Chapter Four
Riley’s detectives had not been idle.
‘The agents who manage the house were most obliging, sir,’ Carter told him. ‘They were horrified to hear of Woodrow’s murder, took it as a personal imposition that such a crime could be committed in a house managed by them and didn’t have a bad word to say for the victim.’
‘Whom did you speak with?’ Riley asked, divesting himself of his coat and taking up the chair behind his desk.
‘The manager, a Mr Morpeth. He seemed honest and reliable to me, sir. Says Woodrow always paid his rent promptly and in cash.’
‘In cash?’ Riley flexed a brow. ‘A bit unusual.’
‘We thought the same, sir,’ Carter said, ‘but Morpeth said that Woodrow was not at all conventional. He told them when he took the place that he didn’t trust banks, and when Morpeth said he wasn’t sure about accepting a tenant who only dealt in cash, what with it making him seem like a man of straw, he stumped up two quarters in advance to show goodwill.’
‘Did they ask for references before granting the tenancy?’
‘They did, and received glowing ones from a Lady Eldridge and a Mrs Cowley.’
That information warranted the elevation of both Riley’s brows. ‘Ladies again, Salter. I am starting to see a theme emerging.’
‘Do you know them, sir?’ Carter asked.
‘I do. They both enjoy reputations that are beyond reproach, as far as I am aware.’ Riley would certainly have heard whispers if they were not. His mother could be depended upon to keep him informed about such matters. ‘If one ignores the fact that two respectably married ladies stood as referees for a single gentleman. I suppose he preferred not to ask his brothers, but his father’s word would have been sufficient. Perhaps he preferred not to seek help from that quarter. A matter of pride, given that he’d walked out of the family home and given the impression that he was self-sufficient.’
‘I wonder if the husbands of the ladies who stood as referees are aware of what they did?’ Salter mused. ‘It’s highly unusual.’
‘But not unheard of. Even so, that’s a very good question, Salter, and one that I fully intend to put to them in the fullness of time.’
‘We asked who owns the property and were told that the owner resides permanently in the south of France, where the weather is beneficial to his health. He ain’t set foot in London for years, and leaves Morpeth to handle the tenancies,’ Soames said. ‘He doesn’t know the names of his tenants, and doesn’t want to know. Morpeth says he gets well paid not to bother him with details.’
‘Nothing there then,’ Salter said.
‘I didn’t think that the owner had anything to do with it, but at least we have learned that Rod managed to pay his rent in cash each quarter. How much?’
Carter told him, eliciting a low whistle from Salter. ‘Blimey,’ he said. ‘How the other half live. One quarter’s rent on those two rooms would pay mine for two whole years.’
‘Where did he get that sort of cash?’ Riley asked aloud, not expecting an answer—which was just as well because he met with a wall of silence. ‘Right, you two.’ He nodded towards Carter and Soames. ‘I need you to ask discreet questions at the workplaces of Langston and Crawford, the two male tenants at Half Moon Street. Speak to their supervisors in private and emphasise that they are not suspects. I simply need it confirmed that they are diligent workers and that they have not been seen in company with Woodrow or been involved in any violent altercations that have brought them to the notice of their superiors. You took details of their places of employment?’
‘We did, sir.’
‘Right, off you go. Get that done and then leave for the day. It’s getting late. No need to come back here. We’ll compare notes in the morning.’
‘What about us, sir?’ Salter asked.
‘You requested that Sergeant Barton have his men ask questions in Half Moon Street?’
‘He’s doing that as we speak.’
‘Right, grab a chair. Let’s look through those papers that you took from Woodrow’s room.’
Salter collected the papers in question and spread them across Riley’s desk. ‘I had a quick look at the time but can’t see anything that’ll help much.’
‘I think it highly significant that we found so little,’ Riley said, scratching his head. ‘No notes from his tailor, no correspondence and, significantly, nothing from his bank.’
‘Perhaps he really did mistrust them.’
‘Maybe so, but a man cannot live without leaving a paper trail in this day and age. We know that he no longer keeps anything at Woodrow House.’ Riley leaned back in his chair and linked his fingers behind his head, pondering upon the situation. ‘He’s gone to considerable trouble to hide the source of his income, which is suspicious in itself.’
