Death of a Prosecutor

by Wendy Soliman

  ‘He was as cooperative as always, and keen to know if we had identified a suspect. But here’s the interesting part, before taking up employment with Sir Robert he worked as a clerk for a warehouse owner on the wharf.’

  ‘Did he indeed!’ Riley sat a little straighter and pondered upon that revelation ‘Everything comes back to that damned wharf. Milton’s wife, Maisie Fuller’s father, the case that brought Milton to Sir Robert’s attention and now Price’s early career. Did he enlighten you as to the unpleasantness that led to the loss of his position?’

  ‘He was vague on the point, seemed embarrassed to talk about it and so I didn’t press him. You said Parker was doing some snooping into Milton’s father-in-law, the warehouse owner, and since Price ain’t a suspect I had no reason to keep at him. I did ask him if he recognised the name Barchester and he denied it without flinching. Seemed genuine enough to me.’

  ‘So, since Price knows the identity of everyone who walks through the doors at those chambers, it’s safe to assume that Barchester has never visited them.’

  ‘Which leaves us where, sir?’

  ‘Back where we started, with five suspects and no definitive proof to tie any of them to the murder.’ Riley let out a frustrated sigh. ‘As I said before, I still think we are missing something obvious and we won’t find it sitting here deliberating. What’s needed is a change of direction.’ Riley levered himself to his feet. ‘I’m going to see Danforth.’

  ‘Lucky you. Any particular reason?’

  ‘I can’t get past the fact that Fuller is so keen to see Caldwell swing.’

  Salter harrumphed. ‘If a man of my age, or any age, interfered with one of my daughters then I’d save the hangman a job.’

  ‘Ah, but if Kitty is to be believed, Fuller was the first to interfere with Maisie and, from what she implied, he continued to do so. His guilty conscience probably makes him doubly determined to place the blame elsewhere.’

  ‘But won’t Caldwell stand up in court and accuse him? Maisie must have told him.’

  ‘He might, if Isaac allows it, which he may not. It will look as though a desperate man is attempting to point the finger of blame at a grieving father, and that won’t go down well with the jury.’

  ‘Hmm. I know that look.’ Salter narrowed his eyes at Riley and then chuckled. ‘You want to stir him up a bit. Can’t say as I blame you, but what good will that do?’

  ‘How can we know if we don’t try? But Maisie’s murder is not my case. I tried to speak to Hardgrave about it earlier but he’s not here today. Some sort of personal emergency, apparently. Anyway, I can’t go barging into his territory without first covering my own back, so I’d best see if Danforth is willing to let me loose on Fuller, given that he could have killed Sir Robert.’

  ‘If he’s capable of raping and then killing his own daughter when she threatened to spill the beans, then I have to agree that he’s capable of anything. How he got his hands on that dagger is another matter, but Danforth doesn’t have to be told about that unexplained wrinkle.’

  Riley grinned. ‘Precisely.’

  ‘Good luck then. One advantage of your saving Danforth’s hide is that he’s not in a position to deny you anything. He owes you and he knows it. He won’t stand in your way and make your life difficult anymore simply to prove an obscure point.’

  ‘Let’s hope so.’

  Riley made his way to the chief inspector’s office, well aware that the request he was about to make—interfering in another officer’s enquiry, especially when that enquiry had been completed and a suspect awaited trial—would ordinarily have left Riley with accusations of elitism ringing in his ears. Salter was right about that. But since Riley had fought his superior’s corner and prevented him from being dismissed from a position that he needed in order to support his large family, Riley shared Salter’s hope that Danforth would have got past his resentments and would be willing to listen to Riley’s reasoned argument.

  He was about to find out.

  ‘Ah, Rochester.’ Danforth looked up from the papers he was reading. ‘Progress?’ He winced as he shifted in his seat, leading Riley to suppose that despite his lucky escape he had been unable to give up his quest for pleasure through the infliction of pain. He found it hard to understand such a destructive compulsion and tried not to be judgemental.

  Riley sat across from his superior, gave him a brief outline of the case to date and then expressed his doubts about Caldwell, going on to explain what he’d learned about Fuller, courtesy of his younger daughter.

