Page 11 of Death of a Courtesan
Salter curled his upper lip. ‘Danforth has a wife and eight kids. Why would he want to come to a place like this?’
Riley shrugged. ‘Why does any man? Mrs Sinclair is clever enough to have identified certain deviant needs, and caters for them. Even if Mrs Danforth wasn’t worn out from all those confinements, I very much doubt whether she would agree to take a birch to her husband’s backside. Besides, wives are for the purpose of procreation only.’ Riley offered his sergeant a wry smile. ‘Surely you are aware of that? It’s common knowledge that they find sexual congress distasteful.’
‘Blimey, no one’s told my missus that. Wears me out, so she does.’
‘Then you’re a lucky man, Jack.’
‘And well I know it.’ Salter puffed out his chest. ‘What about Danforth? Are you going to run back to the yard and confront him?’
‘Not yet. He had his opportunity to speak with me this morning and chose not to take it. Now it’s my turn to keep him waiting and wondering.’
Salter grinned. ‘I like your thinking.’
‘We will talk to the remaining five girls ourselves, as well as the staff, and then look at Adelaide’s room before we return to the yard full of fresh ideas and enthusiasm. Hopefully.’
‘This ain’t going to be an easy one, sir. Too many suspects.’
‘More than we have so far considered, I fancy,’ Riley replied. ‘Mrs Sinclair is successful, which will have caused resentment among the competition. She’s only been open for business for five years and has cornered a niche market. She mentioned to us that her rivals had consistently tried to tempt Adelaide away from her. When that failed, perhaps one of them decided to remove her from the game, so to speak, permanently. We’ll need to talk to her again about those competitors…’
‘Have a heart, guv,’ Salter groaned. ‘There are dozens of cathouses in this part of London alone.’
‘But not that many catering for special needs at the wealthier end of the market.’
Salter screwed up his nose, unconvinced, but before he could voice further protests the door opened and both men turned to watch the caramel-skinned beauty flounce through it, still wearing her flimsy attire. This was Mirabelle, Adelaide’s main rival. She shivered in the cool room. Mrs Sinclair had left her commodious woollen shawl behind, which Riley wordlessly passed to Mirabelle.
‘We don’t get too many gents in this establishment encouraging me to put my clothes on,’ she said, looking torn between continuing to flaunt herself in front of them—an instinctive reaction that probably came as naturally to her as breathing—and keeping herself warm. In the end she compromised by wrapping her upper body in the shawl but allowing her robe to fall open when she sat down and crossed her shapely legs.
‘My condolences on the loss of your friend,’ Riley said briskly.
‘Friend?’ Mirabelle sniffed. ‘I am many things, inspector, and you probably wouldn’t approve of most of them. But I am not a hypocrite. Adelaide was cruel, arrogant and self-centred. I didn’t like her and I’m not afraid to admit it,’ she said, a bitter edge to her voice. ‘I’m not sorry that she’s dead, but I didn’t kill her, and nor do I know who did.’
‘Why did you dislike her so much?’ Riley asked. ‘You were in the same business and lived beneath the same roof. I should have thought that would have been a basis for at least some kind of friendship.’
Mirabelle gave a mirthless laugh. ‘It’s clear that you don’t frequent places like this, more’s the pity. The rivalry is fierce and it’s every girl for herself. We learn early on never to rely upon anyone other than ourselves. When I first started out, a more experienced girl befriended me, and like a fool I told her all about the foibles of a young man who’d taken a fancy to me. Next thing I knew, she was offering him the same services for a cheaper price.’
‘You ladies seemed friendly enough earlier,’ Salter remarked.
‘The rest of us rub along, but Adelaide made it clear that she thought herself better than all of us.’
‘Is that what Adelaide did here?’ Riley asked. ‘She enticed the men with the best prospects away from the rest of you?’
‘It doesn’t work that way. We all mill about downstairs, chatting to the customers as they come in, helping them to loosen up a bit. Not that many of them have inhibitions to start with. They like to see us girls together. Adelaide and I used to team up. She knew I was as good looking as her. I’m dark, she was fair, and we made a striking contrast that the gentlemen liked.’
‘You hoped to persuade one or more of your customers to take you both, thereby earning more for less effort.’
Mirabelle sent Riley a flirtatious smile. ‘I can see that you understand the ways of our world better than I gave you credit for, inspector. Yes, we cavorted together out there in the party room, shed a few clothes and helped the gentlemen get into the mood.’ She allowed the shawl to fall away from her shoulders and shrugged in a practised move until the robe slid from one of them, leaving little to the imagination. She chuckled when Salter looked away and Riley feigned boredom. ‘But the real money was to be made in the rooms above stairs,’ she added, pouting at Riley’s disinterest and returning the shawl to her shoulders. ‘And that’s where Adelaide took no prisoners.’
‘Perhaps she was better at what she did than you are?’ Salter suggested.
Mirabelle shrugged. ‘You sound just like her. That’s what she used to say when we complained about her getting all the best pickings. She said she knew what men wanted and how to give it to them. What the hell did she think the rest of us did?’ Mirabelle rolled her eyes. ‘Talk about a prima donna.’
‘When did you see her last?’ Riley held up his hand to prevent an immediate response. ‘Think carefully. It’s vitally important. You may not have liked her, but if someone has decided to kill ladies in your profession, it is in your best interests to help us as much as you can.’
‘Unless you have something to hide,’ Salter added, scowling.
‘I hear she had her throat cut,’ Mirabelle replied, unmoved by a glower that had been known to reduce hardened criminals to quivering wrecks. ‘I wonder how you imagine a woman could accomplish that task without her majesty struggling and causing an almighty ruckus that would have roused the rest of the house.’
Riley had indeed been pondering that question, which is why he had already decided that a woman probably hadn’t committed the crime. Unless, of course, several of them had joined forces, overpowered Adelaide and then done the deed. But he thought it unlikely.
