Chapter Nine
Riley took a cab to Barton Street, where his friend Michael Eaton lived. Salter was not the only one who wondered why he felt the need to check out Mrs Kempton’s admissions. Her willingness to make them worried him. If she hadn’t spoken out, they might never have found out about Rod Woodrow’s profitable sideline that threw up a confusing number of suspects with good reason to want him dead.
Mrs Kempton’s explanation for her forthrightness had rung warning bells in Riley’s mind, leaving him with an uneasy feeling that he was being manipulated. Would Mrs Kempton really risk her reputation because she was anxious to see the killer of the man she supposedly loved—the man who had fathered her child—brought to justice? Were her motives more sinister? He was no closer to deciding when he arrived at his friend’s home.
He was shown in immediately and greeted with warmth by Eaton, a man who had survived the rigors of Eton and then Oxford alongside Riley.
‘I was just wondering if I could find the energy to venture out in this weather,’ Michael said, shaking Riley’s hand, ‘but your arrival has made the decision for me.’ He waved his servant away and stood to reach for a decanter that rested on the sideboard. ‘You’ll have a glass of this rather pleasant burgundy with me?’
Riley smiled. ‘Since you ask so persuasively.’
‘Looks like you could use it,’ Michael replied, sending Riley a sympathetic look. ‘Scotland Yard still extracting their pound of flesh, are they?’
‘They keep me fully occupied.’
‘Not so busy that you can’t find the time to woo the delectable Mrs Cosgrove.’
Riley smiled at the mention of Amelia’s name. ‘Ah well, priorities and all that.’ He took a chair across from Michael in front of the fire and sipped at the wine. It was excellent, as he had known it would be.
‘Your very good health, Riley,’ Michael said, raising his glass in a salute. ‘And congratulations upon your forthcoming nuptials, you lucky dog. None of the rest of us have managed to get a look in with the lady, and not for the want of trying, I do assure you.’
Riley laughed. ‘I thought you were a confirmed bachelor.’
‘Amelia Cosgrove could have changed my mind had she shown the slightest interest in me, but for reasons that completely escape me she’s only ever had eyes for you.’ Michael shook his head, sending his shaggy blond hair flying in all directions, looking boyishly perplexed. Riley knew it was all for show. Michael was wealthy, well-connected, the best possible fun—and a habitual target for the matchmakers. ‘It’s funny how these things go. Your poor nephew struggling to cling to life all that time, bringing so much sorrow to your family. Then you and Amelia giving them something to smile about again. Life goes on.’
‘Not sure Celia will smile for a while.’
‘She was never one for smiling anyway,’ Michael replied with a one-shouldered shrug. ‘Poor old Henry. Your brother did the right thing and look where it landed him. Anyway, I’m sure you didn’t call to make me jealous with talk of your domestic felicity. No doubt you are busy sleuthing away and need someone with an ounce of intelligence to help you make sense of some conundrum or other.’ He put his glass aside and grinned. ‘Go on then. Pick my considerable brains and then take all the glory when I point you in the right direction.’
Riley chuckled. ‘Rod Woodrow,’ he said. ‘What can you tell me about him?’
‘A bad lad, but you don’t need me to tell you that. I’m frankly not surprised that some poor husband or other finally ran out of patience and did him in. Not that he ever did me any harm. Always good company. He was universally adored by ladies of all ages, which would not have sat well with the husbands, of course.’
‘What do you know of Giles Kempton’s business?’
‘Ah, Rod dallied with the delightful Mrs Kempton, did he? Can’t blame him for that, if the lady was willing.’
‘My lips are sealed on the subject.’
‘Enough said.’ Michael picked up his glass, held it up to the light to examine the wine’s colour and, apparently satisfied with what he saw, took a thoughtful sip. ‘Never could understand what made her settle for such a…well, such an average husband. She could have done a whole lot better for herself. I was interested myself, as far as that goes, but…well, I guess I never got around to doing anything about it.’
‘He was Burton’s protegee, I gather. Kempton, that is. Groomed to take over the business when Burton retired. Perhaps Miss Burton was part of the deal and did what her father told her to.’
