Lady Aston stood and crossed the room to an escritoire in the corner of the room, from which she produced her invitation list and handed it to Riley.
‘Thank you.’ Without looking at it, Riley folded it into his pocket. ‘I should be grateful if you would ask any other hostesses whose paths you cross to contact me if Rod had attended their gatherings over the past week or so.’
Lady Aston looked both surprised and gratified to be given the task. ‘Certainly I shall. I am glad to be of some small help.’
Riley had no more questions so reiterated his thanks, and he and Salter took their leave.
‘News of Rod’s death will be all over the capital before nightfall,’ Riley said, chuckling. ‘Lady Aston can be discreet when the need arises, but she is also as addicted to gossip as the rest of the aristocracy, and such a juicy en dit cannot possible remain secret for long. She will want to be the first to impart the news.’
‘Which is why you implied that it would be helpful if she did so, I would imagine, sir.’
‘Indeed. I want to see if a pattern emerges. If I know where he has been for the past few weeks and if any other people constantly crop up at the same events, it might point the finger of suspicion in a certain direction.’
‘If Lady Aston was so smitten, it’s easy to imagine younger females being similarly besotted,’ Salter said in a reflective tone. ‘Younger females with husbands who may have taken exception to Woodrow’s over-attentiveness.’
‘Possibly, but this was no opportunist killing. Woodrow knew his killer and was either expecting him or didn’t fear him, or he would not have invited him into his rooms.’
They passed the entrance to an alleyway mere yards from Lady Aston’s sumptuous residence, at the mouth of which several ragged youths loitered, despite the biting cold. Riley knew there would be a thieves’ kitchen at the end of that alley, accessed through an iron gate and a long narrow passage, then stairs into a cellar where the boys loitering were schooled in the art of thievery. They eyed Riley and Salter with speculative interest but were canny enough not to accost them.
Riley and Salter made their way back towards Half Moon Street as they talked, and it did indeed prove to be little more than a brisk ten-minute walk from Lady Aston’s residence.
‘He could have walked to most of the houses he was invited to, I dare say,’ Salter said, sniffing, ‘which made this address an economy in some respects. No need to hire a carriage or take cabs everywhere.’
They availed themselves of the warmth and conviviality of the Half Moon public house and partook of its indifferent fayre, not talking about the murder, or anything much else, in such a crowded location. Fortified, they left the tavern and emerged into a hail storm. Riley pulled his hat low and flagged down a passing hansom that swerved to a stop at the kerb just in front of them.
‘We have two suspects to be going on with,’ Riley said. ‘William Woodrow was tired of being eclipsed by his irresponsible brother and resented the ease with which he could ingratiate himself. William does not share that ability and I can imagine it chaffing after a while, especially when Rod appeared to do precisely as he pleased and yet his father still favoured him over his more responsible siblings.’
‘If William had lain in wait for Rod to return to his lodgings, his brother would have invited him in to discuss their grievances like gentlemen over a glass of whisky,’ Salter added.
‘Have uniformed constables ask questions of other Half Moon Street residents. A lot of people would have been coming and going late into the night. If someone was lurking in the shadows, he might have been seen. It’s worth checking.’
‘Will do, sir.’
‘I am suspicious of William,’ Riley continued pensively, ‘but whether he would actually risk committing fratricide is another matter. I think he is perfectly capable of doing so, but I somehow doubt if he possesses the wits to cover his tracks so well. He was holding something back when we spoke earlier, though, I am sure of that much. Anyway, Lord Durand is the other man with good reason to want rid of Rod. If he discovered that his daughter really was determined to follow her heart then I wouldn’t put anything past him. What lengths would a father go to in order to protect the interests of his children? That’s more your area than mine, Jack.’
Salter grinned. ‘You’ll be a married man yourself soon, sir, then it’ll likely be yours too.’
‘Which would delight my mother. Anyway, if Durand was Rod’s late-night caller and gave the impression that he was warming to the idea of the match, then Rod would definitely have let him in. He would have wanted his prospective father-in-law to see that he didn’t live like a pauper and would have offered him a drink. Remind me to ask Maynard if he finds any evidence of glass in the cut to Rod’s head that rendered him unconscious.’
