Death of an Artist (Riley Rochester Investigates Book 5)

by Wendy Soliman

  It was later than he realised by the time he reached home and accepted a fond greeting from his wife. He barely had time to change into evening clothes before he and Amelia left again to keep their dinner engagement with Lord and Lady Torbay, their oldest and closest friends.

  ‘Is this the way it will always be?’ Amelia asked playfully as Stout drove them to Grosvenor Square. ‘I must compete for your attention with a mistress who doesn’t play by any rules I am acquainted with.’

  ‘I’m sorry, my love. I wish it could be otherwise.’

  ‘Don’t think that I am complaining. I am not. I have plenty to keep me busy during the day, especially now…’ She patted her stomach and smiled up at Riley. ‘I know your occupation is a worthy foil for your intellect and I would never suggest that you give it up for my sake.’

  ‘If you want me to, you have but to say the word. Nothing is more important to me than your wellbeing.’

  ‘Thank you, but you would be bored witless within a week and start to hate me for making you choose between us. My only concern is for your safety. Your occupation carries with it dangers that terrify me if I allow myself to dwell upon them.’

  ‘As does life, my sweet.’ Riley squeezed his wife’s hand, his heart swelling with love for the woman who owned it. ‘If it puts your mind at rest, my talents, such as they are, come into play after violent crime has been committed, at which point the perpetrator has usually had the good sense to have scarpered, as Salter would put it.’

  ‘Unless he is somehow related to the victim, which often seems to be the case, and you get a little too close to the truth.’ She shuddered. ‘That is what concerns me. Anyway,’ she added, seeming to shake off her foreboding, ‘speaking of Salter, how is he? This case must be testing his patience, which you have often said is not one of his stronger points. I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if he tells your ungrateful chief inspector precisely what he thinks of him.’

  ‘Oh, the gloves will come off before this case is closed. I’m sure of it.’ He let out a slow breath. ‘My main fear is that I will not be able to protect Jack if he goes too far.’

  Amelia rested the side of her face on Riley’s shoulder. ‘You will find a way.’

  Their conversation came to an end along with the short journey. They were warmly and affectionately received by Jake and Olivia. The former had acted in loco parentis and given Amelia away at their recent wedding. Their daughter Carolyn had been one of Amelia’s bridesmaids and was an intimate friend of Riley’s niece, Sophia.

  ‘You look radiant still, Amelia, as every bride has a duty to,’ Olivia told her, kissing her cheek. ‘Riley is a very lucky man.’

  ‘No arguments on that score,’ Riley replied, taking his turn to kiss Olivia and then shake Jake’s outstretched hand.

  ‘Welcome back,’ he said. ‘How was Paris at this time of year?’

  ‘Cold and wet,’ Riley replied.

  ‘Which would not have deterred honeymooners,’ Olivia said, leading the way into the drawing room. ‘Come to that, I am surprised you even noticed.’

  Riley chuckled. ‘We barely did.’

  Only Parker, Jake’s righthand man for as long as Riley could recollect, was in the drawing room, waiting to serve drinks. Parker’s role was even more ambiguous than that provided for Riley by Stout. Butler, bodyguard, valet, investigator and loyal and devoted friend. Tough and resourceful, Parker had provided all of those services for Jake during his years as head of a band of vigilantes intent upon righting miscarriages of justice that slipped between the cracks in a flawed justice system heavily weighted in favour of the prosecution. He had saved Olivia from one such injustice, unwittingly also finding the love to make his life complete.

  ‘It is just the four of us tonight,’ Olivia said, when Riley and Amelia had greeted Parker. ‘Sebastian is back at college,’ she explained, referring to her and Jake’s legitimate heir. ‘And Carolyn is dining with Sophia at your sister’s abode.’

  ‘Oh, I was not aware.’

  ‘She’s growing up, Riley,’ Jake said with a world-weary sigh. ‘The prospect terrifies me a great deal more than I was ever afraid during my law crusading days.’

  ‘Your daughter has more sense than you credit her with,’ Olivia said. ‘She can spot a fortune-hunter a mile off, so put away your blunderbuss, let her enjoy being young and find her own way.’

  Jake rolled his eyes and wisely didn’t contradict his wife.

