Death of a Prosecutor

by Wendy Soliman

  ‘Bring me a whisky, Stout. A large one. I have a feeling that I shall need it.’

  Riley walked into his drawing room—a large space that spanned the entire length of the ground floor of his townhouse with long windows at either end and a roaring fire burning in the grate. His mother sat in a chair in front of that fire with her eyes closed. Riley stopped in his tracks, surprised at this display of frailty. She clearly hadn’t heard him enter and would hate to show weakness by being caught dozing during the day, albeit seated in a ramrod straight position. He cleared his throat and her eyes flew open.

  ‘Oh, Riley, there you are at last. What kept you?’ She tilted her head and Riley dutifully pecked her cheek.

  ‘If I had known you were coming, Mother…’

  ‘I shouldn’t have to make an appointment to see my own son. Even if you will insist upon working, they have no business keeping you for such long hours. You have other obligations, you know.’

  ‘As though you would allow me to forget,’ Riley said mildly, taking the chair across from his mother and gratefully accepting the whisky glass that Stout handed to him.

  ‘I came to tell you that Jasper’s situation has deteriorated,’ his mother said with a sad little shake of her head. ‘There is little hope.’

  ‘I am very sorry to hear it,’ Riley replied sombrely. ‘Henry doesn’t deserve such torment.’

  ‘No, he does not.’ His mother exhaled slowly. ‘But we have always known this day would come. We hoped it would not, but still…’

  ‘Shall you go down to Chichester?’

  ‘Yes, tomorrow. Martha will accompany me,’ his mother said, referring to Riley’s married sister who lived permanently in town. ‘As will Sophia, of course.’

  ‘Poor Cabbage.’ Riley used his pet name for his fifteen-year-old niece, a great favourite of his. ‘I suppose she has to be there.’

  ‘Of course she does. It would look decidedly neglectful if she was not. I will not ask you to come. I suppose you are elbow deep in some grisly murder or other.’

  ‘My friend, Sir Robert,’ Riley said quietly.

  ‘I was sorry to hear of it. He was a good man, but I am certain you will catch the perpetrator.’ Riley was almost encouraged by the confidence in his mother’s tone. It was the first occasion he could recall upon which she had not seized the opportunity to denigrate his chosen profession. ‘Not that that will bring Sir Robert back, but we cannot have cold-blooded murderers running amok in London’s streets. That would never do.’

  ‘Perish the thought,’ Riley replied, taking a healthy sip of his whisky to prevent himself from giving a grim smile. Murder in London was commonplace. It was easy for his mother to disassociate herself from the losses of the tragically poor, but she would soon sit up and take notice if someone started bumping off the upper classes.

  ‘Anyway, I thought you should know about the situation with Jasper and what it implies. Celia cannot give Henry more children, so you will have to—’

  ‘Marry. Yes Mother, I am well aware of that.’

  His mother gave an impatient huff. ‘Yet you do nothing about it.’

  In his mind’s eye Riley could still see his friend spread-eagled with a dagger buried in his back, even as his thoughts dwelt upon his sickly nephew’s fight to cling on to life. A battle he would never win. His mother irritated him, but she was right to be concerned about the family’s situation. He hadn’t intended to share his aspirations with her, at least not until Amelia agreed to marry him, but she looked genuinely desolate and needed something to give her cheer at this unhappy time.

  ‘I am hoping to marry in the very near future,’ he said in a negligent tone.

  ‘You are?’ His mother’s guarded expression gradually gave way to a wide smile of satisfaction. ‘Not before time. Who is she? When can I wish you joy?’

  ‘Not so fast.’ Riley held up a hand to stem his mother’s flow of words. ‘You may not like what I am about to tell you.’

  ‘The Cosgrove woman.’ His mother’s smile didn’t stand the test of time, as so many of her smiles did not. ‘How could you? You know what’s expected of you and the woman’s barren. Barren I tell you,’ she emphasised, her voice rising dramatically.

  ‘And you know this because…’ Riley couldn’t resist baiting his mother just a little. She brought it on herself.

