Death of a Prosecutor

by Wendy Soliman

  ‘Apart from laziness,’ Salter suggested.

  ‘Apart from that,’ Glover conceded.

  ‘Is that when Sir Robert threatened to cut you off if you didn’t knuckle down to an occupation?’ Riley asked.

  ‘He did, as it happens, but it wasn’t the first time, and Mother wouldn’t have allowed him to carry through with his threat. She is rather fond of me, and she understands my sensitive nature.’ Salter smothered a guffaw. ‘She seldom stands up to Father, unless he threatens me, so if you think I killed him to prevent myself from becoming homeless then you’re barking up the wrong tree, I’m afraid.’

  ‘You were not even prepared to give clerking a try?’ Riley asked.

  ‘I couldn’t. Working closely with Father would have made it impossible to conceal my friendship with James. The legal world is very insular and everyone knows everyone else’s business. Anyway,’ he added with an elongated sigh, ‘you asked if the old man suspected my predilection. I don’t know if he did or not, but I do know that it would have disgusted him. Even so, he was in no position to adopt the moral high ground, given his own behaviour. I’d keep his secret if he kept mine, in other words. Not that he was likely to tell anyone. He wouldn’t have wanted the world to know that he’d bred a Molly.’ Glover flipped his wrist in an effeminate manner to emphasise his point. ‘That would have done his precious reputation no good at all.’

  ‘You didn’t like your father very much, did you?’ Salter asked.

  ‘We were very different people and always would be. I respected him, believe it or not, but Father wanted to turn me into an image of himself and it was never going to happen.’

  ‘Because you couldn’t be arsed to exert yourself at all,’ Salter said in a sarcastic tone.

  ‘I’m an artist, Sergeant, not a bloody worker-bee.’

  ‘You were a budding engineer a moment ago,’ Salter replied. ‘Which is it?’

  Glover sent Salter a scathing look. ‘Father would have looked upon it as a personal slight when he found out about James,’ he said. ‘He would assume that I had chosen him in an effort to slight him, which wasn’t the case at all.’

  ‘Why?’ Salter looked as puzzled as Riley felt. ‘Why should his identity have mattered to him? Boland is not employed in your father’s chambers.’

  ‘No, but his brother-in-law is.’ Glover’s gaze swivelled between Riley and Salter. He gave a derisive laugh when he registered their confusion. ‘Your powers of detection leave something to be desired, Lord Riley,’ he said in a mocking tone. ‘You are clearly not aware that James’s sister is Mrs Joseph Milton.’

  Chapter Six

  ‘Well, I hadn’t anticipated that,’ Salter said as he and Riley walked back to his office after they’d released Glover.

  ‘No, nor I.’

  ‘He’s a lazy little blighter, and he’s hard to like. The total opposite to Sir Robert.’

  ‘And a cause for constant paternal concern.’

  ‘Spare the rod and all that…’

  ‘Quite so, Jack. Quite so. He’s sensible enough to stay on his mother’s good side, and she obviously fought his battles with his father on his behalf.’

  ‘He’s seems overconfident too, as though he thinks we’re too stupid to discover any evidence to convict him even if he had committed the crime. He was taunting us and I cannot abide lazy devils like him showing such blatant disrespect for the law.’

  ‘That’s the way we like our suspects. Overconfident people make basic mistakes.’

  ‘Yes well, we seem to have gathered a few more suspects. One anyway.’

  ‘And increased Milton’s reasons for wanting Sir Robert out of the way,’ Riley added, returning to his position behind his desk as Salter closed the door behind them. ‘If he knew that his wife’s brother was dallying with Sir Robert’s son, he would have been aware of the damage it could have done to the chamber’s reputation and demanded that Sir Robert put a stop to it. After all, what they get up to is against the law, to say nothing of being repugnant to most people.’

  ‘But we know Sir Robert had precious little control over his son’s behaviour, which is why he decided to cut off his allowance, hoping it would whip him into line. But did he actually know that his son preferred his own sex? Glover will never admit if they argued over his behaviour, and we don’t have any independent witnesses that we can apply to for corroboration.’

