‘If it was, I wouldn’t ask. Please don’t waste my time with sarcasm and prevarication. Our time is as valuable as yours.’
‘Since you insist upon knowing, I had hoped she would have had time to come to her senses and agree to return home with me. Then her true identity need never have been revealed.’
‘You knew where she was employed. Why not go straight to Lord Vermont rather than sniffing around the place where she spent her leisure hours?’ Riley asked.
‘I didn’t want to force her hand. I thought if I could see her on neutral territory…’
‘But she wasn’t there. You must have seen that for yourself. The studio is one large open room.’ Riley paused. ‘Did you wander into Archer’s private room in the hope of catching her out in an indiscretion?’
‘No, of course not.’ Treadwell tutted. ‘Truth be told, I wanted to get a better idea of how she occupied her time. Frankly, I was appalled that she would consider that dreadful place preferable to the comfortable home we had made together, but there you have it.’
‘The home where you treated her with the utmost loving respect,’ Salter said scathingly.
‘Have your sergeant mind his attitude and keep a civil tongue in his head, inspector,’ Treadwell said in an arrogant tone, not bothering to turn and look at Salter.
‘Did you see her outside of the studio? And the truth this time, if you please.’
‘Yes. Briefly. I caught up with her on the common with the girls she cared for. She couldn’t talk to me then. She didn’t want the girls to see me and ask questions, so we agreed to meet that evening.’
‘Where?’
‘She let me into the grounds of Lord Vermont’s house by a gate at the side of the stables.’ Riley and Salter shared a glance. ‘But she was determined not to come home, and nothing I said could persuade her.’
‘Did she ask you for a divorce?’ Riley asked.
‘She did not.’
‘Did you threaten to divorce her?’
‘No.’ Treadwell shuffled about on his chair, feigning impatience. ‘I keep telling you. I wanted her back.’
‘Who else did you speak with at the studio, other than Archer?’ Riley asked sharply.
‘No one whose name I recollect. There were a couple of people, but I didn’t address them. I didn’t want to create speculation.’
Salter shrugged himself from the wall and walked over to the table. He banged the flat of his hand on its surface, hard enough to make Treadwell flinch. ‘You’re one lie away from being locked up, sunshine, and never mind my bleedin’ attitude or my civil tongue,’ he said in a mordant tone. ‘Nothing would please me more than to see that pious neck of yours stretched a little. I’ve heard that sometimes the hangman misjudges the fall and the noose pulls their heads clean off. Depends how much gin he’s had, they tell me. This is your last opportunity to tell the inspector the truth, so I suggest you make the most of it.’
Beads of sweat broke out on Treadwell’s brow as he looked with supplication towards Riley. ‘I spoke with an American lady. Or more to the point, she overheard my conversation with Archer and spoke to me.’
‘She knew of your relationship to Miss Mottram?’
‘Not to my knowledge.’ He shrugged. ‘And I did not enlighten her.’
‘Why should we believe that?’ Salter asked. ‘You’ve lied about God knows what else.’
‘I am not lying now, sergeant. Besides, as I already explained, I didn’t want you wasting your time. Anyway, the lady I spoke with told me that a Miss Mottram regularly attended the studio and when she was likely to be there again. However, I found her on the common before that, so the information she supplied was superfluous.’
‘And you had no other contact with Miss Bowden, the American lady.’
‘I did not, but I could tell that she didn’t like Melanie.’ His eyes widened. ‘You don’t think it was she who…’
‘Tell us about your relationship with Mrs Denton,’ Riley said, taking Treadwell completely by surprise with the sudden change of subject.
‘What, who…?’ His face paled and his expression turned evasive.
‘That rich client of yours what you spend so much time with,’ Salter supplied helpfully. ‘The lady who created so much conflict in your perfect bloody marriage. The woman…the lady, I should say…whose name you were strangely reluctant to supply us with. Of course, that only made us more curious, so we found it without your help.’
