Death of a Courtesan: Riley Rochester Investigates

by Wendy Soliman

  ‘Yes, I have two rooms and a bathroom to myself on the top floor.’

  ‘Tennyson and the other staff. Do they live in?’ Salter asked.

  ‘Yes. Tennyson has a room off the kitchen. My maid Lily and Beryl the cook share the only other room in the basement. I have two girls come in and help in the kitchen, but they go home once the food is prepared. Only Lily shows herself upstairs.’

  ‘I shall need the names of all the gentlemen in attendance here last night,’ Riley said.

  ‘All of them?’ Finally Riley had said something that caused Mrs Sinclair to lose her composure. ‘I know I agreed to hand it over but, upon reflection, it seems to me that only those who lingered until the end will be of interest to you.’

  ‘Even so, they will all have to be spoken to, especially those whom Adelaide entertained. They might have seen or heard something unusual.’

  Mrs Sinclair gave a harsh laugh. ‘There is nothing that you or anyone else would consider usual about the proceedings in this house, inspector.’

  ‘I must insist, Mrs Sinclair. Rest assured that we understand the meaning of discretion and will make sure we speak to the gentlemen away from their families.’

  Mrs Sinclair’s expression lost a little of its rigidity. ‘As I already told you, there were forty men here last night,’ she said.

  ‘How many of them did Adelaide entertain?’

  ‘Five or six individually. She dallied, flirted if you like, with more of them in the main salon.’ Riley and Salter exchanged a glance. ‘There’s no need to look so shocked. Half of them just want their backsides paddled and then given a helping hand to express themselves, if you follow my meaning.’

  ‘All too clearly,’ Salter said, looking repulsed.

  Mrs Sinclair got up and went to her desk. She unlocked a drawer with a key that was attached to the small bunch she carried at her waist and pulled out a ledger. She beckoned Salter over and Riley followed behind.

  ‘These are last night’s clients,’ she said, pointing to a neatly written page. ‘The initial of the girl who entertained each one is in the column beside his name. I am happy for you to copy those names but we have already agreed that you will not take my ledger away.’ She made ticks against all but a dozen on the list. ‘Those that I have marked left well before the end of the soiree. Tennyson would have seen them out. The door to the street is locked, so anyone wishing to return would have had have to ring the bell to be readmitted.’ She paused. ‘No one did, so I think it safe to leave those gentlemen out of your enquiry.’

  ‘Could they not have come in through the kitchens?’

  ‘They would have been seen.’

  ‘Adelaide might have let her killer in herself after you all retired,’ Riley remarked.

  ‘It is possible, but I don’t suppose we shall ever know for sure.’

  ‘We will ask him when we find him,’ Riley assured her. ‘Sergeant,’ he added, pointing to the ledger and then to Salter’s notebook. ‘Finding all these people will prove to be a challenge. Presumably they don’t provide their home addresses.’

  Mrs Sinclair shrugged. ‘I doubt they all give their real names, at least not to me. But the girls will know a lot more about their individual clients. They tend to talk to them, tell them their troubles, much as they would confess to a priest.’ The hint of a smile touched her lips. ‘My girls are equally discreet and only make them perform a penance if it’s what the client hanker for.’

  ‘But since it’s Adelaide’s clients what interest us, and given that she’s dead, that ain’t a lot of help,’ Salter pointed out as he scratched away with his pencil.

  Mrs Sinclair looked up and met Riley’s gaze. ‘You might find one particular name of interest,’ she said, pointing to a line in the ledger. ‘And I dare say he will know the identities of a lot of the other men here last night.’

  Riley and Salter followed her finger and then gaped at one another.

  ‘Chief Inspector Danforth was here last night?’ Riley asked in an incredulous tone.

  ‘He is a regular customer,’ Mrs Sinclair responded calmly.

  Which explained Danforth’s reasons for keeping himself invisible that morning, Riley thought, astounded by the man’s arrogance. He not only risked his career by frequenting this establishment, but did so using his real name. It beggared belief. Although, since it was Danforth, perhaps it did not. ‘Was he one of Adelaide’s clients?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh yes. He wouldn’t settle for anyone else.’