  ‘Where is Tom?’ Riley asked, referring to Olivia’s son from her first marriage; a trainee barrister under the pupillage of their friend and eminent barrister in his own right, Lord Isaac Arnold.

  ‘Ah, he is escorting a young lady to the theatre,’ Olivia replied, her eyes sparkling with speculative interest.

  ‘It’s the second time Tom has gone out of the way to join Lady Bianca Fortescue’s party and his mother is already choosing a hat for their nuptials.’

  ‘I want my son to be as happy as we are, Jake. I can tell just by the way that his eyes light up when he mentions Lady Bianca’s name that she could make him so. We women are never wrong about these things.’

  ‘Then let us hope that Lady Bianca returns his regard,’ Riley said, sipping at the healthy measure of whisky that Parker had provided him with and feeling the travails of the day fall away as he relaxed in his friends’ undemanding company.

  Over dinner and at Jake’s request, Riley related the circumstances surrounding Miss Mottram’s murder.

  ‘Vermont’s name is plastered all over the newspapers,’ he said. ‘He won’t like that.’

  ‘Poor Sergeant Salter,’ Olivia said, after Riley had given them a brief outline of the circumstances, aware that anything said wouldn’t leave this room. ‘The possibility of his nephew being culpable must be troubling his conscience.’

  ‘It is, especially since he is the prime suspect,’ Riley replied. ‘Worse, he knows that Reggie Archer’s chequered past will count against him if it comes to a question of giving him the benefit of the doubt. Jack says he’s many things, but not a murderer. But I’m not sure if he actually believes it or simply wants it to be so.’

  ‘We are all capable of committing murder, given sufficient provocation,’ Jake agreed. ‘But it sounds to me as though Miss Mottram was of considerably more value to young Archer by remaining alive as the public face of his art.’

  ‘I agree,’ Riley said, pausing to take a sip of his wine. ‘But you can be sure that pressure will be brought on me from above to arrest him before I have completed my enquiry.’

  ‘Is Danforth still making trouble for you?’ Jake asked.

  Riley admitted that he was and explained about his early departures from Scotland Yard twice a week.

  ‘You think he is up to his old tricks again?’ Parker asked, pausing as he cleared the soup plates. ‘Want me to follow him and see what he gets up to?’

  ‘Thank you, Parker, I rather think I might take you up on that offer, just to have something to fight back with if the need arises. I’ve tried to play with a straight bat as far as Danforth is concerned but he seems less than appreciative of that courtesy, so…’

  ‘Fight fire with fire,’ Jake said briskly. ‘You’ve tried to be honourable, and now he deserves whatever comes his way.’

  Riley nodded, aware that Jake was right. ‘I would send Stout, but Danforth knows him, whereas you—’

  ‘Am ugly enough to blend into a crowd,’ Parker said cheerfully. ‘Consider it done.’

  ‘Thank you, Parker, but I don’t have the first idea where he goes in order to have his needs catered to.’

  One side of Parker’s mouth hitched up. ‘Leave it to me, Lord Riley. There are only one or two places discreet enough…I’ll make enquiries.’

  ‘We won’t ask you how you know about them,’ Jake remarked.

  ‘Best not, but if I was a gambling man I’d wager on his being a regular client of Mrs Anderson’s in Clyde Street.’

  ‘Things might become clearer tomorrow, after speaking
to the husband,’ Olivia said, returning to the question of Miss Mottram’s murder. ‘It sounds to me as though he would have been better off without her, but perhaps he was smitten by her charms, just like all the other men she encountered appeared to have been. Do we know the husband’s firm?’ she added, directly the question to Jake.

  ‘I doubt it.’ It was Riley who answered her. ‘He lives and works in a small town not far from your estate in Torbay but a million miles removed in terms of consequence.’

  ‘Even so, Parker can arrange to have a few questions asked about him, if it would help.’

  Riley considered the offer and the nodded. ‘If it’s no trouble then it just might be useful,’ he said. ‘I suppose I’m desperately trying to find a viable alternative suspect to Salter’s nephew and—’

  ‘And the husband could fit that bill,’ Jake said briskly. ‘Can we help Lord Riley, Parker?’