‘She has absolutely nothing to do with this affair.’ Treadwell pushed himself up to his full height, his tone imperious as he attempted to impose his will on the interview. Riley could sense that he was in actual fact now very frightened.
‘Answer my question,’ Riley said, allowing his impatience to show.
‘Mrs Denton moved to Devon about a year ago and contacted my firm regarding a dispute over an inheritance following her husband’s death. I was asked to attend to the matter. It transpired that it was more complex than Mrs Denton had given us reason to suppose. It involved several rapacious children from her husband’s first marriage who had already been well provided for and who had no reason to harbour any further expectations. But their greed and their dislike for the new Mrs Denton made them contest everything.’ Treadwell sighed. ‘It caused Mrs Denton considerable distress and required me to spend a great deal of time with her, unravelling the complex legalities of the situation.’
‘A successful resolution would have ensured you that promotion, I assume,’ Riley said, ‘since your firm would then be charged with the continued administration of the lady’s legal affairs.’
‘Quite so. But Mel was less understanding. She failed to grasp the necessity to occasionally cancel social engagements because I was delayed in dealing Mrs Denton’s affairs.’
‘She was jealous?’
‘Mel craved attention the entire time, and disliked competition from other females. I loved her, and all was well provided she was the centre of attention.’ Riley noticed a flash of annoyance pass through Treadwell’s expression and became more convinced as the interview progressed that Peter Renshaw had told him the truth. The man had a quick temper that he mostly kept under control—until challenged by those who questioned him about matters he’d prefer to keep private. ‘She failed to understand that I was striving to improve our quality of life.’
‘By fucking your client?’ Salter asked, a savage edge to his voice.
‘I beg your pardon, sergeant.’ Treadwell’s outrage would have convinced Riley had he not been seen the naked fear in the man’s eyes. He wouldn’t be the first guilty party they had interviewed who’d tried to bluster his way out of trouble. ‘How dare you suggest such a thing. My relationship with Mrs Denton is entirely professional and I resent any implication to the contrary. I especially resent your crude choice of language.’
‘You can resent away to your heart’s content,’ Salter replied, ‘but it’s took us less than a day to pick up rumours about your behaviour. Those stories would’ve reached your wife’s ears a bloody sight quicker, and might account for why she left you. If she enjoyed being the centre of attention, she wouldn’t have stood meekly aside and watched you have your way with some other woman.’
‘Melanie reached the entirely wrong conclusions regarding my relationship with Mrs Denton,’ Treadwell addressed his remark to Riley, as if it would somehow remove Jack Salter from his immediate proximity.
‘She was jealous,’ Riley replied, nodding to Salter, who took a couple of steps back.
‘Well, yes. I tried to explain that the resolution of Mrs Denton’s estate would secure our future, but she still resented the amount of time I devoted to that lady’s affairs. It caused difficulties between us, I won’t deny it, but I thought I had made her understand.’
‘Her leaving you came at an inconvenient time,’ Riley mused, leaning one arm across the back of his chair and rubbing his lips with his other hand. ‘It would have given your competitor for that promotion the opportunity to capita
lise on the scandal. A man who cannot control his own wife does not project the right example for a respectable firm of solicitors in a small town where everyone knows everyone else’s business.’
‘I spoke privately with my senior partner after Melanie left and reassured him that the situation was temporary,’ Treadwell, an arrogant and forceful man who disliked having to justify himself, said stiffly. ‘Mrs Denton was kind enough to express total faith in my abilities and wouldn’t have anyone else working on her affairs.’
‘Saving your bleedin’ bacon,’ Salter muttered.
‘Did you start an affair with her before or after your wife’s departure?’ Riley asked conversationally, playing a hunch.
‘What?’ His cheeks flooded with colour.
‘And don’t tell the inspector any more of your lies,’ Salter growled, stepping forward again. Treadwell flinched and shot an entreating glance at Riley. ‘We know you’re at it and we want to know when it all kicked off.’
Riley knew no such thing, not for sure, but Parker’s man had picked up on the rumours and, in Riley’s experience, small town gossip was usually remarkably accurate.
