Death of a Prosecutor

by Wendy Soliman

  ‘Good afternoon, Mrs Barchester,’ Riley said, coming round his desk and offering her his hand. She shook it firmly but appeared to be on the point of losing her composure. ‘Thank you for coming to see me. I am Inspector Rochester. This is Sergeant Salter.’

  ‘I know who you are,’ she replied in a soft, melodious voice, taking the chair that Salter pulled out for her. ‘Robert mentioned you often.’

  ‘You were clearly very close to Sir Robert, as was I,’ Riley said, resuming his own chair. ‘I am very sorry for your loss.’ Riley paused, taking a moment to assess his visitor. There was something vaguely familiar about her but he couldn’t decide what it was. ‘Sir Robert obviously spoke to you about me, which gives you an advantage. I did not know until today that you existed. Tell me, if you would be so kind, how you came to know Sir Robert.’

  Riley expected embarrassment and long-winded excuses to justify an illicit affair. Instead, Mrs Barchester looked directly at Riley through the protection of her flimsy veil.

  ‘He was my father,’ she said.

  Chapter Four

  A faint smile touched Mrs Barchester’s lips. ‘You are embarrassed, Lord Riley, because you had arrived at an inappropriate conclusion.’

  ‘Not I, Mrs Barchester,’ Riley responded with an answering smile. ‘My sergeant is the one with the lively imagination.’

  ‘I blame the job,’ Salter said cheerfully. ‘It makes a body think the worst of everyone. But, credit where it’s due, Inspector Rochester refused to believe that his friend Sir Robert would enter into an affair.’

  ‘And now that we are acquainted, I find it equally difficult to imagine that you would agree to any such proposal.’

  Mrs Barchester inclined her head in gracious acknowledgement of the compliment. ‘Thank you,’ she said in a dignified tone.

  ‘Would you mind explaining why you were kept secret,’ Riley invited. ‘I feel persuaded that Lady Glover is unaware of your existence.’

  ‘Mine is not such an unusual story,’ Mrs Barchester responded with a small sigh. ‘My mother was a seamstress who called regularly upon Robert’s mother to measure her for her clothes, do fittings, that sort of thing. She was very beautiful, my own mother that is, and she caught the eye of the son of the house.’

  ‘Robert?’

  ‘Yes. I am sure I don’t need to paint a picture for you.’ Mrs Barchester looked directly at Riley as she spoke, but her expression remained remote, making it impossible for Riley to interpret her feelings. He sensed that she had not discussed the circumstances of her birth with anyone before now, other than Sir Robert. He wondered if she resented the opportunities that had been lost to her as a child, although it was evident that she was now a prosperous woman in her own right. ‘Suffice it to say that Robert’s family had ambitions for him, as Robert had for himself, and a seamstress for a wife would only hold him back. They parted when Robert’s family discovered the affair, but he was not aware that I was already on the way at that stage. My mother contacted him when she found out, at which point he was about to marry Lady Glover, the daughter of a circuit judge who persuaded Robert to pursue a career in the law and lent financial support to his endeavours in that regard. Easing his path, if you like. My mother had no desire to hold him back but he needed to know that he was about to become a father.’

  ‘And honour his responsibilities in that regard in return for your mother remaining silent and not embarrassing him?’ Riley suggested.

  ‘Precisely. And Robert did look after us. We lived in a small cottage in Battersea. Mama continued to ply her craft as a seamstress and later married a decent man who treated me as his own. I myself married at eighteen, ten years ago now. I contacted Sir Robert, never having met him, and he attended the service. Mama was dead by then. We kept in touch, but for obvious reasons it was necessary to keep our relationship a secret. Even my husband doesn’t know about it. Robert has many enemies who would use the existence of an illegitimate daughter to blacken his reputation.’

  Riley thought of Milton and nodded. ‘They would indeed.’

  ‘There was also Lady Glover’s feelings to take into account. She is a nervous woman, by all accounts, and probably aware that Robert married her to enhance his own career rather than for love. He felt guilty about that and was reluctant to embarrass her by revealing my existence. Besides, he claimed to enjoy our weekly visits and wanted to keep me to himself. His guilty pleasure, he called me.’

