Chapter Eight
Riley smiled at Maynard’s shocked expression.
‘All the men she entertained whom we have thus far spoken with say the same thing about her rules. Penetration was not permitted. She didn’t even like to be touched.’ Riley lifted one shoulder in a negligent shrug. ‘It seemed like a logical explanation.’
‘How on earth could she have risen to the position of authority that she held in that brothel if she was a virgin?’ Salter asked, shared a perplexed look with Maynard.
‘Perhaps because of that very thing,’ Riley said. ‘She was intelligent, we already know that much. Something, probably an advance of a sexual nature that appalled her, drove her away from home when she was only fifteen and most likely hardened her attitude towards men in general. She was a pretty girl, remember, so she had probably been receiving more than her share of attention for several years. Her mother was influenced by her sister-in-law not to believe her version of events when she reported the unwanted attention so she decided to get her revenge on the male sex in general. She got into flagellation somehow. She would have heard about it when Mrs Sinclair took her under her wing and recognised it as a means of venting her anger. She would defile men, make them dependent upon her, and then laugh in private at their perversions. But none of them would touch her, body or soul.’
‘Well, Lord Riley,’ Maynard said. ‘It sounds to me as though you have your work cut out in discovering which of her victims decided to take his revenge. I will allow Mr Huxton to identify his daughter and then they are all yours.’
‘Send them to me in your office when they’ve finished, if you please. Salter, arrange transportation for Huxton and his brother. They will be coming back to the Yard with us for a frank conversation once they’ve done the necessary here.’
And so it was, an hour later, that both men sat, looking somewhat stunned, in separate interview rooms.
‘I say,’ Huxton said when Riley and Salter entered his room first. ‘What’s the meaning of keeping us here like suspects?’
‘I understand you identified your daughter,’ Riley replied calmly. ‘Once again, please accept my condolences on your loss.’
Huxton, whose eyes looked red and swollen, nodded. ‘Thank you.’ A tear trickled from the corner of one eye but he didn’t seem aware of it. ‘I wish I could understand how things came to such a sorry state. My daughter turning to prostitution, and now dead. My wife dead of a broken heart. My own life rendered meaningless. I should have done something… anything. I will always blame myself.’
‘You’ve had time to reflect since our conversation yesterday,’ Riley said. ‘Have you reached any fresh conclusions regarding your daughter’s reasons for leaving home?’
Huxton sighed. ‘Despite what’s happened, I cannot convince myself that my brother behaved inappropriate towards Mary. He insists that he did not and I believe him.’
‘Of course you do,’ Salter said derisively.
‘What do you mean by that, sergeant?’ Huxton’s cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. ‘Are you implying that I would take my brother’s part against my own daughter?’
‘I’m not implying anything, sir. I’m simply making a point. If you accept that your daughter told the truth and that none of you believed her, then you really must accept responsibility for subsequent events.’
‘It stands to reason that you would prefer not to think that badly of your own brother,’ Riley said, waving a placating hand towards Salter, who seemed to be allowing the parental side of his character to take precedence over interview technique once again.
‘I wasn’t there when the original allegation was made,’ Huxton said in a considering manner. ‘If I had been, Mary would have come to me with her accusations and the matter would have been resolved. Derek did not, would not, have overstepped the bounds of his responsibilities as an uncle, and no one will convince me otherwise. However, I suppose it’s possible that someone else did,’ he conceded.
‘She would unjustly accuse her own uncle?’ Salter asked in an incredulous tone.
‘I dare say she felt confused and afraid.’ Huxton shook his head, his voice reduced to a pathetic whisper. ‘If I had been there…’
‘Did you make enquiries when you first heard of her allegations?’ Salter asked. ‘Did you talk to the people who were closest to her?’ He leaned towards Huxton, his expression contemptuous. ‘Do you even know who her friends were?’
‘I was more concerned with trying to find my daughter than delving into her affairs, sergeant. Surely you can understand at least that much.’
Salter sat back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, lingering contempt in his expression.
‘For what it’s worth, if you had been there, the allegation probably wouldn’t have arisen,’ Riley remarked.
‘What do you mean?’ Huxton leaned forward. ‘Are you implying that my daughter lied in an effort to draw attention to herself?’ He shook his head. ‘She would not have done that.’
‘Then it follows that she must have told the truth,’ Salter pointed out.
‘As I say, it might be possible that someone she knew but didn’t want to name overstepped the bounds—’
‘Then why accuse her uncle?’ Salter asked. ‘She must have known how much trouble that would create for him and her. Why not simply remain quiet?’