  ‘Inspector Hardgrave is not here today and—’

  ‘His wife gave birth to his fourth child recently. She’s suffered a setback. It’s serious. Hardgrave might not be back for a while.’

  ‘I am sorry to hear it. I understand the child was born during the course of the Caldwell case, perhaps explaining why he was not quite as diligent as usual.’

  The remark failed to produce the expected pithy retort. ‘What is it that you want to do?’ Danforth asked instead.

  ‘I met Fuller briefly, and it’s obvious that he has a quick temper. He’s also desperate to see Caldwell convicted, perhaps because he doesn’t want the truth to come out about his corruption of his own daughter.’

  And it would, Riley privately vowed, even if he had to leak word of it to Isaac himself, always assuming that he hadn’t already heard of it from Caldwell. Maisie might not have confided in him about her father’s debauched behaviour, probably believing that she had brought it upon herself. There were ways that Isaac could use that knowledge without having Caldwell shout about it from the dock, thereby convicting himself with what would be viewed as malicious and desperate slander. He baulked at using his position to influence the outcome of a trial, but given that a possibly innocent man’s life hung in the balance, he was willing to make an exception. He conscience would not allow for anything less.

  ‘Sir Robert went to see Fuller the night before his death and expressed his doubts about Caldwell’s guilt, but Fuller was adamant that he wanted the prosecution to proceed. If Sir Robert had withdrawn, it would almost certainly have guaranteed Caldwell’s acquittal, especially with Lord Isaac defending him. Fuller is a tall man, and strong too. He is a former docker, now promoted to a position as foreman in a tobacco warehouse. And a man taller than Sir Robert struck the killer blow from above, using considerable force.’

  ‘Talk to him then,’ Danforth said after a considering pause. ‘But try to focus upon Sir Robert’s case, not his daughter’s murder.’

  ‘That will be impossible, which is why I wanted your approval before trampling all over Inspector Hardgrave’s investigation.’

  ‘I rely upon you to use your discretion, Rochester.’ Danforth returned his attention to his papers. ‘Let me know what transpires.’

  Riley walked away from Danforth’s office feeling discomposed rather than jubilant. It would take him a while to become accustomed to having a supportive and considerate direct superior. One who didn’t offer scathing remarks and denigrate Riley at every turn. Would Danforth’s about-face endure, or was he biding his time, weathering the embarrassment his return had caused him before using Riley’s slightest setback against him as of old? Time would tell, but Riley adjured himself not to put too much faith in the improved Danforth. Upon consideration, it might have been wiser to take Salter with him to this latest meeting, just to have independent corroboration of what had been agreed. If things went wrong Riley wouldn’t put it past Danforth to deny giving Riley his permission to delve into Fuller’s background, leaving him with egg on his face and at serious odds with his colleague, Hardgrave.

  ‘Fancy a trip to the docks?’ he asked Salter in front of Barton. ‘The chief inspector has just given me the go ahead to have a word or two with Fuller.’

  Barton, never slow on the uptake, gave Riley a nod. ‘The chief inspector is not quite himself at the moment,’ he said, giving a passing impression of a man wincing in pain as h
e moved behind his desk, making the uniformed constable standing beside him hoot with laughter. Riley knew better than to chastise Barton for setting the wrong example. Danforth would just have to endure ridicule that he had brought on himself.

  Riley and Salter hailed a cab to take them to Wapping. The tobacco warehouses, Riley discovered upon arrival, were set in a confusing labyrinth of passages and alleyways, each several hundred feet long, bordered on both sides by compact hogsheads of tobacco.

  ‘You sure Fuller works here?’ Salter asked, sniffing salty air heavily tinged with the aroma of tobacco. ‘We’ll never find him in a month of Sundays.’

  ‘Here’s a good place to ask.’

  They came upon a Customs Officer’s counting house sandwiched between the heavy barrels. Upon enquiring for a foreman by the name of Fuller, the man pointed them in the right direction, close to a door inscribed, ‘To the Kiln’. Damaged tobacco, Riley had once been told, was burnt there, and the long chimney that carried off the smoke was affectionately known as ‘The Queen’s Pipe’. Riley chuckled, finding it hard to imagine their diminutive and very proper queen puffing away on a pipe of any kind.