‘You think the murderer whacked him with a crystal glass, accounting for the fact that two of them are missing?’ Salter looked dubious. ‘Would that be enough to knock him out?’
‘Possibly… Probably,’ Riley amended after a moment’s consideration, ‘since they are very heavy lead crystal, which is more durable than one might suppose. The rims of the glasses might be delicate but if the base was used it would have stunned him, or indeed knocked him out completely if his back had been turned when the blow was delivered and he hadn’t seen it coming. And even if he did sense danger, Rod was in his cups and with his reactions slowed by alcohol he would have been helpless. Lord Durand is a large man, and if he lost his temper whilst protecting his daughter’s interests…Anyway, we didn’t find any blood-stained objects in that room so either the killer removed whatever he used or the glass, or glasses, were the weapons.’
‘Wouldn’t there have been shards of glass on the floor?’
‘He had all night to clear up after himself.’ Riley rubbed his chin. ‘We’re dealing with a cool customer, Jack, who took considerable trouble to cover his tracks, which is why I’m not convinced it was William. But still, ask Jessie to give the room a thorough cleaning and let us know if she finds any broken glass that’s been missed.’
Salter nodded, removed his notebook from his pocket and jotted something down, cursing when the hansom jolted through a rut, sending his stubby pencil flying from his hand.
‘I am still curious about how Rod maintained his lifestyle,’ Riley mused. ‘It’s all very well getting free meals, but he still had to pay his rent, pay his tailor and subscriptions at his various clubs and so forth. Appearances have to be maintained.’
Salter gave a derisive sniff. ‘Don’t I know it.’
The conveyance stopped abruptly outside Scotland Yard. Riley paid the jarvey and alighted, followed by Salter. ‘Come along, Jack, let’s see what Carter and Soames have found out in our absence.’
Chapter Four
Riley’s detectives had not been idle.
‘The agents who manage the house were most obliging, sir,’ Carter told him. ‘They were horrified to hear of Woodrow’s murder, took it as a personal imposition that such a crime could be committed in a house managed by them and didn’t have a bad word to say for the victim.’
‘Whom did you speak with?’ Riley asked, divesting himself of his coat and taking up the chair behind his desk.
‘The manager, a Mr Morpeth. He seemed honest and reliable to me, sir. Says Woodrow always paid his rent promptly and in cash.’
‘In cash?’ Riley flexed a brow. ‘A bit unusual.’
‘We thought the same, sir,’ Carter said, ‘but Morpeth said that Woodrow was not at all conventional. He told them when he took the place that he didn’t trust banks, and when Morpeth said he wasn’t sure about accepting a tenant who only dealt in cash, what with it making him seem like a man of straw, he stumped up two quarters in advance to show goodwill.’
‘Did they ask for references before granting the tenancy?’
‘They did, and received glowing ones from a Lady Eldridge and a Mrs Cowley.’
That information warranted the elevation of both Riley
’s brows. ‘Ladies again, Salter. I am starting to see a theme emerging.’
‘Do you know them, sir?’ Carter asked.
‘I do. They both enjoy reputations that are beyond reproach, as far as I am aware.’ Riley would certainly have heard whispers if they were not. His mother could be depended upon to keep him informed about such matters. ‘If one ignores the fact that two respectably married ladies stood as referees for a single gentleman. I suppose he preferred not to ask his brothers, but his father’s word would have been sufficient. Perhaps he preferred not to seek help from that quarter. A matter of pride, given that he’d walked out of the family home and given the impression that he was self-sufficient.’
‘I wonder if the husbands of the ladies who stood as referees are aware of what they did?’ Salter mused. ‘It’s highly unusual.’
‘But not unheard of. Even so, that’s a very good question, Salter, and one that I fully intend to put to them in the fullness of time.’