  ‘Precisely.’ Riley gave a grim smile, accustomed the way that he and Salter so easily fell into exchanging views on the cases they were tasked to investigate. They worked well together and Riley would be sorry if the hierarchy ever saw fit to separate them. ‘I very much doubt if Sir Robert discussed such a sensitive issue with his wife. Only imagine how awkward that particular conversation would have been. I’ll wager good money that Lady Glover is unaware that sodomites even exist, much less what they actually get up to. And even if she does know, she would refuse to believe that her precious son engages in such practises and would most likely have taken his side in his fight with his father.’

  Salter harrumphed. ‘If Glover went to his mother, claiming that Sir Robert had invented reasons to withdraw his allowance, I’m sure Mummy-dearest, gullible little soul that she is, would believe every word he said and take her husband to task for it.’

  Riley nodded. ‘I also think that Glover isn’t quite as dim as he makes out. If he was aware that his father’s dagger had been taken in for repair, he could easily have stolen the ticket from Price’s desk and collected it himself.’

  ‘Premeditated murder with a symbolic weapon?’ Salter let out a low whistle. ‘An aggrieved son with a point to prove? He blamed his father for subjecting him to the regime of a public school he was ill-equipped to withstand and blames the school for addicting him to unusual practises. That’s some grudge that’s been building, especially if he’s fallen for Boland, which seems to be the case. They can’t live openly together and need money to fund their lifestyle. Boland won’t earn much as a clerk.’ Salter sighed. ‘Yes, it fits, and his weak alibi offers leeway. He most likely was in that coffeehouse in Covent Garden, but no one will remember precisely when. But still, I thought you believed him, at least about that.’

  ‘You know better than that, Sergeant. I never take anything anyone tells me at face value. I felt sorry for him, I will say that much.’

  ‘About the school, you mean?’ Riley nodded. ‘Was it really that bad?’

  ‘Not for me, but for those like Glover—weak, effeminate men still attached to the umbilical cord who couldn’t stand up for themselves—it must have been a living hell.’ He shrugged. ‘Corral hundreds of prepubescent boys together and the consequences seem obvious. Still, hindsight is a damned irritating trait. Looking back, I often wish I’d done more to protect the vulnerable, but at least I didn’t add to their suffering through bullying or intimidation.’

  ‘Perhaps Boland aided and abetted Glover. He might even have suggested bumping Sir Robert off as a means of resolving their problems. I can’t see Glover having the intelligence to think up the plan himself, much less the courage to carry it through. Then Boland comes along and suddenly Glover has someone who looks up to him, admires him, feeds his confidence by encouraging him to be himself, to explore the artistic side of his nature that his father probably dismissed as unrealistic…’ Salter lifted his shoulders and spread his hands. ‘Our friend Glover has been crying out his entire life for someone to accept him for what he is. It must be liberating, and yet they can’t openly display their feelings, unless they have enough money to leave England and start again somewhere else where they won’t be judged.’

  ‘I take your point, Jack. And I have to say I was impressed by the manner in which Glover made us work to get the truth out of him. It was convincing, since any man in his position would worry about his preferences being exposed. There again, perhaps he doesn’t give a damn and simply played us at our own game.’

  Salter snorted. ‘It’s possib
le, I suppose, but I don’t like him thinking he can get the better of us.’

  ‘He won’t. If I even suspect that he did it, I will move heaven and earth to prove it. But for now, Jack, get your hat. A change of plan. I shall come to Lincoln’s Inn with you. We’ll stop at the Bailey first, then go on to chambers. I want to talk to Price about that dagger. It’s vital that we know if he collected it from being repaired, or if he had forgotten all about it. We also need to find out which chambers Boland is employed at and have a word with him. We need to learn what errands Boland had been charged with undertaking yesterday morning. The chief clerk would have given him his orders. The question is, did he need to go to chambers first to collect…’ Riley shrugged. ‘Papers, instructions for a solicitor…something?’

