Chapter Twelve
‘What now, sir?’ Salter asked.
‘Take yourself off to the kitchens, Salter. Go with him, Peterson. I want to know who found the body and anything else of interest they have to impart. Talk to them individually. Keep Farlow away from them—lock him in the scullery if you have to—and you’ll get more out of them. I want to know what Susan did on her afternoons off, who her friends were, and anything else you can find out about her. We also need the address of her family. They will have to be informed. Farlow will have that information.’ Riley glanced at the closed doors to the drawing room, from behind which male voices could be heard raised in argument. ‘I will speak to the family.’
‘Rather you than me, sir,’ Salter said, shuddering.
Riley offered up a droll smile. ‘The privileges of rank, sergeant.’
Salter grinned. ‘Remind me of that if I ever take it into my head to look for promotion.’
Riley smiled to himself as he tapped on the drawing room door. The shouting stopped abruptly. Lord Ashton wrenched the door open and blinked up at Riley in bald astonishment, as though he had forgotten that he was in the house.
‘Ah, Rochester, there you are. What do you make of this sorry business?’
‘The body has been taken away for examination, Lord Ashton,’ Riley replied, avoiding a direct answer.
‘But the silly girl poisoned herself. I read that letter. Seems she was manipulated by one of my guests and couldn’t live with herself.’
‘That is certainly the impression the writer wished to convey.’
‘What man, surely you don’t doubt…’
‘I doubt a great many things. It’s my job, Lord Ashton.’
‘I dare say, but if you have the man Emily was seeing in custody, then at least that matter is solved.’
‘Which makes one wonder why Susan felt guilty about calling Emily into the music room. If Emily’s friend is also her killer, that is.’
‘The girl didn’t have much sense,’ Terrance said, looking unnaturally pale, his hands shaking.
‘What do you mean, if he’s the killer?’ Lord Ashton blustered. ‘Stands to reason that he must be.’
‘To you, I’m sure it would,’ Riley responded in a deceptively calm tone. ‘I have yet to reach that conclusion.’
Riley watched Lord Ashton’s countenance go through several colour changes, settling upon a fiery red that highlighted the bulbous blue veins that decorated his cheeks. Even his whiskers appears to bristle with indignation. His mouth opened and closed with no sound emerging. His cheeks bulged, putting Riley in mind of children playing a game to see which of them could hold their breath the longest. But there was nothing childish about the abject fear that flitted through Ashton’s eyes. Either he was the guilty party in one or both murders or he had been struck dumb because he’d encountered a person in his own household whom he could neither bully nor coerce.
‘Can either of you tell me when you last saw Susan?’
‘No idea,’ Lord Aston said briskly, the power of speech restored to him. ‘I think she must have been here when we left for Lady Bilton’s but I wouldn’t have expected to see her when I returned.’
‘The family dined at home?’
‘I dined at my club,’ Terrance said.
‘No doubt your friends will back you up.’ Riley turned towards Lord Ashton. ‘Farlow sees to your requirements, I understand, since you dispensed with Border’s services.’
‘What? Oh yes. Haven’t got round to replacing Border as yet. Farlow does for Terrance and me, as well as discharging his other duties.’
‘When did you see Susan last?’ Riley asked, fixing Terrance with a penetrating look that seemed to make him uncomfortable.
‘Not sure. Don’t have much to do with the maids. Mother gives them their orders and Farlow ensures that they do their work.’
‘You all left for Lady Bilton’s at the same time?’
‘I say, Rochester. What’s the point of this inquisition? The silly girl killed herself and there’s an end to the matter.’
‘Is there any reason why you are trying to avoid answering my question, Lord Ashton?’ Riley asked.
‘Don’t see the need for it.’
‘I went separately,’ Terrance said, reaching for the decanter on the sideboard and pouring himself a glass of brandy with an unsteady hand. ‘As I say, I looked into my club first, stopped for a bite to eat and then went on.’
‘Which club would that be?’
‘Brooks’s actually. I had arranged to play cards with some friends but stopped by to tell them I’d changed my plans. Father thought it important that we were all seen together at Lady Bilton’s.’
