Death of an Artist (Riley Rochester Investigates Book 5)

by Wendy Soliman

  ‘No arguments from me there, sergeant.’ They returned to Riley’s office. ‘Have Carter and Soames returned from searching Miss Bowden’s rooms?’

  ‘I think so.’ Salter stuck his head out the door and beckoned to Carter.

  ‘Where’s Soames?’ Riley asked.

  ‘Still in Dulwich, sir, talking to the landlady and searching the common areas in the house. We found something interesting that we thought you’d like to see so I came back ahead.’ He handed Riley a sheaf of papers. ‘We found them under her bed in a tin box.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  Riley flipped through the papers Carter handed to him, nodded and passed them to Salter.

  ‘Blimey, she was thorough, or rather her investigator was. Everything about Miss Mottram’s life is here in black and white. She must really have got it bad for Reggie.’

  ‘Yet she didn’t tell him that Miss Mottram was married.’

  ‘If she didn’t. I keep telling you, sir, it would be a mistake to take anything he says on trust.’

  ‘Let’s have a word with the young woman, see what she has to say now that she’s seen the business end of Scotland Yard at work,’ Riley said, standing. ‘Hopefully the shock will have persuaded her to candidness. Carter, if Soames returns with anything interesting, feel free to interrupt me.’

  ‘Will do, sir.’

  Before they could confront Miss Bowden, Peterson breathlessly pushed Riley’s door open.

  ‘I went to see the editor of the Times, like you asked me to, sir, and delivered your note. He asked me to give you this.’

  ‘Thank you, Peterson.’

  Riley opened the folded note and quickly scanned its contents, raising a brow as he did so and then passed it to Salter.

  ‘Interesting,’ his sergeant said, grinning.

  ‘Indeed. Let’s see what she has to say about it.’

  ‘This is an outrage!’ Miss Bowden cried the moment Riley and Salter walked into the room. ‘It’s an insult, and I demand to know why I’m here.’

  ‘Sit down, madam,’ Riley said, waiting until she did so with a flounce and a huff before he himself took a chair. ‘The time has come to tell the absolute truth, unless you would prefer to remain here indefinitely. We know that you put an investigator onto Miss Mottram and that you are familiar with her background. What did you do with that information and why did you feel the need to go to some much trouble and expense to find it out?’

  ‘I can tell a fake when I see one, inspector.’ Miss Bowden’s features pinched into an expression of distaste. ‘I was on to her from the moment I saw the way she turned the head of every man in the studio.’

  ‘Including Archer, whom you wanted for yourself.’

  ‘I thought she was leading him on and it didn’t stop even when she knew that he and I had an understanding.’

  ‘What sort of understanding?’

  She shuffled in her chair. ‘The usual.’

  ‘He had asked you to marry him?’

  ‘Not in so many words, but he would have done, given time, had she not got in the way.’

  ‘So you simply warmed his bed,’ Salter suggested.

  ‘Absolutely not! What do you take me for? Besides, Reggie would never have insulted me by making the suggestion.’

  ‘Would he not?’ Salter gave a mirthless chuckle. ‘Good to know that his moral conduct has improved.’

  ‘It’s rather convenient for you that someone killed her,’ Riley pointed out, ‘given that her presence kept Archer from bestowing his affections upon you, which you seem convinced that he would otherwise have done.’

  ‘I didn’t like or trust her motives, inspector, but if I had decided to kill her, I wouldn’t have been stupid enough to do so with my own knife.’

  ‘A knife that you made a point of telling us Archer had taken away to have mended, although we now know that isn’t true.’

  ‘Unfortunately it is. I am in love with the man.’ She folded her hands in her lap and looked up at Riley defiantly. ‘I wish I were not, but there you have it. I am not in the habit of being untruthful, which is why I told you about the knife, but I also know that Reggie would not have killed her. There must be some other explanation, which you should be out there looking for instead of bullying innocent people.’