‘We asked who owns the property and were told that the owner resides permanently in the south of France, where the weather is beneficial to his health. He ain’t set foot in London for years, and leaves Morpeth to handle the tenancies,’ Soames said. ‘He doesn’t know the names of his tenants, and doesn’t want to know. Morpeth says he gets well paid not to bother him with details.’
‘Nothing there then,’ Salter said.
‘I didn’t think that the owner had anything to do with it, but at least we have learned that Rod managed to pay his rent in cash each quarter. How much?’
Carter told him, eliciting a low whistle from Salter. ‘Blimey,’ he said. ‘How the other half live. One quarter’s rent on those two rooms would pay mine for two whole years.’
‘Where did he get that sort of cash?’ Riley asked aloud, not expecting an answer—which was just as well because he met with a wall of silence. ‘Right, you two.’ He nodded towards Carter and Soames. ‘I need you to ask discreet questions at the workplaces of Langston and Crawford, the two male tenants at Half Moon Street. Speak to their supervisors in private and emphasise that they are not suspects. I simply need it confirmed that they are diligent workers and that they have not been seen in company with Woodrow or been involved in any violent altercations that have brought them to the notice of their superiors. You took details of their places of employment?’
‘We did, sir.’
‘Right, off you go. Get that done and then leave for the day. It’s getting late. No need to come back here. We’ll compare notes in the morning.’
‘What about us, sir?’ Salter asked.
‘You requested that Sergeant Barton have his men ask questions in Half Moon Street?’
‘He’s doing that as we speak.’
‘Right, grab a chair. Let’s look through those papers that you took from Woodrow’s room.’
Salter collected the papers in question and spread them across Riley’s desk. ‘I had a quick look at the time but can’t see anything that’ll help much.’
‘I think it highly significant that we found so little,’ Riley said, scratching his head. ‘No notes from his tailor, no correspondence and, significantly, nothing from his bank.’
‘Perhaps he really did mistrust them.’
‘Maybe so, but a man cannot live without leaving a paper trail in this day and age. We know that he no longer keeps anything at Woodrow House.’ Riley leaned back in his chair and linked his fingers behind his head, pondering upon the situation. ‘He’s gone to considerable trouble to hide the source of his income, which is suspicious in itself.’
‘You think he was engaged in something illegal?’
‘I think it very possible. Woodrow didn’t like the idea of work and enjoyed the life of a gentleman, which costs money. A significant amount of money, even though he lived relatively modestly.’
Salter guffawed. ‘Your idea of modest and mine are miles apart, guv’nor.’
‘We need to know more about his activities. Whom he associated with and how he passed his leisure time. More to the point, if he paid his way in cash why was there none found in his rooms? He didn’t even have any in his pockets.’
Salter blinked. ‘Dunno. Hadn’t thought about it. Perhaps the killer took it.’
‘Possibly, yet his silver cigarette case and an expensive watch remained on his body. I’m starting to wonder if he had another place, somewhere more secure, where he kept his valuables.’
‘Well, as far as his activities go, that’s easy. Seems he kept half the females in London entertained, if what Lady Aston said is to be believed. We’ve dealt with more than one woman in our time who lived off rich men. I reckon Woodrow turned the tables and lived off a bored married woman.’ He screwed up his features into an expression of disdain. ‘And perhaps he didn’t restrict himself to just one. Maybe he had several on the go, and they all thought they had exclusive rights to his affections. But if one of them found out about the others…well, you know what they say about a woman scorned.’
‘A woman did not commit this crime, Salter.’
‘No sir, but who’s to say that she didn’t invent some story—or even admit the truth—to her husband, father, brother or some other male connection, that Woodrow had behaved inappropriately. You know what some men are like, sir. All you have to do is wind ’em up and point ’em in the right direction. If the ladies liked him, you can wager that the men resented him, so it wouldn’t take much to give one a reason to turn on him.’
‘To warn him off maybe, or give him a thrashing, perhaps—but murder?’ Riley shook his head. ‘I don’t see it, Jack. If you’re right about his living off women, and I’m not suggesting otherwise, then he’d think twice about inviting an angry male relative of one of his conquests into his rooms.’