Riley refrained from asking the names of Terrance’s friends. Instead he would check with the club’s porter. They kept careful track of who called in, and had remarkably good memories. Terrance was nervous, too nervous, and Riley didn’t believe for a moment that he had been to Brooks’s for long, if at all. It was much more likely that he had remained at home to murder a maid and fake her suicide.
But why?
Both Ashtons appeared relieved when Riley asked no further questions and excused himself, probably thinking that they had seen the last of him. Ashton would waste no time in contacting Danforth, trying to bring the investigation into Susan’s death to an early conclusion by having it confirmed as a suicide. He might as well save himself the trouble since Riley would not be bullied into accusing the wrong man. Susan and Emily’s deaths were linked in some way, he was absolutely sure of it—which exonerated Grant.
Now all he had to do was to find that elusive link so that he could release the budding genius.
He made a detour to the music room and searched through the sheet music neatly stacked on a small table at the side of the piano. He felt mildly euphoric when he found the piece of handwritten music with Emily’s name scrawled across the top of it. Riley folded it and put it in his pocket. Grant had been telling the truth, at least about leaving part of his opus for Emily to find, and it had been tidied away with the rest of the music.
He took himself off to the kitchens, where Salter and Peterson were concluding their final interview.
‘Susan kept herself to herself,’ Salter said, a note of frustration in his voice. ‘No one knows what she did on her afternoon off and they are not aware that she had any friends. They all say the same as Mrs Border did. That she was aloof, given to taking on airs, and wasn’t popular. She did confide in the kitchen maid, who told the cook that she expected an upturn in her circumstances in the near future, but she wouldn’t say in what respect. The cook sent the kitchen maid up to wake Susan when she didn’t report for duty this morning. She screamed the place down when she found her dead, by all accounts, and we still can’t get an intelligible word out of her.’
‘It’s not important. She didn’t kill the girl. What time did she find her?’
‘At six this morning.’
‘And woke the entire house with her screaming, yet we were only told of the death at…what time did the report come in, Peterson?’
‘At around eleven o’clock, sir.’
‘Hmm.’ It seemed Riley had been right to suppose that Ashton deliberately held back reporting the death, either hoping it wouldn’t reach Riley’s ears or working on stories and alibis before it did. ‘Do you have her parents’ address?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Peterson said, waving his notebook in the air.
‘Go back to the Yard, collect Harper and take yourselves off to Bethnal Green to break the news to her family. I was going to do it myself but I have other priorities. Do it gently, Peterson. It’s never an easy task but it’s essential experience for you. See if her relations can shed any light on their daughter’s activities. Someone must know something about her. I specifically need to know if she was walking out with a young man, which would explain the anticipated improvement in her circumstances.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Peterson said, standing a little taller as though pleased to be given the responsibility. ‘You can rely upon us.’
‘Off you go then.’
‘We missed young Murray,’ Salter said. ‘It’s his afternoon off.’
Riley pulled his watch from his waistcoat pocket, surprised to see that it was gone one o’clock. ‘It’s Wednesday,’ he said, ‘and the Gaiety puts on a matinee on a Wednesday afternoon. No prizes for guessing where we will find Murray. Come along, Jack, let’s take a bite of luncheon, then it’s high time we had a frank discussion with Mr Leith and his gentleman friend.’
They ate quickly at the nearest pie stall and then took a hansom to the Strand, which was crowded with shoppers and matinee theatre-goers. The temperature was a few degrees down on yesterday and a breeze fanned the shop awnings and flags adorning the street. Today the shadows were sharper, the city’s smell not as strong and the sky a lighter shade of blue, a welcome contrast to the steely grey skies of the last few days. They approached the theatre from the stage door, where a burly doorman halted their progress. They showed him their identification and he said he would advise Mr Leith of their presence.
‘No need,’ Riley said, sweeping past him. ‘We’ll find our own way.’
The manager’s office was situated at the end of a long corridor. The door was closed, but Riley opened it without bothering to knock and succeeded in catching Leith and Murray in a passionate embrace. The two men pulled quickly apart, clothing dishevelled, their obvious arousal tempered only by their expressions. Young Murray looked appalled, Leith amused.
‘Taking a risk, are you not?’ Riley asked conversationally. ‘I would advise locking your door in future if you cannot contain your passions.’
Murray whimpered and cowered in a corner.
