Page 63 of Death of a Courtesan
Chapter Thirteen
By the end of the day little progress had been made and Riley’s frustration had increased exponentially. Carter returned from Maiden Lane to report that Mrs Sinclair knew nothing about Adelaide’s legal affairs or any money she might have. Salter’s investigation into the girls’ backgrounds proved equally disappointing. They had all run away from something or someone and were grudging with the information that they gave out. Given that there was no reason to accuse any of them of committing the crime, Riley refused Salter permission to bring pressure to bear.
‘Don’t look so downhearted, Jack,’ Riley said when his sergeant returned to report his lack of progress. ‘I didn’t really expect anything else but we needed to go through the motions.’
‘Even so, them girls didn’t ought to be so disrespectful.’ He sniffed. ‘The things they said to me. The suggestions they made. They shouldn’t be knowing about any of that stuff.’
Riley expressed his sympathy, still surprised at the puritanical streak in his usually dogmatic sergeant. He sent Salter home early and then discussed with the superintendent the possibility of hauling Derek Huxton in.
‘We need to grill him about his meeting with Adelaide, his threatening behaviour and her knowledge of his anatomical anomalies.’
‘He’ll lie his head off and you have nothing to come back at him with,’ Thompson said. ‘I agree that his getting his return time confused looks bad, but he will come up with a plausible explanation for that. Besides, if he was at home in Ware when he said he was then he can’t have been in London killing the girl.’
Riley nodded gloomily, aware that the spiteful sister would back up Huxton’s account.
‘Find Adelaide’s money, that’s my advice,’ Thompson said. ‘Money’s usually at the root of these crimes.’
‘Not this one,’ Riley replied forcefully. ‘This one’s a case of jealousy or revenge. I’m absolutely sure of it.’
‘If you say so, but the problem is you’ll have to prove it.’
‘Hmm.’
‘Has Danforth been in touch?’
‘I have not seen him, sir.’
It wasn’t exactly a lie. Thompson gave him a hard look and the benefit of the doubt. ‘Keep it that way, Rochester. I don’t want him taking you down with him.’ He sighed. ‘Get off home and come at this fresh tomorrow.’
‘Good advice, sir.’ Riley stood. ‘Good night.’
‘Night, Rochester.’
But Riley didn’t go home. Instead he made his way to the mansion in Grosvenor Square owned by Jake Morton, the Earl of Torbay. He was admitted by Parker, who served in a similar role to Stout, except on a much grander scale. Tough, uncompromising and loyal to a fault, Parker was getting on in years now, but the passage of time didn’t seem to have slowed him down.
‘Lord Riley!’ Parker opened the door wide and stepped back to allow Riley into the grand vestibule with its chequered marble floor and magnificent sweeping staircase. ‘His lordship will be pleased to see you. He was just now lamenting the fact that he’s getting old and no one seems to need his services anymore. Mind you, his countess soon puts him right. We can neither of us stand it when his boredom turns morbid.’
Riley laughed as he handed Parker his coat and hat. ‘I find it hard to imagine Lord Torbay feeling sorry for himself.’
‘Well, we ain’t none of us as young as we used to be.’
‘Would we want to be?’ Riley shuddered as he again recalled the events that had first seen him admitted to this house as an awkward teenager more than twenty years previously. ‘Anyway, how are you keeping?’
‘Mustn’t complain, my lord. No one listens even if I do. Come this way. They’re in the drawing room. No need to announce you. You’re always welcome.’
Parker opened the doors. Jake and Olivia were in close conversation but looked up and smiled simultaneously at Riley.
‘Just the very person we need to stop us from killing one another,’ Olivia said, jumping to her feet and meeting Riley half way across the room. Riley took her hand and kissed the back of it.
‘Lovely as ever, Olivia,’ he said.
‘Put her down, Riley, she’s mine.’
Jake stood and shook Riley’s hand warmly. Riley took a moment to study the man he had always admired and attempted to emulate. Now in his mid-fifties, he retained an upright bearing and his body had not given way to fat. His black hair was heavily threaded with grey and the lines on his face appeared deeper, giving him a more rugged appearance.
‘Some men have all the luck.’
‘Sit down, Riley,’ Olivia said. ‘Will you take tea?’
