Chapter Eight
The following morning Riley waited on the South Carriage Drive in Hyde Park, astride his black gelding, Warrior. Dawn had just broken and there were few people about. The heat was already stifling, no breeze to be had and no sign of a break in the weather. The horse didn’t like it either, and tossed his head, shaking away the early flies. Riley clicked his tongue and pressed Warrior into the shade of a row of trees. Despite the heat Riley appreciated the stillness, the absolute peace in this oasis of calm in the centre of a city that was coming to life at the start of another day.
He didn’t have long to enjoy the solitude before the guest he had invited to join him rode into view. He admired the sight of Amelia, perched side-saddle on her chestnut mare, Solitaire. An apt name, Riley had often thought, that reflected Amelia’s insistence upon riding about unescorted despite his constant warnings about the dangers. He raised a hand in greeting as Amelia approached. She was clad in a lightweight green habit, her features concealed beneath a half veil that fell from her elegant top hat.
‘Good morning,’ she said. ‘I hope I have not kept you waiting.’
‘Not at all.’ They moved off at a sedate walk. ‘I hope you didn’t mind being summonsed, but I know you are that rarest of females, an early riser.’
‘A backhanded compliment,’ Amelia said, grinning. ‘But I will take what I can get. I presume you want to talk to me about the case and grill me upon Mary’s behaviour for the rest of yesterday.’
‘Perceptive as ever.’ They had reached the Row, a traditional gallop that Warrior recognised. He pranced sideways beneath Riley’s weight, anxious to stretch his legs. ‘But first, shall we let them have their fun?’
‘By all means.’
They raced the length of the Row, Riley holding Warrior back so that his stride matched that of the smaller Solitaire. Riders and horses were both breathing hard when they reached the end of the Row. Riley led the way onto another path at walking pace.
‘Phew, it’s hot!’ Amelia complained as she patted Solitaire’s sweaty neck. ‘When will this wretched heatwave end?’
‘I wish I knew. Our uniformed constables have been called to break up twice as many disputes as usual. The heat makes tempers fray and fists fly.’
‘Well, men do so like to fight at the smallest opportunity, so what else can you expect.’ Amelia smiled sweetly. She nodded towards an empty bench in the shade of a row of oaks, and Riley dismounted. He was happy to be off the sweating horse, and he was certain the horse reciprocated the feeling. He lifted a hand to help Amelia from her saddle and they sat in the welcome shade, leaving the horses on long reins to crop the grass. Amelia continued where she had left off. ‘I took Mary home and stayed with her all the afternoon. Her doctor called and gave her a sedative, so she slept for several hours. Her maid sat with her during that time and I was able to go home for a while and attend to my own affairs. But I returned to take supper with her. She seemed a little calmer but still very overset, the poor dear. She didn’t eat very much and kept breaking down in tears, but it seemed from the odd remark she made that the tears were occasioned by fear as much as sadness for her loss.’
‘Fear about her husband’s return? They had looked forward to their daughter providing them with a comfortable future. Now Ferguson will have to work for a living.’
Amelia sent him a sideways glance. ‘So cynical, Riley.’
‘But true, my dear.’
‘She didn’t say anything quite so specific, but I expect you’re right. Annoyingly, you usually are.’
Riley chuckled. ‘I live to serve.’ He paused. ‘Ferguson cabled Ashton and gave him his approval to a match with Emily.’
‘Did he?’ Amelia widened his eyes. ‘Mary didn’t know that. I am sure she would have mentioned it if she did.’
‘One must assume that dear Papa instructed his daughter to accept Terrance’s next proposal.’
‘Indeed one must.’ Amelia paused. ‘But what if Emily decided not to do as she was told?’
‘What indeed?’