‘You think he was engaged in something illegal?’
‘I think it very possible. Woodrow didn’t like the idea of work and enjoyed the life of a gentleman, which costs money. A significant amount of money, even though he lived relatively modestly.’
Salter guffawed. ‘Your idea of modest and mine are miles apart, guv’nor.’
‘We need to know more about his activities. Whom he associated with and how he passed his leisure time. More to the point, if he paid his way in cash why was there none found in his rooms? He didn’t even have any in his pockets.’
Salter blinked. ‘Dunno. Hadn’t thought about it. Perhaps the killer took it.’
‘Possibly, yet his silver cigarette case and an expensive watch remained on his body. I’m starting to wonder if he had another place, somewhere more secure, where he kept his valuables.’
‘Well, as far as his activities go, that’s easy. Seems he kept half the females in London entertained, if what Lady Aston said is to be believed. We’ve dealt with more than one woman in our time who lived off rich men. I reckon Woodrow turned the tables and lived off a bored married woman.’ He screwed up his features into an expression of disdain. ‘And perhaps he didn’t restrict himself to just one. Maybe he had several on the go, and they all thought they had exclusive rights to his affections. But if one of them found out about the others…well, you know what they say about a woman scorned.’
‘A woman did not commit this crime, Salter.’
‘No sir, but who’s to say that she didn’t invent some story—or even admit the truth—to her husband, father, brother or some other male connection, that Woodrow had behaved inappropriately. You know what some men are like, sir. All you have to do is wind ’em up and point ’em in the right direction. If the ladies liked him, you can wager that the men resented him, so it wouldn’t take much to give one a reason to turn on him.’
‘To warn him off maybe, or give him a thrashing, perhaps—but murder?’ Riley shook his head. ‘I don’t see it, Jack. If you’re right about his living off women, and I’m not suggesting otherwise, then he’d think twice about inviting an angry male relative of one of his conquests into his rooms.’
‘Unless he came home and found him lying in wait for him. He wouldn’t have wanted a confrontation in the street,’ Salter insisted, ‘not if the man raised his voice and became aggressive.’
Riley leaned his elbow on the arm of his chair and rubbed the side of his hand absently across his lips, impressed with his sergeant’s clarity of thought. ‘True enough. Woodrow had been careful to keep his activities private from the rest of the residents, and loud voices in the dead of night would have been heard, even though all the windows were closed. But if he did invite our mystery man inside, he would have been on his guard and would not have obligingly sat with his back to him so that he could clout him with a heavy object.’
‘But he’d still have offered him a drink, hoping it would calm him down.’ Salter grinned. ‘Gentlemanly rules of conduct have to be maintained. Can’t allow standards to slip.’
‘God forbid,’ Riley replied in a droll tone, aware that Salter was right and so allowing his little dig to pass unadmonished.
‘Woodrow probably thought that he could allay the man’s fears, talk him round. Everyone tells us how persuasive he could be.’
‘Perhaps, but until we can find out which ladies—if any—supported him, we are no further forward.’ Riley cast his eye over the list of guests that Lady Aston had supplied him with. ‘Can’t imagine any of these ladies going quite that far. But still, it wouldn’t be the first time that I’d got it wrong.’
‘What now?’ Salter asked.
‘The day has got away from us, Salter. There’s not much more we can do tonight. Hopefully, Maynard will have completed the post mortem by tomorrow morning, and that might throw up some clues. In the meantime, I’m keen to know if Lord Durand was in London yesterday. He is, in case you are not aware, as rich as Croesus. He keeps a house here in London but has an estate in Yorkshire, to which he has supposedly retreated with his daughter. His wife died some years back, and many an ambitious female has attempted to take her place. But Durand is having none of it. He’s devoted to Laura, his only child—who, like Durand himself—is a bit of an academic.’
‘So, we’re back to that. You still think Woodrow wanted to marry and was aiming high.’
‘I do indeed, Jack. Lady Laura is a retiring little thing, but if Woodrow was as charming as everyone implies, I can’t see her remaining immune to his attentions. Perhaps he corresponded with her secretly in Yorkshire, Durand realised that distance hadn’t cooled his daughter’s feelings, and so came back to London to have it out with Woodrow.’
