Death of a Scoundrel (Riley Rochester Investigates Book 4)

by Wendy Soliman

  ‘Very good, my lord.’

  ‘How did you get on, tracing Kempton’s movements on the night in question?’

  ‘Limited success, my lord. I spoke to a man in his employ who doesn’t hold his new master in particularly high esteem. Arnold has been in the gold and coin business since he was a boy. He is now close to retirement and has probably forgotten more about his area of expertise than Kempton will ever know. Kempton, it seems, won’t listen to wiser heads and, as Arnold put it, ploughs his own furrow, often in the wrong direction.’

  ‘That fits with what I learned.’ He repeated what Michael Eaton had told him.

  ‘Arnold, once he’d downed a few tankards of ale, was more than happy to air his professional grievances. Seems Mrs Kempton’s father was awake on all suits and earned Arnold’s respect. Things started to change once old Burton pulled back and gave Kempton more authority. No one in Burton’s employ understood why such an inept person was allowed so much leeway, and they were absolutely astounded when he married the boss’s daughter.’

  ‘Well, if Mrs Kempton is to be believed and she was carrying Rod Woodrow’s child at the time, that’s easily explained.’

  ‘Indeed, my lord, but it seems Kempton’s promotion was confirmed some months before the then Miss Burton could have conceived.’

  Riley leaned back and considered that information. ‘Perhaps Woodrow wasn’t the only person indulging in blackmail. If Kempton knew something to Burton’s discredit he could have used it to enhance his own circumstances.’

  ‘Which would explain why Mrs Kempton was so forthcoming when she spoke to you, my lord. She deliberately implicated her husband so that you would have to delve into his background.’

  ‘Much good it’s done me.’ Riley felt worried and disgruntled. ‘As things stand we have nothing more than speculation to guide us.’

  ‘Perhaps another visit to Mrs Kempton, my lord? Since she is keen to point the finger of blame at her husband, you could help her efforts by revealing that you know he has brought her father’s business to the brink of ruin.’

  ‘Good thinking, Stout.’ He finished his fish and savoured his wine as Stout disappeared into the kitchen, returning with the main course. ‘But there again, if we find Rod’s stash of correspondence there’s no saying what clues it might contain.’

  ‘Quite so, my lord.’

  Riley retired early, feeling slightly more optimistic about the turn the investigation had taken. Despite his nagging unease about Celia’s involvement with Rod Woodrow, he slept well and was up before daylight. As arranged, Stout brought his carriage round from the mews he shared with other residents in his section of Sloane Street and they were at Madame Elaine’s premises before eight in the morning. Riley’s knock was answered by a maid who told them that the apprentices were just finishing their breakfast. Riley asked to see Alice and was not kept waiting for long.

  ‘Inspector,’ she said, looking pale and anxious as she came into the ante-room where Riley had been asked to wait. ‘Do you have news for me?’

  ‘I hope my calling here will not cause problems for you,’ Riley replied, smiling.

  ‘Not in the least. Madame is not down yet, but it was her who told me I should come to you, so I’m sure she will be understanding.’

  ‘Ah, so it was. We are making progress and hope soon to catch the person who did this terrible thing.’ Alice nodded, eyes widened with touching trust in his abilities. ‘However, we have not been able to find Rod’s personal papers and it occurred to me that he might have left something with you for safekeeping. There was no one he trusted more.’

  ‘Bless me, sir, so he did!’ She looked delighted to be able to answer Riley in the affirmative. ‘What with all the upset, I clean forgot all about the box he left with me some months back. I’ll run and get it now, shall I?’

  ‘Please do, if it’s not too heavy for you.’

  ‘It ain’t heavy at all, sir.’

  She returned almost immediately and handed him a sturdy box.

  ‘Thank you, Alice.’ He glanced at it, unsurprised to discover that it was locked. ‘I don’t suppose you happen to have a key?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, sir, and I’ve no idea what’s in it, either, but if it helps to catch his killer then take it, by all means.’

  Presumably Rod kept the key about his person but since his keys had not yet come to light, that wasn’t much help to Riley.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I shall take it, and I am sure it will be a great help.’ A thought occurred to him. ‘How long ago did Rod give you this box?’