‘Don’t worry, dear,’ Leith said, placing a hand gently on the young man’s shoulder. ‘The inspector isn’t interested in our activities.’
‘Not unless they have anything to do with two murders. But as I say, you enjoy taking public risks, don’t you, Leith. I wonder what measures you would take to silence anyone you thought might have accidentally observed you.’
‘Two? That can’t be right.’ Murray was shocked into finding his voice. ‘Everyone said Susan topped herself.’
‘Everyone was wrong,’ Riley replied crisply. ‘When did you last see her, Murray?’
‘Last night, sir. The family dined early because they were going out. All except Mr Terrance. He dined out. We cleared up the kitchen, finished our duties and was let off early. About eight, I think. I went to the room I share with Paxton. I like to read. Improve myself, like. Peter gives me books,’ he said, gazing up adoringly at Leith from beneath those ridiculously long lashes of his. Riley realised with a shock that he was wearing makeup. His cheeks were not coloured through embarrassment, but with rouge, his plump lips stained the colour of ripe plums and someone—Leith presumably—had attached a heart-shaped patch to his cheek.
‘And Susan?’
Murray shrugged. ‘I imagine she went to her room too. If we loiter about downstairs after we complete our duties, either Mr Farlow or Cook will find us something else to do.’
‘Can you recall if all the family left together for their engagement, Murray?’
‘I couldn’t say, sir. I was in the kitchens.’ He paused. ‘Although, come to think of it, Mr Farlow mentioned something about his lordship not being best pleased that Mr Terrance hadn’t returned in time to accompany the rest of them to the party they were attending. Her ladyship said he would join them there and that his lordship was worrying needlessly.’
‘Are you sure Mr Terrance wasn’t still in the house at that point?’
Murray shook his head. ‘I really couldn’t say, sir, but given what Mr Farlow said it seems unlikely.’
‘Could Terrance have returned to the house after the family left and let himself in without anyone knowing?’
Murray’s eyes resembled saucers. ‘Surely you don’t think…’
‘Just answer the question, please.’
‘Ordinarily, any member of the family returning home would come to the front door. Mr Farlow always seems to know when they are approaching.’ Riley nodded, aware that was a primary requisite of any decent butler. ‘They seldom need to knock because he’s there to open the door for them.’
‘If Mr Terrance wanted to return to the house unseen after the family left for their engagement last night, could he do it?’
Murray considered the question. ‘I suppose it’s possible. Instead of the front door, there’s a side door to the kitchen. Cook would have retired to her own room as soon as dinner had been cleared away.’
‘And Farlow?’
Murray, who appeared to be gaining a little confidence, rolled his eyes and made a supping action with his cupped hand. ‘He enjoys a drink when the family’s not at home, although we’re not supposed to know it.’
‘So anyone creeping into the house wouldn’t find it hard to get past him?’
‘Probably not, sir.’
‘Well then,’ Riley said, perching a well-tailored leg on the edge of Leith’s desk. ‘Let’s talk about the night of Miss Ferguson’s death.’ Murray let out a nervous squeak and subsided onto a chair. ‘You didn’t reveal your secret in order to divert suspicion away from your door, did you?’ He fixed Leith with a hard look. ‘You did so because you knew your snatched moment with Murray below the terrace had been observed by someone and you wanted to be sure I didn’t hear about it from anyone else.’
Leith failed to meet Riley’s gaze, and instead tidied a pile of papers on his desk. Laughter from the auditorium penetrated the walls. The production was going well, it seemed.
‘It was stupid,’ Leith said. ‘An unnecessary risk, but Thad is more addictive than opium.’ He sent a loving glance towards Murray. ‘I can’t seem to resist him and, believe me, I’ve tried. I knew when I accepted Lady Ashton’s invitation that I would see him, but I didn’t think we’d have time alone so I wouldn’t be able to give way to temptation. But then, just when I left the billiards room he happened to appear from the kitchens, and well…’
‘The coachmen had come in for supper. I couldn’t stand their coarse language, so I slipped out for some air,’ Murray explained.
‘How convenient,’ Riley said in a scathing tone, not believing a word of it. ‘I strongly advise you to tell me the truth.’ He didn’t need to add that he held the power to destroy Leith’s reputation, his livelihood, his standing with his family and also to deprive him of his liberty. ‘I really don’t give a damn what the two of you get up to in private, but I do care about the murder of two innocent young women. Did you kill Emily because you thought it was she who saw you with Murray?’