Riley knew he shouldn’t do what he was about to do. It would cost him his career if it was discovered that he had shared any particulars of the investigation with a potential suspect. Be that as it may, he knew Amelia had not killed Emily. She was incapable of killing anyone, had no reason to do anything so foolish and stood to gain nothing from Emily’s death. He was equally convinced that Mary Ferguson had possession of a vital piece of evidence, her daughter’s diary. She was not so distraught that she didn’t realise how vital it was, and Riley knew that she would never admit to having it. He would prefer it if Amelia could lay her hands on it without Riley having to conduct a search. The formalities of such an operation would no doubt set the victim’s family against him, which was something he wanted to avoid.
‘What I have to tell you now is strictly between us. I can depend upon your discretion?’
‘Naturally. But don’t say or do anything that makes you uncomfortable. You don’t need to actually tell me anything. Just explain what it is that you want me to do and you can be sure that I will do it, if I possibly can.’
Riley smiled his gratitude, reached across the space that separated them and briefly squeezed her hand. ‘Thank you.’
He told her about the missing diary and his urgent need to have sight of it.
‘You think Mary suspected her daughter of developing an interest in someone she knew nothing about, accounting for Emily’s unwillingness to accept any of the proposals that came her way?’
‘I think it a reasonable assumption. I read the letters from her father, and every one of them emphasised how much he relied upon her making a good marriage. That was a tremendous responsibility to place upon such young shoulders, and I imagine Emily resented it. Yet she tied those letters up with a ribbon and kept them, which implies that they were important to her and that she meant to do right by her family. Or did before she met her mystery admirer, at which point she became conflicted.’
‘If Mary has any sense, she will have destroyed that diary before Emily’s father returns home. She wouldn’t want you to see it—’
Riley raised a brow. ‘Even if it contains information that points to the killer’s identity?’
‘Not if that killer is a young man that she met and Mary didn’t stop the liaison. She is more afraid of her husband than concerned about bringing the killer to book, I think, and certainly wouldn’t want to risk Ferguson getting his hands on anything that he could use to punish her with. Even so, I plan to spend the day with her and if she falls asleep, I will conduct a search of her things. She keeps a large embroidery bag by her side at all times. If I had to hazard a guess, I would say that the diary, if it’s anywhere, would be in there.’ Amelia waved a hand in the air. ‘But be warned, if she has hidden it in her chamber, I will never find it.’
‘Don’t take any risks. It would be useful to see it but I am sure I shall be able to track the young man down by other means.’
‘Through her piano teacher?’
Riley smiled. ‘You are ahead of me, as always.’
‘It seems an obvious step.’
‘Tell Mrs Ferguson that I shall call to see her later this morning, if you would.’
‘Certainly I would. Do you want me to make myself scarce while you talk to her?’
‘Not in the least. She will probably feel more comfortable if you stay with her.’ Riley raised his hat to a man he knew who rode past them in the opposite direction, then placed it on the bench between himself and Amelia, feeling the benefit of its absence as the perspiration on his forehead dried a little. Already the park was starting to fill up with those eager to enjoy it before the heat became insufferable and drove them back indoors. ‘Did she seem worried at all when we asked for her permission to search Emily’s room?’
‘No. Just bewildered and a little lost.’
‘She knew we wouldn’t find what we were looking for. Your Mrs Ferguson is not the wilting violet she would have the world believe, but I can hardly badger her under the circumstances. She is covering something up, but I’m certain she didn’t kill her own daughter. Nor does she know who did.’
‘I agree.’
Riley changed the subject. ‘Expect a visit from Ashton,’ he warned.
Amelia looked surprised. ‘Why?’
‘He knows we are friends and will try and find out if you know anything about the investigation. Besides, he will be looking for an excuse to see you.’
‘Me?’ She widened her eyes behind her silly veil. ‘Good lord! Why?’
‘He all but told me that he has expectations, if you follow my meaning.’
‘All too well.’ She shuddered. ‘I thought he was over-attentive the other night, but didn’t make the connection. Thanks for the warning. Not that I would ever—’
‘I know that but he does not. You are a widow, so it follows that you cannot live without the attention you once had.’
‘Delicately put, my lord, but if Ashton pursues me he will soon learn differently.’
‘Good.’ Riley chuckled. ‘Don’t be gentle in your put-down.’
