Page 19 of Death of a Courtesan
‘That’s good to know. At least he appreciates our efforts and doesn’t try to undermine us every step of the way.’ Salter scratched his ear. ‘Blimey,’ he said, glancing out the window. ‘I think the rain’s actually stopped at last.’
‘Plenty more dark clouds on the horizon,’ Riley replied, following the direction of Salter’s gaze, but thinking about the direction the case was taking rather than the temporary lull in the weather.
‘Will Danforth lose his rank, or will they just throw him out?’
Riley shrugged. ‘It’s hard to say. His involvement won’t have done him much good. Thompson shares your opinion of Mrs Sinclair’s establishment and doesn’t think much of the men who frequent it.’ Riley leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. ‘Danforth is guilty of poor judgement but if…no, when the commissioner gets to hear about it, it might be enough to see him sacked. You know how keen he is for the Detective Department to maintain a spotless reputation. We’ve had to fight hard enough to overcome all the resentment and justify our existence. Danforth’s predilections won’t help our cause if they become public knowledge, which they undoubtedly will.’
Salter grinned. ‘Well then, I suppose we’d better find the murderer as quickly as we can and save his sore arse.’
Riley chuckled. ‘Danforth recognised two of the names on the list. A solicitor and an ironmonger.’
‘And we have one more, which you will have no trouble in believing,’ Salter said, still grinning broadly. ‘Boyland is the minister in a small Methodist chapel in Victoria.’
Riley rolled his eyes. ‘And the other two?’
‘Still trying to track them down.’
Sergeant Barton put his head round the door. ‘I have a man by the name of Grant at the front desk. Says you will want to talk to him about this case.’
‘His name is on the list,’ Salter said. ‘He’s one I couldn’t track down.’
‘Obviously wants to do his civic duty,’ Barton said, chuckling.
‘Very well. Show him in. We’ll talk to him in here.’
The man who shuffled through the door was short—not much more than five feet—with a round, shiny bald head that resembled an egg. He wore wire-rimmed spectacles perched on the end of his nose, was smartly dressed and had to be at least fifty. His air of respectability made him seem an unlikely candidate for the type of punishments Adelaide routinely dealt out. His perversion was confirmed when he lowered himself gingerly onto the chair that Riley indicated, having first extracted a dazzling white handkerchief from his pocket and fastidiously dusted the seat.
‘Thank you for coming to see me, Mr Grant. I am Inspector Rochester and this is Sergeant Salter. You have saved my detectives the trouble of tracking you down.’
‘I heard of the incident this morning,’ Grant replied briskly, ‘and knew you would want to talk to me. Frankly, I would prefer for that conversation to take place here, rather than at my place of employment or my home.’
‘What is your line of work?’
‘I am a senior clerk for a shipping company situated on the wharf, with a reputation to maintain. I cannot have details of my private affairs becoming public knowledge.’ He shook his round head decisively. ‘Oh dear me, no. That would never do.’
Salter asked for his employer’s name and Grant supplied the information reluctantly. ‘I cannot see what help that will be to your enquiries, indeed I cannot. My duties for Frobisher and Sons have absolutely nothing to do with my personal life.’
‘I will be frank with you, Mr Grant,’ Riley said, studying the odd little man, unsure quite what to make of him. ‘I find it hard to believe that a man in your position could afford Adelaide’s services.’
‘I have given many loyal years of service to my employers, and they recompense me accordingly. They think very highly of me and depend upon me to keep business flowing efficiently.’ He sat a little straighter and grasped his lapels, clearly proud of his achievements. ‘I am unmarried, inspector, and my mother recently died, leaving me an annuity. I neither drink nor smoke. I am a pillar of the local church and Adelaide is…was, my only indulgence.’ He removed his handkerchief from the pocket to which he had returned it and mopped his brow. ‘I don’t know what I shall do without her.’
‘You were with her last night?’
‘Indeed, I was her first client. I always like to go first, when she is still full of energy and enthusiasm and hasn’t been sullied by anyone else.’
‘Did you remain after that?’
‘No, of course not.’ He looked shocked by the suggestion. ‘Why would I?’
‘There was a party,’ Salter said. ‘Don’t you like them, either?’
‘No, sergeant, I do not. I went there for one reason and one reason only. The same reason all of Adelaide’s clients went there, I would imagine. She is…was, the best whore in the business when it came to fulfilling…certain desires, and was worth every penny I spent on her. I have a very high tolerance for pain, or I thought I had. But Adelaide persuaded me to stretch my boundaries. She knew I could take more, even though I did not, and that the rewards would more than compensate for the additional discomfort.’ He allowed himself a small smile, as though he had achieved something remarkable. In his eyes, he very likely had. ‘And she was right, of course. Needless to say, I would have tried it anyway, simply to please her. Men of my persuasion always go that extra mile to please their dominatrix. It is ourraisond’être.’
Salter grunted and opened his mouth to speak but Riley, sensing that his comments would be derogatory, silenced him with a look.
‘Adelaide knew exactly how far to take matters so that I could achieve more satisfactory release. I cannot reach it any other way,’ he added casually, as though discussing the weather. ‘I am a man like any other and have my needs. Can you imagine how frustrating it is not to be able to satisfy them?’
Riley exchanged a glance with Salter, surprised that such a prim individual could talk about his sexual peccadillos in such clinical terms without showing the least sign of embarrassment.