‘Unless he came home and found him lying in wait for him. He wouldn’t have wanted a confrontation in the street,’ Salter insisted, ‘not if the man raised his voice and became aggressive.’
Riley leaned his elbow on the arm of his chair and rubbed the side of his hand absently across his lips, impressed with his sergeant’s clarity of thought. ‘True enough. Woodrow had been careful to keep his activities private from the rest of the residents, and loud voices in the dead of night would have been heard, even though all the windows were closed. But if he did invite our mystery man inside, he would have been on his guard and would not have obligingly sat with his back to him so that he could clout him with a heavy object.’
‘But he’d still have offered him a drink, hoping it would calm him down.’ Salter grinned. ‘Gentlemanly rules of conduct have to be maintained. Can’t allow standards to slip.’
‘God forbid,’ Riley replied in a droll tone, aware that Salter was right and so allowing his little dig to pass unadmonished.
‘Woodrow probably thought that he could allay the man’s fears, talk him round. Everyone tells us how persuasive he could be.’
‘Perhaps, but until we can find out which ladies—if any—supported him, we are no further forward.’ Riley cast his eye over the list of guests that Lady Aston had supplied him with. ‘Can’t imagine any of these ladies going quite that far. But still, it wouldn’t be the first time that I’d got it wrong.’
‘What now?’ Salter asked.
‘The day has got away from us, Salter. There’s not much more we can do tonight. Hopefully, Maynard will have completed the post mortem by tomorrow morning, and that might throw up some clues. In the meantime, I’m keen to know if Lord Durand was in London yesterday. He is, in case you are not aware, as rich as Croesus. He keeps a house here in London but has an estate in Yorkshire, to which he has supposedly retreated with his daughter. His wife died some years back, and many an ambitious female has attempted to take her place. But Durand is having none of it. He’s devoted to Laura, his only child—who, like Durand himself—is a bit of an academic.’
‘So, we’re back to that. You still think Woodrow wanted to marry and was aiming high.’
‘I do indeed, Jack. Lady La
ura is a retiring little thing, but if Woodrow was as charming as everyone implies, I can’t see her remaining immune to his attentions. Perhaps he corresponded with her secretly in Yorkshire, Durand realised that distance hadn’t cooled his daughter’s feelings, and so came back to London to have it out with Woodrow.’
‘How will you find out if he was here? Do you want me to speak to his servants?’
‘Best let Stout do it,’ Riley replied, referring to his manservant. ‘He will be less conspicuous and they are more likely to talk to him. Bear in mind that positions with a man of Durand’s ilk are highly sought after. If his servants have been sworn to secrecy about their master’s movements, they won’t discuss them with us. But what you can do before you take yourself home is have a word with Lady Aston’s coachman. He will have been responsible for making sure his mistress’s guests got on their way and will know if Woodrow accepted a lift from anyone.’
‘Right you are, sir. I’ll get on it right away.’
‘Good night then, Jack. My regards to your wife.’
‘Good night, sir.’
Riley lingered for half an hour, tidying up some of his outstanding paperwork but mostly thinking about Woodrow. The source of his wealth, those missing glasses and keys remained uppermost in Riley’s mind. He was still contemplating their significance when Chief Inspector Danforth entered his office without the courtesy of knocking.
‘Ah, Rochester, how goes the Woodrow murder?’ he asked, easing himself into the chair across from Riley’s desk and wincing as his buttocks touched it. Clearly, his predilections were too deeply seated for him to give them up, despite the fact that they had almost cost him his career and turned him into an object of scorn in the eyes of his fellow officers. ‘I wasn’t told about it until after you had left to start your investigations. Barton said he couldn’t find me, which is complete moonshine. I’ve been around all day. Damned fellow is becoming insubordinate.’
‘If you had another inspector in mind to conduct the enquiry, I have plenty to keep me occupied,’ Riley said, indicating the papers strewn across his desk.
Death of a Scoundrel Page 5
