Page 49 of Death of a Courtesan
‘Did you happen to notice where her letters came from? Was there return addresses, the name of the sender, something like that? We didn’t find any letters in her room.’
Tennyson shook his head before Riley finished asking the question. ‘I mind me own business,’ he said.
Riley thought it more probable that he found reading a challenge but allowed the man his pride by not contesting his assertion. ‘Thank you, Tennyson, you may go. Please ask Mrs Sinclair to step in and see us.’
Tennyson grunted and left them.
‘Why did you ask about Adelaide receiving letters? You imagine, I suppose, that if someone knew she was here,’ Salter added, not waiting for a response, ‘then that same person might also know something about her death.’
‘We haven’t been able to find anyone who knew where she was, other than the uncle. If he’s to be believed they met in the street by chance just the once, and he had no idea that she lived and worked here. But it seems someone was aware of her whereabouts if she received the occasional letter.’ Riley was not yet willing to explain that Celeste, if she knew Adelaide when she was living in Chichester, must have kept in touch with her somehow. The fact that the letters had stopped implied that they had done so when Celeste moved back to London and that future communications had taken place in person.
‘Don’t suppose we’ll ever find that person,’ Salter said gloomily.
‘Gentlemen.’ Riley stood when Mrs Sinclair entered the room. ‘Any progress with your investigation that you are able to share with me?’ she asked as she took a seat.
‘You will be pleased to know that we have yet to unearth a motive for murder from amongst the men here on the night it occurred,’ Riley replied, resuming his own seat. ‘But our investigation is still in its early stages.’
‘Of course.’ She folded her hands in her lap and fixed Riley with a direct look. ‘How can I be of further assistance?’
‘Is a man by the name of Clement a visitor to this establishment?’
‘Clement.’ Mrs Sinclair took a moment to think. ‘Yes, he has been here on occasion, but he also supplies us with our wines.’
‘Does he indeed?’ Riley digested this information. ‘Did Adelaide take any interest in the vintages, or discuss them with Clement.’
‘She did seem to know quite a bit about the subject as a matter of fact, and advised me on occasion about which labels to try. Whether or not she discussed with them Clement, I couldn’t say. I have no recollection of her being around when deliveries were made, and Adelaide didn’t entertain Clement as a client.’
‘Who did?’ Salter asked.
‘I think Mirabelle attended to his requirements,’ Mrs Sinclair said, closing her eyes to aid her memory. Not that Riley thought it needed much help. Mrs Sinclair seemed to be sharp as a tack with regard to the details of her business empire. ‘I can have her brought down if you like and you can ask her yourself.’
‘No need. It was merely idle curiosity.’ It was a great deal more than that, but Riley didn’t want to make too much of his interest in Clement, or his possible connection to Adelaide, until he understood what that connection might be. It was better, he knew, to ask his questions from a position of strength. And better still to pose questions that he already knew the answer to. ‘Was Clement here on the night of the murder?’
‘No,’ Mrs Sinclair said without hesitation. ‘He was not. In fact we have not seen him here as a customer for some months. Do you suspect him of killing Adelaide? I don’t see how he could have done, but he is clearly a man of interest to you.’
‘Someone killed her,’ Salter pointed out with his customary straightforward logic. ‘And if the crime wasn’t committed by someone whowashere then it follows the perpetrator must be someone who was not supposed to be.’
‘Well yes, so it would seem,’ Mrs Sinclair agreed, looking a little bewildered.
‘Clement would have seen Adelaide on the nights when he was here when the ladies mingled with the customers before they went their separate ways, I would imagine.’
Mrs Sinclair inclined her head. ‘Presumably so, inspector. She was difficult to overlook.’
‘Especially when she and Mirabelle put on a show.’
‘They didn’t do that every night, but it’s possible that he might have seen them together.’
‘But, as far as you can recollect, he never specifically requested Adelaide’s services?’
Mrs Sinclair lifted one shoulder in an elegant shrug. ‘If he had, his needs would have been accommodated.’
‘Adelaide couldn’t veto any such request?’ Salter asked.
A hint of a smile touched Mrs Sinclair’s cold lips. ‘This is a brothel, sergeant. A high-class one, I like to think, but a brothel none the less. Adelaide was my star courtesan, but even she was not permitted to pick and choose. If a man asked for her and was willing to pay for her services, then he could have her and she would ensure that his needs were met. In all the time she worked here, I never once received any complaints in that regard, from her clients or from her about them. The other girls routinely complain about being man-handled, and the brutality or quirkiness of some of their clients’ requirements, but Adelaide never joined in. Her attitude seemed to be that the customers got what they wanted, or deserved.’
‘Even though they were not permitted to actually fuck her?’
The elevation of one brow was the only reaction that Mrs Sinclair allowed herself at Salter’s choice of expression. ‘Despite that. Her clients could indulge that particular requirement almost anywhere elsewhere. Adelaide’s services were more select, tailored to individual needs, if you like.’