‘I can assure you that I won’t be.’
Riley pulled his half hunter from his waistcoat pocket and checked the time. It was later than he’d realised. ‘I had best return Warrior and get to the Yard. But first, I have one more favour to ask of you.’
Amelia shrugged. ‘Ask away.’
‘Have you been invited to Lady Bilton’s this evening?’
‘Yes, but I haven’t accepted. I thought Mary might need me.’
‘Ah.’
‘Oh, now I understand.’ Amelia smiled. ‘Your mother has reminded you of your social responsibilities. Again.’
‘Quite.’ Riley grimaced. ‘There was a three-line family whip awaiting me when I returned home last night. Mother, Martha and Sophia.’
‘I see. But surely you can use the case as an excuse—’
‘Ordinarily I would, but it’s to be Sophia’s first foray into society and she entreated me to show my face. She’s worried that no one will ask her to dance and so I have promised to stand up with her.’
Amelia’s smile transmuted into musical laughter. ‘Your mother doesn’t miss a trick. Very well, Riley, if you are asking if you can escort me to save you from your mother’s machinations, then I will happily oblige. It is of course not very flattering to be invited as a decoy, but I have a certain sympathy with your plight and will overlook the insult.’
‘Has it occurred to you that I might be using my mother’s stratagem for my own advantage?’
‘Frankly, no.’ Amelia wouldn’t look at him. ‘I am aware that you wouldn’t be seen dead at Lady Bilton’s were it not for Sophia. Besides, if you secretly craved my company, there is nothing preventing you from asking me simply because you want to. You didn’t need to use your mother as an excuse. I do not expect anything from you other than friendship, and you have nothing to fear from me.’
‘I have offended you, for which I most humbly apologise,’ Riley said, appalled by his insensitivity. ‘It was not my intention.’
‘Maybe not, but I have agreed to accompany you, so you have got what you wanted.’ She stood abruptly and walked towards her horse. Riley rose a little too late, but still in time to help Amelia into the saddle. She turned Solitaire towards the park’s gate, but looked back down on him, aware that her height gave her an air of superiority over Riley, who stood before her holding his hat in his hands awkwardly. She offered him a chilly smile. ‘I will let you get on and see you later this morning, I expect.’
Riley raised his hat and watched her ride away, still cursing himself for handling the situation so ineptly and hurting her feelings.
He rode the short distance back to Sloane Street and the mews where he stabled Warrior and kept his carriage. He handed his horse to the groom on duty and returned to the house to change his attire and eat a quick breakfast.
Less than an hour later he strode into his office at the Yard. Salter was already there and Riley told him he’d been right to assume that Ashton was hard up.
‘Do you plan to talk to him about that, sir?’ Salter asked, looking gratified to have got it right.
‘And suggest that he killed the girl to stop her accepting his son’s proposal?’ Riley shook his head. ‘Not without proof. It’s more than my career is worth.’
‘It’s possible though. That it happened that way, I mean. Terrance was clearly besotted and young men in love tend not to think of the practicalities. If that particular young man went against his father’s orders, said father might have done something drastic. I don’t doubt Ashton’s potential for a second.’
‘No more do I, Salter, but, as I say, we need to unearth some proof before we bandy unsubstantiated accusations around.’ Riley picked up his hat. ‘If we find no other leads, I may let you sweat Ashton a little. I rather think you’d enjoy it. Anyway, come on. We have a busy day ahead of us. We will see Peter Granville and Michael Leith first, the two other contenders for Emily’s affections, and see what they have to say for themselves. Then Gloria Dalton, followed by another interview with Mrs Ferguson.’ He explained that Amelia had agreed to have a furtive look for the missing diary. ‘That will take us until lunchtime at least, I should think. We’ll then go to the East End and see the dismissed valet and kitchen maid. And finally, we’ll talk to Emily’s music teacher.’
‘What do we know about Granville?’ Salter asked as the two detectives made their way to his lodges in Moon Street.
