Chapter Three
Riley took a moment to digest the disquieting knowledge that his chief inspector was one of Mrs Sinclair’s regular customers. Not many discoveries shocked him, but this was had shaken him to the core. Why the devil hadn’t he cornered Riley and warned him of his connection to the place when he’d first learned of Adelaide’s death? He must have known that Riley would discover the truth, with all its disturbing implications. He was either too embarrassed or busy putting his own version of events to the superintendent—most likely the latter.
‘Thank you, Mrs Sinclair,’ Riley said, his mild tone disguising the turbulent nature of his thoughts. ‘Be so kind as to return to the salon with the other ladies and wait there until I have spoken with them all. It won’t take long. Then I would like to look at Adelaide’s room. After that, we shall leave you alone for now but needless to say, you cannot open for business for the next few nights.’
Mrs Sinclair inclined her head. ‘I understand.’
‘Have Mirabelle join us, if you would be so kind.’
Salter got up and opened the door for her.
‘That ledger shows how much all the customers paid,’ Salter said, returning to his seat and scratching his head. ‘Talk about easy money! But Danforth didn’t pay a single penny.’
‘Don’t be naïve, sergeant. Why do you suppose this place is never raided by our colleagues in uniform?’
Salter slumped into a chair. ‘This is serious, isn’t it?’
‘Potentially. The superintendent will have to be told. If Danforth has any sense, he will already have told him, before he finds out from us.’
Salter chuckled. ‘I have a picture in my head of Danforth’s fat arse being flogged.’ He pulled a disgusted face. ‘Perhaps it ain’t such easy money for the girls after all. Only imagine him being such a deviant.’
‘Not a word about Danforth’s involvement leaves this room, Salter.’
Salter scratched his head again. ‘I should have thought after all the trouble he’s caused you that you’d look forward to your moment of revenge.’
‘I hope I can rise above such petty-mindedness.’ Riley clasped his hands behind his back and stared out of the window, watching the unrelenting rain still pounding down on the cobbles outside. ‘But Chief Inspector Danforth will most certainly be helping us with our enquiries.’
Salter grinned. ‘Please tell me I can throw him in the cells and then grill ’im.’
‘I very much doubt whether he killed the girl. Even he isn’t that stupid,’ Riley said, sighing. ‘But you are right about one thing. We will have to treat him as a suspect, unless or until he can prove his innocence. And the only way I can think of him doing that is to have his wife confirm that he was tucked up in bed beside her before midnight, when we know Adelaide was still alive. I don’t suppose he will want to involve her, but the problem he faces is that some of the other gentlemen in attendance here might tell us the good chief inspector was here until the doors closed.’
‘Can’t Tennyson confirm what time he left?’
‘Very probably. But can we rely upon him to tell us the truth?’
‘Ah, I see what you mean. Danforth might not have spent the morning confessing all to the superintendent. Instead, he’ll have been running around, trying to cover…’ Salter grinned. ‘His sore arse.’
‘Precisely. Has it occurred to you to wonder why Mrs Sinclair voluntarily pointed out Danforth’s name to us?’
‘Well, now that you come to mention it…’
‘News of Adelaide’s death will spread, and the reputation of this place will take a denting. Mrs Sinclair wants to avoid a scandal.’
‘This is starting to sound a lot like Lord Ashton wanting to protect his back when that poor lass was killed in his house.’ Salter gave a derisory sniff. ‘He didn’t care about justice, he just wanted to keep his precious reputation.’
‘I’ll wager that Danforth has agreed about the time of his leaving with Tennyson already.’
‘How could he have got to him so quick?’
‘Perhaps Mrs Sinclair told him about the murder before it was officially reported.’ Riley scowled. ‘In fact, I rather suspect that she did. She relies upon him for protection from the police, and he would be her first port of call in times of trouble. Danforth will be kicking himself when he knows the case fell to us, rather than to one of his less rigorous investigators. Serves him right for being too busy saving his own hide to allocate the case himself. Anyway, the maid will be able to tell us what time she found the body, then we will have a clearer idea.’