‘Hardly. I knew Burton well. Did a lot of business with him and I can tell you that he had lofty ambitions for his beautiful daughter which certainly didn’t include marriage to his junior partner.’ Michael sighed. ‘A partner who’s proved that he’s hopelessly out of his depth when it comes to taking overall control.’
Riley sat a little straighter. ‘His business is in trouble?’
‘I’ve heard rumours to that effect. The bullion side chugs along, but that’s about it.’
‘I thought the market had slumped.’
‘It has, which makes it a good time to buy. The gold price never dips for long, and those of us in the know take the opportunity to invest when prices are low. All of us bar Kempton, that is. He didn’t follow that trend, I hear tell. The rare coin side of Burton’s business was the real money spinner, but Kempton made some expensive mistakes recently. Got taken in by some excellent forgeries and had to swallow a massive loss.’
Riley frowned. ‘Are you telling me that a man with his training was unable to detect fake coins? I don’t care how convincing they were. Surely there are methods in place to safeguard against that sort of thing?’
‘There are.’ Michael stood to refill their glasses and then resumed his seat, his expression pensive. ‘What I’m telling you is all hearsay, you understand, but having said that, my sources are fairly reliable. A convincing confidence trickster did the rounds with a bagful of gold Rands that he’d smuggled out of South Africa. He invented some story about needing to liquidate them quickly, and was willing to let them go for half their value for that reason. A close friend of mine who’s heard every tall story going was almost fooled, so convincing was the seller’s story. He tested a couple of the coins and they were genuine, but something about the man seemed off to him and so he trusted his instincts and passed on the deal.’
‘You think the majority were not authentic?’
‘The man would have been an idiot if they were the real thing and he let them go for the amount he was asking. That’s what made my friend suspicious. Even in a hurry, he could have got a lot more than he was asking, just so long as he waited a few extra days for them all to be tested. Anyway, my friend suggested he try Kempton and after that there was no word of the man touting the coins elsewhere, so I assume he fell for the ruse, to his considerable expense.’
‘And embarrassment if word got out, of course.’
Michael nodded. ‘Precisely.’
‘How much money are we talking about?’
Riley let out a low whistle when Michael told him. He thanked his friend and returned to Scotland Yard in a pensive frame of mind. A loss of that size would have severely affected Kempton’s ability to remain in business. Riley was absolutely convinced that Kempton would have been required to swallow his pride and go cap in hand to his wife in order to save his livelihood. Whether his wife helped him for the sake of her late father’s reputation, turned him down flat or bailed him out provided Kempton did something for her in return he had yet to decide. Stout was making a few discreet enquiries about Kempton’s activities, and might come up with something else that would help Riley. But then if Durand couldn’t give a satisfactory explanation for his nocturnal wanderings at the vital time, then Kempton’s behaviour would cease to be relevant.
He arrived to a scene of uproar. There were raised voices, and even Sergeant Barton looked flustered. Riley removed his hat, shook the rain from its brim and asked what all the commotion was about.
‘Lord Durand,’ Barton replied shortly. ‘Thinks he’s above the law and shouldn’t be here. Threatening all sorts of dire consequences. He’s demanded to speak to the superintendent, who wants to see you the minute you get here.’
‘Thank you, Barton,’ Riley said calmly. ‘Lord Durand is to be treated no differently than anyone else who is brought in to answer questions. Make that clear to him, and tell him I shall be with him as soon as I can.’ Barton looked doubtful, but complied.
‘Are you sure about this?’ Superintendent Thompson asked Riley when he explained to his superior why Lord Durand had been brought in. ‘You only have the word of a jarvey against that of a belted earl.’
‘In my experience, sir, being born into a position of authority does not guarantee integrity. Durand lied to me. I sensed it when I spoke to him but I could not prove it. Now I think I can. If the situation were reversed and Durand had accused the jarvey of committing a murder, we wouldn’t hesitate to take his word for it.’
‘Well, yes but—’
‘Durand has a short temper, a high opinion of himself and would do almost anything to protect the interests of his only child. A volatile combination. I aim to discover just how far those protective instincts drove him.’