Leith paled and Riley saw the confidence drain out of him. ‘Surely you don’t believe that?’ he managed to stutter.
‘A simply yes or no will suffice.’
‘Then no, most emphatically not. Besides, if I thought she had seen me and I eliminated her, I wouldn’t have needed to make my humiliating confession to you.’
Riley nodded to concede the point. ‘Go on,’ he invited.
‘I toyed with the idea of offering Emily a marriage of convenience, I will admit that much. I sensed that her affections were engaged elsewhere because she was distant with us all but kept smiling at some secret recollection. I recognised the signs, you see, being in a similar situation myself. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. She was a sweet girl and I was really rather fond of her, in a brotherly sort of way. I knew she would be disgusted if I told her the truth, and couldn’t bear to tell an outright lie.’
‘But you did see her in the music room.’
‘Yes.’
‘How long was that after you all left the gardens following Emily’s summons.’
‘Oh, a good twenty minutes, I would think. I played the first game of billiards against Terrance but he thrashed me in no time flat.’
‘Who was in the room with Emily?’ Riley held his breath as he awaited an answer that would likely reveal the identity of the killer.
‘I’m not sure. I didn’t loiter. But I think it was the maid. Susan. It was certainly another woman. I heard her voice and it wasn’t a cultured one.’
‘The person who disturbed you in the grounds, Leith. Did you catch a look at his or her face?’
Leith shook his head. ‘He was in the shadows and it was dark.’
‘A man or a woman?’
The question elicited another head-shake. ‘All I can tell you is that the person was of slight build. Could have been either. I was more concerned with remaining concealed and keeping Thad out of sight, too. He would have lost his position and…well, everything, had we been caught. It was stupid and careless of me. Stupid!’
Riley’s sympathy was in short supply. ‘You saw this person heading for the gate that led to the mews at a time when the coachmen were still in the kitchen?’
Leith and Murray both nodded.
‘Are you absolutely sure about that? It’s vitally important.’
‘It had to be,’ Murray said, ‘because I knew I would be missed if I stayed outside once the coachmen left. I would be needed to clear up after them, you see, so I kept a careful watch for them.’
Look, Lord Riley,’ Leith said in a supplicating tone. ‘I know we’ve been idiots, but we didn’t kill anyone, even if some might find our behaviour less excusable than murder.’ He spread his hands. ‘Does this have to come to light?’
‘You would swear under oath to what you saw, if it saved an innocent man going to the gallows? Even if, by so doing, your own proclivities were revealed?’
Leith hung his head. ‘My conscience wouldn’t permit me to do anything less.’ He tutted. ‘Damned inconvenient, having a conscience.’
Riley believed him. ‘In which case, I shall try to prove my case without involving either of you.’
Both men breathed more easily. ‘Thank you,’ Leith said. ‘I won’t forget this.’
‘Don’t thank me yet. The matter isn’t resolved and if I have to, I will call upon you and ask you to make formal statements.’
Leith nodded. ‘I understand.’
Riley picked up the hat he had left on Leith’s desk. ‘My advice, for what it’s worth, is to be more careful in future. You clearly find risk-taking exhilarating, but the next person who catches you in flagrante delicto might not be as broadminded as my sergeant and I.’
‘This puts Grant in the clear, doesn’t it?’ Salter asked as the two men left the theatre and hailed another Hansom.
‘It does indeed,’ Riley replied, climbing into the cab that swerved through the traffic to the curb to collect them. ‘As does this.’ He extracted Grant’s music from his pocket and explained to Salter where he had found it. ‘We have independent witnesses who can confirm that Emily was still alive when Grant left the grounds. And we know he left them when the gate was still locked, tearing his coat as he climbed the wall. Even so, I will ask my friend Jute if he noticed anyone clambering over the wall once the jarveys returned to the mews, just to be thorough.’
‘I’m sure someone would have mentioned it if they had,’ Salter said.
‘We’ve established Grant’s innocence, and I’m glad of it. But in so doing we have created a bit of a cleft stick for ourselves. Danforth will throw a fit if I release Grant without explaining why I am convinced of his innocence.’