  ‘But his visits to Gower Street only started six months ago?’

  She elevated one brow, the only indication that Riley being aware of her address surprised her. ‘My husband is an archaeologist, Lord Riley. We have been living abroad, mostly in Egypt until recently. Edwin is very possessive, his jealousy is easily invoked, so he knows nothing about Robert and his visits to my apartment. I know how he would react if he did.’

  ‘He would either think ill of Robert for being ashamed of you, or be jealous of your closeness, even though it is entirely innocent?’

  ‘Exactly. Robert was most emphatically not ashamed of me but Edwin would pretend to think otherwise, using it as an excuse to avoid sharing my affections with another man.’

  ‘He would be jealous of your own father?’ Salter asked, raising both bushy brows.

  ‘Most emphatically, Sergeant. That is why I have never told him and I would prefer it if he never has to find out, even now that Robert is dead.’

  Riley inclined his head but avoided making any precise verbal promise. He thought it exceedingly unlikely that this elegant woman had thrust a dagger into Sir Robert’s back. Even so, she had reason to resent her absentee father, having grown up in relative squalor rather than enjoying the benefits that would have come her way as part of Sir Robert’s family, so her whereabouts at the time of his death would have to be verified. If that required speaking to her husband, so be it.

  ‘You entertained your father in your apartment,’ Riley reminded Mrs Barchester. ‘Was that not taking a risk, given that your husband shares the place with you?’

  ‘Edwin is a creature of habit. He attends a meeting at the archaeological society every Wednesday afternoon without fail and then enjoys a long dinner with his academic friends afterwards, which made it safe for me to receive Robert on Wednesdays. The maid has the afternoon off and does not live in. There is no doorman in our building, so no one knew of the arrangement.’

  Riley leaned an elbow on his desk and his chin on his fisted hand. ‘What did you and Sir Robert talk about?’

  A genuine smile lit up Mrs Barchester’s features, adding to Riley’s growing conviction that she had truly admired her father and bore him no resentment for being a stranger to her during her earlier years. ‘Oh, anything and everything. Art, music, history. We had similar tastes but couldn’t risk being seen together at concerts or the opera. He regretted that, and he often said that he would like to show me off. I was the only one of his children, he assured me, in whom he took genuine pride and with whom he could enjoy an intelligent and thought-provoking conversation.’

  Riley thought of Norman, not exactly a grieving son, and the speed with which Sir Robert’s twin daughters had recovered from the shock of learning that their father was dead. He nodded.

  ‘Norman was a disappointment to him,’ Riley mused, ‘and the girls were wrapped up in their own affairs.’

  ‘That is precisely what he said. They barely knew he was alive unless they wanted something.’

  ‘Did Sir Robert talk to you about his work?’ Riley asked.

  ‘Constantly. He said it helped to discuss things with a person who was not directly involved.’

  ‘And the case he was due to prosecute today?’

  ‘The bootmaker.’ Mrs Barchester put up her veil, clearly feeling no further need of its protection now that they were talking about less personal matters. ‘It was troubling him. He disliked prosecuting if he doubted the accused’s guilt.’

  Riley sat forward expectantl
y. ‘And he doubted Caldwell’s?’

  ‘Yes. There were a lot of things about the case that worried him. I advised him to withdraw from it but he said that he couldn’t because he had agreed to take it on and would not break his word. All he could actually do was talk to the victim’s family, express his concerns to them and allow them the opportunity to reconsider.’

  ‘Did he do so?’ Salter asked.

  ‘That I couldn’t say. He would have told me today, I expect, when he called to celebrate my birthday with me.’

  Fresh tears swamped her eyes. Riley thought of the diamond bracelet Sir Robert had had in his possession at the time of his death and now knew whom it had been intended for.

  ‘Your husband would not have foregone his regular engagement in order to celebrate your birthday?’ Salter asked before Riley could.