  ‘You had offered to put money into Archer’s studio,’ Riley said, unmoved by her bluster. ‘That is the only understanding you had any hope of reaching with him, but annoyingly he didn’t jump at the opportunity. And all the time Miss Mottram occupied his attention, you had no hope of persuading him. Then, to add insult to injury, one of the visiting agents took a liking to her paintings, which must have infuriated you, especially since you knew that she hadn’t painted them.’

  She lowered her gaze. ‘Yes, I recognised Reggie’s style and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to antagonise him by pointing out that she was making him dishonest.’

  ‘So you contacted her husband. The man you met the first time he came to the studio. You wondered who he was and why he was so keen to run Miss Mottram to ground, which is what made you decide to look into her background. You found out she was married but had deserted her husband, so you put two and two together and realised the man who’d come looking for her was probably the husband in question. You must have thought that all your Christmases had come at once when you wrote to him, telling him where to find his errant wife and, no doubt, asking him to kindly come and collect her.’

  ‘I did write to him and tell him those things, but he didn’t reply, so I assumed he had washed his hands of her.’

  ‘Which made you desperate to be rid of her by other means.’

  ‘Not by killing her, if that’s what you mean to imply, inspector,’ she replied, straightening her spine and looking Riley directly in the eye.

  ‘You came across her and Archer in the studio late at night. He was painting her in the nude and I dare say that shocked you rigid.’

  Miss Bowden sniffed. ‘Frankly, I was appalled, so I wrote to her husband a second time. That was a week ago, and…well, we all know what’s happened since then. But still, those who play with fire...’

  ‘I can see that you’re heartbroken by your rival’s demise.’

  ‘I am many things, inspector, but a hypocrite is not one of them. I am glad she’s gone, but I didn’t kill her, and you cannot prove otherwise because there’s no proof to be found.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell Archer that she had a husband?’ Salter asked.

  ‘Because I didn’t want to seem like a tattle-tale. She knew that I was aware though, because I told her. I knew that if it became public knowledge that she had deserted her husband she would lose her position with the Vermonts and have to leave the area. Or so I thought. But when I confronted her she laughed in my face and told me to do whatever I needed to. She said that I would be doing her a favour and that if she was no longer employed as a governess she could simply move in with Reggie and spend all her time painting.’

  ‘Your jealousy would have driven her into his arms,’ Riley said. ‘Is that why you killed her?’

  ‘I did not kill her.’ She shook her head and sighed. ‘Why do you keep saying that? I have told you countless times that I didn’t kill her. I disliked her intently, but I am incapable of killing anyone.’

  ‘Really?’ Riley quirked a brow. ‘I sent a telegram to America.’ Miss Bowden’s face paled. ‘You painted a picture of yourself to us as the devoted daughter who selflessly nursed her father during the long years of his illness. My colleagues on the other side of the Atlantic thought otherwise, but they couldn’t prove it, so I had the editor of one of our newspapers scour his archives, and the report he sent me tells a very different story.’

  Miss Bowden stiffened. ‘Nothing was ever proved.’

  ‘Concerns were raised about the sudden nature of your father’s death. It caused quite a stir in the newspapers, which is why it got mentioned in this country. Despite what you would have me believe, you were not his s
ole carer. He had a close lady friend who shared the burden with you but who told the police that your jealousy prevented him from proposing to her.’

  Miss Bowden tossed her head. ‘She was a fortune-hunter.’

  ‘Perhaps, but she adored your father, and raised suspicions when he died so suddenly while in your care.’

  ‘Jealous, groundless suspicions because Papa didn’t leave her anything in his will.’

  Riley shook his head. ‘You appear to react very badly when someone usurps your place in the affections of a person that matters to you.’

  ‘I did not kill Miss Mottram,’ she replied stiffly, ‘but if you absolutely insist, I can point you in the direction of a person who knows more about it than I do.’

  Both detectives gaped at her. ‘You know?’ Riley asked.

  ‘Not for sure, but I saw someone acting suspiciously outside the tavern on the night she died.’

  ‘But didn’t think to tell us?’ Riley asked.