‘Well, I hope you’re right, or I’ll never hear the end of it.’ He let out a slow breath. ‘Best go and calm him down before he turns the air blue.’
Riley collected Salter and took a moment to tell him what he’d learned about Kempton’s situation.
‘You were right then.’ There was reluctant admiration in Salter’s tone. ‘If he had to go to his missus for a handout so soon after taking control of the business, there’s no telling how she would have reacted. But still, Lord Durand…’
‘We shall see what he has to say for himself. Come along, Jack. He’s just a man, albeit one who likes to throw his weight about. Don’t let him intimidate you.’
Salter responded with a growl. ‘He won’t do that, sir, no more than Woodrow did earlier. That much I can assure you.’
‘Glad to hear it,’ Riley replied with a grim smile, as further loud profanities echoed from the room in which Durand had been confined. ‘Ready?’
Salter nodded, rubbing his hands together and grinning with anticipation.
Riley thrust the door to the interview room open and strode through it with confidence. Salter followed him and adopted his customary slouch against the wall. The uniformed constable who had drawn the short straw and been obliged to remain inside with Durand, thereby becoming the focus for his ire, scampered away with a sigh of unmitigated relief and an expressive eye-roll.
‘At last!’ Durand had been standing at the back of the room, presumably the better to intimidate the hapless constable. Now he strode forward. ‘What the hell is the meaning of this outrage, Rochester?’
‘Sit down, Lord Durand,’ Riley said with enough authority in his voice to make the irate earl comply.
‘Well?’ Durand modified his tone only slightly as he sat across from Riley and glowered at him. He prodded the desk between them with a finger to emphasise his point, tapping a well-manicured nail against the scarred wood. ‘I do not take kindly to being hauled from my house in full sight of my neighbours by your uniformed constables. I have a reputation to consider. If you had a need to speak with me again you should have had the courtesy to call upon me yourself and discuss your concerns with me in a gentlemanly fashion. Rest assured, Rochester, you have gone too far this time and there will be repercussions.’
Riley leaned back in his chair, fixing his eyes on the wall behind Durand’s head. A couple of seconds’ silence ticked by like a small eternity. ‘Are you done?’ Riley asked, unsurprised and unaffected by the earl’s bluster.
Durand crossed his arms, his expression still belligerent. ‘Ask your damned questions, then I will accept your apology.’
‘I dislike being lied to,’ Riley said calmly. ‘And dislike being taken for a fool even more. That is why I had you brought here.’
‘Your damned uniformed ruffians gave me no choice in the matter.’ Durand’s face turned a worrying shade of puce as his anger returned in full force. ‘And what do you mean, lied to? I am not in the habit of lying.’
Salter snorted but at a gesture from Riley he remained silent, leaning insolently against the wall.
‘Then I will ask you again, Lord Durand. Did you leave your house after arriving from York two nights ago?’ He held up a hand. ‘And before you trot out the standard denial, I think it only fair to warn you that we have made enquiries since we last spoke and are now in possession of facts unavailable to us previously.’
‘You didn’t take my word as a gentleman?’ Durand’s eyes bulged with indignation and, Riley thought, a modicum of unease.
‘I am a policeman. I don’t take anybody’s word for anything. We are paid to be suspicious and our instincts barely fail us, do they, Sergeant?’
‘Almost never, sir.’
‘Well?’ Riley leaned back in his chair, taking his turn to gently tap his fingers on the table top. ‘Your movements on the night in question.’
‘Oh, very well, I went out.’
Riley inclined his head. ‘Where did you go and why?’
‘That is my affair and has nothing to do with Woodrow’s murder.’
‘I’ll decide what’s relevant to the death of Mr Woodrow. So why did you lie about where you were? And more to the point, why did you not go in your carriage?’
‘I don’t want my servants to know all my business,’ he said, looking away from Riley and closely examining the fingernails of one hand.
‘We know you went to Half Moon Street,’ Salter said, shrugging himself from the wall and walking forward until he stood under the interview room’s one weak light at Riley’s shoulder. ‘And you lied about it. Far as I’m concerned, that means we’ve found our murderer.’
