Death of a Milliner: Riley Rochester Investigates Book 9 (Riley ~Rochester Investigates)

by Wendy Soliman

  ‘I agree, but why would Miss Cornish turn on Madame?’

  ‘That, Jack, is a very good question, and one that she’s unlikely to answer if we put it to her directly, so subterfuge is called for. Danforth and his helpers are watching all the Faulkner males, and hopefully Bernard will be predictable and run straight to Miss Cornish now that he’s rattled. I have a feeling that he will eventually lead us to the evidence we need.’

  ‘Sir!’ Peterson put his head around the door. ‘I’ve just found out that Alfred Faulkner didn’t drive the train to Brighton on the morning in question.’

  Riley glanced at Salter as he beckoned Peterson into the room. He entered it, red in the face and breathing heavily. It looked like he’d run back from wherever he’d been.

  ‘We’d decided he wasn’t responsible for anything, hadn’t we?’ Salter asked, scratching his head.

  ‘Perhaps I was a little too keen to dismiss him as the harmless individual he came across as being,’ Riley conceded. ‘How did you come by this information, Peterson? I was under the impression that you had checked with the railway and they confirmed his whereabouts.’

  ‘They did. The drivers have to clock in at the beginning of their shifts. Alfred’s started at six that morning, and as far as everyone knows he drove off to Brighton as arranged. But a man by the name of Henshaw sent a message through a constable, saying he had information about the Faulkner murder, and it had to do with Alfred. The message was passed on to me since you weren’t available, sir, and as I’d spoke to Alfred’s employers in the first place, I took it upon myself to follow it up. I thought it wouldn’t amount to anything much and that you didn’t need to be inconvenienced.’

  ‘Very enterprising, Peterson. Explain what this Henshaw person had to say for himself.’

  ‘He’s a train driver too. He was on standby that morning. They always have a couple of extra drivers hanging about in case someone don’t turn up. The station masters don’t take kindly to upheaval with their schedules, and nor do the passengers. Anyway, Henshaw weren’t needed and was about to push off home again, but Alfred persuaded him to take his place on the Brighton train. Said he had something urgent of a personal nature that he needed to take care of. Henshaw obliged him. Said they often did it, even though they ain’t supposed to. He reckons that the London and South West turn a blind eye, just so long as the trains run on time. Anyway, he didn’t think no more about it until he read about the Faulkner murder in the papers. Thought it seemed suspicious, like, and that he had a duty to set the record straight, if only to cover his own back. In his words, he didn’t want to be pulled into no murder enquiry just because he did someone a good turn.’

  ‘You did well, Peterson.’ Riley had high hopes for his newest detective. He frequently displayed the necessary intuition to succeed in their line of work. ‘Now you can take one of Sergeant Barton’s constables, call at Alfred Faulkner’s residence and ask him if he would be so kind as to come back here with you. Don’t tell him why. Just tell him that we have a few follow up questions for him.’

  ‘Right you are, sir.’

  Riley leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms above his head. ‘Well, Jack, I think we’ve earned a spot of luncheon whilst we wait.’

  Salter rubbed his hands together. ‘Now you’re talking!’

  ‘What do you make of this latest development, sir?’ Salter asked as he tucked into a steaming meat pie in the nearest public house.

  ‘I have absolutely no idea.’ Riley sighed, pushing aside his half-eaten meal. ‘I think I must be losing my touch. I believed Alfred when he said he’d been hard at work that morning. He’s certainly an accomplished liar, I’ll give him that.’

  ‘Don’t take it to heart, sir. He had me fooled too, and perhaps there’s an outside possibility that he’ll have an innocent explanation for misleading us.’

  Riley chuckled. ‘That would be a first.’

  ‘You’ve got that ruminating look about you again, sir,’ Salter said, after Riley had fallen into contemplation for a prolonged period. ‘Anything I should know about?’

  ‘It occurs to me, Jack, that dismissing Alfred Faulkner as a suspect is only one of the misleading assumptions we’ve made regarding this case.’

  ‘Not sure I’m with you, sir.’ Salter finished his own meal and then tucked into the remnants of Riley’s. ‘No point wasting good food,’ he said defensively.