  Parker sniffed. ‘I would imagine so. I’ll send a telegram to Jenkins in Torbay. He’ll find out anything there is to know about Treadwell. He sounds too good to be true, if you ask me, which you didn’t. Even so, passively letting his wife gallivant about the country and not even trying to get her back. It doesn’t sound likely. If nothing else, his reputation will never recover. I know Cockington village. It’s a small community and the solicitors there won’t welcome being the subject of gossip.’

  Riley nodded. ‘You’re right, of course, Parker. Thank you. I’d appreciate anything you man can dig up for me.’

  ‘It comes down to motive, Riley,’ Jake remarked, ‘but you don’t need me to tell you that. If her husband knew of her pregnancy and wasn’t responsible for it. Well, he couldn’t have been if they’d been estranged for six months and her condition wasn’t obvious. Equally, if the father was less than enthusiastic at the prospect of fatherhood, she would have found herself backed into a corner. All her carefully laid plans on the brink of fruition, then the inconvenience of an unwanted child ruining it all. It makes you wonder why she was so careless.’

  ‘We will never know who the father was. I suspect he doesn’t know himself,’ Riley said, allowing his frustration to surface. ‘Miss Mottram might not have aware that she was increasing, not for sure, since she wasn’t very far along.’

  ‘I would work on the assumption that she did know.’ All heads turned towards Amelia, who blushed scarlet.

  ‘Amelia?’ Olivia sent her one of her speculative looks and her eyes widened as comprehension dawned. ‘So soon?’

  Amelia sent Riley an anxious look. He smiled his reassurance. ‘Don’t worry, my love. I know you’ve been bursting to tell someone.’

  Olivia jumped up from the table and embraced Amelia. She repeated the process with Riley.

  ‘Congratulations to you both!’ she cried with passion. ‘No one can accuse you of allowing the grass to grow beneath your feet, Riley.’

  ‘We have not told my mother yet,’ Riley said, accepting Jake’s warm handshake. ‘But we plan to when they dine with us tomorrow.’

  ‘My point is,’ Amelia said when everyone had resumed their seats, ‘that I knew, even before there were any signs. I can’t explain how. I just felt different.’

  Olivia nodded vigorously. ‘Changes in your body. It was the same for me, every time. I hardly needed a doctor to confirm.’

  ‘Not to mention the sickness. I feel sure that Miss Mottram would have sensed those changes too, and if she wanted the father to know… Well, it sounds as though she was a very manipulative person, and if the father was someone she wanted to exploit then she would have told him.’ She paused. ‘Although, of course, she couldn’t have expected him to marry her. Unless…’

  ‘Unless she had asked her husband for a divorce,’ Jake said. ‘No doubt Riley will ask him that question.’

  ‘You may depend upon it, but I can hardly expect an honest answer when that confession very likely got her killed,’ Riley added.

  ‘Archer or Daniel Vermont,’ Olivia said assertively. ‘I very much doubt if it was the schoolteacher. He’d served his purpose and had nothing more to offer her, so Miss Mottram wouldn’t have given herself to him.’

  ‘Unless he threatened to reveal that he’d given her a bogus reference,’ Jake said. ‘But, of course, that would have had a detrimental effect upon his own circumstances, too. Still, angry men sometimes act without thinking the consequences through. Anyway, Riley,’ Jake added, smiling at his wife. ‘Ignore Olivia’s sound common sense at your peril.’

  ‘I wouldn’t dare,’ he replied, making everyone laugh.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Riley rose early the following morning, leaving Amelia sleeping peacefully. He wished, just for a brief moment, that he could spend the morning with her and forget all about dissatisfied wives, murder, jealousy and greed. Then he recalled the delicate state of the case and all the actions he would be required to take that day, and the desire to linger in bed dissipated. He never felt more alive than when pitting his wits against a dangerous and arrogantly over-confident killer and bringing him or her to justice.

  He arrived at the Yard early to hear Danforth’s raised voice echoing through the corridors. Riley glanced at Barton.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he asked.

  ‘He’s got your sergeant in there.’ Barton scowled. ‘He’s reading him the riot act and not being subtle about it. Throwing his considerable weight about, as usual.’

  ‘I see.’