  ‘Use your sense, Riley. I know you enjoy her company. She’s pretty enough, I’ll grant you, and accomplished. But she was married to Cosgrove for several years and they had no children.’

  Riley raised a brow. ‘You assume the blame lies with Amelia then?’

  ‘We cannot afford to dismiss the possibility.’

  ‘You encouraged Henry to pursue Celia, deeming her suitable marchioness material, and…well—’

  ‘I was not to know that she would fail to give him sons.’

  ‘And yet you are absolutely sure that Amelia will not give me any. Since you were convinced of Celia’s fertility, I am surprised at your being so certain that Amelia is barren. You’re not exactly an expert in such matters, Mother.’

  ‘The situation is too important to take chances when the odds speak for themselves. If you have any consideration for my feelings or for your duty, you will not marry the woman. Make her your mistress if you must, but don’t put your ring on her finger or the entire family will be blighted.’

  ‘I love her, Mother,’ Riley said softly. ‘Does that count for nothing in your eyes?’

  ‘Love, bah!’ She waved the suggestion aside with a disdainful flip of her wrist. ‘Love has absolutely no place in the order of such things.’

  Riley put his glass aside and leaned towards his mother. ‘I have already asked Amelia to be my wife—’

  ‘Well, that’s that then. There isn’t the slightest chance of her refusing you. You have done as you please, thought only of yourself, just as you always do.’ His mother gave another indignant huff. ‘Well, don’t expect me to welcome her with open arms.’

  ‘You are never more than barely civil to her at the best of times, Mother, so I don’t suppose she has any expectations of being made welcome. However, I shall not be best pleased if you continue to cut her.’

  ‘I will do no such thing! Family loyalty means everything, to me at least.’

  ‘Amelia is in Shropshire, sitting with her ailing aunt, of whom she is inordinately fond. She has promised to give me her answer as soon as she returns to the capital.’

  ‘She did not accept you immediately?’ His mother now looked affronted.

  ‘No, she did not, and what I am now about to tell you must remain between the two of us.’ He fixed her with a look of stern determination. ‘I require your word on the point.’

  His mother now looked intrigued. ‘You know you can rely upon my absolute discretion when it comes to family matters.’

  Riley did. ‘Very well then. But Amelia told me this in the strictest confidence, and only because I insisted. It’s hardly the sort of admission a lady would make of her own volition.’ Riley picked up his glass again and took another long swig. ‘Her marriage to Cosgrove was one of convenience.’ He allowed a significant pause, aware that he had his mother’s complete and undivided attention. ‘I will spare you the sordid details. Suffice it to say that the marriage was never consummated. Amelia remains untouched.’

  ‘Oh!’ His mother put a hand to her lips but it failed to cover the width of her smile. ‘So you can marry the lady you love and still produce an heir?’

  ‘I shall work diligently to ensure that I do,’ Riley replied, himself fighting a smile.

  ‘Don’t be coarse, dear. It does not become you.’ His mother’s rebuke lacked conviction. ‘Well, this is the best possible news, I must say, and not before time.’

  ‘Amelia has not accepted me, Mother, and very well may not.’

  ‘Of course she will! Don’t talk such nonsense. She is merely making you wait, which is very sensible of her.’

 
‘She might have doubts because she thinks the family will not welcome her.’

  ‘Let me know when she returns to town and I will call upon her.’

  ‘I suspect that if what I have told you gets back to her via the grapevine she will never speak to me again, and rightly so. I only shared such information with you to relieve you of any further worries. You are tired, and the news of Jasper must be distressing you greatly. Please do not arouse Amelia’s suspicions by a sudden change of attitude. She is intelligent and sensitive and will quickly make correct assumptions.’

  Riley refrained from reminding his mother that she would be in Chichester for the foreseeable future, which was probably just as well.

  ‘Send my very best wishes to Henry and Celia,’ Riley said as he rang the bell for Stout to show his mother out. ‘I will, of course, come down if I am needed.’

  ‘Goodbye, dear. Do let me know as soon as…’

  ‘You will be the first person I tell.’

  ‘You heard that, I suppose,’ Riley said to his man when he returned to the room.

  ‘Congratulations, my lord.’