‘His father is a landowner of consequence in the West Country. Granville is a solicitor who deals with his father’s legal affairs and spends most of his time here in the capital, probably trying to avoid his mother’s efforts to marry him off to some worthy local girl.’
‘Speaking from experience, sir?’ Salter asked with a grin.
‘You have no idea, Jack. Anyway, here we are,’ he said as their cab pulled up in Moon Street. ‘Just bear in mind that Granville has legal training and if there’s something he doesn’t want us to know, he’ll be adept at covering it up.’
‘Warning noted,’ Salter said, staring up at the tall building that was Peter Granville’s abode.
Riley and Salter caught Granville just as he had got out of his bed, as evidenced by tangled hair that stood up at angles and the fact that he was in shirtsleeves and stockinged feet. His eyes were bloodshot—from crying, Riley suspected, rather than overindulging the previous night.
‘Lord Riley,’ he said, emerging from a small sitting room when his man admitted them. ‘I was expecting you, although perhaps not quite so early.’
He indicated chairs at a small table in front of an equally small window giving a view over an indifferent back garden and offered them refreshments. Both accepted and Granville’s man went off to make tea.
‘You were in love with her,’ Riley said by way of introduction.
Granville lowered his head and didn’t deny it. ‘For all the good that it did me.’
Riley thought that of the three men seeking Emily’s favour, Granville was the best proposition. He had an engaging manner and came from a wealthy family. Perhaps the tragedy of Emily’s death had saved one of them from an unhappy future. Emily might have married him, but her heart belonged to another. In Granville’s position, Riley wouldn’t be satisfied if the woman who agreed to marry him secretly hankered after another man—a situation that would show in little ways, resulting in dissatisfaction and eventual disillusionment for both parties.
‘Talk me through your activities after the musicale broke up,’ Riley invited, nodding his thanks when Granville’s man served him and Salter with tea.
‘We all walked outside with the ladies. Ashton, Leith and I were each trying to gain Emily’s attention, but I can’t say that any one of us succeeded. It was like…I don’t know how to describe it…’
‘Try.’
‘Well, she was there in body, but her mind was elsewhere. She was as sweet and charming as always, but distant. Then someone called to her. She thought it was her mother, so she excused herself and went back to the house.’
‘Alone?’
‘Yes. We all tried to go with her.’ He emitted a mirthless grunt. ‘Our competition for her favour was becoming less than civilised. We almost fell over each other in our haste to be beside her, and the resulting scuffle was undignified, to say the least. I think we must all have realised how ridiculous we looked and so backed off. But now I can’t stop wishing that one of us had insisted upon accompanying her back.’ He ran a hand abstractedly through his hair, leaving it standing up in spiky disorder. ‘It wouldn’t have mattered whom, it would have taken only one of use to save her. But none of us wanted to risk any of the others getting her alone. Anyway, we all tried to follow after her but she almost ran back, as though she couldn’t wait to get away from us.’
‘You think it may not have been her mother calling to her. Was she expecting someone else?’ Riley asked.
‘Possibly. She was certainly anxious to make her escape.’
‘Perhaps she grew weary of the three of you pestering her,’ Salter suggested.
Granville dealt the sergeant a hard look. ‘Don’t think I haven’t already blamed myself a dozen times over.’
‘She was still alive when you went off to play billiards,’ Riley assured him. ‘She was seen.’
‘Thanks for trying to make me feel better, but it’s not working.’
‘Were you in the billiards room the entire time?’
‘None of us were,’ Granville replied with apparent honesty. But Riley knew he’d had ample opportunity to hone his story with Leith, and possibly with Ashton too, and that Riley would already know they hadn’t been together constantly. It was sensible to make that admission without having it coerced from him. ‘We took it in turns to play as there was an odd number of us, so one of us was always standing out. Lady Ashton doesn’t like people smoking in the house, so if we wanted to indulge we went outside. Besides, I think we all hoped to catch a glimpse of Emily alone, so we each wandered outside when we weren’t playing.’
‘Did any of you see her, or speak to her, after she left you in the gardens?’