‘What? No!’ Durand looked towards Riley, who merely shrugged. ‘How dare you let your sergeant speak to me in such an insolent manner.’
‘My sergeant makes a fair point,’ Riley said mildly. ‘Your daughter—your only child who you have such high hopes for—was infatuated with Woodrow and was about to throw her life away by agreeing to marry him. She is almost of age and has independent means, so there would have been nothing you could have done to stop her. Unless, of course, Woodrow abruptly ceased to exist.’
‘And then we find out you’ve lied to us. What’s more you were in his street on the night he died at exactly the right time, even though you told the inspector you didn’t know where he lived,’ Salter added. ‘Open and shut as far as I’m concerned. God knows why, but the inspector seems willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. He thinks you might have had a good reason for skulking about in the street. And of course your precious position puts you above suspicion, don’t it, your lordship? Salter sniffed. ‘The inspector wants you to be innocent, being a toff himself. Your lot tend to stick together. Me, I’ll take more convincing, and I’d be happy enough to see you swing.’
The dim light shadowed Salter’s eyes, but his mouth turned down at the corners in a sneer. Durand sent Salter a venomous look, then glanced at Riley for some form of escape. When he gauged that no help was likely to be forthcoming from that quarter, he let out a protracted sigh. ‘Very well, I did take a hansom and have it drop me at the Half Moon.’
‘We know that already,’ Riley replied. ‘What we do not know is why.’
‘We can guess though,’ Salter growled.
‘That I very much doubt, Sergeant.’ Durand glowered at Salter and then returned his attention to Riley, pointedly excluding Salter from his explanation. ‘I was furious because I discovered just before I left Bentham that Woodrow had been writing to Laura secretly, addressing his letters to her maid to prevent me from intercepting them. And she had been answering them, too. I know because I asked her and she calmly admitted it.’ He shook his head. ‘I could scarce believe it. She promised me that she had broken off all contact, yet she continued to collude with him, such was the power that he wielded over the poor impressionable girl. I don’t blame her, of course. For someone who had been as well protected as Laura, Woodrow would have seemed glamorous and exciting, I suppose. Anyway, I wanted to have it out with him once and for all.’
‘Which is the real reason why you returned to London,’ Riley said, eliciting a nod from the earl. ‘It had nothing to do with the debate in the House.’
‘No, although I had been considering attending it anyway. Learning about Woodrow’s correspondence with Laura made up my mind for me.’
‘So you went to Half Moon Street and waited for Woodrow,’ Riley prompted when Durand’s words trailed off.
‘Yes. I waited outside his lodgings, trying to decide how best to make him leave her alone. He’d already declined my offer of five thousand guineas, so I thought of increasing it. But the longer I waited, the clearer things became. He knew of course that he would gain access to a great deal more than that if, as you say, he were to propose the moment she came of age. If he did that, I knew there wasn’t the smallest possibility of her refusing him. So it suddenly occurred to me that I should speak, not to Woodrow but to my solicitor, to see if there was any way that I could ensure her inheritance did not pass into the hands of her husband, whomever she chose to marry. That way, if she insisted upon defying me then at least she would have the opportunity to see him in his true colours and realise what it was that he really wanted from her.’ He lowered his head and sighed somewhat dramatically. ‘It was a futile hope, but it was the only one that I had.’
‘You did not see Woodrow that night?’ Riley asked, fixing him with a probing look.
‘No, Lord Riley. You have my word as a gentleman that I did not. I waited for the best part of an hour in freezing conditions, then I left. He had not returned home by that point. I understand he spent the evening at Lady Aston’s abode. I am sure she can tell you what time he left there. I dare say you already know, so you will also know that I couldn’t possibly have seen him.’
‘You might not have done,’ Salter said, ‘but only if you’re telling us the truth about the time you left. We’ve only your word for it, see? And you’ve already lied to us, so you can understand why we might not believe you. And don’t expect me to take all that “word of a gentleman” nonsense. I didn’t come down in the last shower.’
‘I take exception to your tone, Sergeant. Tell him, Rochester. Kindly inform him that gentlemen do not give their word lightly.’