Huxton dropped his head into his hands. ‘You can have no idea how ardently I wish I could give you an answer to that question. I think of little else. Sometimes I think I have completely lost my mind…’
‘Did your daughter and your brother have a congenial relationship?’ Riley asked.
‘I always thought so. I was never told of any tensions, but Derek was often there when I was not and assumed responsibility as man of the house. It’s possible that he denied some request on Mary’s part to go somewhere he thought inappropriate, but she wouldn’t take revenge by inventing wicked lies. The girl I remember didn’t have a malevolent bone in her body. She was obedient, dutiful and affectionate.’
‘Just supposing for the sake of argument that your daughter’s allegations were true and that your brother had taken an unnatural interest in her, he would keep that interest well-hidden when you were at home.’
‘Derek is incapable of such behaviour.’ Huxton let out an angry breath. ‘How many more times must I tell you?’
‘Your sister,’ Riley said in an abrupt change of tack. ‘She holds a position of influence in your household. You claim that your daughter was obedient and affectionate, yet Miss Huxton implies the opposite.’
‘Ruth has had a difficult time, inspector. Oh, I know how she must seem to an outsider, and I will admit that her views on certain subjects remain intransigent. She is very devout, which I find trying myself sometimes,’ he said with the ghost of a sad smile. ‘She was not always thus. Our mother died when Ruth was sixteen. I was ten and Derek eight. Our father was building up the business that I inherited and was seldom home, so Ruth became mother to two rumbustious boys. She raised us, if you like.’
‘And sacrificed her own hopes of making a good marriage in the process,’ Riley suggested.
‘Not precisely. She was walking out with a young man of whom our father approved. She wasn’t at all like she is now. She laughed a lot and was good company. But then her best friend somehow enticed her fiancé away from her—’
‘Some friend,’ Salter muttered.
‘Quite. She changed after that. She became bitter and turned to religion. Her friend was far prettier than she was, you see, so she blamed her plain appearance for her fiancé’s desertion and has looked upon all pretty women with a jaundiced eye ever since. She advised me most strongly against marrying my wife, for no other reason that she was glorious to look at. She was also sweet-natured and biddable and the marriage was, for the most part, a happy one.’
‘Your sister lived with you?’ Salter asked.
‘Oh yes. The house was my father’s and had always been Ruth’s home. She looked after us when we were children and it was time for me to return the favour.’
‘That must have been hard on your wife, having another woman constantly looking over her shoulder, criticising her methods,’ Riley said.
‘If it was, she never complained. She told me that she enjoyed Ruth’s company when I was away and was grateful for her advice.’
‘Advice that could well have driven your daughter away from home,’ Salter pointed out.
Huxton shook his head. ‘The possibility has tormented me ever since she left, as it did my wife, but I was too wrapped up in my work and my search for Mary to notice Fanny’s gradual decline.’ He emitted a heart-rending sob. ‘Until it was too late.’
‘Did your wife believe there was any truth to your daughter’s accusations?’ Riley asked.
‘I think she believed that someone had behaved inappropriately. Mary led a sheltered life, but she had become withdrawn and uncommunicative and wouldn’t have known anything about…well, about the things she accused my brother of doing to her unless she had experienced them first hand.’ Huxton sat a little straighter. ‘Someone tried to take liberties, but I still don’t think it was my brother.’
‘And yet your daughter attacked him with a knife,’ Salter said. ‘Why would a well brought up young woman do such a thing? What would have provoked her?’
‘That, sergeant, is another question that has plagued my thoughts for the past five years, but I am still no closer to finding an answer. The only other young men she regularly saw were at church, or the brothers of her friends. She was admired by one and all since she shared her mother’s beauty and good nature. Or did until something changed her, but I cannot tell you what that something was because I simply don’t know.’
‘Tell me about Mary herself. What were her favourite pursuits?
‘Oh, she took a great interest in the family business, much to my sister’s annoyance. Ruth didn’t think it a suitable occupation for a female, but I was secretly proud of her instinctive ability to judge a good wine from an indifferent one. I suppose that was a result of growing up surrounded by constant discussions on the subject.’
‘She tasted wines and could identify them?’ Riley asked.
‘Indeed. She was better at it than her brothers, too,’ Huxton replied, pride in his tone.
Riley stored that snippet of information away, thanked him and asked him to wait whilst they spoke with his brother. ‘You will understand that it is necessary to speak to you separately. Your brother might recall something that you do not, which he might not think of if you answer my questions together.’