  ‘Save them until Amelia gives me her answer.’

  Riley shed his coat and turned his attention to the meal that Stout had waiting for him. His habitually dour servant was inordinately fond of Amelia, and Riley was almost convinced that he actually allowed himself a brief smile as he waited at table.

  Chapter Five

  Riley arrived at Scotland Yard early the following morning, on tenterhooks as he awaited news from Chichester and word of Amelia’s return to London. He was resigned to the inevitable as far as his nephew was concerned. Jasper had been born sickly and had never recovered from the various ailments that prevented him from leading a normal life. At least the poor boy would finally be pain-free and at peace. It seemed churlish to dwell upon the fact that the child’s impending death would turn Riley’s well-organised life—a life that suited him very well—onto its head. He could no longer ignore the responsibilities that now rested upon his shoulders. Nor would he, but he most emphatically did not wish to do so without Amelia at his side.

  He was nervous about the timing of Amelia’s absence. He knew of her aunt’s existence, but her sudden need for Amelia’s nursing skills seemed suspicious. Had she exaggerated her symptoms and used them as an excuse to distance herself from Riley, or just to give herself some breathing space? If she needed time to consider his proposal, Riley would have given it to her. She didn’t need to run away.

  With every passing day that she remained away from the capital and didn’t send word to him, he felt less optimistic about her accepting his proposal. Despite the fact that he was sure Amelia returned his feelings—she must do since she had offered to become his mistress—Riley did not share his mother’s optimism regarding her intentions. Part of Amelia’s hesitation, he suspected, stemmed from his mother’s disapproval of her—a situation which she had never attempted to conceal from Amelia.

  Could that be why Riley had confided in his mother the previous evening without his actually realising it? Regardless of Riley’s warning, she loved to involve herself in the family’s affairs and wouldn’t be able to resist supporting Riley’s cause by calling upon Amelia the moment she returned, making her change of heart apparent to his infuriatingly stubborn intended. Or would have done, had not her presence in Chichester been required.

  Riley sat behind his desk and ran a hand through his hair, wondering at the degree of his desperation. The waiting, which had thus far only been for three days but felt more like thirty, was driving him demented. There was only one thing for it. He would bury himself in his work and redouble his efforts to uncover the identity of Sir Robert’s killer. As Danforth had so succinctly put it the previous evening, he was on a hiding to nothing given that Sir Robert had sealed the fate of so many vindictive villains.

  Fortunately, Riley enjoyed a challenge. With that thought in mind he despatched two uniformed constables to Sir Robert’s home with instructions to return with Norman Glover, who had some telling questions to answer. He would not, for the time being, speak with Lady Glover and her daughters again, as had been his original intention. They were not high on his list of priorities and he very much doubted if they would have anything to tell him that would shed any light on the motives for Sir Robert’s murder. Norman, on the other hand, was a person of considerable interest. He would not be out of his bed, Riley imagined, and wouldn’t take kindly to being all but dragged from it. Being conspicuously brought in to be interviewed instead of having Riley discreetly call upon him would hopefully make him less economical with the truth.

  Resigned to a long wait, Riley read through the papers on the Caldwell case. The ever-efficient Salter had obviously procured them whilst Riley had been with the superintendent the evening before, and had left them neatly piled on his desk for his attention. Riley could not have said why, but his mind kept coming back to the inconsistencies in a case that was nothing to do with him but, very possibly, could be at the heart of Sir Robert’s murder. Besides, he had to start somewhere, and knew very well that feelings normally ran out of control and people acted out of character when a case came to court, not months or years afterwards.

  ‘I cannot help thinking that the greengrocer boy had no reason to harm Sir Robert,’ Riley said by way of greeting when Salter put his head round the door. ‘If he knew that he had been cuckolded several times over, it gives him a definite motive for killing Maisie himself, rather than risk being exposed as said cuckold and made a laughing stock. In which case, he would look upon it as justice being served if Sir Robert managed to have Caldwell swing for the crime that he himself committed. After all, she had given Caldwell what she had most likely withheld from the greengrocer.’