  Riley could have given him an argument on the good front but refrained. ‘We have assumed all along that someone unlocked the door to Madame’s premises and invited Mrs Faulkner inside.’

  ‘Right. What of it?’

  ‘Supposing she didn’t come through the front door. What if someone left the back door open and told her to come in that way?’

  ‘Ah, I see what you mean. We’ve dismissed Madame’s direct involvement because we know she was at Brown’s, probably with Rathbone as an alibi that she wouldn’t hesitate to call upon if necessary—’

  Riley nodded. ‘Precisely.’

  ‘So she deliberately lured him there that night for a specific reason?’

  ‘It wouldn’t surprise me. The more I learn about her character, the more calculating she seems. Anyway, if the door was left open for Mrs Faulkner, who probably assumed she would be meeting your daughter, it could have been locked after the event, explaining why the window was broken from the inside.’

  Salter took his turn to nod as he mulled Riley’s suggestion over. ‘The killer had to make it look like an attempted burglary, but he broke the glass from the wrong side.’

  ‘Or she. Which means that all of our suspects are now…well, suspects.’

  ‘Because we’ve figured out a way for them to have gained access. That was always the sticking point. But whoever did it still must have lured Mrs Faulkner there. If it was Madame, I have a problem understanding why she would have the murder carried out on her own premises.’

  ‘As we surmised before, Jack, it would be to put us off the track by doing something highly improbable.’

  ‘But risky, and certainly damaging for her precious reputation.’ Salter looked dubious. ‘I assume Madame is your prime suspect. The woman I trusted with my daughter,’ he growled.

  ‘If she’s involved, she certainly didn’t do the killing herself. But having the body found on her premises would actually be good for business.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘Everyone will want to see where the crime was committed. Madame would be aware of that and revel in the role of distressed victim. She’d make sure everyone knew that she’d served her apprenticeship with Mrs Faulkner and pretend they’d been friends.’ Riley sat back, observing Salter finishing up his lunch by wiping the plate clean with the last piece of crusty bread. ‘The other possibility, of course, is that Madame isn’t involved at all and someone who wanted rid of Mrs Faulkner used her premises for reasons of his own. Perhaps to threaten her reputation.’

  ‘In other words, anyone could have done it,’ Salter muttered.

  ‘Pretty much, Jack, with the cooperation of someone inside the shop. Either Madame, Miss Cornish or one of Maureen’s fellow apprentices. We haven’t given much thought to any of them yet, but perhaps we should have. They’ve all served longer than Maureen, but they’ve been eclipsed by the talent of a fifteen-year-old. There are bound to be jealousies and resentments.’

  Salter ran a hand through his hair and gave another growl, loud enough to draw attention to their table. ‘I swear, guv’nor, when this is all over that daughter of mine will never leave her mother’s side again.’

  ‘None of this is Maureen’s fault, Jack. She can’t help having an abundance of talent for her chosen line of work. You ought to be proud of her.’

  ‘Aye, so Mrs Salter keeps insisting, but I can’t help being her pa and falling back on my instincts. You’ll find that out for yourself soon enough.’

  Riley thought of the possible danger from Ruth’s resentful relations and already had a fair idea of how he would react
to any threats directed towards his family.

  ‘Come along, Jack, if you’ve finished both of our luncheons, we might as well see if we can at least eliminate Alfred Faulkner from our investigation.’

  Salter wiped his lips on his handkerchief and stood up. ‘Nice bit of pie, that,’ he remarked.

  They returned to the Yard and were told by Barton that Alfred had been there for over half an hour.

  ‘Ample time for him to reflect upon the wisdom of lying to us,’ Salter replied gleefully.

  ‘Someone lied to you?’ Barton’s bushy brows quivered with faux shock. ‘Now there’s a thing.’

  Riley was still laughing when he reached his office and removed his coat.

  ‘Did he give you any trouble, Peterson?’ Riley asked, pausing on his way to the interview room to address the question to his constable.

  ‘Came quiet as a lamb, sir. Kept asking what we needed to know, but he didn’t seem unduly troubled by the summons.’