Huxton nodded and slumped in his chair, returning to the world of his own that he had briefly emerged from.
‘You didn’t tell him that his daughter was still a virgin,’ Salter said as he and Riley left the room together. ‘I thought you would.’
‘I was tempted, but he would tell the brother—and unless or until I am convinced that he wasn’t responsible for Adelaide’s absconding, I shall have to leave the father to wallow in his own misery.’
‘Which is less than he deserves, if you ask me. Allowing that witch of a sister to influence his wife’s thinking. If she’d been alone, I doubt whether she would have questioned her daughter’s account.’
‘We shall never know.’ Riley paused on the threshold of the interview room in which Derek Huxton awaited their pleasure. ‘Ready?’
‘Let me at ’im!’ Salter replied, rubbing his hands.
Riley strode into the room ahead of Salter, who closed the door behind them. Derek Huxton was a very different proposition to his older brother. He had never moved out of the family home and had never married. He worked in the family’s wine business and had taken control of it since his brother went into decline following the death of his wife. He dressed more flamboyantly than his brother and, but for the thin, jagged scar running the length of one cheek, he was better looking and far livelier. A lady’s man, Riley instinctively knew, and one who was unused to rejection.
‘About time,’ he said, jumping to his feet. ‘What’s the meaning of keeping me cooped up in here like a common criminal when I have just now come from identifying my niece’s body? Are you completely devoid of sympathy?’
‘Sit down and shut up,’ Salter replied, setting his knuckles onto the desk in front of the other man, who subsided into his chair with obvious reluctance.
‘You must excuse me, inspector,’ he said, addressing Riley and completely ignoring Salter. ‘It has been a trying day, as I am sure you can imagine.’
‘When did you last see your niece?’ Riley asked.
‘Five years ago, just before she disappeared from our home in Ware. We have all been looking for her ever since. Her leaving like that for no reason tore our family apart.’
‘Like she tore your face,’ Salter said, not an ounce of sympathy in his tone. ‘Why did she do that?’
‘I have absolutely no idea.’ Huxton spread his hands in an unconvincing show of puzzlement. ‘She had changed in the few months before she ran away. She had become nervous and skittish, jumping at shadows. We assumed it was because of her age. She was almost a woman, beautiful and admired. It was bound to have an effect upon her.’
‘You admired her?’ Riley asked.
‘I tried to guide her. Warn her of the perils that she would encounter if she mixed in local society. Not all the men she met would be gentlemen.’
‘And she attacked you for trying to guide her?’ Salter frowned. ‘You were her uncle. Presumably she respected your opinion. I don’t understand why she would—’
‘She got it into her head that I’d offended her. It was complete moonshine, but that’s young girls for you nowadays. She became overfamiliar, I had to rein her in and she took offence.’
Salter sent him a disbelieving look. ‘You expect us to believe that she took a knife to you because her pride had been hurt?’ He slapped his hand on the surface of the desk, making Huxton start. ‘We didn’t come down in the last shower. You wanted her, didn’t you? That beautiful, fresh little thing growing up before your eyes. All that youth and innocence, flaunting herself, tempting you. You had to have her. You thought she wanted you, didn’t you? But it turned out that she didn’t. In fact, she was disgusted at the very idea. And you couldn’t bear it, could you?
‘I would like to see you prove your theory, sergeant,’ Huxton replied with an over-confident sneer. ‘The girl’s dead and no one else was there when she made her unprovoked attack upon me. Besides, I fail to see what difference it makes now. You ought to be looking for her killer.’
‘That’s precisely what we are doing.’ Salter glowered at the man. ‘And I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if I was looking right at him.’
‘What! You cannot believe that.’ He flapped a hand and laughed. ‘Why would I—’
‘She damaged your face and rejected your advances. Your pride was hurt.’
‘She attacked me five years ago! God, you people.’ He gave an elaborate sigh. ‘She became a prostitute. It’s not worth wasting your time investigating the death of a worthless whore, so you jump upon the easiest target and make unfounded accusations. I have a good mind to complain to your superiors.’
‘Your complaint would carry more weight if you started telling us the truth,’ Riley said, his calm tone a complete contrast to Salter’s belligerence.
‘How many more times?’ Huxton growled, clearly a man quick to fly into a temper. ‘I have told you the truth, but you are determined not to believe me.’
‘Tell me again when you last saw your niece,’ Riley invited, fixing them man with a look of cool appraisal.
‘I already did.’ But for the first time there was a hint of hesitation in his previously confident tone.
