Page 48 of Death of a Courtesan
Salter sniffed. ‘Don’t see why we shouldn’t. Spite has a lot going for it.’
They arrived at Maiden Lane and were greeted by Tennyson, who was in shirtsleeves and looked as though he had only just got out of bed.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ he said without much enthusiasm, letting them in. ‘I hope you’ve come to tell us we can open our doors for business again. This delay is costing us dear.’
‘Glad to see you’re so concerned about the dead girl,’ Salter replied with a scowl.
‘I was fond of Adelaide, right enough, but she’s gone and nothing will bring her back.’ Tennyson sniffed and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. ‘Ain’t no place for sentiment in this business.’
‘So I am coming to realise.’
Riley waved Tennyson into the small salon they had used earlier, he and Salter close on his heels. At this early hour, it was thankfully devoid of scantily clad females and the three men had it to themselves.
‘Tell us about your conviction,’ Riley said, taking his time to select a seat and arrange his tall frame upon it.
‘I didn’t think it would take you long to get around to that.’ Tennyson rolled his eyes and scratched vigorously at his whiskery chin. ‘I’ve done time for receiving iffy goods, so it stands to reason I must have killed a woman for no apparent reason. Case closed. I told Mrs Sinclair that you’d find out and take the easy way by blaming me. Ain’t worth your time to take too much trouble looking for the killer of a whore. Of course, this time you might have to, ’cause iffing you try to pin it on me, I might have to let the newspapers know who else was here that night.’
‘I would advise against threatening me,’ Riley said in an unruffled tone. ‘It only serves to make you look guilty.’
‘Which I ain’t. Adelaide was a moody piece of work, but she was popular. Our best earner, and I get paid a percentage of each night’s takings. I might not be educated like you, but even I ain’t daft enough to cut off me nose to spite me face.’
‘So answer the inspector’s question.’ Salter, who had remained standing, walked up close to the larger Tennyson and poked a finger aggressively at his chest. Tennyson glanced down at the finger in question and growled a warning, looking as though he was considering snapping it in two. Common sense prevailed and he moved out of range of Salter’s marauding digit.
‘That’s all in the past. I got in with the wrong lot. By the time I got out of prison, a cousin of mine was working here. She told me Mrs Sinclair needed someone reliable to keep order and recommended me. She knows about me past and don’t hold it against me.’ He glowered at Salter. ‘Unlike you lot.’
‘Do you still associate with the people who persuaded you to receive goods of questionable provenance?’ Riley asked.
‘Eh? Come again?’
‘Do you still mix with the old lags who dropped you in it?’ Salter succinctly translated.
‘Oh, why didn’t you say so? Nah, I dropped ’em when I got this number.’
‘Just for the sake of argument, if one of them had an axe to grind with Adelaide and wanted to see her in private, you would be the man who could make that happen. An unlocked door somewhere…’ Riley allowed his words to trail off as he observed a kaleidoscope of emotions pass across Tennyson’s face. For the most part he was angry, Riley sensed, and looked as though he was having trouble reining in his temper.
‘Why?’ he asked, spreading his meaty hands. ‘Why would I take that chance and risk what I’ve got here?’
‘Perhaps you’ve committed other crimes we know nothing about and were being threatened with exposure if you didn’t let a former colleague have a few minutes alone with Adelaide,’ Riley suggested speculatively. ‘You weren’t to know that he planned to kill her. Besides, isn’t there supposed to be honour amongst thieves?’
‘Well, it didn’t happen that way. I can’t prove it didn’t but, more to the point, you can’t prove that it did.’
‘Then I must accept your word for your innocence,’ Riley said. ‘But, be aware, if you are lying to us we will find out eventually and it will be the worse for you.’ He shifted position in his chair and fixed Tennyson with a frosty look. ‘Now, here’s another possibility to consider. Someone, some determined person, could have sneaked in through the kitchen door unnoticed, could they not?’
Tennyson gave a reluctant nod. ‘It’s possible, I suppose. Risky, but possible.’
‘The killer got in somehow,’ Salter said. ‘And if you didn’t let him in, then unless one of the girls did we can’t think of any other way for him to have gained access, other than him being here all along.’
‘The girls didn’t unlock any doors,’ Tennyson said with assurance. ‘I watch everything like a hawk during the evenings. Mostly I’m watching the punters to make sure they don’t try to have something they ain’t paid for.’ He grunted. ‘You’d be surprised the tricks they come up with. Anyway, if one of the girls went somewhere she had no place being, she would have had to get past me to open the side door, and I would have noticed.’
Riley nodded, satisfied that Tennyson was being truthful. He couldn’t possibly be at his post the entire time, but it would have been very difficult for one of the girls to know when he would leave it, unless she’d created a deliberate diversion. She would also have to be temporarily without a client at the time, simply so that she could unlock the door. Adelaide wasn’t popular amongst her fellow courtesans, and possessive jealousies ran deep in their line of work. Even so, Riley couldn’t see how it could have happened that way. There were simply too many risks.
‘Do the girls ever receive correspondence?’ Riley asked.
Salter looked more surprised by the question than Tennyson did. ‘Very occasionally. Most of them have given up all connections to their previous lives. If they haven’t, their families don’t know they work here. But now and then a letter arrives for one of them.’
‘Did Adelaide ever receive any correspondence?’
‘Tennyson thought for a moment. ‘Once or twice, but not recently.’