  Miss Bowden moved her shoulders. ‘As far as I’m concerned, the perpetrator deserves to be rewarded, not punished.’

  ‘Who did you see?’ Riley asked.

  Miss Bowden told them, at which point Riley, over her protests, had her and Treadwell locked in cells while he continued with the investigation. Neither would be going anywhere until he received answers that satisfied him.

  ‘Do you believe that, sir? She actually saw Peter Renfrew loitering?’

  ‘Not sure. Perhaps I dismissed him too readily. After all, he’d given up everything for Miss Mottram’s sake, and she cast him aside without a second thought when he ceased to be of any help to her.’

  ‘Soames is back, sir.’

  ‘Anything?’ he asked his constable.

  ‘Sorry, sir, and I turned the place upside down.’

  ‘Right, back to Dulwich you two,’ he said, encompassing both Soames and Carter with his gaze. ‘I want Peter Renfrew brought in this time and his rooms searched. Quick as you can.’

  Riley and Salter took luncheon while they awaited Renfrew’s arrival.

  ‘Renfrew’s tall and lean, sir,’ Salter pointed out around a mouthful of meat pasty. ‘He could have been the man that was seen loitering.’

  ‘I beginning to wonder if the man existed, Jack, and can’t help wondering if our three suspects are leading us by the nose.’ Riley permitted his frustration to show. ‘We need something—anything—to tip our hand. Criminals are never that careful to cover their tracks.’

  ‘Well, hopefully Carter and Soames will come up with something.’

  ‘If they don’t, then I fear we might never catch the killer. One of the three we are now looking at did it, but I don’t have firm evidence as things stand to convict any one of them. Still, cheer up, Jack, at least they all have more compelling motives than your nephew so Danforth can’t force me to arrest him.’

  ‘Right. That’s something, I suppose.’

  When they returned to the Yard, Renfrew sat in the same interview room that Miss Bowden had recently occupied, looking unkempt and defeated.

  ‘Miss Bowden spread her poison to you, didn’t she?’ Riley asked by way of greeting. ‘She told you that Miss Mottram had posed in the nude for Archer.’

  Renfrew turned bloodshot eyes towards Riley and nodded. ‘It was the final straw. I’d given up everything for her sake because she led me to believe that we had a future together. She always found an excuse for me not to touch her once we both arrived here. She pretended to be pleased when I turned up here, but I don’t think she expected me to follow after her and was secretly annoyed that I had. She knew how much I liked my position where I was, teaching mathematics, but I loved Mel enough to give it all up and take something that was beneath me, just to be close to her. Then I discovered that she’d bared her all, demeaned herself, for the sake of her art.’ He thumped the table. ‘Damn it to hell and back! How could I have been so stupid?’

  ‘Did you wait for her to come off the train on the night she died.’

  Renfrew nodded. ‘I followed her back to the Vermonts and accosted her when she was about to unlock the gate. I reminded her what I’d given up for her, the assurances she’d given me. I don’t know what I thought I would achieve, other than to humiliate myself. She was kind, gentle, but told me there could never be a future for us. To forget her and find someone more worthy. She delved into her stocking purse and pulled out a little pouch with her wedding ring inside it. She said that she carried it around as a reminder of the caged feeling her marriage had given her, and that she had no intention of embracing it a second time. Instead, she planned to divorce her husband and devote herself to her art.’

  ‘Did she tell you why she’d decided upon divorce?’

  ‘She said she was pregnant, but that the father couldn’t marry her and she wouldn’t have him even if he could. But if her art made her famous—and there was every chance that it would—then it wouldn’t matter if her child didn’t have a father and she would have the means to support herself and the baby.’

  ‘Had she told her husband that she wanted to divorce him? Did she say?’ Riley leaned forward. ‘Think carefully, Renshaw. What you tell us could be crucial.’

  ‘Yes. She said she’d met him in London that evening briefly, before going on to another engagement, and told him.’

  ‘He knew she was carrying another man’s child?’ Salter asked.

  ‘So she told me. He was furious, told her she would have to go back to him and he would acknowledge the child. She told him to go to the devil.’