‘I didn’t. If either of the others did, he hasn’t told me.’ Granville spread his hands. ‘Look, Lord Riley, I don’t expect you to believe me. I had an opportunity to kill her, I suppose, so you must view me as a suspect. All three of us had that opportunity, come to that, but we all adored her, and speaking personally I couldn’t have harmed her, no matter what.’ He looked desolate and suspiciously close to tears. ‘If she’d accepted one of the others I would have been devastated, but I would also have wished her joy because I cared most of all about her happiness. I would never have coerced her into marrying me against her will. No man wants a reluctant bride.’
‘You knew she had to marry for money?’ Salter asked.
‘We all assumed that was the case, which gave Ashton the edge. He was the wealthiest of us all and, I think, her mother’s preference.’
‘What makes you say that?’ Salter asked.
‘Oh, little things. I noticed her constantly talking to Ashton, and encouraging Emily to do likewise. A man in love observes things that others might not.’
‘Did you notice anything untoward during your solitary sojourn on the terrace?’ Riley asked. ‘Anyone lurking about who had no business being there.’
Granville shook his head. ‘I can’t say that I did,’ he replied.
Riley, satisfied that they would get nothing more from Granville, thanked him and left him to his misery.
Leith’s lodgings were close by and the two detectives walked there, agreeing that Granville appeared genuinely upset by Emily’s demise and was an unlikely suspect.
‘But Ashton will argue that he had as much reason to kill Emily as Terrance did,’ Riley said in frustration.
‘As did Leith. What do we know about him, sir?’
‘His family lives in Leicestershire. His father’s the local JP. Leith, I think, is something to do with the theatre. We’ll ask him.’
Their interview with Michael Leith was short but surprisingly revealing. He confirmed that he was the current manager of the Gaiety Theatre and that he held that position despite his family’s protestations.
‘They think it lowers the tone,’ Leith said with a casual shrug. ‘But I’m good at the work and I find it rewarding.’
‘Forgive me, but you don’t work for reasons of financial necessity?’ Riley asked.
‘No more than you do, I would imagine, Lord Riley. I have a generous allowance, it’s true, and there would be plenty to occupy me if I returned to the family seat in Leicestershire. But I find the country dull, and my mother wouldn’t tire in her efforts to marry me off. I much prefer the anonymity of the capital.’
Riley understood. He didn’t need to work either but preferred to fill his time and challenge his intellect in pursuit of what, for the most part, was proving to be a rewarding career.
‘What did you do when you were not at the billiards table?’ Riley asked. ‘I understand the three of you took it in turns to stand out.’
‘I was alone on the terrace for a short time,’ he said. ‘I went outside to take the air, not to try and see Emily.’
‘You wanted to marry her?’ Salter said. ‘So why wouldn’t you—’
‘Actually, I did not.’
Riley gave him his full attention. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘It was all for show. Appearances and all that. The pater would cut me off without a penny if he knew the truth.’
This startling revelation assured the young man of Riley’s undivided attention. ‘You prefer your own gender,’ Riley said calmly as the penny dropped.
Leith’s head fell into his splayed hands. ‘I wish it were otherwise,’ he said in a whisper, dropping his voice and nodding towards the door behind which, presumably, his manservant lurked. Riley assumed he know nothing of his master’s preferences, implying that he didn’t entertain men friends at his lodgings. ‘God alone knows, I don’t want to be a deviant. I’ve fought the urge, you can have no idea, but it’s just too strong.’
‘You realise that by making that admission, you leave yourself open to prosecution,’ Riley told him softly. ‘Sodomy is against the law.’
‘You think I don’t know that?’ Leith turned haunted eyes upon Riley. ‘But I hope I can rely upon your discretion not to make this public. No one knows, you see, and I would prefer to keep it that way.’
‘I cannot see why I would need to mention it,’ Riley replied. ‘Thank you for your honesty. I hope it won’t be necessary to trouble you again.’