  ‘And if he did, he could well have been at Lincoln’s Inn at the vital time.’

  ‘Precisely. Send Carter and Soames to that coffeehouse in Covent Garden. They will have seen Glover. His appearance is quite distinctive and the proprietor should still be able to remember if he served him yesterday. Have them pin him down as to whether Glover was there alone, even for some of the time.’

  ‘Right.’ Salter looked pensive. ‘Don’t you get tired of sexual deviants committing murder, guv?’ he asked, with a world-weary sigh. ‘I mean, all of our recent cases seem to have had sexual motives. The young debutante who was killed, the courtesan’s bizarre activities, and now this.’

  ‘Sex is a huge motivator, Jack, as are jealousy, greed, ambition, revenge…’ Riley counted off the main triggers for violent crime on his fingers. ‘You don’t need me to remind you of that.’

  ‘I suppose not, but—’

  ‘Glover’s predilections offend your puritan soul, I imagine,’ Riley said, not without sympathy. His sergeant was as hard as nails but sometimes surprisingly narrow-minded. Some of the activities that they had uncovered during the case of the murdered courtesan had shocked and disgusted Salter, as evidenced by his inability to understand the strength of Danforth’s unusual needs.

  ‘Hardly puritan, sir, but I’m proud to be a God-fearing Christian who respects his marriage vows. I dare say we all face the odd temptation from time to time, but we don’t act on them and then pretend that we couldn’t help ourselves.’ Salter sniffed. ‘I’m very sorry if Glover had a hard time of it at his posh school, but at least he had a decent education, which is more than can be said for the majority of men his age, and what does he do with it? Sod all, that’s what. If you ask me, the boy needs a boot up the backside, followed by a long, hard look at the real world. That position as a clerk in a respected barrister’s chambers, I can think of dozens of young men who would give their right arms for the opportunity, but Glover is too high and mighty to get his fingers covered in ink.’ Salter let out a low growl. ‘It makes my blood boil, so it does.’

  ‘Feeling better?’ Riley asked calmly, when Salter finally ran out of steam.

  ‘Sorry, but his type—’

  They were interrupted by Sergeant Barton.

  ‘Your man is here, sir.’

  ‘Stout? Good God, why?’

  ‘There’s a letter for you.’ Riley kept his face impassive, wondering what the devil was going on. Stout didn’t usually disturb Riley at Scotland Yard. Riley had asked him not to, aware that it would make him appear elitist to have a manservant running after him. Only a grave occurrence would have made him ignore those instructions, causing Riley to fear that Jasper must finally have succumbed to his illness, although that sad news would surely have been communicated by telegram. He took the letter from Barton’s outstretched hand. His heart leapt when he noticed that it had not come from Chichester but bore a Shropshire postmark. ‘And also this.’

  Riley opened the second missive. It was a note from his friend Jake, the Earl of Torbay, inviting him to dine that evening. Lord Isaac and his stepson Tom would both be in attendance, implying that they had information to share from the legal world that they would prefer to impart in private.

  ‘Thank you, Barton. Tell Stout that I shall be dining with Lord Torbay this evening and ask him to convey my verbal acceptance of their invitation.’

  Barton looked a little startled to be used as a messenger boy but nodded and slipped away again.

  ‘I’ll go and sort Carter and Soames out,’ Salter said, leaving Riley to read Amelia’s communication in private.

  Riley found himself reluctant to break the seal. It could only contain bad news. Amelia had decided against him and didn’t have the courage to tell him so to his face.

  ‘Don’t be such an ass!’ he said aloud, reminding himself that Amelia was no coward.

  Riley slowly slit the envelope open with a paperknife and was rewarded by the sight of a full page written in Amelia’s neat sloping hand.

  ‘Of course!’ Riley said, smiling at this latest example of her empathy. She had read of Sir Robert’s murder and her first thought had been for Riley, being aware of his friendship with and respect for Sir Robert.

