and risk murdering anyone—but she knew that her husband wouldn’t take much persuading to get rid of his rival. Persuading him to kill an innocent woman for no reason that she could explain would be another matter entirely.’
‘I am willing to wager that Alice will go to the places that she used to frequent with Rod on her afternoon off, just to feel close to him. Isolated places…’
‘Perhaps, but I cannot use her as bait. It would be too dangerous. Besides, Rod is gone, so Alice no longer represents a threat to his killer.’
‘Unless word gets out to the suspects that she possesses certain information…Rod’s blackmail material, perhaps,’ Amelia mused, eyes dancing with speculative interest, ‘although obviously you couldn’t call it that.’
‘You have a devious mind, Lady Riley.’
‘I am not Lady Riley yet. That title will take some getting used to.’
‘That is why we need to practise.’ Riley smiled at her and slid a protective arm around Amelia’s shoulders. ‘Now then, let’s talk of more pleasant things. How was your evening out with the Bates?’
‘Terribly dull. I would have preferred to have spent it with you.’
‘And have me complaining about my inability to solve a simple murder.’ He kissed the top of her head. ‘You got the better end of the bargain, dull company notwithstanding.’
Norris came in to announce that dinner was served. Having barely eaten all day, Riley was able to do it justice and there was no more talk of murder that night. Riley took little persuading to spend the night, holding Amelia in his arms and in his heart, keeping his conscience over Celia’s letters firmly in check.
He felt in a much sunnier mood when he arrived at the Yard the following morning, determined to make some kind of a breakthrough in the case. He wanted it resolved well before the Christmas period so that he could focus all his attention upon Amelia and ensure that she never had cause to regret agreeing to become his wife. He reminded himself to call at Garrard’s in Bond Street when he got a moment. He had ordered a diamond bracelet and earrings to match for Amelia’s Christmas gift and wanted to be sure that they had been made to his exacting requirements.
‘Morning, Inspector. Filthy weather,’ Barton said cheerfully as Riley walked in.
‘Are you never off duty, Sergeant Barton?’
‘Place would fall apart without me, sir. Besides, Mrs Barton don’t like me getting under her feet at home. Says I make the place look untidy. Anyway, we have a guest in the cells, screaming blue murder, awaiting your pleasure.’
‘Kempton, I assume.’
‘One and the same. Peterson caught him lurking around Woodrow’s rooms. The lad used his loaf and waited until he’d broken in before accosting him, just so that he couldn’t wiggle out of the charges, like.’ Barton nodded his approval. ‘I can see why you’ve got your eye on him; Peterson that is, but I’ll say it again, you can’t have him.’
‘Message understood, Barton. Give me ten minutes to prepare, then have Kempton brought up to an interview room, please. Is Salter in yet?’
‘Oh yes sir, and he’s itching to have another shot at the prisoner an’ all.’ Barton gave a salute and returned to his work.
Riley found Salter waiting for him in his office.
‘Morning, Jack.’
‘You were right then, sir. He must have wanted those letters real bad to take such a risk. There’s clear evidence that he picked the locks on the street door and the door to Woodrow’s rooms too. Scratches and the like. Anyway, Peterson watched him do it, so there’s no doubt.’
‘So it seems.’ Riley flipped through his messages, none of which were urgent. He then told Salter what he had learned regarding Rod Woodrow’s friendship with Duncan Eldridge and their rivalry for the same female’s affections.
‘Well, well, the plot thickens.’ Salter rubbed his hands together. ‘I take it we shall be speaking to Eldridge this morning.’
‘Indeed we shall, Sergeant. Immediately after we have discovered what Kempton has to say for himself.’
‘Let me at ’im!’
Riley chuckled at Salter’s enthusiasm as they made their way to the interview room into which the bullion dealer had been placed. The transformation wreaked by a night in a communal cell that he would have shared with pickpockets, brawlers, drunkards and the like was remarkable. The over-confident, arrogant little man who had faced them down the previous day had been replaced by a frightened, haggard individual with unruly hair, crumpled clothing and a body that gave off competing aromas of fear and a decided lack of soap.
‘What am I doing here?’ he demanded, his attempt at bravado less than convincing since he was unable to eradicate the terror from his eyes.
‘I am told that you broke into Rod Woodrow’s rooms.’ Riley allowed a significant pause, filling it by subjecting Kempton’s person to a scathing appraisal. The simple gesture emphasised the difference between his own impeccable attire and Kempton’s unkempt appearance. Kempton made a futile attempt to sit upright and straighten his crumpled lapels. ‘I find that rather surprising,’ Riley added, taking the chair across from Kempton, ‘given that you claimed not to know his precise address.’
‘Course, we knew you were lying about that, given that you mentioned Half Moon Street in our hearing yesterday,’ Salter added from his place against the wall. ‘My inspector and I have been wondering what else you lied to us about.’