‘Well,’ Salter said as they left Leith’s lodgings, having established that Leith had seen nothing suspicious during his time on the terrace. ‘That’s an alibi that’s hard to question. I don’t think Leith is our man.’
‘Don’t you think he was a little too eager to confess to his supposed predilections?’
Salter shot Riley a surprised look. ‘You don’t think it was true, sir?’
‘I think that confiding in us was unnecessary. Unless he did kill Emily and believes we have evidence to support his guilt. We are policemen, Jack, sworn to arrest anyone we suspect of committing a crime. Leith just admitted to a crime that a lot of people find completely unacceptable. How could he be sure we wouldn’t do our duty and cart him off in handcuffs?’
‘Because he thought we would be too shocked to take any action,’ Salter said slowly. ‘Which we were. That confession took the wind right out of my sails, I can tell you.’
‘Precisely. And he assumes we are too consumed with investigating a murder that has to be handled with kid gloves to worry about his deviant behaviour.’
‘You still haven’t said if you believe him, sir.’
‘I’m not sure,’ Riley conceded. ‘I interviewed him as a formality, not seriously supposing him to have committed the crime. But his willingness, eagerness almost, to admit to a predisposition that could ruin his life, see him estranged from his family and possibly gaoled seems rather extreme behaviour for an innocent man.’
Salter shrugged. ‘Perhaps he feels guilty because he doesn’t want to be the way that he is but can’t help himself. They say confession is good for the soul.’ Salter pondered for a moment. ‘There’s another thing, sir. He admitted his preferences, but did not admit to acting upon them. An admission is not exactly a confession—and one of his best friends is a lawyer. I realise this is a distasteful matter but can we charge him without an admission of actual sodomy?’
Riley grunted. ‘If he wants to confess, he should see a priest.’
‘What shall we do about him?’
‘Nothing for the time being. Let him stew. But if our other leads don’t turn up anything promising, we will take a closer look at Mr Michael Leith as a priority. There are certain things that need further investigation, I think…’ Riley sighed. ‘Very distasteful. But still, come along, Gloria Dalton lives in Chelsea. We’d best hail a cab.’
The well-kept streets of Chelsea slumbered in the late morning heat. Nannies walked children under the shade cast by trees, a few delivery-boys took supplies to the servants’ entrances, but Riley knew that Chelsea would tolerate the heatwave by avoiding it as best they could. The smartly-dressed gentlemen in their tweed frock-coats, the ladies suffering in their throat-to-ankle linens and velvets would remain indoors until the heat of the day passed and it was time for their soirees and musicales.
The cab pulled up outside the Dalton residence in a street similar to Riley’s own a short time later. ‘Dalton has a string of warehouses, I think,’ Riley said in answer to a question Salter hadn’t asked. ‘He is connected to a good family, so society forgives him for resorting to something as vulgar as trade.’
Salter guffawed. ‘Very gracious of them, I’m sure.’
‘My point is, Jack,’ Riley said as his sergeant wielded the door knocker, ‘that Miss Dalton would be a much better prospect for Terrance Ashton, financially speaking. And we already know that she is quite taken with the blighter. The question is, how far would she go to eliminate the competition?’
‘You surely don’t think that a woman could have…’
‘I honestly don’t know what to think. The more we discover, the less sense it all makes.’
Their conversation was cut short when the door opened and a footman admitted them to the house. It became obvious that they were expected when they were immediately shown into a small drawing room made to look smaller by the excess of furniture in it. Riley felt fresh appreciation for his own more Spartan tastes and the freedom his single status afforded him to indulge them.
They found Mrs Dalton employed with her embroidery. Of her daughter there was no sign.
‘Ah, Lord Riley,’ she said, looking up and smiling. ‘I thought you would get round to us today. Please take a seat. Can I offer you both some tea?’
The footman was despatched to make the necessary arrangements. Mrs Dalton either did not employ a butler, or it was his day off. Riley wondered about that. Butlers were a status symbol, tangible evidence of wealth and prosperity. Perhaps Dalton wasn’t as well situated as Riley had been led to believe. He suppressed a sigh, realising that this entire business revolved around money and ambition, or the lack of one or both. Much like society as a whole, he supposed. One was judged by one’s status and material possessions, strictly in that order, and the ability to engage the services of a proficient butler was a public declaration of the latter.