‘And we know you are lying,’ Riley replied. ‘This is your last chance to confirm what we already know, and I strongly advise you to take it.’
Huxton offered them a furtive look. ‘I will admit that I happened by chance to see Mary in a London street several weeks ago. My attention was drawn to her because she was staring at the warehouse we use to store our wine supplies down by the docks.’
‘You recognised her?’ Riley asked.
‘Immediately. Naturally I went to speak to her, told her how devastated we all were by her disappearance, and that it had caused her mother’s death.’
‘You blamed her for that?’ Salter asked in an incredulous tone.
‘I’ll admit that I didn’t handle the situation well.’ Huxton had the grace to appear discomposed, but Riley thought it was most likely an act. He cared only about himself and diverting suspicion. ‘Seeing her took me by surprise, you see. We assumed that she must be dead, given that suddenly and for no apparent reason she disappeared off the face of the earth. She got angry with me, wouldn’t tell me where she lived or how she’d managed to survive. Then she stormed off. I never saw her again and I didn’t tell my brother that I had seen her and let her go. It would have crucified him. And that’s why I didn’t tell you either.’
Riley and Salter kept at him for another half hour but he refused to change his story.
‘One final question,’ Riley said, aware that they would have to release him, at least for now. ‘Do you ever wear a buttonhole?’
Huxton looked confused by the question. ‘On occasion. Why do you ask?’
‘What type?’
‘Usually a carnation. A red carnation. It’s become a symbol of the family’s business. All senior employees wear them, including my brother and nephews.’
Riley and Salter exchanged a glance. ‘Your nephews are in London?’
‘They are.’
‘And will be in your London premises tomorrow as well.’
‘Yes.’
‘Tell them we will be calling to talk to them.’ Riley stood, indicating that the interview was over. ‘Thank you, Mr Huxton, you are free to go, but we will probably want to speak with you again.’
‘Anything I can do to help, inspector,’ Huxton replied, leaving the room with a speed that belied his desire to be of assistance.
‘He’s our man,’ Salter said with conviction. ‘And I ain’t saying it just because I don’t like him. That carnation proves it.’
‘It certainly casts doubts upon his account,’ Riley agreed as the two men made their way back to Riley’s office. ‘But it’s not enough to hang him. Not by any means.’
‘You think he’s our killer too, don’t you, sir?’
‘I believe he did make advances to the girl when her father wasn’t around, aware that his sister would take his side if Adelaide spoke out. We know Ruth Huxton disapproves of good looking women but is actively protective of the brothers she raised as though they were her own children. Ruth probably influenced Adelaide’s mother into not believing her daughter’s account, thinking that would be the end of the matter. But Adelaide had backbone and refused to be subjected to her uncle’s unwelcome attentions, so she left home.’ Riley threw himself into the chair behind his desk as he continued to articulate his thoughts. ‘She used her wits to accumulate a small fortune by exploiting men’s weaknesses, but she had a plan for her future and was, I suspect, on the point of enacting it.’
‘Is that why she was loitering outside her family’s warehouse? Do you think she knew her mother was dead?’
‘If she did, it would explain a lot of things. She would blame her uncle, her father, probably her brothers too for not protecting her and indirectly causing her mother’s demise, to say nothing of her own downfall into prostitution. We know she was vindictive, so where would she strike?’
‘At the seat of the family’s wealth. Its business empire,’ Salter said slowly. ‘You think she was going to try and undermine it? How?’
‘We need to talk to her brothers about that tomorrow. But, in my opinion, Adelaide had inherited brains as well as beauty and wouldn’t be held back by being a woman in a man’s world. We now know she leaned a lot about wine during her formative years and she probably planned to use that knowledge to exact the ultimate revenge against her family. Retaliation for what had happened to her and for her mother’s death.’ Riley shrugged. ‘It’s just a theory, and I don’t have a shred of evidence, but I can’t think of any reason why she would risk going anywhere near the family’s business premises otherwise.’
‘If we can find anyone who knew why she intended to leave Mrs Sinclair’s employ, then we will get a step closer to proving your theory, sir.’
‘Quite.’ Riley glanced at the clock and got to his feet. ‘It’s later than I realised. Let’s have a bite to eat, Jack, then a visit to Mrs Arnold in Half Moon Street is overdue, I think. If we can eliminate her as Adelaide’s reason for leaving Maiden Lane we will have taken a step forward.’