‘Nothing. I…’ He ran a hand through his greasy hair and sent Riley a look that was half-defiant, half-supplicating. His skin looked pallid and damp. Hollow cheeks and dark circles beneath his eyes reinforced his sharp deterioration. Kempton had clearly not slept, which didn’t surprise Riley. The cells at Scotland Yard were not for the faint-hearted. The bully who enjoyed hitting women and lording it over his employees had received a dose of his own medicine and had found it less than palatable. ‘Look, you said something about my wife writing letters to Woodrow. It was the first I’d heard of it and I wanted to get them back for fear that they might embarrass us both.’
‘You don’t seem surprised that she did something so reckless,’ Riley remarked.
‘I don’t know that she did.’ Kempton waved one hand to emphasise his point. Riley noticed that his nails had been bitten down to the quick. ‘She isn’t usually so foolish, but then that rogue did seem to make her act out of character.’
Riley frowned at him. ‘Why didn’t you just ask her?’
‘I couldn’t do that!’ He seemed scandalised by the suggestion. ‘She would think that I didn’t trust her.’
‘Which you clearly do not,’ Riley replied. ‘Besides, you couldn’t be sure that she would have told you the truth.’
‘Perhaps he went back to the scene of the crime because he thought he left something there, sir?’ Salter suggested. ‘Don’t forget what we found—’
Kempton leaned forward expectantly. ‘What did you find?’ He realised his error and tried to appear unconcerned. ‘Well, whatever it was, it cannot be to do with me because I have never been in those rooms before last night.’
‘If you are experiencing financial difficulties with your business,’ Riley said in an abrupt change of subject that saw some of the anxiety lift from Kempton’s taut expression, ‘why not borrow against your property? The house you inherited when you married Burton’s daughter.’ Riley watched the man squirm and realisation dawned. ‘You can’t, can you, because it’s in your wife’s name, like the bulk of her father’s fortune? Under the Married Women’s Property Act what’s hers doesn’t automatically become yours. You suspect that she’s been unfaithful with Woodrow and yet you have to tread a careful line because she holds all the aces.’
‘We have a perfectly amicable arrangement,’ Kempton replied stiffly.
‘If one ignores the fact that she doesn’t support you and, let’s face it, doesn’t actually seem to like you very much either.’
Kempton attempted a look of lofty scorn. ‘My domestic arrangements are none of your affair, Lord Riley.’
‘They are when the other man that’s ploughing your wife’s furrow ends up brutally murdered,’ Salter replied. His tone wasn’t particularly harsh, but his words caused Kempton to flinch. ‘You’re our number one suspect. No one else we’ve spoken to wanted him gone as badly as you. And no one else knew precisely where he lived, for that matter.’
‘Given your precarious situation, I’m surprised that you allow your temper to get the better of you on occasion and strike your wife. If she decided to ignore the stigma and divorce you, you would be left with nothing,’ Riley said. ‘Ah, but then again, the child. I assume you are named as her father.’ A smug smile briefly graced Kempton’s chapped lips and Riley knew he had got it right. ‘You have told your wife that if she leaves you she will never see her daughter again.’
‘Blimey,’ Salter said, scratching his head. ‘I’d watch me back if I was you.’
‘First you seem to think that I am a killer, now you imply that my wife is the one with murderous tendencies, which is frankly ridiculous.’ Kempton leaned his elbows on the scarred table. ‘My only crime is attempting to protect her reputation. Unless and until you can prove anything else, I would appreciate being allowed to leave.’
‘You’re under arrest, sunshine, in case you’d forgotten,’ Salter growled.
‘You surely don’t mean to…’ His words trailed off and his mouth fell open as the enormity of his situation belatedly dawned on him. Riley would have felt sorry for him, but for the fact that his was a wife-beater at best, and possibly a murderer too.
‘Why did your wife’s father go to such lengths to keep your hands off his property and yet give you free rein with his business?’ Riley asked, his voice hardening. ‘If you want to walk out of here then it is in your best interests to tell me what hold you had over Burton.’
Kempton fell silent for so long that at first Riley thought he would continue to deny the situation, in which case Riley wouldn’t hesitate to send him straight back to the grimy cells until he came to his senses.
‘Them cells ain’t going anywhere,’ Salter pointed out helpfully, leaning forward and drumming his fingers impatiently on the table top immediately in front of Kempton.
‘Very well, I’ll tell you.’ Kempton let out a slow breath and took a moment to choose his words. Riley and Salter waited him out in brittle silence. ‘Burton was a hard taskmaster, always striving for perfection and emphasising the need for integrity. Nothing I did was ever good enough, and if I so much as smiled at his precious daughter…well, it was made clear to me that I wasn’t fit to spit on her shoes. But all the time I knew what he’d done to get where he was.’ Kempton snorted. ‘What corners he’d cut. What tricks he’d pulled. What shady characters he’d done business with. Yet he’d set himself up as being beyond reproach.’ Kempton screwed up his nose. ‘I cannot abide double standards. Oh, I was good enough for his precious girl once she’d spread her legs for someone else and needed the protection of my name for her bastard child.’ He sniffed. ‘And I took her, forgave her and loved her unconditionally. Her child too. I treat that baby like she was my own and no one will ever tell you differently.’