  ‘Are Carter and Soames back yet?’

  Riley had sent them to Lambeth to ask questions at the hostel where Miss Cornish resided. They still knew frustratingly little about her background, other than that she was a foundling. Riley wondered if she was the child that resulted from Madame’s liaison with Wakefield. She was about the right age, but if Madame had taken her on to ease her conscience she certainly wouldn’t have advertised their relationship, if it existed. It was even possible that Miss Cornish didn’t know.

  ‘Haven’t seen them yet, sir,’ Peterson replied.

  ‘Chalk and cheese, them two Faulkner brothers,’ Salter said as he followed Riley along the corridor. ‘One aloof and screaming blue murder about being brought in. The other calm and collected. Not sure which reaction I prefer but I do know that I’ve taken an extreme dislike to Bernard. He’s an arrogant so-and-so.’

  ‘Keep your powder dry, Jack. Bernard is a coward, but I suspect that Alfred will react better to a gentler approach.’

  Salter pulled an aggrieved face. ‘You spoil all my fun.’

  Riley chuckled as he entered the interview room and assessed Alfred. He’d been relatively relaxed and had shown little reaction to his mother’s brutal murder when in his father’s comfortable apartment. The accommodation at Scotland Yard wasn’t nearly so…well, accommodating. Deliberately so. It was intended to intimidate and concentrate the minds of recalcitrant witnesses, invariably achieving that objective.

  ‘Mr Faulkner, sorry to have kept you waiting,’ Riley said, not sounding the least bit sorry.

  ‘Do you have news of my mother’s murder?’ he asked mildly.

  ‘Our enquiries are continuing.’ Riley seated himself across from the man. He looked pale yet composed, but still struck Riley as being basically honest. ‘Our progress would be swifter though if people didn’t lie to us,’ he said, firming his tone.

  ‘Ah, so you know.’ It wasn’t a question, so Riley didn’t bother to respond. Instead, he settled back in his chair and allowed a silence to develop, aware that Alfred would feel the need to fill it in his own defence. ‘Sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. I swapped with another driver. It happens a lot and nothing gets said, but if it came to light in connection with a murder then I’d lose my job.’

  ‘Are you going to tell us why you swapped or spend the next hour defending your lies?’ Salter asked in an acerbic tone. ‘We don’t have all day.’

  ‘I was waiting outside my dad’s flat to see if his lady friend had stayed the night.’ Alfred rubbed his chin. ‘I ain’t proud of snooping but sometimes Pa’s his own worst enemy. He’s got a few bob, he’s still a handsome man who appeals to the ladies and they…well, they take advantage of him. We’ve talked about this, him and me. He’s been taken in a few times before and I don’t like to see it. This one is the worst of the lot. I found out some stuff about her past and he said he was going to have it out with her.’ Alfred threw back his head and grunted. ‘Seems he did, but not till the morning. Said he might as well turn the tables and do a bit of advantage taking himself, so to speak. Anyway, she’s history now and didn’t get her claws into him. Of course, if I’d known that me ma would get herself killed that morning, I would have stayed where I was supposed to have been.’

  ‘Did anyone see you loitering about outside?’ Riley asked.

  ‘The greengrocer down below. I was standing beneath his canopy when the hussy left, looking like she’d been doing what she’d been doing, and none too happy to be thrown out on her ear. I passed the time of day with the grocer, then took meself off home. I returned to Pa’s later and he told me he’d given Avril the old heave-ho just before you called with the news. I pretended not to already know about Avril and that, as God’s my witness, is the honest truth. Sorry I didn’t tell you before.’

  ‘I would believe you but for the fact that your father gave me the lady’s name, and she confirmed without hesitation that they were together all night. Why would she do that, risking her reputation, if he’d ended the relationship?’

  ‘Reputation? She ain’t got no reputation, that one.’ Alfred twitched his lips disapprovingly. ‘And she probably doesn’t think he means it —booting her out, that is.’ Alfred shrugged a shoulder as he thought the matter through. ‘If she’d denied she’d been with Pa then she’d have burnt her bridges, wouldn’t she? Now he’s in her debt and she’ll sense an opportunity.’