  ‘Assuming that he knew about her dalliances,’ Salter said.

  ‘And we cannot make an informed judgement, since I can’t find any record of Inspector Hardgrave having questioned him.’ Riley scratched his head. ‘Don’t you find that odd? Hardgrave is usually very thorough.’

  ‘It looks as though he decided he’d got his man and looked no further.’

  ‘That is does. I will speak to him myself when I get a moment but don’t think we should get side-tracked quite yet. We have absolutely no evidence to suggest that Sir Robert’s murder is anything to do with Caldwell’s case. We need to take close looks at Norman Glover, Joseph Milton and Edwin Barchester first. All three have definite motives.’ Riley put the papers he’d been reading to one side. ‘Norman will be here soon. I’ve sent two of Barton’s men to bring him in.’

  ‘That’ll go down well,’ Salter replied, chuckling. ‘It’s still the middle of the night for the likes of him.’

  ‘Precisely. I dislike being lied to, however, so Glover only has himself to blame if he’s embarrassed in any way.’

  ‘Blimey, sir, are you feeling quite yourself this morning? I know Sir Robert was a personal friend of yours, but you don’t usually let things get on top of you.’

  Riley glanced at Salter. Only when he observed the concern in his sergeant’s expression did he realise how loud with tightly-controlled anger his tone had become. Riley was ordinarily the epitome of calm and, as Salter had just observed, seldom allowed his emotions to affect his judgement.

  ‘Sorry, Jack.’ Riley leaned back in his chair and took several deep, calming breaths. ‘A lot on my mind.’

  ‘Mrs Cosgrove still away, is she?’ Salter asked with a rueful grin.

  ‘Actually, it’s my nephew. His time has almost come.’

  A dedicated family man himself, Salter’s mocking smile immediately faded. ‘I’m sorry to hear it, sir, indeed I am. I know it’s not unexpected, but still, a child’s death is always a tragedy. Especially one in his position. Should you not be there?’

  ‘Nothing I can do. I’d only be in the way. Besides, my sister-in-law and I are not on the best of terms and she would probably look upon my presence as rubbing salt into her
wounds, which is about as far from the truth as Norman Glover pretending to be sorry that his father is dead.’ Riley sighed. ‘Anyway, my mother will send a cable when the time comes.’

  ‘A bad time for Mrs Cosgrove to be away. I dare say she’d be a comfort to you.’

  ‘Yes well, it’s not her problem.’ And might never be. Riley sat up straighter and shrugged off his momentary self-pity. ‘Let’s concentrate upon the case and find justice for Sir Robert. Once we’ve dealt with Glover, I want you to go to the Bailey. Talk to the chief clerk and try to ascertain if Milton was there when he said he was. Given that it was the morning of Sir Robert’s murder, I dare say they will remember him. Oh, and get them chatting. See if they reveal anything interesting about Milton, or the state of play between Sir Robert and his juniors. You never know.’

  ‘Right you are. Where will you be, sir?’

  ‘Seeing what I can find out about Mrs Barchester’s husband. I can’t persuade myself that he was unaware of Sir Robert’s weekly visits to his wife. Whether or not he knew the true nature of their relationship is another matter entirely.’

  ‘But if you ask him, it will betray Mrs Barchester’s trust.’

  ‘Quite, and I’m not willing to do that unless I have just cause. I suspect the man is handy with his fists and doesn’t hesitate to use them on his wife. I cannot abide men who use violence against the weaker sex.’

  ‘If Mrs Barchester is as afraid of her husband as we think,’ Salter said in a considering tone, ‘I wonder how Sir Robert supposed she would explain away that expensive diamond bracelet he bought for her birthday.’

  ‘Good point, Jack. She could, I suppose, have pretended that it was a cheap imitation, but judging by their living standards Barchester is not without resources, and I’m sure he’d recognise a diamond from a replica.’

  ‘Glover’s here, sir,’ Sergeant Barton said, putting his head round the door. ‘And making an almighty fuss about having been dragged in.’

  ‘Excellent!’ Riley smiled at Salter. ‘Just the reaction I was hoping for. We shall let him stew for a little longer first, I think.’