‘You don’t want to involve the sodomites?’
‘Not if it can be avoided. Despite Leith’s stupidity, I would prefer not to ruin him. He can’t help his perverse desires and probably fights hard to suppress them.’
‘Not that hard, if he insists upon taking risks.’
‘He’s had his fingers burnt now. I doubt whether he will continue that type of behaviour. Besides, if I reveal what I know to Danforth, he will tell Ashton and Leith’s secret will spread like wildfire, discrediting him. In any case, a jury would be unlikely to take the word of a man whose habits they find abhorrent. He doesn’t deserve that type of censure.’
‘You’re more understanding that most, sir.’
‘I’m a pragmatist, Jack,’ Riley replied with a distant smile. ‘I see no profit in destroying lives needlessly. Besides, we need to think carefully to avoid replacing one problem with another.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Ashton would seize on Susan’s presence in the music room at the vital time. He would insist that she lured Emily into the music room out of misplaced jealousy, kept her there and then killed her.’
‘A woman couldn’t have hit her as hard as the doctor says she must have been hit.’
‘Which will not prevent Ashton—or his poodle Danforth—from saying that was how it happened. Susan had run completely mad. The servants seem to think she had developed unrealistic feelings for Terrance. It’s not so unusual, you know. Young impressionable girls who are thrown constantly into the company of young men who treat them kindly allow their imaginations to get the better of them.’
‘Speaking from experience, sir?’ Salter asked with a grin.
Riley shot his subordinate a droll look. ‘If Susan thought the subject of her secret passion was about to marry the beautiful Emily, then…well, you know what they say about the tendencies of women scorned.’
‘I see what you mean. If we insist that Grant is innocent, Ashton will say that Susan is the murderer. She acted in a fit of jealous rage and then killed herself out of remorse.’
‘Precisely. As you said yourself, it’s too neat. Ashton and Danforth will leap at the chance to have the case resolved in that way. And they’d be wrong. You and I both know that Susan wouldn’t have had the wits to lure Emily into the music room, pour champagne and keep her there talking, but that won’t stop Danforth from insisting that’s how it must have happened.’
‘So what do we do?’
‘Keep Grant where he is for now. It’s the safest place for him and will buy us some time to get to the truth.’
‘We’re running out of suspects, sir. With Leith and Grant in the clear, it leaves us only with Ashton.’
‘I’m aware of that,’ Riley replied with a grim smile. ‘Susan would happily have lured Emily to that music room on his behalf, probably not aware that Terrance had asked her to do so in order to get her alone and propose to her. But let’s assume that he did propose, Emily rejected him and Terrance lost his temper with her. Perhaps Susan witnessed the killing and was using her knowledge to blackmail Terrance into…oh, I don’t know, setting her up as his mistress or something. Anyway, I would very much like to know what he got up to before joining his family at Lady Bilton’s.’
The cab deposited them back at the Yard, where a distressed Grant senior was pacing the waiting area beside the front desk. Riley assumed that was who he must be, even before Sergeant Barton informed him. The man had wood shavings in his hair and more adhering to his boots. He wore working man’s clothing and his hands were calloused.
‘You have my son here and I want to know why,’ the man said when Riley invited him to join him in his office.
Riley calmly explained why it had been necessary to detain him.
‘I know nothing about this girl,’ Grant said, looking bemused. ‘But I do know my son is a dreamer, not a killer.’
‘He has a prodigious talent, I understand,’ Riley said.
‘Lord knows where it came from.’ There was reluctant pride in the older man’s voice. ‘He can barely add a column of figures, but put him in front of a piano and it’s…well, magical. It’s like he goes to another place. We don’t see much of him now, what with him being in Paris. And when he is home, he’s in his room all the time, covering sheets and sheets of paper with undecipherable signs. It’s all Greek to me.’
‘Did you have visions of him following in your own footsteps?’
‘Bless you, sir, but Harry has two older brothers to keep the trade going. I wouldn’t hold the lad back. Seems the sort of opportunity that came his way are rarely offered to kids from his background.’
‘Let me put your mind at rest, Mr Grant,’ Riley said, leaning back in his chair. ‘I don’t believe your son killed the girl. In fact, I think he was besotted with her and I agree that he’s incapable of harming anyone. But I must prove it and that might take a day or two. In the meantime, I have to keep him here, you do understand?’