  ‘Is there anything else you told us that wasn’t true?’ Riley asked. ‘Have you seen your mother at all over the past few years?’

  ‘No, and I never wanted to.’ Alfred looked Riley directly in the eye. ‘Everything else I said was the God’s honest truth.’

  ‘You keep invoking the Lord’s name,’ Salter said in a threatening growl. ‘If you’ve taken it in vain then you won’t like the consequences.’

  ‘I’m a God-fearing man, Sergeant. Don’t never miss Sunday service, me. I wouldn’t blaspheme.’

  The rigidity left Salter’s shoulders. ‘Very well then.’

  ‘You can go,’ Riley said. ‘Thank you for your cooperation.’

  ‘Do my employers need to know about the driving swap?’ he asked, showing signs of anxiety for the first time.

  ‘Not if you’re telling us the truth now, and not unless it transpires that you had any involvement in this murder,’ Riley replied. ‘And if that’s the case then losing your employment will be the least of your problems.’

  The concern left Alfred’s expression as he stood up. ‘In that case, I have nothing to add and nothing to worry about.’

  ‘Do you believe him, sir?’ Salter asked as they returned to Riley’s office.

  ‘Yes, I think my instincts about him are basically sound and his only concern is his father being hoodwinked by an ambitious female.’

  ‘Seems to be a lot of them about all of a sudden,’ Salter groused.

  ‘Indeed.’ Riley reached for his coat.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘You’re staying here to compile all the reports. I’m going to meet with Danforth to see what Bernard’s been up to since he left us. Then I’m for White’s. I hope to run Rathbone to ground. He’s more likely to be forthcoming about his affair with Madame if I conduct the interview in a civilized setting.’

  ‘But you’ll threaten to bring him here very publicly if he don’t own up, of course.’ Salter tutted. ‘Can’t allow his status to afford him preferential treatment, sir. That would never do.’

  ‘Perish the thought.’

  Salter chuckled. ‘I like your style, sir.’

  ‘Don’t hang about too late, Jack. Your family need you. Speaking of which, have a word with Maureen about her fellow apprentices. See if any of them especially resented her or held a grudge against Madame. You never know, stranger things have been known to occur. Oh, and while you’re in Clapham, call and see Makepeace again. Ask him if Mrs Faulkner kept a copy of her will.’

  ‘We never found one, or anything of a personal nature in her shop. You’re assuming that Bernard got his
hands on it?’

  ‘If he has, and we can prove it, then we can show that he knew about his inheritance before the murder and had a motive to do away with his mother.’

  ‘We could search his home.’

  Riley shook his head. ‘He’s a sly one, Jack. He’ll have covered his tracks.’

  ‘Aye well, we can be sly too.’ Salter grinned. ‘Leave it to me. I’ll see what I can dig up.’

  ‘Good man.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Danforth could always be relied upon for his punctuality, and had once again arrived before Riley at the tavern where they conducted their meetings. Riley purchased ale for himself and a fresh tankard for Danforth before joining him at his table. His former senior officer looked a good deal healthier than he had when struggling beyond his capabilities to discharge his duties at Scotland Yard. Through an odd set of circumstances he had found an occupation that suited him better and enabled him to feed his large family. They would never be friends, but Riley felt a grudging respect for the man he had become.

  ‘Your good health.’ Danforth drained his existing drink in one long swallow, picked up the new one and made inroads into that as well.

  Riley took a more modest swallow of his own ale. ‘I assume you followed Bernard after he left the Yard.’

  ‘Naturally. Sorry to disappoint, but he returned immediately to his workplace. I have someone watching it now. If he goes anywhere else, I will let you know.’

  ‘He’s either innocent, which I doubt, or cautious enough to play a waiting game. Either way, I’m convinced he’s up to something.’ Riley told his former colleague about Bernard’s supply of substandard goods.

  ‘Can’t do much about that.’ Danforth sniffed over the rim of his tankard.

  ‘True, but I can put the fear of God into him. Or rather Jack Salter can. He doesn’t like the man and has already made his feelings plain in that regard.’