‘So Danforth’s been running around this morning tying up his alibi,’ Salter said. ‘Better to be embarrassed than looked upon as a viable suspect.’
‘It’s Danforth’s reputation, such as it is, that won’t survive the scandal. We won’t say anything but you can bet a pound to a farthing that news will leak out. It’s not the sort of salacious gossip that can be kept under wraps indefinitely. Danforth has crossed too many of the policemen who will become involved with this case for us to expect them to keep it to themselves. He’ll become a laughing stock, I’m afraid. There’s no way to prevent that from happening.’
‘And he’ll only have himself to blame,’ Salter said with a derisive snort. ‘Right now he’s probably singing his heart out to the superintendent, secure in the knowledge that Mrs Sinclair and her staff will back up his story or risk him shutting them down once the dust settles. But what about the other men who were here? Won’t they be queuing up to tell us one of our own was here until last knockings—if you’ll pardon the expression?’
‘By that late at night they would have been too intent upon their own pleasures to pay too much attention to who else was in the place. Besides, they probably don’t want their presence advertised, and they won’t want to get on the wrong side of a senior policeman.’ Riley released a slow breath. ‘Anyway, time will tell.’
Salter curled his upper lip. ‘Danforth has a wife and eight kids. Why would he want to come to a place like this?’
Riley shrugged. ‘Why does any man? Mrs Sinclair is clever enough to have identified certain deviant needs, and caters for them. Even if Mrs Danforth wasn’t worn out from all those confinements, I very much doubt whether she would agree to take a birch to her husband’s backside. Besides, wives are for the purpose of procreation only.’ Riley offered his sergeant a wry smile. ‘Surely you are aware of that? It’s common knowledge that they find sexual congress distasteful.’
‘Blimey, no one’s told my missus that. Wears me out, so she does.’
‘Then you’re a lucky man, Jack.’
‘And well I know it.’ Salter puffed out his chest. ‘What about Danforth? Are you going to run back to the yard and confront him?’
‘Not yet. He had his opportunity to speak with me this morning and chose not to take it. Now it’s my turn to keep him waiting and wondering.’
Salter grinned. ‘I like your thinking.’
‘We will talk to the remaining five girls ourselves, as well as the staff, and then look at Adelaide’s room before we return to the yard full of fresh ideas and enthusiasm. Hopefully.’
‘This ain’t going to be an easy one, sir. Too many suspects.’
‘More than we have so far considered, I fancy,’ Riley replied. ‘Mrs Sinclair is successful, which will have caused resentment among the competition. She’s only been open for business for five years and has cornered a niche market. She mentioned to us that her rivals had consistently tried to tempt Adelaide away from her. When that failed, perhaps one of them decided to remove her from the game, so to speak, permanently. We’ll need to talk to her again about those competitors…’
‘Have a heart, guv,’ Salter groaned. ‘There are dozens of cathouses in this part of London alone.’
‘But not that many catering for special needs at the wealthier end of the market.’
Salter screwed up his nose, unconvinced, but before he could voice further protests the door opened and both men turned to watch the caramel-skinned beauty flounce through it, still wearing her flimsy attire. This was Mirabelle, Adelaide’s main rival. She shivered in the cool room. Mrs Sinclair had left her commodious woollen shawl behind, which Riley wordlessly passed to Mirabelle.
‘We don’t get too many gents in this establishment encouraging me to put my clothes on,’ she said, looking torn between continuing to flaunt herself in front of them—an instinctive reaction that probably came as naturally to her as breathing—and keeping herself warm. In the end she compromised by wrapping her upper body in the shawl but allowing her robe to fall open when she sat down and crossed her shapely legs.
‘My condolences on the loss of your friend,’ Riley said briskly.
‘Friend?’ Mirabelle sniffed. ‘I am many things, inspector, and you probably wouldn’t approve of most of them. But I am not a hypocrite. Adelaide was cruel, arrogant and self-centred. I didn’t like her and I’m not afraid to admit it,’ she said, a bitter edge to her voice. ‘I’m not sorry that she’s dead, but I didn’t kill her, and nor do I know who did.’