‘You have to understand that Mrs Denton was emotionally distraught when her step-children challenged her right to her husband’s fortune.’ Treadwell spoke slowly and with patent reluctance. ‘She moved out of the family house because the children refused to leave it and made her life intolerable. It was necessary for me to console her, to win her trust. Understandably, given her ordeal, she had lost her faith in human nature. Anyway, she eventually told me all the facts surrounding the new will, which had been signed not long before her husband’s death. His children claimed she’d forced him to sign it. But to get to that point I was required to spend a considerable amount of time with her. She was fragile, in need of reassurance and gentle handling.’ He threw his head back, as though seeking inspiration. ‘We grew close. She came to depend upon me more and more. I sensed a vulnerability about her which I will admit appealed to me. The situation was unusual, obviously, but there was nothing more to it than that.’
‘Which is all very interesting, but you still haven’t told me when the affair began,’ Riley remarked, allowing his impatience to show.
‘Not long after Melanie left,’ he replied, staring at his folded hands. ‘I was distraught, and it was Mrs Denton’s turn to console me. One thing led to another and…well, you know how it is. It wasn’t something I had planned.’
‘But you saw a chance to grab that promotion you were after.’ Salter leaned forward, his features twisted into an expression of disgust. ‘Once you’d got your needy wife permanently out of the way, you could easily persuade Mrs Denton to marry you. After all, you’d fallen into the habit of…how shall I put it in terms that won’t bruise your delicate sensibilities…consoling one another. Once you’d helped her get her fortune sorted out, the promotion would be yours and the sky would be the limit for your ambitions. But only if your existing wife was no longer around to embarrass you and you were actually free to marry again after a decent interval.’
‘That’s rubbish!’ Treadwell sprang to his feet. ‘I loved Melanie and confidently expected her to return to the marital home when she grew tired of caring for someone else’s children.’
‘Had Melanie returned, Mrs Denton would have made you choose,’ Riley said, running with Salter’s theme. ‘She doesn’t sound like the type of woman who would be willing to share.’ He paused. ‘Did you plan Melanie’s murder between you? She would give you an alibi for the afternoon and evening in question while you came up to London and did the deed.’
Treadwell shook his head, all the fight draining from him. ‘No, inspector, that isn’t the way it happened. I was with Mrs Denton all that afternoon and into the evening. Her servants will confirm the fact. I didn’t tell you that before in the vain hope of protecting her reputation.’ He paused. ‘And my own professional integrity.’
‘Integrity?’ Salter snorted. ‘There’s a fine word. Of course her servants will confirm their mistress’s story. She pays their wages, so they’ll say whatever she tells them to.’
‘I tried to persuade Melanie to come back to me, but when she refused, I discussed the problem with Mrs Denton. She encouraged me to divorce her. I had grounds enough and she said she would make sure that my position remained secure. Given the large extent of her estate she could have threatened to take her business to our rivals. My senior partner wouldn’t have allowed that to happen.’
‘Only if you could prove that estate was legitimately hers,’ Salter pointed out.
‘It is, and we are on the verge of verifying the fact and having her step-children evicted.’
‘Your wife being murdered makes you a sympathetic figure rather than a jilted husband to be looked down on and ridiculed,’ Riley said. ‘It must have come as quite a shock when you learned about the nude paintings she’d posed for. Sooner or later they would surface and embarrass you, and then not even a rich benefactor could have saved your position. What did you do when you found out about them?’
‘You killed your wife, that’s what you did,’ Salter said scathingly. ‘It was the final straw, obviously.’
‘I didn’t…didn’t know anything about those paintings until I called at the Bond Street gallery yesterday. I was curious to see her work being exhibited. I still wasn’t able to believe that she’d improved to that extent and wanted my last memories of her to be proud ones.’ He lifted one shoulder. ‘I was totally astounded when I told Manson who I was and he showed me the nude canvases.’
‘That was the first you had heard of them?’ Riley asked.