‘What did Burton do?’ Riley asked, recalling Kempton’s attention, which appeared determined to dwell upon his own mistreatment.
‘During the war a lot of rare coins of questionable provenance found their way out of France and Spain.’
‘Stolen?’ Salter suggested.
‘Stolen, Sergeant. Those coins fell into the hands of profiteers. Burton didn’t ask questions and managed to mix them with his own legitimate collections, thereby saving his business from floundering.’
‘How did you find out?’ Riley asked.
‘I heard him arguing one day in the same room you spoke to me in yesterday. As you know, the walls and the door are thin. I got the gist, followed the man when he left the premises and, for a price, persuaded him to give me details of the collections that the coins originally came from. They had been reported missing, all the details logged with the French and Spanish authorities, and Burton would have been finished if that information were to come to light.’
‘Which explains why he allowed you to take over the business but ensured you couldn’t get your hands on his money or property,’ Riley said. ‘You were not married to his daughter at the time so why did he take that precaution? More to the point, why didn’t you challenge it? You knew he needed you to save his family’s honour. Seems to me that you had the upper hand.’
‘Because he didn’t know,’ Salter said when Kempton looked away and failed to respond. ‘He just assumed that everything Burton owned would become his. And he was too keen to marry Miss Burton to delay, just in case Burton found someone more suitable who’d be willing to overlook her indiscretion and take her on.’
‘Something of that nature,’ Kempton said, focusing his attention on the tips of his dusty boots. Riley was mildly surprised that such a weak man had survived the night in a communal cell and emerged with such good quality boots still on his feet. Perhaps he was tougher than he appeared—or maybe the criminal fraternity had been less observant than usual.
‘Woodrow found out that history had repeated itself, didn’t he?’ Riley asked. ‘You purchased coins of questionable provenance when you found yourself to be in difficulties and Woodrow threatened to expose you. The only way he could have known that was if your wife told him. She somehow discovered what you had done and was disgusted.’
‘But to confide in Woodrow. That must have seemed like the ultimate betrayal,’ Salter added, taunting Kempton.
‘You already felt emasculated because your wife owned the property and controlled the purse strings. Then you discovered that she was still communicating with the man you knew she was in love with. That must have rankled. No wonder you resorted to violence. I don’t condone such behaviour, not under any circumstances, but I can quite see how a lesser man would be provoked into such a reaction.’
‘Did Woodrow try to blackmail you?’ Salter asked.
Kempton sat a little straighter. ‘He did not.’
Riley didn’t believe him, but knew the man wouldn’t condemn himself with his own words. If he was the guilty party, he would have to find another way to make him confess.
‘I shall not press charges at this point,’ he said into the ensuing silence, ‘but that does not mean that I will not do so at a later date.’
‘Thank you.’ The air left Kempton’s body in an extravagant whoosh. ‘Are there really any letters written by my wife to that…that man?’
‘I am not at liberty to discuss the matter with you, Kempton. If you want to know, I suggest you ask your wife.’
‘Constable,’ Salter said loudly. The door opened and a uniformed constable stepped through it. ‘Arrange for Kempton’s release. The charges of breaking and entering remain on file but he’s free to go.’ Salter allowed a long pause, regret writ large across his scowling face. ‘For the time being. Make sure we know where to find you in case we need to talk again, Kempton. No sudden trips abroad.’
‘This way,’ the constable said to Kempton, who got up from the table so fast that he knocked his chair over backwards.
‘How the devil are we gonna make him confess that Woodrow blackmailed him, or tried to?’ Salter asked as they watched them go.
‘I have absolutely no idea,’ Riley replied, ‘but I dare say we’ll think of something.’
‘Mrs Kempton sounds like a manipulative piece of work. I mean, Kempton saved her bacon but she ain’t willing to return the favour.’
‘That lady wants everything her own way, Jack. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that she had an accident planned for Kempton, thereby leaving her free to marry the father of her child after a decent interval.’
‘Which means she wouldn’t have arranged to have him killed.’
‘Unless she knew about Alice, of course.’
‘Ah, right. Anyway, Rod wouldn’t have married Mrs Kempton.’ Salter shook his head decisively. ‘He was enjoying himself too much playing the field, and he seems to have been genuinely attached to Alice. If he married her, he could have had the best of both worlds.’
‘Yes well, let’s take ourselves off and have a quiet word with Duncan Eldridge, then we can reassess what we know.’