Riley shrugged, looked up at Salter and said precisely nothing. He turned back to Durand. ‘If my sergeant is to believe you, you will have to find someone who can validate your movements.’
‘No,’ Durand said a little too quickly. ‘I went directly home.’
Riley sighed. ‘This is your last opportunity to tell us the truth, Lord Durand. If you do not then I will have no choice but to charge you with Woodrow’s murder.’
‘You cannot!’ Durand jumped to his feet, knocking his chair to the floor. ‘I didn’t do it. I won’t deny that I’m glad he’s gone, but…’
He got no further. Salter moved quickly around the desk, righted the chair, grabbed Durand by the lapels of his frock coat and sat him forcibly back into it. He walked behind the chair and forced his hands down onto Durand’s shoulders, his knuckles white from the effort. The small tableau remained unchanged for a few seconds, then Riley gestured with his right hand and Salter took a step backwards and lifted his hands from Durand’s shoulders. Durand shrugged away the pain of Salter’s grip as Riley leaned towards him.
‘Lord Durant, this is your last chance to tell me the entire truth. Tell us where you went. Otherwise, the matter will be out of my hands, as will the resulting publicity be.’
Lord Durand’s chest puffed out and his face turned beetroot red. ‘You would not!’
‘Personally? Of course not. As you say, I am a gentleman. The press, however, are vultures. Help me to help you. I don’t believe you when you say you went straight home again. How did you get there? Who let you into your house? Presumably a servant would be able to vouch for your movements.’
‘That ain’t gonna satisfy me,’ Salter grunted. ‘His servants’ll say whatever he tells them to say if they value their positions. And they’ll stay quiet if he gives them a few quid, no doubt.’
Durand dropped his head into his splayed hands and shook it from side to side. In a voice that was barely more than a whisper he said: ‘I called upon my mistress.’
‘At that time of night? Pull the other one,’ Salter said.
‘I reward her handsomely for her exclusive services and call whenever I need to avail myself of them. I was in a terrible state and needed calming.’
‘I shall need her name,’ Riley said.
Durand’s head shot up again. ‘Is that really necessary?’
Riley simply fixed him with a look. Durand scowled but rattled off the name and address of his mistress.
‘What d’you reckon, guvnor?’ Salter asked.
‘What do I reckon, sergeant? I reckon we got there in the end. See Lord Durant out, would you?’
Lord Durant didn’t wait for Salter to do so. Instead, he picked up his hat and cane and left with a glance of sheer hatred at Riley and a contemptuous sneer for his sergeant. Salter followed him from the room, then returned
‘Do you believe him, sir?’ Salter asked after he’d left.
‘I’m not sure. Let’s go and have a word with the lady in question, Martha Long, and see what she has to say for herself. That’ll give us a better idea.’
Salter sniffed. ‘If Durand keeps her then she’ll say anything he tells her to.’ He grinned. ‘Which is why I just asked Carter and Soames to follow him. If he goes directly to see her now, we can be pretty sure that he’ll be warning her to expect a visit from us and telling her what to say.’
‘Good work, Jack.’ They returned to Riley’s office. ‘I still have no clear idea who killed Rod. Durand, William Woodrow and Kempton are still top of my list of suspects. I think that tomorrow we’d best have a word with Kempton.’
‘I thought you might say that, sir.’
Riley leaned back in his chair, his expression pensive. ‘If Woodrow really intended to marry Alice Fanshaw, why was he still dallying with Laura Durand?’
‘Like we surmised before, perhaps he intended to do to her what he’d already done to Mrs Kempton. Take her innocence and then extract a lump sum from her inheritance in order to buy his silence.’
‘Why not simply negotiate with Lord Durand. He’d already offered him a small fortune and just admitted to us that he would have been willing to increase his offer. Maybe young Rod was playing a very dangerous game of brinkmanship, holding out for the ultimate payday.’