‘How will you find out if he was here? Do you want me to speak to his servants?’
‘Best let Stout do it,’ Riley replied, referring to his manservant. ‘He will be less conspicuous and they are more likely to talk to him. Bear in mind that positions with a man of Durand’s ilk are highly sought after. If his servants have been sworn to secrecy about their master’s movements, they won’t discuss them with us. But what you can do before you take yourself home is have a word with Lady Aston’s coachman. He will have been responsible for making sure his mistress’s guests got on their way and will know if Woodrow accepted a lift from anyone.’
‘Right you are, sir. I’ll get on it right away.’
‘Good night then, Jack. My regards to your wife.’
‘Good night, sir.’
Riley lingered for half an hour, tidying up some of his outstanding paperwork but mostly thinking about Woodrow. The source of his wealth, those missing glasses and keys remained uppermost in Riley’s mind. He was still contemplating their significance when Chief Inspector Danforth entered his office without the courtesy of knocking.
‘Ah, Rochester, how goes the Woodrow murder?’ he asked, easing himself into the chair across from Riley’s desk and wincing as his buttocks touched it. Clearly, his predilections were too deeply seated for him to give them up, despite the fact that they had almost cost him his career and turned him into an object of scorn in the eyes of his fellow officers. ‘I wasn’t told about it until after you had left to start your investigations. Barton said he couldn’t find me, which is complete moonshine. I’ve been around all day. Damned fellow is becoming insubordinate.’
‘If you had another inspector in mind to conduct the enquiry, I have plenty to keep me occupied,’ Riley said, indicating the papers strewn across his desk.
‘No, you’re the best man to flush out one of your own. I just don’t like being bypassed, that’s all. Procedures are in place for a reason.’
‘I was about to come and find you and give you a progress report.’
Riley spent five minutes telling his superior what little they had thus far learned.
‘Hmm, tricky one,’ Danforth said, rubbing his chin. ‘Sounds like the man prostituted himself. It’ll stir up a hornet’s nest if he was taking liberties with members of his own class, which clearly he was.’
Riley thought it far from clear but refrained from saying so. Danforth liked to take the credit for coming up with original ideas, but left others to find the evidence to substantiate them. Riley agreed that Woodrow had likely accepted favours in return for services rendered, but the precise nature of those services had yet to be established.
‘Need to proceed with caution, Rochester. Influential people won’t thank us for airing their dirty linen.’
‘I have a killer to apprehend and a number of avenues still to explore,’ Riley said, deliberately keeping things vague, ‘but I fear some degree of embarrassment is inevitable.’ He stretched his arms above his head, wishing that Danforth would stop telling him how to do his job. Riley was better versed in the ways of his own social class than his superior officer ever would be. ‘I shall know more once the post mortem has been completed.’
‘Yes well, keep me informed. I will update the superintendent.’
‘Of course you will,’ Riley muttered sotto voce as Danforth hauled himself to his feet and waddled off.
Riley decided that he had more than pulled his weight on his first day back at the Yard, so he collected up his outdoor garments and took himself off. Arriving home at his Sloane Street townhouse a short time later, he regaled his man Stout with particulars of the murder as Stout helped him to bath and change into evening attire.
‘An unfortunate situation, my lord,’ Stout said. ‘I take it you have a role in mind for me.’
Riley explained about Lord Durand’s possible involvement.
‘Leave it to me. By the time you return from entertaining Mrs Cosgrove this evening I shall have information for you.’
‘Good man.’
Riley elected to walk to Amelia’s Chelsea residence. Frigid temperatures overcame the worst of the smells and kept all but the hardiest or most desperate ne’er-do-wells indoors, making the streets that much safer. Even so, Riley remained vigilant. A lone man from the upper classes walking unaccompanied after dark still made a prime target.
He arrived at his destination unmolested, suppressing a sigh when confronted by the sight of his mother’s carriage waiting outside. He had been looking forward to spending his first evening since returning to his occupation alone with his intended. His mother had thoroughly disapproved of Riley’s choice until he confided in her that Amelia’s first marriage had remained unconsummated, thereby negating the possibility of her being barren. Now that Mother knew the truth, she chose to believe that she had been responsible for her younger son’s felicity. She had called upon Amelia for some reason or other every day since her return from Chichester, lending the public seal of approval she deemed essential to the match.