  ‘Oh, six months or more, sir.’

  ‘And has he asked for access to it in that time.’

  ‘Yes actually, quite regularly. I don’t know why and he never said. I just brought it down to this room whenever he asked me to and left him in privacy. Men don’t like women to poke their noses into their private affairs. Madame told me that. She said that if I wanted to keep Rod, I had to allow him his freedom.’

  ‘Wise words,’ Riley replied, wondering if Madame Elaine formed a part of Woodrow’s harem. Riley was beginning to admire the man’s stamina. ‘Keep your spirits up, Alice.’ Riley touched her shoulder. ‘Things will seem better eventually.’ He cringed at the banality of the statement. The poor girl looked to be on the brink of tears and Riley had probably just made matters worse.

  She bobbed her head and led the way to the door, pulling back the bolt and letting him out into the street. Overcome with emotion, she said nothing more and Riley was glad when the door closed again, obscuring her from view. It saved him the trouble of finding any further words of comfort. Words that would seem as empty as Alice’s life did at that moment.

  Stout had drawn the carriage to a halt immediately outside the modiste’s establishment.

  ‘Success I see, my lord,’ he said, glancing at the box beneath Riley’s arm.

  ‘So it would seem. Back to Sloane Street, Stout. The box is locked but I dare say that will not be much of an impediment for a man of your talents.’

  Which proved to be the case. With a few deft twists with the point of a knife the box sprang open, revealing a cornucopia of correspondence.

  ‘The holy grail,’ Riley said softly. ‘Or more likely, a blackmailer’s stock in trade.’

  The letters were neatly bundled, according to the identity of the sender, giving Riley a better idea of the scope of Rod’s business.

  ‘You were right about his ladies being keen correspondents, Stout,’ Riley said. ‘I wonder what possessed them to take such an almighty risk.’

  ‘The thrill of the deception, I shouldn’t wonder, my lord. They got caught up in the passion of the moment, and so convincing was Woodrow that each of them genuinely believed she was his one true love.’

  Riley rolled his eyes. ‘And felt the need to express her feelings in writing. He must have been a very convincing seducer.’

  ‘Probably not just a seducer, my lord. He seems to have taken a genuine interest in his victims and made them feel cherished. Neglected wives likely made easy targets for a man who was so very glamorous and popular, flattering them by showing them attentions they never assumed would be directed their way. The ladies do so like to talk, and if he took an interest…well, that would have been enough.’

  ‘That must certainly be true of Celia.’ Riley paused and stared off into the distance. ‘I can’t approve of him taking advantage of her when she was at her lowest ebb, waiting for her only son and heir to succumb to his ailments. I may not see eye to eye with Celia, but she didn’t deserve to be taken advantage of in such a manner. That’s why I shall protect her involvement if I possibly can.’

  ‘A worthy and understandable sentiment, my lord.’

  Riley recognised his sister-in-law’s distinctive hand on a bundle of four letters near the bottom of the box. With a grim glance towards Stout he extracted them and handed them to his man without reading them.

  ‘Put these away somewhere safe,’ he said, aware
that he had just crossed a line by withholding possibly vital evidence. ‘I will only read them if all other avenues fail. Hopefully, that will prove unnecessary and I shall be able to return them to Celia without knowing what they say.’

  Stout took the letters and inclined his head. ‘A laudable ambition.’

  ‘Bundle up the rest of this correspondence, Stout, and then hail me a cab. Salter and I will go through it all at the Yard.’

  Riley arrived at his place of work to find Salter standing in front of Barton’s desk, shaking the rain from his shoulders. Riley had fared a great deal better since the hansom had dropped him right at the door and he’d only been exposed to the latest downpour for a few seconds.

  ‘All right for some,’ Salter grumbled.

  ‘Morning, Salter. Barton.’

  Riley strode towards his office, too preoccupied to pass the time of day with his subordinates. He had barely removed his hat and coat before Salter joined him, looking wary.

  ‘Something wrong, sir?’ he asked. ‘You don’t seem like your usual sunny self. Mrs Cosgrove having second thoughts, is she?’