‘Why did you dislike her so much?’ Riley asked. ‘You were in the same business and lived beneath the same roof. I should have thought that would have been a basis for at least some kind of friendship.’
Mirabelle gave a mirthless laugh. ‘It’s clear that you don’t frequent places like this, more’s the pity. The rivalry is fierce and it’s every girl for herself. We learn early on never to rely upon anyone other than ourselves. When I first started out, a more experienced girl befriended me, and like a fool I told her all about the foibles of a young man who’d taken a fancy to me. Next thing I knew, she was offering him the same services for a cheaper price.’
‘You ladies seemed friendly enough earlier,’ Salter remarked.
‘The rest of us rub along, but Adelaide made it clear that she thought herself better than all of us.’
‘Is that what Adelaide did here?’ Riley asked. ‘She enticed the men with the best prospects away from the rest of you?’
‘It doesn’t work that way. We all mill about downstairs, chatting to the customers as they come in, helping them to loosen up a bit. Not that many of them have inhibitions to start with. They like to see us girls together. Adelaide and I used to team up. She knew I was as good looking as her. I’m dark, she was fair, and we made a striking contrast that the gentlemen liked.’
‘You hoped to persuade one or more of your customers to take you both, thereby earning more for less effort.’
Mirabelle sent Riley a flirtatious smile. ‘I can see that you understand the ways of our world better than I gave you credit for, inspector. Yes, we cavorted together out there in the party room, shed a few clothes and helped the gentlemen get into the mood.’ She allowed the shawl to fall away from her shoulders and shrugged in a practised move until the robe slid from one of them, leaving little to the imagination. She chuckled when Salter looked away and Riley feigned boredom. ‘But the real money was to be made in the rooms above stairs,’ she added, pouting at Riley’s disinterest and returning the shawl to her shoulders. ‘And that’s where Adelaide took no prisoners.’
‘Perhaps she was better at what she did than you are?’ Salter suggested.
Mirabelle shrugged. ‘You sound just like her. That’s what she used to say when we complained about her getting all the best pickings. She said she knew what men wanted and how to give it to them. What the hell did she think the rest of us did?’ Mirabelle rolled her eyes. ‘Talk about a prima donna.’
‘When did you see her last?’ Riley held up his hand to prevent an immediate response. ‘Think carefully. It’s vitally important. You may not have liked her, but if someone has decided to kill ladies in your profession, it is in your best interests to help us as much as you can.’
‘Unless you have something to hide,’ Salter added, scowling.
‘I hear she had her throat cut,’ Mirabelle replied, unmoved by a glower that had been known to reduce hardened criminals to quivering wrecks. ‘I wonder how you imagine a woman could accomplish that task without her majesty struggling and causing an almighty ruckus that would have roused the rest of the house.’
Riley had indeed been pondering that question, which is why he had already decided that a woman probably hadn’t committed the crime. Unless, of course, several of them had joined forces, overpowered Adelaide and then done the deed. But he thought it unlikely.
‘Answer the question, if you please,’ Riley said calmly.
‘Well, it thinned out quickly after midnight. It always does. A lot of our gentlemen need to get home to their wives, or be up early to attend to their duties the following morning. Even so, all six of us were engaged upstairs until, oh I suppose it must have been about one-thirty. We come down and see our gentlemen off ourselves. And madam was here too, of course.’
‘You are referring to Mrs Sinclair or Adelaide?’ Riley asked.
‘Both of them. Adelaide came downstairs just after me.’ She tossed her raven mane. ‘I remember her smirking because a gent who usually asks for me was with her this time. She thought it was amusing to have stolen him.’
‘Are you aware if Adelaide had any interests outside this place?’ Riley asked, in the optimistic hope of receiving an informative answer.
‘We don’t get a lot of leisure time.’
‘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 locked 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.
‘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?’