Amelia was more patient than Riley would have been in her position, and far kinder to his mother than she had any right to expect. The dowager marchioness had taken little trouble to hide her disapproval of Amelia before she had been fully informed of the facts, actively pushing other females Riley’s way and all but cutting Amelia. Now it seemed she could do no wrong. But in all fairness Riley conceded that he had kept his mother waiting for years before tying the knot, so he could scarcely resent the pleasure she took from planning the forthcoming ceremony, especially since she had just seen her only grandson buried.
Riley was admitted to the house by Norris, Amelia’s butler.
‘A bitter night, my lord,’ Norris said, taking Riley’s hat and helping him out of his coat. ‘We shall have a white Christmas, like as not.’
‘It seems that way, Norris.’ Riley adjusted the fall of his coat and ran a hand through his hair. ‘Don’t trouble to announce me,’ he added, striding towards the drawing room as Norris opened the door for him.
‘Riley.’ Amelia’s face lit up at the sight of him, causing the travails of his working day fall away.
‘Good evening, ladies.’
‘There you are, Riley. We had quite given up on you. I cannot begin to imagine what they have you doing all day.’
‘Investigating a murder, Mother,’ he said, dutifully bending to kiss her cheek, aware that he was not late at all. His mother knew it too and had doubtless timed this visit with the deliberate intention of seeing him as well as Amelia.
‘Please!’ She shuddered. ‘Amelia’s drawing room is no place for such talk.’
Riley sent Amelia a speaking look, allowing his amusement to show as he kissed her with lingering tenderness.
‘It was most inconsiderate of Roderick Woodrow to get himself murdered on my first day back at Scotland Yard, I do agree with you, Mother.’ He nodded his thanks as Norris handed him a glass of whisky that he hadn’t needed to ask for, and took a chair beside Amelia. ‘But we will not speak of it,’ he added, well aware that his mother, despite her protests, would be bursting with curiosity.
‘It’s true then,’ she said. ‘I did hear a whisper. Poor Roderick.’
‘We were just now wondering if you would be charged with investigating the crime,’ Amelia remarked. ‘I am sorry about Rod. He was a wicked charmer, but entertaining for all that—and very popular.’
‘So I have been told by everyone I’ve spoken to thus far.’
‘Men who behave so outrageously must expect the consequences,’ his mother said, but her frosty expression lightened as she spoke, proving that even she had not been entirely immune to the man’s fascination. Dear God, if he had managed to break through his mother’s reserves then finding the guilty party would be akin to seeking a needle in the proverbial haystack. ‘Even so, I was just now saying to Amelia that if anyone can track down the culprit, it will be you, Riley. I cannot pretend to approve of what you do, but you are at least proficient at it. Well, you must be, you are a Rochester, and Rochesters always excel at whatever task they undertake.’
‘Thank you for the vote of confidence, Mother.’ Riley took a healthy sip of his drink, somehow managing not to laugh at her double standards. ‘Are you aware if he had developed an interest in anyone in particular?’
‘How could I possibly know that?’ His mother sat a little straighter and attempted to look disapproving, whereas Riley knew she adored being treated as a potential source of helpful information. ‘As if I would take an interest in his peccadilloes.’
‘Perish the thought,’ Riley replied, sharing a smile with Amelia.
‘And you can stop laughing at me, Riley Rochester. All I can tell you is that no woman was safe when Mr Woodrow was on the prowl, even if she was married.’ She gave a small sniff of disapproval. ‘Especially then.’
‘Did they want to be safe?’ Amelia asked. ‘Rod was the most terrible flirt, but I think he was basically harmless.’
‘Someone didn’t agree. If you hear anything, Mother, I should be glad to know, but please don’t make a point of asking. And most particularly, please do not tell anyone that I asked for your help.’ Riley fixed her with a steely look. ‘It’s important that details of the investigation do not leak out.’
‘Since you haven’t chosen to share the details with your own mother, then there is nothing much I could say.’ She adopted an aloof expression. ‘Now then, can we talk about what’s really important? Your forthcoming nuptials.’