‘And perhaps he somehow made sure that Durand knew he’d been writing to his daughter. Durand never said how he found out,’ Salter mused. ‘Perhaps if Durand was telling us the truth and if Woodrow had returned home earlier, he would have succeeded in securing his daughter’s future and Woodrow would still be alive. Seven or eight thousand guineas added to what Woodrow already had salted away would have been more than enough for him to marry Alice and set her up in business.’ Salter rubbed his chin. ‘Of course, he could have continued with his lucrative sideline, extracting money from willing victims, if he wanted to be greedy, but they were all small fry compared to what he’d make from Durand—or his daughter.’
‘Very likely, Jack. Anyway, time’s getting on. Let’s have a bit of luncheon, and after that we should know where Durand went after leaving here.’
Riley was subsequently gratified to learn that Durand had gone straight to the House of Lords after leaving the Yard. Arresting a man of Durand’s stature would have caused uproar and Riley wasn’t sure he had the energy to deal with the fall out.
‘He probably wanted to put on a brave face,’ Riley told Salter. ‘Word of his being hauled in here would have spread like wildfire. By now half the aristocracy will be claiming to have seen him dragged off in chains and they’ll be milking it for all it’s worth. There’s nothing the gossips like more than the prospect of one of their own falling from grace. Naturally, they will pretend to be shocked, and insist they don’t believe a word of it, all the time hoping it’s true. Durand has a reputation to maintain and political enemies who wouldn’t scruple to trade upon his personal misfortunes.’
‘I can’t say I liked him a lot myself, guvnor.’
‘You’re not alone, Jack.’ Riley gathered up his possessions. ‘Right, come along, we’re for Mrs Long in Covent Garden.’
The elegant woman who received them looked to be in her late thirties. She was cultured, as Riley had imagined would be the case. Men of Durand’s ilk would pay for the best and expect to receive it. She confirmed without hesitation that Durand had called upon her in the early hours of the day in question.
‘Does he always come at such odd hours?’ Salter asked.
‘He does as he pleases, Sergeant. Often he calls after long debates in the House of Lords, so visits at unusual times are not that uncommon.’
‘Was there anything different about him on this occasion?’ Riley asked.
‘Other than the fact that I had thought him in Yorkshire and had not expected to see him? Yes, Inspector, he seemed agitated and very upset. He didn’t say why, but I got the impression that it was something to do with his daughter. He idolises the girl and, if you want my opinion, keeps her on too tight a leash. But it’s not my place to say so. He is very sensitive when it comes to Laura.’
‘Did he seem dishevelled?’
‘Heavens, no! Lord Durand is never anything less than impeccably attired.’
‘Have you seen or heard from him since that night?’ Salter asked.
‘No, I have not.’ She paused, curiosity clearly getting the better of her. ‘May I ask why you are…well, asking about him?’
‘His name came up in connection with an investigation,’ Riley replied. ‘I regret that I cannot discuss the particulars with you. We simply needed to establish Lord Durand’s whereabouts at the time we have just discussed with you. You have satisfied us in that regard.’
‘Happy to oblige,’ she said, ringing the bell for her maid, who showed the detectives out into the windy street, where at least the showers were holding off for the moment.
‘Well, unless Lord Durand primed her in advance, I guess his guilt is now not so clear cut,’ Salter said sullenly.
‘Cheer up, Jack. He’s not in the clear yet either. More digging is called for. Anyway, I am going back to the Yard to update Thompson. There’s nothing more we can do today so you might as well get off home. We’ll come at this fresh tomorrow.’
‘Thank you very much, sir. If you’re sure.’
‘Quite sure,’ Riley replied, hailing a cab. ‘Good night, Jack.’
‘Good night, sir.’
Riley’s superintendent was relieved to hear that Durand was not necessarily the guilty party.
‘Always tricky, trying to prosecute a man with so much authority,’ he said. ‘I hope he doesn’t plan to make an official complaint about being brought in.’
‘I very much doubt if he will. He knows that his innocence has yet to be established beyond doubt. And he lied to us; a situation he wouldn’t want made public knowledge.’
Riley chatted to Thompson for ten minutes, then went home, ready for a bath and a decent single malt. Amelia had other plans for the evening and Riley looked forward to a quiet night beside his own fire and the opportunity to reflect upon the various aspects of this most perplexing of cases. But it wasn’t to be. He arrived home to be informed by Stout that his brother was in Riley’s drawing room.