  Riley sent his sergeant a droll look. ‘Close the door, Jack, and sit down.’

  Salter did so, and Riley explained what steps he and Stout had taken that morning.

  ‘Blimey, sir, why the heck didn’t Alice tell us about that box?’ Salter dug his fingers into his scalp and shook his head. ‘She ain’t the sharpest of chits, I’ll grant you, but surely she must have realised it would have some significance.’

  ‘Make allowances for the fact that she was in shock. Her future looked sparkling up until that point. Rod Woodrow was her mentor, protector and future husband—as well as her heart’s desire. She probably couldn’t believe her good fortune. Now she’s lost the man she depended upon and adored and hasn’t got a chance of starting up her own business without his money and influence. Rich ladies will not give their custom to an untried milliner, but Rod could have persuaded them to give her a chance to prove herself.’

  ‘Poor lass.’ Salter grunted. ‘Aye well, no one said life was easy.’ He shifted his position and leaned forward. ‘What have you found in his letters?’ he asked.

  ‘Not sure yet. Haven’t had an opportunity to look.’

  Riley removed the correspondence he had collected from the bag into which Stout had placed it and spread it across his desk, acutely aware that one vital bundle of letters had been removed. Riley had broken his own hard and fast rule and there would be no turning back now. He silently cursed Celia for putting him in such an invidious position. Conscious of Salter sending him concerned looks—his sergeant knew him too well and was too accustomed to his ways to be easily deceived—Riley attempted to concentrate on the matter in hand. What was done was done and it was in his own best interests to attempt to discover the identity of the killer from the clues spread in front of him. If he could do that, his conscience would be more easily allayed.

  ‘Stout spoke to a man who worked for Kempton’s father,’ Riley said, not delving into the papers immediately. ‘Seems none of the workforce think highly of him and he’s making mistakes because he refuses to take advice. More to the point, none of them could understand why Burton passed the business over to him.’

  Salter blinked. ‘You’re thinking that Kempton used something to pressure Burton. That he was a blackmailer too?’

  ‘That would explain why his wife pointed the finger his way,’ Riley replied. ‘The ultimate revenge.’

  ‘Which won’t get her anywhere if he didn’t kill Woodrow.’

  ‘True enough, and we will talk to him today, but after we have read these letters, especially the ones from his wife.’

  The two detectives divided the piles between them. Woodrow’s correspondents proved to be Mrs Kempton, Lady Eldridge, Mrs Cowley, Lady Laura and the two who no longer paid him.

  ‘He’s been busy,’ Salter remarked, raising one bushy brow.

  Busier than Salter knew, Riley conceded, feeling another stab of conscience. He really ought to take his sergeant into his confidence. He was loyal to a fault, would understand why Riley had acted in the way that he had and keep his secret. But if he did that he’d be putting Salter’s career on the line too, and Riley couldn’t be that selfish.

  The two detectives began reading. Salter delved into Rod’s correspondence with Mrs Cowley and let out a low whistle.

  ‘Blimey,’ he said, scratching his head. ‘It’s always the quiet ones that surprise you the most. This here language is graphic, to say the least. I wouldn’t have thought that such a strait-laced woman would have known what these words mean.’

  ‘Anything incriminating?’ Riley asked.

  ‘Not unless you count what Woodrow did to her and how much she enjoyed it.’ Salter shifted in his chair, looking highly embarrassed. ‘And at her age too. Enough to make a man blush, so it is.’

  Riley chuckled as he read through Lady Eldridge’s letters, which were far less inflammatory. Rod Woodrow, it seemed, had spoken to a minister’s wife, who in turn had persuaded her husband to give Lady Eldridge’s son an influential position as aide to the defence secretary.

  ‘He helped the son of the man he held responsible for ruining Alice’s mother, then blackmailed her mother.’ Riley chuckled. ‘You have to admire his creativeness.’

  ‘And the manner in which he manipulated women to get what he wanted.’

  Riley sighed. ‘We all work with what we have, Jack.’