‘The wedding is to be small, as agreed,’ Riley said. ‘The whole family will only just be out of mourning.’
‘But it’s still a cause for celebration. Goodness only knows, we need one after all the worry we have had to endured over Jasper. I was just now saying to Amelia that we should extend the guest list. We are bound to give offence if we do not include everyone.’
Riley glanced at Amelia, who simply lifted one shoulder. ‘Do what you think is best, Mother. We will be guided by you.’
‘Fine. Henry will host a reception at Rochester House.’
‘That is unnecessary.’
‘I disagree, Riley. These things must be done properly.’
Which was all well and good, but Riley doubted whether his brother could afford the lavish affair his mother would doubtless insist upon. Riley would make it clear to Henry that he would foot the bill himself.
‘Very well, Mother. Have it your way.’
Which, Riley knew, was the response she had been aiming for. Having elicited it, she stood to take her leave.
‘Are you sure you will not stay and dine with us, Dorotha?’ Amelia asked.
Dorotha? Riley sent Amelia a speaking look, unable to completely conceal his shock. No one, but no one, addressed his formidable mother by her Christian name, not even Celia, the current marchioness, who had been married to Riley’s brother for almost twenty years. Yet Amelia, who a few weeks ago had been the spawn of the devil in his mother’s eyes, had clearly been granted that questionable privilege.
‘Heavens no, you don’t need me getting in the way.’ His mother beamed at him, a rare occurrence, and Riley was glad to see her recovering her spirits. ‘Sophia is itching to come back to London and I think Henry will allow it after Christmas. I shall go down to Chichester, of course, and I had hoped that the two of you would—’
‘Sorry, Mother, but best not. Celia needs time to adjust to her loss and…well, everything.’ Riley and Celia did not see eye to eye and his sister-in-law would be spitting feathers now that Riley was Henry’s heir.
‘I suppose you are right. Martha and Gaston will come down, of course,’ she said, referring to Riley’s youngest sister, married to the Viscount Gaston, ‘and one of us will bring Sophia back with us if Celia can spare her. I am sure she will be frantic to be included in the wedding preparations.’
‘She is welcome to spend as much time with me as she likes,’ Amelia generously offered. ‘I enjoy her company.’
‘Well, I shall be off then. Good night, Riley.’
She offered her cheek, Riley dutifully kissed it and his mother swept regally from the room. Amelia laughed and fanned her face with her hand once they heard the front door close behind her.
‘She is quite a force of nature.’
‘I’m sorry if she plagues you. I did warn you that being in her good books can be exhausting. But Dorotha? Heavens above, you’re favoured.’
‘She’s lonely, Riley,’ Amelia replied resting her head on his shoulder and entwining her fingers with his. ‘And she enjoys seeing you happy. You cannot deny her that, not after everything she has been through.’ She paused and glanced up at him. ‘You are happy, I hope.’
‘I put on a good pretence,’ he replied, earning himself a punch on the arm from his beloved. ‘I hope you don’t mind if this wedding turns into something you did not want.’
‘I don’t mind in the least, just so long as you don’t take to your heels when it all gets too lavish.’
‘Not a chance! You accepted my proposal and I have not the least intention of releasing you from the commitment now.’
‘I thought your mother was keen to observe the proprieties, but I was surprised when you said she could do more or less as she likes.’
‘I wanted to keep it small to avoid embarrassing Celia, but if Mother has decided otherwise then Celia will just have to fall into line.’ He smiled and gently cupped Amelia’s face in his hand. ‘Besides, you deserve to have a church full of guests to admire you and envy me.’
Norris interrupted them to announce that dinner was served. They dined in intimate seclusion, talking about everything other than murder, and dismissed the servants as soon as they had finished.
‘Will you not stay the night, Riley?’ Amelia asked a short time later when they were intimately entwined in Amelia’s bedroom. ‘No one in this house is fooled by our pretence, you know.’
‘Best not. I have an early start in the morning and I will not want to go and discharge my duties if you are there to delay me.’
‘Well, you said yourself that it’s never too early to create that heir your mother is so keen to see born.’
‘Why else would I be here?’
She laughed and set about reminding him.