  They noticed Fuller engaged in an earnest yet muted conversation with a gentleman, presumably one of the owners. Riley wondered what they had to discuss that couldn’t be overheard by anyone. There again, the loss of a hogshead or two would benefit both parties if they bypassed the beady eye of the customs officers and Fuller, Riley sensed, would not be averse to making those disappearances happen. Damaged tobacco, destined for ‘The Queen’s Pipe’ would still have considerable value on the streets if it was conveniently diverted away from the kiln without the officials being any the wiser. It would explain why Fuller’s living conditions seemed superior to those of his neighbours and why he was able to lay his hands on sufficient funds to pay for Sir Robert’s services, which did not come cheap.

  ‘You again.’ Fuller turned and scowled at the detectives. ‘What do you want this time?’

  The owner gave Riley a considering look and made himself scarce.

  ‘A word, if you please.’

  ‘Can’t you see I’m working?’

  ‘We can do this at Scotland Yard, if you’d prefer,’ Salter told him.

  Riley’s sergeant was not a small man and he didn’t intimidate easily, but Fuller thrust his face close to Salter’s, attempting to do precisely that. Salter stood his ground, which appeared to surprise Fuller, and he was the one who backed down first. Even so, he had already confirmed Riley’s assessment of him as a man with a short temper who was handy with his fists. He felt a great deal of sympathy for his dead daughter, who hadn’t stood a chance against such a brute.

  ‘Is there somewhere quiet where we can talk?’ Riley asked.

  Fuller folded massive forearms over his chest. ‘I said all I have to say to you earlier.’

  ‘Actually, you ordered me from your house and I chose to leave it,’ Riley pointed out. ‘I did not have an opportunity to ask you what I need to know, since I preferred not to upset the rest of your family.’

  ‘So you come here, embarrassing me at me work.’ Fuller growled at the small crowd that had gathered and it quickly dispersed. ‘All right then.’ He drummed the fingers of his left hand against the bulging biceps of his right arm and fixed Riley with a threatening scowl. ‘What do you want to know? Be quick about it, an’ all. I don’t have all day.’

  ‘Sir Robert upset you when he implied that Caldwell might be innocent,’ Riley said conversationally. ‘Did you ever stop to consider that someone else might have killed your daughter?’

  ‘That pervert Caldwell was tumbling her.’ Fuller’s frown would have deterred a lesser man, but it bounced harmlessly off Riley’s impassive expression. ‘Maisie was gonna tell his wife. Who else would have cause to—’

  ‘Caldwell wasn’t the first, so who can tell?’ Riley made his words sound like a casual statement of fact. It was the best that he could do without giving away Kitty’s confidence.

  ‘Here, what do you mean by that?’ Fuller’s meaty fists took up residence on his broad hips and he stepped menacingly towards Riley. Salter placed himself between the two men and Fuller had the good sense to back down first. Salter didn’t match Fuller for brawn but he knew how to fight dirty and would have had no trouble in cutting the bigger man down to size. Riley suspected that he probably regretted being denied the opportunity by Fuller’s capitulation. ‘You trying to make my girl out to be a slut?’

  ‘Nothing that happened to Maisie was her fault. She was corrupted by those before Caldwell who should have known better.’ Riley fixed the odious man with an icy glower. ‘Those whom she trusted to protect her.’

  ‘Those whom she trusted…’ Fuller mimicked Riley’s clear-cut accent but failed to draw sniggers from the workers who’d found reasons to linger close, probably enjoying Fuller’s discomfort. He was the type who would control his workforce by…well, force…and they would be less than human if they didn’t enjoy seeing him on the receiving end for once. Noticing them, Fuller abruptly led the way into a small office and slammed the door behind them hard enough to make the glass panel rattle. He looked furious but Riley was convinced there was an element of fear lingering in the depths of his eyes. ‘Look, Inspector Hardgrave was satisfied he’d found the right man and Caldwell deserves to face the consequences for what he did. I don’t see why you have to drag it all up again, just when we’d started to get over our loss.’

  ‘Because Sir Robert died. He was brutally murdered by a strong, tall man the morning after he came to see you and expressed doubts about Caldwell’s guilt. What would you think in my position?’