  Riley set aside Lady Eldridge’s letters—letters he would return to her when the matter had been settled if she proved innocent of any involvement. He stretched his arms above his head and then turned to Mrs Kempton’s communications. He had saved them until last, harbouring great hopes of gaining vital clues from them.

  ‘He and Laura Durand were planning to elope,’ Salter said. ‘This last letter from her is dated only two weeks before his death. Woodrow was going up to Yorkshire to collect her and they were headed for Gretna Green. She’s telling him when to come and assures him that her father will be safely tucked away in London at that particular time because he needs to be at the House of Lords.’ Salter rubbed his chin. ‘That rather flies in the face of our previous assumption that he planned to compromise her, then blackmail her in return for his silence.’

  ‘He told Alice that he had one final business transaction to complete before they could marry,’ Riley replied pensively. ‘Yet if he really did intend to elope with Laura, he could not then have married Alice and I’m inclined to think that really was his intention.’

  Salter chuckled. ‘You’ve convinced yourself that he really was in love with the chit. Didn’t have you pegged as a romantic, sir.’

  Riley ignored his sergeant. ‘Perhaps be intended to take Laura’s virginity, then make sure that her father caught up with them,’ he mused. ‘Durand would have done just about anything to protect her reputation.’

  Salter grunted. ‘It would have been easier just to accept the five thousand that Durand offered him. It’s a small fortune. More than enough for Woodrow to make a home for himself and Alice and set her up in her own business. Especially with the amount he’d already set aside and could continue to rake in. I doubt whether he would have stopped his lucrative sideline in blackmail, even after marriage. I also doubt whether he would have advertised the fact that he had married. He wanted to continue stringing his lady friends along for financial gain, and Alice was intended to be kept away from all of that.’

  Riley nodded. ‘Very likely. But still, Rod Woodrow’s standards were high and I doubt whether he intended to lower them.’

  ‘Even so.’ Salter gave a derisive sniff. ‘Seems to me he wanted it both ways.’

  ‘We shall never know what his true intentions were. Our job is to find out who stopped him from achieving them.’ Riley returned his attention to Mrs Kempton’s letters. ‘Let’s see what we have here.’

  Riley and Salter continued to read. The room fell silent, but for the occasional disgruntled
snort from Salter and the muted sound of voices in the office beyond them. Riley started with the first letter sent to Woodrow by Mrs Kempton, which pre-dated their original tryst. Her words were full of love and naïve faith in Woodrow’s ability to persuade her father that they should marry. They progressed to describe her anxiety when she discovered her condition, pleading with Rod to stand by her and face up to her father.

  ‘Rod knew about Mrs Kempton’s pregnancy,’ Riley said, ‘and took great interest in his daughter’s welfare once she was born.’

  ‘Didn’t stop him from touching the child’s mother up for regular handouts in return for his silence.’

  ‘She discussed her situation with Rod, lamenting the fact that her father refused to permit them to marry, even when he knew she was carrying Rod’s child.’

  Salter gave one of his trademark sniffs. ‘Can’t say as I blame him.’

  ‘She was willing to defy her father and marry him anyway,’ Riley said, shuffling through the pages of the latest letter he held, ‘but Rod obviously persuaded her to toe the family line. Even so, their physical relationship endured when she told us it did not.’ Riley tapped the letter against the fingers of his opposite hand. ‘I wonder where they met to ensure privacy. Obviously not at Rod’s rooms.’

  Salter shrugged. ‘A hotel perhaps.’

  ‘Very likely.’

  ‘Did they carry on after Mrs Kempton married?’

  ‘If they did, she makes no mention of it in her letters, but they certainly continued to correspond—or more to the point, she continued to write to Rod. I assume he responded since she makes references to things he’s said to her. There is absolutely no doubt that she was totally infatuated with the man and that he could wind her around his little finger.’

  ‘All his victims were devoted to him, but that’s women for you. Not a lick of common sense between them.’

  Riley glanced up. ‘That’s a bit of a sweeping statement, Sergeant.’

  ‘Yes, well, I’ve taken against him. He got his comeuppance, if you ask me. Those what play with fire usually get burned in the end.’