‘Henry.’ Riley held out his hand as he entered the room. ‘I thought you were staying in Chichester until after Christmas. What brings you up to town?’
Henry, with a glass of the whisky Riley had intended to consume in his hand, sighed. ‘I needed to get away,’ he said.
Riley digested this rather enigmatic statement as his poured himself a generous measure of the same whisky and took a chair. ‘Too much sadness?’ he asked, not without sympathy.
‘Something of that nature.’
‘How’s Cabbage?’
‘You really ought to stop calling Sophia by that silly name now that she’s grown.’
Riley smiled. ‘It’s a sign of affection. Anyway, hopefully she’s a comfort to her mother in her hour of need.’ Always supposing her mother recalls that she has a daughter.
‘Nothing can comfort Celia. She’s beside herself with grief and takes comfort only in her religion.’
‘Ah, well in that case you will allow Cabbage to return to London after Christmas, I hope. If her mother doesn’t need her…’
‘I shall come back myself for a while. I’ll bring her with me.’
Riley hid his surprise behind the rim of his glass by lifting it to his lips. ‘She will like that.’
‘Hmm.’ Henry’s preoccupation was starting to wear upon Riley’s nerves. He’d had a long day and whilst he felt great sympathy for Henry’s situation, his patience was not limitless.
‘Celia isn’t only upset because of Jasper’s death, I imagine,’ he said, attempting to force the conversation along. ‘She has known for a long time that the day would come.’
‘Well no. Of course she is heartbroken about Jasper, but takes comfort from the knowledge that his suffering has come to an end. It hasn’t been easy for any of us.’ Riley acknowledged the point by inclining his head. ‘My wife will never admit it, but she’s envious of what you and Amelia have.’
‘She’s what?’ Riley almost choked on his whisky.
‘Well, there you have it. I know what you’re thinking. It’s none of her damned business and she ought to be pleased that you’re happy. Sophia doesn’t help matters by talking constantly about the wedding preparations. Mother has extended the guest list, so I’m told.’
‘That worries Celia? She thinks it inappropriate?’
‘Not if Mother has suggested it.’
‘Don’t worry about the cost. I’ll foot the bill for the reception.’
‘Ah, yes. Thank you.’ Henry rubbed his chin and looked away. ‘I didn’t want to ask.’
‘I am sorry if Celia resents our happiness,’ Riley said into the ensuing silence.
‘Oh, face it, Riley, she has never liked you.’
‘She has certainly never approved of me. She tends to share our mother’s view regarding my profession. What I have done to make her actively dislike me is less easy to understand. I have absolutely nothing against Celia.’
‘You refused to toe the family line and allow Celia to reign supreme, I suppose.’ Henry took a healthy swig of his drink and fell silent. Riley left him to his cogitations, aware that whilst Henry’s marriage had never been a union of hearts and minds, he had never openly criticised his wife’s behaviour before either. ‘She imagined that our mother would join forces with her and try to persuade you against taking another man’s widow. When she did not and gave no reason for her change of heart, Celia felt slighted.’
Riley had no intention of explaining the circumstances which had caused that change of heart. ‘What is it that you really came up to town for, Henry? It was not, I suspect, to discuss my choice of a wife.’
‘Absolutely not. Envy you myself as a matter of fact. I’ve always liked Amelia.’ Whatever had brought Henry to London required him to stand and refill his glass, without waiting to be invited to do so, before getting to the point. ‘About this murder you’re investigating.’
Riley elevated one brow. Whatever he had imagined Henry wanted to talk about, it had not been that. ‘Woodrow? What about him?’
‘Well, the fact of the matter is that Celia knew him.’ Henry cleared his throat and buried his nose in his glass. ‘Rather better than I realised.’
Riley was so shocked that he almost dropped his own glass. He hastily placed it on a side table before the heavy hand-cut crystal came to grief. Celia, his holier than thou sister-in-law who gave the impression that she disapproved of anything the slightest bit frivolous, had not been immune to Woodrow’s charm. If he hadn’t heard it from Henry’s own lips he never would have believed it.