  ‘Where did they meet?’

  ‘In the tea room at Brown’s Hotel.’

  Gotcha!

  ‘Well, sir,’ Salter said, ‘do we have what we need now?’

  ‘I rather think that we do, Jack. I believed Renshaw and I also think Treadwell counted upon his wife not having time to tell anyone she’d met him that afternoon. Not that she would have been likely to. Treadwell knew that she kept her personal affairs to herself. But she had a genuine soft spot for Renshaw, who just happened to catch her that evening at a vulnerable point, and she made the confession to him.’

  ‘And Treadwell would have known that she used that side gate to let herself into Vermont’s house. He’d met her there once before.’

  ‘True.’

  ‘What now?’

  ‘We go to Browns and ask the manager if any members of his staff recall the couple. Miss Mottram was striking and her husband has that distinctive mole on his neck. Besides, I dare say they raised their voices, or rather Treadwell would have done. His bombastic nature will be his undoing yet.’

  An hour later, a senior waiter had positively identified Miss Mottram and her husband, based on the descriptions Riley provided them with and a photograph of the dead woman. Apparently the waiter had been obliged to ask Treadwell to keep his voice down, which is why he’d stuck in his mind. Most people who took tea in that establishment behaved in a more refined manner.

  ‘Have Treadwell brought up,’ Riley said to Sergeant Barton upon their return to the Yard.

  Barton nodded and sent one of his constables to do the honours. ‘Is he our killer?’

  ‘He is, Barton. And a cool customer with it.’

  ‘How did he get that knife?’ Salter asked as they awaited Treadwell’s arrival.

  ‘We shall ask him that, but I suspect that he went to Dulwich directly from London in case his wife had returned before him. She had not, and he had time to stew and knew what he had to do. He also knew that Miss Bowden resented his wife, so took her knife in a clumsy attempt to frame her for the murder. I almost fell for it, too.’

  ‘Then he hid himself in that orchard and waited for her to come back.’

  ‘I imagine so. A tall, determined man could scale those walls. We made that determination when we first saw the place, if you recall. We also know that she ran from her killer. The moment she saw her husband she would have known why he was there, but she didn’t run fast enough.’

  ‘Taking that
knife, planning it out. That makes it premeditated,’ Salter said. ‘He’ll hang?’

  ‘Oh yes, Jack. He’ll hang if there’s any justice in this world. Miss Mottram…Mrs Treadwell…was a far from biddable wife, in fact she was an embarrassment, but she didn’t deserve to meet such a violent end.’

  Riley drummed his fingers on the scared surface of the table in the interview room.

  ‘Brown’s Hotel,’ he looked up and said the moment Treadwell was brought in.

  ‘Oh God!’

  The man looked defeated and drained as he slumped into a chair. He buried his face in his hands and sobbed like a baby. Riley felt absolutely no sympathy for him and had Salter formally charge him with the murder of his wife.

  Chapter Seventeen

  With all the loose ends he’d had to tie up, Riley eventually returned home with barely time to change before his family arrived for the dinner that Amelia had so carefully planned. His wife, he knew, was anxious to ensure that her first evening as Riley’s hostess should go without a hitch. If Riley had been any later getting home, the guests would have arrived before him. Yet Amelia didn’t offer a single word of chastisement.

  ‘Sorry, my love,’ he said, hastily kissing her as Norris opened the door to him, ‘but at least it’s over. We have our man.’

  ‘The husband?’

  He nodded. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘If you ran away from me, I would kill you before I let another woman anywhere near you.’

  Riley smiled and kissed her tenderly. ‘It will never happen,’ he assured her. ‘Especially when you look so ravishing.’ He cast an approving glance over her evening gown. ‘She left her husband because he was violent and because she suspected him of involvement with a wealthy client. She was right to do so, but wrong to underestimate his ambition.’

  ‘Well, at least Jack Salter’s nephew is in the clear.’ She followed him into his dressing room, where Stout awaited his master with warm water already pouring from the taps. ‘That must have annoyed Danforth.’