‘I was shocked to the core, that I can tell you with complete honesty. Shocked and appalled. I still find it hard to believe that my wife willingly posed for them.’ He sighed. ‘But it was obvious from her sensual expression that she did, and that she knew precisely what effect they would have on the art world.’
‘Arrest him, sergeant, and lock him up.’
‘With pleasure, sir.’
‘Just a minute!’ Treadwell stood, the epitome of righteous indignation. ‘Arrest me on what grounds?’
‘I warned you,’ Riley replied, remaining implacably calm. ‘I told you that I would arrest you if you continued lying to me.’
‘I am not lying…’ He glanced at the rigid set to Riley’s features and capitulated. ‘Oh, very well.’ He resumed his seat. ‘I was attempting to protect Miss Bowden. She recently wrote to me, warning me that my wife was posing in the nude for the studio owner. But I never imagined those paintings would see the light of day, much less finish up in such a prestigious gallery. I mean, how proficient could an artist languishing in a down-trodden studio in Dulwich actually be? He is in fact exceptional, but I had nothing to fear, since Manson told me that the model wouldn’t be named.’
‘Do you think we came down in the last shower?’ Salter growled. ‘Manson would link them to the two canvases he already had with her name on them, one of which had been sold to Lord Vermont, making your wife an artist to be reckoned with. Manson would ensure the punters knew she’d been horribly murdered. He’d make sure all the details became common knowledge so he could push the price up.’ Salter’s disdain for the artistic community was plainly apparent in his twisted expression.
Treadwell folded his arms defensively across his chest. ‘It’s the studio owner you should be looking at; the one who did the paintings of Melanie. She hadn’t been dead for two days before he touted those canvases to Manson, and they will likely make his name and his fortune.’
‘Take a close look at your own behaviour before you start criticising anyone else’s,’ Salter advised acidly.
Riley leaned forward. ‘If you were in London and killed your wife we will prove it, despite the widow who is so willing to vouch for your being in Devon and who will find herself in deep trouble for helping to conceal a crime. How do you think that will affect her precious reputation, and yours come to that?’
‘I was no
t here, inspector, so look as much as you like. You won’t find anyone to say any differently.’ Treadwell traced patterns on the surface of the table with the tip of his index finger, failing to meet Riley’s gaze. ‘I can see how it must look to you, but despite our difficulties I did love Melanie and would never have harmed a hair on her head, no matter what she did to embarrass me.’
‘Except when you lost your temper and slapped her about a bit.’
Treadwell blinked up at Salter. He looked to be on the point of voicing a denial but then thought better of it. ‘I only struck her once or twice. She could be provocative, disobedient and downright contrary. Even so, there was nothing in it.’
‘Unless you were on the receiving end,’ Salter grumbled.
‘Stay here,’ Riley said. ‘We will be back in due course.’
Salter opened the door and motioned to the uniformed constable waiting outside to remain with Treadwell.
‘What do you think, sir?’ Salter asked. ‘Did he do it?’
‘I’m not sure. Several parts of his story don’t add up. But he’s right about one thing. If he did, unless we can find someone to definitely place him in Dulwich or London when he swears he was in Devon and has people willing to confirm his presence there, then we’ll never prove it.’
‘He fits the description of the person seen lurking outside the station.’
‘Too vague. There are dozens of tall, thin men in England. We need more than that.’
‘We’ve probably got enough to secure a conviction, sir. He was having it off with a wealthy widow who depended upon him, and his wife was a free spirit who didn’t do as she was told. The same wife who was on the point of embarrassing him, adversely affecting his career advancement. Her death’s put paid to all that and left him the opportunity to marry a rich widow, and he’s consistently lied to us.’
‘So has everyone else involved in this case, with the possible exception of your nephew. Besides, I’m averse to charging anyone with murder unless I’m absolutely sure they’re the guilty party.’
‘You and your damned conscience, sir.’ Salter sniffed. ‘Far as I’m concerned, any man who wallops a woman, no matter how much she provokes him, deserves everything he gets.’
Death of an Artist (Riley Rochester Investigates Book 5) Page 22