They arrived at Half Moon Street mid-afternoon, but Riley and Salter had difficulty in gaining an answer when they knocked on the door. On the point of giving up and returning later, they were eventually rewarded by the sound of bolts being drawn back. A burly individual stuck his head round the half-opened door and scowled at them.
‘We ain’t open until this evening,’ he said.
‘Police,’ Salter replied, sticking his foot in the door before the porter could slam it closed again. ‘Here to see Mrs Arnold.’
The man grumbled but allowed them access to a house similar in many respects to Mrs Sinclair’s establishment, albeit shabbier.
‘Wait in here,’ he said reluctantly, opening the door to a small salon. ‘I’ll tell her you’re here.’
Salter prowled around the room, muttering to himself. Riley spent the time cogitating upon what they had learned thus far, which was precious little. He had a disconcerting feeling that Adelaide’s murder might never be solved. The girl had learned to keep her feelings and aspirations to herself and didn’t confide in anyone, probably because she had tried speaking out to her family at the time of her greatest need, with such discouraging results. Someone, somewhere, had to know something that would point them in the right direction, he told himself in an effort to remain focused. Someone always did. It was simply a case of continuing to delve, pulling back the layers of deception until a clue leapt out at them.
Riley was aware that if he failed to solve the case, Danforth’s career would be at an end. His involvement with Adelaide would become known and cast permanent suspicion over his character, despite the fact that he hadn’t killed her. Well, Riley was satisfied that he didn’t kill her, but he could just as easily have done so. His innocence was as much in doubt as everyone else’s connected with the crime, until such time as Riley could prove otherwise. He disliked Danforth and had little respect for him. It would be easy to abandon him to the court of public opinion, but Riley’s conscience wouldn’t permit him to take the easy path. Besides, Adelaide deserved better than that.
‘You wished to see me.’
Riley looked up as the door opened and a woman who looked as though she had dressed in a hurry filled the aperture. He introduced himself and Salter, and established that she was Mrs Arnold, proprietress of the establishment. She looked to be in her early fifties, but the passage of time had not been kind to her. A heavy network of wrinkles marred her face and her hair was threaded with grey. Mrs Sinclair preserved her appearance and maintained a dignified demeanour. Mrs Arnold did not.
‘You want to speak to me about Adelaide, I suppose,’ she said, seating herself and waving Riley and Salter back to their own chairs.
‘You knew her?’ Salter asked.
‘Naturally. We wouldn’t survive long in the business if we didn’t keep abreast of the competition.’ At least Mrs Arnold wasn’t pretending not to be a brothel-keeper, for which Riley was grateful. The laws regarding the maintenance of such establishments were easily circumvented and Mrs Arnold would be satisfied that she had covered herself in that regard. ‘Adelaide was exceptional at what she did. I know because some of her regular clients also frequented this establishment and sang her praises.’
‘Why come here if she was so good at giving them they wanted?’ Salter asked.
‘She knew her worth and charged accordingly. Not everyone could afford to indulge as often as they needed to, so they made do…’
‘With second best?’ Riley suggested.
Mrs Arnold lifted one shoulder, seemingly unoffended. ‘If you like.’
‘But now that she’s out of the way, Adelaide that is, your business will see the benefit,’ Salter said.
Mrs Arnold laughed. ‘If I went around killing all the opposition, there wouldn’t be many efficient whores left in London.’
‘We didn’t come here because we suspected you of killing her,’ Riley said calmly. ‘We want to know more about your association with her. We understand you offered her employment. Tell us about that.’
‘Of course I did. She would have been the making of this place and could have named her price, but annoyingly she remained loyal to Mrs Sinclair.’
‘Which of your customers also availed themselves of Adelaide’s services?’ Salter asked.
Mrs Arnold sent him an amused look. ‘I’m afraid I cannot recall.’
‘Now look here,’ Salter said belligerently, ‘this is a murder investigation and you’re bound by law to help us in any way you can.’
‘Not by destroying my business, sergeant. Arrest me if you like. My lawyers will have me out again by the end of the day.’
Riley knew it was true. ‘Are you aware how Adelaide occupied her spare time?’ he asked, more in hope than expectation of receiving a positive response.
‘I saw her on several occasions as it happens with a man by the name of Clement.’
Riley sat up a little straighter. Stout had heard a man with that name loudly proclaiming in a tavern the night before that Adelaide had got what she deserved. Riley didn’t believe in coincidences of that nature, so it had to be the same man. The one who worked at Billingsgate. What business could she possibly have had with such an unlikely individual?
‘Clement,’ he replied calmly. ‘Where can I find him?’
‘In Dover Street. He is a vintner.’