‘Gloria is walking in the park with my maid, but will be back directly,’ Mrs Dalton said. ‘However, I am glad we have this opportunity to talk before she returns. My daughter, you must understand, is very delicate and feels things acutely. Emily Ferguson was a special friend to her, and she is much affected by her untimely demise. I hope it will not be necessary for you to upset her with too many questions.’
‘It is not my intention to upset her at all, Mrs Dalton,’ Riley replied in a mild tone. ‘But I would be failing in my duty if I did not ask her for an account of her activities on the evening in question.’
‘Gloria had nothing to do with her friend’s death.’
‘I am not suggesting that she did. But she might have seen or heard something that will be helpful to our enquiry. We need to…what’s that expression, Sergeant Salter?’
‘Eliminate her from our enquiries, sir.’
‘That’s the one.’
Mrs Dalton released a slow breath. ‘Yes, of course.’
The tea was served and Mrs Dalton poured, giving her something to do with her hands. The clink of china did little to relieve the strained atmosphere that threatened to engulf them.
‘I am sure if she does know anything, she will be more than willing to tell you. We all want this terrible business to be resolved as quickly as possible. Poor Lady Ashton blames herself. I don’t think she will ever recover from the shock.’
‘It is most regrettable that the tragedy happened in her house,’ Riley agreed, recalling Lady Ashton’s remote manner the previous day when he had interviewed her, unable to help thinking that she hadn’t seemed especially upset by the tragedy. ‘You were in the drawing room with the other ladies, I believe you said.’
‘The entire time that the poor girl was being murdered on the other side of the wall and none of us heard a thing. Only imagine.’ She shuddered. ‘It doesn’t bear thinking about. Gloria and Prudence Ashton were together. Not that a woman could possibly have committed the crime, of course, but I do understand that you have to establish where everyone was.’
‘Theirs is a friendship you encourage?’
‘I see no harm in it. Gloria seems to like Pru very much and the poor girl needs all the friends she can get. I don’t mean to be unkind, but…well, perhaps I shouldn’t say more. It will sound spiteful.’
‘You think Miss Ashton is not particularly attractive and therefore not as popular as Gloria?’
‘It seems unfair. Prudence is very interesting when one gets to know her but, of course, the young people don’t look beyond appearances. Luckily, Gloria passes muster in that regard.’
‘Fortunate indeed,’ Riley said, but the irony in his tone appeared to escape Mrs Dalton’s notice.
Gloria joined them at that point, still bonneted following her walk, and looking a little pink on the face.
‘Goodness, it’s so hot,’ she complained, falling into the nearest chair and removing her bonnet, which she flung carelessly onto another vacant seat. ‘Good morning, Lord Riley, Sergeant,’ she said, as if only just noticing they were there. ‘I expect you have questions for me. Pru said that you questioned her for ages.’
‘Not so very long.’
Riley expected objections from Mrs Dalton when he asked to speak with her daughter alone but the woman surprised him by rising to her feet with alacrity. ‘Of course. I wouldn’t want you to think that my presence influenced my daughter’s replies to your questions. We have nothing to hide and she is glad to help. I shall be in the next room when you need me, Gloria.’
‘Well then, Miss Dalton,’ Riley said with a smile as the door closed behind her mother, ‘can you think of anything more that might help us catch whoever did this terrible thing to your friend?’
Gloria wrinkled her brow. ‘Not a single thing, Lord Riley. I wish I could.’
‘All three of the young gentlemen at the soiree were keen to marry Emily.’
This declaration produced a frown. ‘Not all of them. They liked her very much because she was so pretty, but she had no money, you know. That is important because one has to live on something.’
‘You are pretty too,’ Salter said, ‘and do have money.’
