Page 5 of Death of a Courtesan
Chapter Two
Riley noticed a disgruntled look pass between several of the girls when Mrs Sinclair spoke, confirming his initial impression that Adelaide’s popularity had caused jealousy and resentment within their ranks.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Now, Mrs Sinclair, perhaps there is somewhere you and I can speak in private.’
‘Yes, if you would like to come with me.’
‘Or me,’ said a stunningly beautiful woman with skin the colour of caramel, a waterfall of thick black hair and mischievous green catlike eyes. She accompanied her words with a confident smile and pulled her shoulders back to accentuate full breasts barely concealed beneath a thin layer of satin. Her colleagues smirked and rolled their eyes.
Riley ignored the remark, but Salter turned to her. ‘You and the rest of your friends can form an orderly queue for a turn with me and the constables,’ he said, eliciting a sarcastic ‘Oooooh’ of mock anticipation from the collected women. Riley admired Salter’s approach. Dispel the tension, get them onside and they’d be bound to offer up more information. ‘Just stay where you are for now, girls,’ Salter continued. ‘Someone will be along to take your details in a while. In the meantime, Constable Harper will keep you company.’
‘We’ll start givin’ ’im our particulars, shall we?’ another women said, batting her lashes extravagantly at the hapless Harper. Riley almost smiled at the look of dismay that crossed Harper’s face, well aware that the women would behave mercilessly once they got their claws into such an innocent. It would be good for him. Harper would have to toughen up if he intended to pursue a career in law enforcement.
‘That’s an excellent idea. Thank you.’ Riley turned towards Harper. ‘Just take names for now, Harper.’
Harper swallowed and nodded, a condemned man braving his fate.
‘That wasn’t kind of you, sir,’ Salter said in an undertone as he and Riley followed Mrs Sinclair from the room. ‘Harper is a religious man.’
‘So am I, Salter, after a fashion, but if he can’t put his personal feelings aside and perform his duties in a professional manner then he’ll be of no help to me.’ Riley hung back so that Mrs Sinclair couldn’t hear their conversation and fixed his sergeant with a probing look, sensing that Salter also disapproved of the women’s line of work. ‘That goes for everyone else involved with this case, including you. It doesn’t matter how Adelaide lived, or whether we approve of the choices she made, she still didn’t deserve to be brutally murdered and we will investigate her death just as vigorously as we would any other. Are we clear?’
‘Crystal, sir,’ Salter replied curtly.
‘Carter and Soames have arrived, sir,’ Peterson stepped forward, breaking the uneasy tension between Riley and his sergeant. ‘They have gone upstairs to commence their search. Oh, and the body’s been removed.’
‘Thank you, Peterson,’ Riley said. ‘Stay alert and don’t let anyone in who has no business being here.’
‘You can depend on me, sir.’
‘It’s this way.’ Mrs Sinclair led them across the entrance hall into a small room at the back of the ground floor, an office of sorts that served as Mrs Sinclair’s private domain. Unlike the rest of the house, the decorations were utilitarian—practical rather than elaborate. There was a desk with neat piles of papers adorning its surface and a small cluster of mismatched chairs around an empty grate. The small window looked out onto a side alley. The house’s narrow frontage was definitely deceptive. Its rooms, with the exception of the entrance hall, were not wide but they were long, allowing for the number of chambers on the first floor—which Riley assumed were sufficiently commodious to accommodate the needs of even the most athletic of clients.
‘Be seated, gentlemen.’ Mrs Sinclair led by example, taking the chair closest to the fireplace. She drew a woollen shawl around her shoulders, making no apology for the austerity of the room. ‘This is a sad business,’ she said.
But Riley suspected that her main consideration was for the reputation of her establishment and the effect the death might have upon repeat custom.
‘Can you tell us Adelaide’s real name?’ Riley asked.
‘I can, but before I do so, may I ask how far-reaching your investigation is likely to be?’
Riley understood her concerns and decided to lay his cards on the table. ‘I am as anxious as you are to bring the person responsible for this crime to justice,’ he told her. ‘Rest assured that I have no intention of charging you for living off immoral earnings.’
‘But we could do,’ Salter growled, ‘if’n we don’t think you’re cooperating.’
‘It hadn’t occurred to me that you would consider doing such a thing, especially since it would be impossible for you to prove.’ Her lips pinched together and her expression turned shrewish, calculating. She no longer looked so attractive. ‘Not to say exceedingly embarrassing for the careers and reputations of some of the gentlemen who come here to enjoy my soirees.’
‘Your soirees are the talk of London,’ Riley replied, prepared to accept that Mrs Sinclair’s first thought was for her own survival but still surprised by the veiled threat. She could destroy the reputations of some of London’s leading figures and wanted to be sure that Riley knew it. ‘Now then, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that the irreplaceable Adelaide’s body was until moments ago lying in the chamber above our heads.’
Finally Riley elicited a genuine response from Mrs Sinclair in the form of a slight shudder.
‘Indeed you do not, inspector.’
She got up, opened a drawer in her desk and flipped through a file of papers. ‘Adelaide’s name is…was Mary Huxton. Her father is a wine merchant and lives in Hertfordshire.’
Riley hid his surprise. He had heard of Huxton Wine Merchants.
Salter, who clearly had not, raised a brow. ‘She was from the middle classes?’
‘Most of my girls are, sergeant. The gentlemen that come here seek more than sexual gratification. They require a home from home, if you will.’ This information earned another expressive eye-roll from Salter. ‘Conversation and interaction with all the girls, as well as some of the other gentlemen. In other words, they want to relax in a manner that I am certain their home lives precludes.’ Mrs Sinclair smiled at Riley’s dubious expression. ‘You gentlemen have your clubs to escape to, but the majority of men who come here would not be eligible for membership, even if they could afford the exorbitant fees. Those places are nothing if not elitist. Besides, some men prefer mixed company and the assurance of discretion. That is what concerns me about this business. Not the possibility of being prosecuted.’ A hint of a smile touched her lips. ‘Somehow I doubt whether the case would reach court, even if you decided upon that course of action.’