  ‘I hope in some respects that you have been charged with bringing his murderer to book,’ he read. ‘It will be painful for you to delve into your friend’s personal life but, at the same time, I cannot think of anyone more tenaciously determined to run the culprit to earth. I wanted you to know that I am thinking of you at this difficult time.

  My aunt makes steady progress and unless she suffers a setback then I anticipate returning to London early next week. I hope that you will be in town and that circumstances in Chichester will not demand your presence there quite yet. We have things to talk about.’

  With love, Amelia.

  Riley re-read her letter, looking for clues as to her state of mind. She had addressed him as “Dearest Riley”. A good sign, surely? On the whole, he felt encouraged. At least he now knew when to expect her and would be put out of his misery once and for all. Good things, he reminded himself, were worth waiting for, but Riley’s patience was not limitless. He chuckled. If all else failed, he would send his mother to talk sense into Amelia. God, he must be feeling desperate, he thought, carefully folding the first letter she had ever written to him and placing it in his inside pocket before grabbing his hat and coat and going in search of Salter.

  The two detectives took a hansom cab to the Old Bailey. Riley was recognised the moment he set foot in the clerk’s outer office and was immediately admitted to the presence of Pettigrew, the ancient and revered chief clerk.

  ‘Inspector, it’s a pleasure,’ Pettigrew said, bowing his bristly grey head in acknowledgement of the two detectives’ presence. ‘I wish it could be under happier circumstances.’

  ‘As do I, Mr Pettigrew. As do I.’

  It came as no surprise that Pettigrew knew Riley had been assigned to Sir Robert’s case. Nothing of consequence happened in the judicial system that failed to reach his ears. He might be old, approaching retirement, but his brain was still razor sharp, his ear for gossip equally reliable.

  ‘How can I be of service, Inspector?’ Pettigrew asked, ignoring the clamour of voices outside his small box of an office as solicitors, barristers and their clerks vied for the attention of Pettigrew’s minions.

  ‘I expect you appreciate that I need to ascertain the whereabouts of everyone connected with Sir Robert yesterday morning.’

  ‘Ah, I see.’ Pettigrew rubbed his bearded chin. ‘We enjoyed the company of Mr Milton first thing, I seem to recall.’

  Riley shared a look with Salter. Given the number of people who constantly came and went from the clerks’ office, Riley wondered at Pettigrew’s instant recall.

  ‘I remember because he caused quite a ruckus.’ This information warranted another exchange of looks between the two detectives. ‘He accused us of misfiling the papers for a case he was due to try that day and insisted that we find them. I was obliged to intercede when he spoke most unpleasantly to one of my people. Really, there is no occasion to resort to such language and I told the young man so in no uncertain terms. I
also showed him the list of cases due to be tried that day, at which point he was forced to admit that it was he who had made an error. Not that he apologised for it.’ Pettigrew shook his head. ‘The manners of those who think they are too important to worry about the feelings of their inferiors will find no favour whilst I am still in charge of this office.’

  ‘Can you recall what time it was when Milton caused his scene?’ Salter asked.

  ‘Indeed I can. We had only just opened our doors for the day, so it must have been close to nine o’clock.’ Pettigrew paused. ‘As a matter of interest, he was here again this morning, registering his interest in the Caldwell case, which he will now be prosecuting.’

  ‘Will he indeed?’

  Riley thanked Pettigrew, and complimented him upon his powers of recall.

  ‘Milton didn’t waste any time persuading Maisie’s family to let him proceed with the prosecution,’ Salter said, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

  ‘He probably convinced them that Sir Robert’s doubts about the case against Caldwell were not founded in fact.’

  ‘But the case ain’t solid,’ Salter pointed out. ‘Especially not with Lord Isaac acting for Caldwell.’

  ‘Then there must be an angle that we have overlooked. Something that Milton is keeping to himself. If Milton can win a high-profile case against Isaac Arnold, then no one will question his right to step into Sir Robert’s shoes.’