Grant nodded with a sense of resignation.
‘He won’t be badly treated, you have my assurance on that score, and as soon as I can possibly release him, I will do so. In the meantime, I hope none of the gentlemen from the newspapers get hold of his name.’ Given Danforth’s propensity for leaking information, Riley couldn’t discount the possibility. ‘In the event that they find their way to your door, you can help your son by denying any knowledge of his involvement with the young woman. That won’t be a lie since you didn’t know about it. If they ask where Harry is, tell them that he is at a musical retreat.’
‘Do such things exist?’ Grant asked dubiously.
‘Absolutely no idea,’ Riley replied. ‘But it should keep them at bay for a while.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Grant said, standing and looking reassured. ‘You’ve put my mind at rest and that’s a fact. Tell young Harry that we’re thinking about him.’
‘That we will do.’
Riley had Grant’s father shown out. Then he went down to the cells. As requested by Riley, Grant had been locked in a small, single cell, away from the rest of the occupants, most of whom were probably guilty of the offences for which they had been arrested. Many of them wouldn’t be able to resist Grant’s pretty face and air of unworldliness, and Riley didn’t like to think of how the innocent young man’s career might have progressed with broken fingers.
He found Grant’s cell littered with pages of music torn from his notebook and Grant himself looking wild as he went from page to page, muttering to himself. He didn’t seem to register what Riley said to him, clearly in a world of his own, and raised no objections when Riley told him that he would have to remain where he was for a night or two. The only amination he showed was when Riley handed him a fresh pad of paper and a new pencil.
‘One more question,’ Riley said, before knocking for the gaoler to let him out. ‘Did Emily have a special place, other than her own room, where she went when she wanted to be alone?’
Grant sent him an abstracted look. ‘The summerhouse,’ he said. ‘She told me there was a summerhouse at the bottom of her garden and she went there when she sought solitude.’
Of course. Riley should have made the connection before now. He had seen her cat loitering on its veranda, presumably waiting for Emily to come home. He was willing to wager that he would find Emily’s missing diary concealed somewhere in that summerhouse. Perhaps it would tell him which of her suitors she had decided to accept. He would go and look for it now, tonight, and quiz Jute about wall-climbing musicians at the same time.
Riley collected Salter and the two of them made their way to Danforth’s office.
‘Let me do the talking,’ Riley said.
‘That would be my pleasure, sir.’
‘Well, Rochester,’ Danforth said, looking pleased with himself. ‘Have you charged Grant?’
‘Not yet, sir. There are inconsistencies with his story that need to be verified. But he is safely under lock and key.’
‘Inconsistencies?’ Danforth’s forehead crumbled like a guilty conscience. ‘What inconsistencies?’
‘He admits to being at the house—’
‘There you are then. What more do you need. Lord Ashton said all along that an intruder was responsible but you thought you knew better. Why do you always have to make things so complicated?’
‘I prefer the truth to a quick solution, and the truth would be easier for me to arrive at if Grant’s existence had not been leaked to Ashton. I have yet to establish how that came about.’
Riley and Danforth engaged in a staring contest. Danforth was unable to withstand the contemptuous condemnation in Riley’s gaze and was the first to look away.
‘What about the maid?’ Ashton asked. ‘I assume you have no problems confirming it was suicide.’
‘I await the doctor’s findings,’ Riley replied, unwilling to reveal anything further.
‘I want both cases resolved by this time tomorrow, or I’ll give them to someone more efficient. Do I make myself clear, Rochester?’
‘An action to which I’m sure the commissioner will raise no objections,’ Riley said mildly.
‘Just get out and get on with it.’ Danforth’s bluff had been called and he knew it.
‘Damned windbag,’ Riley complained as they walked away.
‘A message from Doctor Maynard, sir,’ Peterson said as Riley made his way back to his office.
Riley sat down and tore open the note, scanning its contents quickly. ‘Good God!’
‘What is it?’ Salter asked.
‘See for yourself.’
Salter read the note that Riley passed to him. Its contents caused his bushy brows to head in the same direction as his receding hairline.
‘Susan was pregnant,’ he said in a shocked voice.