‘How so?’ he asked calmly.
‘They met in London last season apparently. Jasper was having a good spell and so I persuaded her to come up to town and discharge a few of her social obligations.’
‘I remember the occasion. She took every opportunity to lecture me upon my responsibilities.’
Riley had been obliged to attend endless family gatherings when he had been working on particularly difficult cases. In those days he had yet to consolidate his position within Scotland Yard as a detective who put duty before his social position. Celia’s timing always caused him the maximum possible inconvenience. Celia, in Riley’s opinion, had ruthlessly exploited her son’s illness and her own tragic situation as a grieving mother as she waited for her son’s death to get whatever she wanted. And what she wanted was Riley dancing to her tune. He remembered the one and only time he had ever obliged her, and then only for Sophia’s sake. He could see how rudderless his beloved niece had seemed—looked upon as an irrelevance by her father and totally ignored by her mother, who seemed jealous of her youth and prettiness. Someone needed to guide and protect the lively and inquisitive child, and Riley had assumed that role a little too efficiently. Cabbage now looked up to him. She admired him with a devotion that moved his heart. In return, Riley would do just about anything to ensure her happiness.
‘Seems Woodrow caught Celia crying, sat and talked to her and gradually won her trust. I was so shocked when she told me that it took me a while to insist that she explain everything. The upshot is that she was a little too forthcoming about…er, certain family matters and left herself exposed.’
‘He blackmailed her?’
Henry’s bushy eyebrows shot up. ‘How did you know?’
Unsure how much of their conversation Henry would repeat to his wife, Riley exercised caution. ‘How much and how long for?’ Riley asked briskly.
‘Fifty guineas.’
Riley let out a low whistle, wondering why Celia’s initials hadn’t appeared in Rod’s notebook. Perhaps because it had been intended as a one-off payment, as opposed to a regular arrangement. In that case, Riley wearily wondered how many other “one offs” there had been. ‘Where did she acquire that much without your noticing?’
Henry gave an evasive shrug. ‘It was a difficult time for us all. Jasper, you understand.’ Riley nodded. ‘I wasn’t keeping a close watch.’
‘He came back for more, I take it.’
‘Last week. He said it would be the last time. Celia told him she wouldn’t pay. Woodrow said in that case certain indiscreet remarks she had made about family members—’
‘Me?’
‘You. Those remarks might find their way into the gossip columns.’
Riley gave a grim smile. ‘I hope she did not fall for that one. Such scurrilous gossip cannot harm us. Celia knows nothing to my detriment because there is nothing to know. She dislikes me but that is hardly headline news. Unless…’ Riley fell momentarily silent. ‘She would not have paid him to keep quiet about unguarded comments made in private that couldn’t be substantiated. I very much doubt that she said anything to Woodrow that she hasn’t said, or implied, to my face.’ Riley absently stroked his chin as he thought the matter through. ‘No, he has to have had something more damaging to hold against her.’
‘Well look, the thing is…’ Henry paused to scratch his neck, seeming embarrassed and looking everywhere except at Riley. ‘I’ve been far too lenient with Celia, I’ll grant you that much. I discovered soon after we married that I’d…well, that I’d made a monumental mistake. I didn’t enjoy your freedom of choice, as well you know. Celia kept her true nature concealed until she had my ring on her finger. I made the best of it, looked elsewhere for my pleasures and let her do more or less as she pleased. What I’m saying is, the blame is partly mine.’
‘Just tell me what she’s done, Henry,’ Riley said, sighing. ‘She would not have made her admission to you, much less have allowed you to discuss it with me, unless she had a compelling reason that she thought I might stumble upon.’
‘Right. You see, she and Woodrow corresponded for a while. She assures me there was nothing more to it than that, but she thought you might come across her letters. If you do, obviously I assured her that they would not form a part of your enquiry and need never come to light. Family loyalty, and all that. Celia couldn’t possibly have killed Woodrow. She hasn’t left Chichester for weeks, so nothing needs to be said about her letters, does it?’