Page 16 of Death of a Courtesan
Chapter Four
Riley sensed the atmosphere the moment he and Salter walked into Scotland Yard. Either news of Danforth’s regular visits to the house in Maiden Lane had already leaked out or, more likely, his fellow officers were taking a particular interest in this case due to the nature of the victim’s profession. The girls employed by Mrs Sinclair were a cut above street walkers and were supposed to be protected. Speculation would be rife as to the reason for the murder, especially when facts were in short supply.
‘The superintendent wants to see you,’ Barton told him.
‘Damn,’ Salter muttered as the two of them walked through to the Detective Department, rain dripping from the shoulders of their coats and the brims of their hats. Riley was conscious of every man in the room watching them, probably hoping to be assigned to the investigation. ‘I suppose that means Danforth’s with him and I won’t get to witness his downfall.’
‘Your moment will come, sergeant,’ Riley assured him as he ran a hand through his dishevelled hair, simultaneously flipping through the messages left on his desk. None of them referred to this case, so they could wait. ‘This business is far from over. See if you can find out more about the men who were in attendance last night while I’m gone, Jack. Their business addresses would be useful, especially those who subjected themselves to Adelaide’s not-so-tender mercies. We’ll get more out of them if we visit them away from their homes and families.’
‘But we’ll threaten to call on them there if they aren’t forthcoming.’ Salter grinned. ‘Leave it to me.’
‘As you know, Mrs Sinclair had a note of their occupations, which girls they preferred to have entertain them, the regularity of their visits and so forth at the back of her ledger. Fortunately for us, she keeps more information about her clients than they realise, presumably as a failsafe in case one of them declines to pay or crosses a line in some way. Her fastidious record keeping will make our life easier. How many chemists are there in Barking by the name of Cowper, for instance?’
‘The men who were there last night are probably shaking in their boots, worried that we’ll track them down and embarrass them.’
‘I don’t intend to embarrass anyone, unless I think they are withholding information. Use as many men as you need on my authority.’ Riley chuckled. ‘You won’t lack for volunteers. But keep Danforth’s name out of it for now.’
Salter looked disappointed. ‘Right you are,’ he said reluctantly.
Riley slapped his sergeant’s shoulder. ‘This case has caught everyone’s attention and will doubtless find its way into the newspapers. I expect everyone to act professionally and to work diligently, or they will have me to answer to.’ Riley paused. ‘I sense that’s making you uneasy, Jack,’ he added. ‘If you would prefer to be assigned to another investigation I won’t think any the less of you.’
Salter scratched the side of his chin. ‘No, I’m all right. It’s just…well, it was a bit of a shock when I first went in there. I don’t frequent brothels.’
‘No more do I, but we can’t pick and choose who gets murdered, or where.’
‘Yeah, but all those whips, and stuff.’ Salter shook his head. ‘Why would anyone want to put themselves through that?’
Riley lifted one shoulder. ‘Gratification takes many forms.’
‘But still, it don’t seem right, them girls having to sell themselves and do all the stuff the men expect of them. I blame the customers. They should have more self-control.’
‘The girls in that house have it better than most. They don’t have to walk the streets in all weathers. They have somewhere to live, they have regular medical check-ups and they’re well paid. It’s called the oldest profession for a reason, Jack. The demand will always be there and the ladies in Maiden Lane would probably be the first to admit that the work is less arduous and considerably better paid than being, say, a housemaid.’
Salter sighed. ‘Yeah, you’re right, I’m being prudish.’ He straightened his shoulders. ‘Let’s concentrate on catching the bastard what did this.’
‘That’s the spirit!’ Riley turned towards the door. ‘Right, I’m off to face the music.’
Salter chuckled. ‘Wish I could be a fly on the wall.’
Riley used the time it took him to reach the superintendent’s office to compose his thoughts. A glance through the door to Danforth’s domain as he passed it showed an empty room. That being the case, Riley wasn’t surprised when he reached Superintendent Thompson’s door and discovered a hapless Danforth seated across from their joint superior—a man for whom Riley had a great deal of respect.
‘Ah, Rochester,’ Thompson said, looking haggard, ‘there you are. Come in and close the door. Have a seat.’
‘Good morning, sir,’ Riley replied, taking the chair beside Danforth and nodding to him. Danforth looked ghostly pale, mortified, as well he should.
‘You will have discovered by now, I dare say, that Danforth was a guest of Mrs Sinclair’s last night.’
‘I have, sir,’ Riley replied, keeping his expression bland and deciding not to state the obvious, which was that Danforth should have told him himself.
‘Most irregular.’
Thompson glowered at Danforth, who seemed to shrink in on himself. He shifted his position in his chair, unable to look either Thompson or Riley in the eye, and winced. Presumably he’d just received a reminder of his escapades from the night before. Riley had noticed Danforth’s discomfort on more than one occasion in the past but if he’d thought about its origins—and he was unsure if he actually had—he would have put the occasional twinge down to the burden of the excess weight he carried. Clearly he had got that wrong.
Riley leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, wondering why he wasn’t enjoying Danforth’s humiliation more. The man had always resented Riley’s privileged background and done his level best to undermine him at every turn. Yet Riley found that he had a certain sympathy for his superior’s plight. This job had taught him that humans were fallible at all levels. Nothing surprised or shocked him any more, and he made a point of not standing in judgement over those whose foibles were brought to his notice when they themselves had committed no crime.
‘The chief inspector is hereby suspended from active duty until this case has been resolved,’ Thompson said briskly. ‘You will want to interview him, of course, and since he tells me that he was alone with the woman who was subsequently murdered, he will be treated as a suspect, just like everyone else.’
Danforth’s head fell into his splayed hands and he groaned.