Gloria accepted the compliment with grace, offering Salter a demure smile. ‘I have no shortage of admirers, although perhaps I should not say so. It sounds very conceited.’
‘I hear tell that Terrance Ashton was determined to offer for Emily,’ Riley said.
‘Oh no, not really. I think it was more of a temporary infatuation. His friends liked her, so they entered into a sort of rivalry to see which of them could win her affections. Young men do that sort of thing, you know.’ Gloria’s pretty face was suddenly marred by the spiteful downturn of her lips. Miss Gloria Dalton, Riley decided, was spoiled and indulged and knew all there was to know about sulking if she didn’t get her way. Her hands, he noticed, were large. Large enough to squeeze the life from Emily’s slim throat? ‘Anyway, I know he wasn’t serious about her because Terrance and I have an understanding.’
‘Really?’ Riley exaggerated his surprised reaction. ‘Odd that he didn’t mention it when we spoke to him. In fact, he seemed totally devastated by Emily’s death.’
‘His father didn’t mention any sort of arrangement either,’ Salter added.
‘It hasn’t been formalised yet, I expect that’s why.’ Gloria brashly embellished her lie. She probably didn’t think of it as a lie, Riley imagined, hoping that if she said it often enough it would become a reality. Riley had seen other indulged people act in a similar fashion. Either that or she was making a clumsy attempt to remove suspicion from Terrance, thereby earning favour with him. ‘Besides, now that Emily has gone it would be inappropriate to…well, to be happy,’ she finished lamely.
Riley allowed a moment’s silence to embrace them all. ‘There is no arrangement, is there, Miss Dalton?’ he eventually said.
‘Because you cannot imagine Terrance preferring me over Emily!’ Gloria pouted. ‘Everyone thought Emily was perfection but she was not. She pretended to be sweet and obliging but she really didn’t care about anyone else’s feelings. She was selfish and conceited and led all her admirers on, giving them false hope because she didn’t really have an interest in any of them. There, I’ve said it, may God forgive me for speaking ill of the dead.’
‘Not such a good friend then. You are glad she is gone.’
Gloria looked at the two men, and Riley saw a calculating glint in her eyes. It was as though she had just recalled that they were not confidantes but policemen on the trail of a killer, and it would not reflect well upon her if she expressed her dislike of the murdered girl any more strongly. ‘Not glad precisely.’ Gloria turned from jealous harpy to sweet little thing in the blink of an eye. ‘I just wish everyone wouldn’t keep saying how wonderful she was, because it isn’t true. She muddled Terrance’s thinking by pretending that she liked him when really she did not. It was very unkind of her.’
Riley wanted to push her, but he could see that she was close to tears. Making her cry would achieve nothing, so he played along with her.
‘Please don’t overset yourself, Miss Dalton. I appreciate your forthright views, and I am certain that they do not implicate you in any way.’ He saw Salter from the corner of his eye, struggling to repress a smile. ‘Are you aware if there was anyone whom Emily liked?’ he asked, suspecting that Gloria was the last person Emily would have confided in.
‘She was too self-absorbed to care for anyone other than herself,’ Gloria replied sulkily.
Pots and kettles sprang to mind as Riley stood to take his leave, aware that he would get nothing more than vitriolic spite from the young woman.
‘Whoever marries that one will live to regret it,’ Salter said as they left the house. ‘A right little madam, accustomed to having her way.’
‘Precisely so. And isn’t it convenient that her rival for Ashton’s affections just happens to be dead?’
‘You don’t think she was involved, sir?’
‘No. Not unless Prudence Ashton is lying about being with her the entire time, and I don’t think she is.’ Riley extracted his watch from his waistcoat pocket. ‘It’s later than I realised. Let’s take an early lunch and then go on to Mrs Ferguson.’
‘With pleasure, sir,’ Salter replied. ‘I just happen to know of a basement tavern where the air is cool, the beer is always cold and the steak pies may not have succumbed to the heat quite yet.’
‘Music to my ears, Salter,’ Riley replied with enthusiasm. ‘Lead on.’