  ‘I was angry with him,’ Fuller said after a short pause. ‘Who wouldn’t be? He’d assured us that he would obtain a conviction, justice for our gal, and then had a change of heart just because someone had obviously spread lies about Maisie that meant he’d have to work a bit harder for the ridiculous amount he was charging us.’ Fuller spat on the floor and then scowled at Riley. ‘So yeah, I was madder than a hornet’s nest when he came grovelling, talking about unexpected revelations, but I didn’t kill the blighter, much as I wanted to. I ain’t that stupid.’

  ‘And we are expected to take your word for that?’

  Fuller shrugged his massive shoulders. ‘Seems to me that if you think I did it, you need to prove it. I hear tell he was killed near those fancy offices of his and I weren’t anywhere near ’em.’

  ‘Odd.’ Riley allowed himself a pensive frown. ‘Did we not receive a report of a man answering Fuller’s description loitering in the vicinity at the time of the murder, Sergeant?’

  ‘We did indeed, sir.’

  Fuller no longer seemed quite so belligerent. ‘It weren’t me,’ he said, no real conviction in his tone.

  ‘Then perhaps it was someone else who works in this warehouse,’ Riley remarked with a significant nod in the direction of the kiln. ‘We’ll just have to send several uniformed constables down here to take statements. Don’t suppose the owners will object, given that we’re talking about the murder of a respected barrister.’

  ‘Don’t suppose they will,’ Salter agreed, sniffing. ‘Of course, there’s no telling what else our colleagues might uncover during the course of their enquiries.’

  ‘All right, I’ll admit I was there.’ Fuller gave up attempting to intimidate with glowers and posturing, and studied the tips of his scuffed boots instead as he kicked at the cement floor with the toe of one of them. ‘I’d had a chance to cool down, knew Sir Robert started work early, so I went to reason with him. To try and convince him that Caldwell had to be guilty. But when I got there, a constable was flapping about, stopping people going anywhere near Sir Robert’s gaff. I could see something had happened, and I didn’t hang about to find out what. I simply left and came to work. I heard about Sir Robert later. Read about it in the newspapers. Then Mr Milton came to see us and assured us that he would proceed with the case.’ He
held up his hands. ‘That’s all I know. I swear it on Maisie’s memory.’

  ‘Who else was Maisie seeing?’ Riley asked, clearly surprising Fuller by the abrupt change of subject.

  ‘What? No one. Why do you—’

  ‘Someone well to-do,’ Salter prompted.

  ‘No one.’ Something occurred to him and a dark frown once again invaded the man’s forehead. ‘She wouldn’t,’ he said slowly, his expression one of simmering rage. ‘He wouldn’t dare…’

  ‘Who?’ Riley tapped his foot when Fuller didn’t respond immediately. ‘Don’t make me ask you again, Fuller, or I’ll have you carted off in handcuffs and we can continue this conversation at Scotland Yard.’

  ‘The owner of this warehouse,’ Fuller replied with patent reluctance. ‘Fortescue. His son had an eye for our Maisie, but then so did a lot of men. She was a right good-looking gal, but too trusting, like. That’s how Caldwell got into her petticoats. She believed what people told her.’

  ‘Or thought that was all she was good for, given the way she’d been treated,’ Salter said through gritted teeth.

  ‘You’re barking up the wrong tree if you think Fortescue would have made her promises,’ Fuller insisted. ‘His father has got bigger plans for him. He’d cut him off without a penny if he settled for the likes of our Maisie.’

  ‘Right.’ Riley nodded curtly. ‘That will be all for now. We’ll be in touch.’

  Riley turned on his heel and retraced his steps between the hogsheads, Salter at his side.

  ‘How did you know he’d been at Lincoln’s Inn?’ Salter asked. ‘No one described anyone of his ilk.’

  ‘I sensed he knew more than he was saying, so I went with my instincts. Annoyingly though, I believe him, if only because of the dagger.’

  ‘Milton could have warned him in advance that Sir Robert planned to withdraw, supplied him with the dagger and told him what needed to be done, and when, if he wanted Milton to take over the prosecution.’ Salter rubbed his chin. ‘I mean, how else would he know that Sir Robert made a habit of arriving first every morning?’