  She gave a wry smile and shook her head. ‘It would not have occurred to him,’ she replied emphatically. ‘As I say, Edwin is a creature of habit.’

  ‘Do you know what specifically worried Sir Robert about the case?’ Riley asked.

  ‘You imagine, I suppose, that he did express his doubts to the victim’s family and one of them took revenge upon him for letting them down.’

  ‘It’s possible,’ Riley agreed with a slight shrug.

  ‘I know the girl—Maisie Fuller, her name was—had parents, a brother and two sisters. Oh, and I think she was also walking out with a greengrocer’s son.’

  ‘And dallying with Caldwell,’ Salter sniffed. ‘And her only fifteen. She was a busy one.’

  ‘But not deserving of having her life cut short, Sergeant, no matter how free she was with her favours.’

  ‘Quite so, sir. My point was, if the father, brother or greengrocer were aware that the evidence against Caldwell was thin, and if they’d met—’

  ‘Later!’ Riley said sharply, agreeing with Salter’s unspoken speculation regarding Milton but not wishing to enlarge upon it in front of Sir Robert’s daughter.

  ‘Thank you very much for coming in, Mrs Barchester,’ Riley said, standing to indicate that the interview was over, satisfied that the lady had nothing else of value to impart. ‘I know how difficult it must have been for you.’

  ‘The most devastating part of it all is that I won’t be able to attend my own father’s funeral,’ she said softly as she returned her veil to its correct position. ‘Please keep me informed, Lord Riley. I should like to know when you catch the killer and I am glad it is you who has been charged with that duty. Robert often praised your skill and dedication.’

  Once again Riley took her slender gloved hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘We’ll get him. Never fear.’

  ‘Please bear in mind that my husband is completely unaware of Sir Robert’s existence,’ Mrs Barchester reiterated. ‘It will make life very difficult for me if the fact comes to light.’ She subconsciously touched her cheek, making Riley suppose that Barchester was not above resorting to violence when his jealousy was aroused. He wondered if Sir Robert had known that and if the situation bothered him, but set the thought aside for later examination.

  ‘We will not call,’ Riley assured her. ‘If we need to speak with you again for any reason I shall send a note.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She offered Riley a brief smile. ‘I understand better now why Robert had so much faith in your abilities.’

  ‘Oh, just one more question and I apologise for my insensitivity, but it is one that I must ask everyone closely involved with Sir Robert. I hope you can understand that.’

  ‘You wish to know where I was when my father was killed.’ The veil made it impossible for Riley to decide if she was offended by her correct interpretation of his intended question. ‘At what time did he die?’

  ‘A little after eight this morning.’

  ‘I was still in bed, inspector.’

  ‘And your husband?’

  ‘Was there. We occupy separate rooms but he is an early riser and I heard him moving about. The maid does not come in until nine, so I am afraid you will have to take my word for my own whereabouts.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Barchester,’ Riley said. ‘You have saved us a great deal of work.’

  Salter escorted their visitor from the building and then returned to Riley’s office.

  ‘Well, well,’ he said, waggling his brows. ‘The plot thickens. Did you believe her?’

  ‘About Sir Robert being her father? The Wednesday meetings? Her husband’s possessive jealousy? Yes, I believed that part at least. She was straightforward and honest, but I am less certain about her husband being unaware of Sir Robert’s existence. If he is as jealous as Mrs Barchester implies, then he would want to know how such an attractive wife occupies every second of every day when he is not with her.’

  ‘Wouldn’t he have confronted her if he thought she entertained another man?’

  ‘Not necessarily, perhaps for fear of losing her to him. Easier simply to rid himself of the competition.’

  ‘So, we have another suspect.’

  ‘We do indeed. I will make enquiries about him and somehow confirm her whereabouts.’

  ‘You don’t honestly think that she could have stabbed her own father. We’ve decided it was a man because of the downward direction of the blade.’

  Riley nodded. ‘But a tall woman could have done it. Mrs Barchester is as tall as I am in her heeled boots and anger, resentment…call it what you will, building up over the years would have lent her the physical strength to see the deed through. I got the impression that her marriage is not especially happy,’ he added in a contemplative tone, ‘and she might imagine that she would not have had to enter into it had she been granted the advantages of being acknowledged as a baronet’s legitimate daughter.’