  Riley ground his jaw as he mulled over this latest act of pettiness. Whatever Salter had done, it was Riley’s duty as his immediate superior to chastise him if necessary. He divested himself of his hat and coat and prepared himself for the battle of wills that had been brewing for months. He strode along the dimly lit corridor until he reached Danforth’s office, peered through the glass panel in the door and observed Salter standing to rigid attention in front of Danforth’s desk. The chief inspector paced up and down in front of him, invective spewing from his mouth as he accused Salter of having compromised the investigation by allowing his personal interests to affect his judgement. Salter had yet to open his mouth, but Riley knew it could only be a matter of time and that when he did, he would be unlikely to temper his words. Riley would have to intercede before Salter made his situation untenable.

  Riley opened the door and stepped inside without bothering to knock.

  ‘What’s this about?’ he asked.

  Salter looked over his shoulder. Relief washed through his expression and his posture lost some of its stiffness.

  ‘Ah, Rochester. Your damned sergeant has only jeopardised the entire investigation into Miss Mottram’s murder.’ Danforth’s flabby cheeks glowed red with indignation. ‘I told you this would happen. Warned you, but oh no. You knew better, just like always. Except that this time you didn’t. There, what do you say to that?’

  ‘There’s nothing I can say until I understand what it is that my sergeant is supposed to have done.’

  ‘There’s no supposed about it. He was specifically told to keep away from Archer, but the scoundrel spent much of last evening at Salter’s home.’ Danforth stood back, failing to conceal a smug look. ‘I’ve a good mind to charge him with aiding and abetting a criminal.’

  Riley glanced at Salter, not believing a word of it. ‘We have yet to establish that Archer has committed a crime,’ he said.

  ‘He was there when I got home from work, sir.’ Salter sent Riley a supplicating look. ‘What am I to do? Stay away from my own door? My wife fed him and he insisted upon waiting for me to come home. Wanted to ask what was happening about Miss Mottram. Said I couldn’t talk about it. Told him I couldn’t talk to him at all for that matter.’

  ‘So you say,’ Danforth blustered. ‘But it’s my understanding that he stayed for a good half-hour more.’

  Riley held up a hand, taking control of what was in danger of turning into unsalvageable situation. Salter, he could see, was struggling to contain his temper.

  ‘Sergeant Salter,’ Riley said. ‘Do I h
ave your assurance that you didn’t speak a word to Archer about the state of the investigation, and that you removed him from your home as expediently as possible.’

  ‘You do, sir.’ Salter rubbed his nose. ‘You have to understand that my wife, she wanted to talk to him. He’s her nephew, and she thought…’

  ‘Leave us. I will speak with the chief inspector alone.’

  ‘I say, Rochester. Who the devil do you think you are? Coming in here and giving orders. I am your superior officer.’

  ‘I am well aware of that.’ The more aggrieved Danforth came, the calmer was Riley’s response. ‘And I am Sergeant Salter’s superior officer. He takes his orders from me.’ Salter still hesitated, but Riley motioned with his head for him to leave.

  ‘Now then, sir,’ Riley said when the door closed behind Salter. ‘Shall we sit and discuss this matter in a rational manner?’

  ‘How dare you? I’ll have you thrown out for this. You’ve gone too far this time. I deserve respect.’

  Riley raised a brow and casually lowered himself into a chair. Danforth muttered something unintelligible beneath his breath and resumed his own seat.

  ‘Respect is a two-way street,’ Riley remarked. ‘Something you earn, not demand. If you had concerns about Salter’s behaviour then you should have brought them to me.’

  ‘So that you could sweep them under the rug?’ He fixed Riley with a withering look. ‘I didn’t come down in the last shower, Rochester. That man idolises you and knows he can get away with bending the rules as much as he likes because you never chastise him. In my opinion you grossly overestimate his abilities as a detective. Without clinging to your coattails he would be nothing at all.’

  Riley was aware that Danforth hadn’t meant that comment to sound like a compliment and so resisted the urge to offer him sarcastic thanks for the vote of confidence. ‘How did you know that Archer had been to Salter’s home?’ he asked instead.

  Danforth became evasive. ‘I have my methods.’

  Riley narrowed his eyes at his superior. ‘What methods?’