  Salter frowned. ‘I thought you said you didn’t think she did it.’

  ‘I said I believed her story, but you know me, Jack. I like to keep my options open.’ Riley shook off his speculative mood. ‘Right, I need you to collect the papers on the Caldwell case from Hardgrave’s sergeant. It’s the first I have heard about the victim’s young man and I would like to speak with him.’

  ‘You imagine that if Sir Robert expressed doubts about conducting a successful prosecution without the victim’s background coming to light but the parents insisted that he go ahead, the greengrocer would have been driven to desperate measures. He would have become a laughing stock if it emerged that he, a respectable young man, had fallen for a trollop.’

  ‘Precisely.’ Riley yawned and stretched his arms above his head. ‘It’s getting late. All this can wait until tomorrow. First thing, I want Carter and Soames working through Sir Robert’s list of cases starting with the most recent, to see if there is mention of any aggrieved relatives of the accused. You need to unearth our greengrocer’s son and have a word with him. I shall instigate enquiries into Barchester and also have Norman Glover in here to answer a few more probing questions.’

  ‘So, we have a nice list of suspects to be going on with,’ Salter said. ‘Norman Glover, the son. Joseph Milton, the ambitious junior. Caldwell’s brother, Maisie Fuller’s young man and Barchester, the jealous husband. Care to have a wager on the outcome, sir?’

  ‘Not on your life. For all we know, the true perpetrator is buried somewhere on that list Price prepared for us and will never come to light.’

  ‘Right then, sir. I’ll just go and grab those papers from Hardgrave’s office, then I’ll take myself off. Good night.’

  ‘Good night, Jack.’

  Riley stayed for another half-hour and forced himself to attend to some of his paperwork, but his mind wasn’t on it, and he quickly abandoned the attempt. He wouldn’t be able to settle to anything, he knew, until he’d got to the bottom of Sir Robert’s brutal murder.

  With a sigh, he stood and made his way to Danforth’s office. Superintendent Thompson was there too, deep in conversation with the chief inspector, who didn’t look too happy. Riley tapped on
the door, glad that he could make his report to both men at once, preventing Danforth from throwing his weight around and dictating the course of the investigation in the way that he usually did. Riley wasn’t sufficiently naïve to suppose that Danforth would not revert to his old ways once he had overcome his embarrassment and re-established himself.

  ‘Ah, Rochester.’ The superintendent broke off from his intense conversation with Danforth. ‘What news?’

  Riley succinctly outlined the facts that had thus far revealed themselves.

  ‘Sounds to me as though you have more suspects than you know what to do with,’ Danforth said. ‘My money’s on Milton. He sounds like an ambitious cove who would stop at nothing to further his career.’

  ‘There is the trifling matter of proof, sir. He claims to have been at the Bailey at the time the crime was committed, ready to prosecute a case that was deferred. Of course, he need not have carried out the crime himself. Anyway, I shall of course check his alibi. But I am more concerned about the murder weapon itself. How did a dagger that is ordinarily kept in Sir Robert’s study in his home come to finish up buried in his back?’

  ‘You suspect the son?’ the superintendent suggested.

  ‘I shall certainly ask him about it tomorrow.’

  They spoke for another ten minutes about the possibility of Maisie Fuller’s family taking the law into their own hands. And the accused’s hot-headed brother too. But, of course, it was all speculation. Riley would have a clearer idea once he had spoken to the individuals he suspected and gauged their reactions to his questions.

  Feeling weary and depressed, he made his way home, hoping for a relaxed evening. He realised he would be unlikely to have one as soon as he arrived at Sloane Street and saw a familiar carriage stationed outside his premises.

  ‘The dowager marchioness,’ Stout, Riley’s man, said in an undertone as he took Riley’s hat and coat.

  Riley sighed and rolled his eyes, aware what it was that his mother wanted. What she always wanted and had become increasingly persistent in the pursuit thereof.