  Chapter Three

  Riley took a moment to digest the disquieting knowledge that his chief inspector was one of Mrs Sinclair’s regular customers. Not many discoveries shocked him, but this was had shaken him to the core. Why the devil hadn’t he cornered Riley and warned him of his connection to the place when he’d first learned of Adelaide’s death? He must have known that Riley would discover the truth, with all its disturbing implications. He was either too embarrassed or busy putting his own version of events to the superintendent—most likely the latter.

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Sinclair,’ Riley said, his mild tone disguising the turbulent nature of his thoughts. ‘Be so kind as to return to the salon with the other ladies and wait there until I have spoken with them all. It won’t take long. Then I would like to look at Adelaide’s room. After that, we shall leave you alone for now but needless to say, you cannot open for business for the next few nights.’

  Mrs Sinclair inclined her head. ‘I understand.’

  ‘Have Mirabelle join us, if you would be so kind.’

  Salter got up and opened the door for her.

  ‘That ledger shows how much all the customers paid,’ Salter said, returning to his seat and scratching his head. ‘Talk about easy money! But Danforth didn’t pay a single penny.’

  ‘Don’t be naïve, sergeant. Why do you suppose this place is never raided by our colleagues in uniform?’

  Salter slumped into a chair. ‘This is serious, isn’t it?’

  ‘Potentially. The superintendent will have to be told. If Danforth has any sense, he will already have told him, before he finds out from us.’

  Salter chuckled. ‘I have a picture in my head of Danforth’s fat arse being flogged.’ He pulled a disgusted face. ‘Perhaps it ain’t such easy money for the girls after all. Only imagine him being such a deviant.’

  ‘Not a word about Danforth’s involvement leaves this room, Salter.’

  Salter scratched his head again. ‘I should have thought after all the trouble he’s caused you that you’d look forward to your moment of revenge.’

  ‘I hope I can rise above such petty-mindedness.’ Riley clasped his hands behind his back and stared out of the window, watching the unrelenting rain still pounding down on the cobbles outside. ‘But Chief Inspector Danforth will most certainly be helping us with our enquiries.’

  Salter grinned. ‘Please tell me I can throw him in the cells and then grill ’im.’

  ‘I very much doubt whether he killed the girl. Even he isn’t that stupid,’ Riley said, sighing. ‘But you are right about one thing. We will have to treat him as a suspect, unless or until he can prove his innocence. And the only way I can think of him doing that is to have his wife confirm that he was tucked up in bed beside her before midnight, when we know Adelaide was still alive. I don’t suppose he will want to involve her, but the problem he faces is that some of the other gentlemen in attendance here might tell us the good chief inspector was here until the doors closed.’

  ‘Can’t Tennyson confirm what time he left?’

  ‘Very probably. But can we rely upon him to tell us the truth?’

  ‘Ah, I see what you mean. Danforth might not have spent the morning confessing all to the superintendent. Instead, he’ll have been running around, trying to cover…’ Salter grinned. ‘His sore arse.’

  ‘Precisely. Has it occurred to you to wonder why Mrs Sinclair voluntarily pointed out Danforth’s name to us?’

&nb
sp; ‘Well, now that you come to mention it…’

  ‘News of Adelaide’s death will spread, and the reputation of this place will take a denting. Mrs Sinclair wants to avoid a scandal.’

  ‘This is starting to sound a lot like Lord Ashton wanting to protect his back when that poor lass was killed in his house.’ Salter gave a derisory sniff. ‘He didn’t care about justice, he just wanted to keep his precious reputation.’

  ‘I’ll wager that Danforth has agreed about the time of his leaving with Tennyson already.’

  ‘How could he have got to him so quick?’

  ‘Perhaps Mrs Sinclair told him about the murder before it was officially reported.’ Riley scowled. ‘In fact, I rather suspect that she did. She relies upon him for protection from the police, and he would be her first port of call in times of trouble. Danforth will be kicking himself when he knows the case fell to us, rather than to one of his less rigorous investigators. Serves him right for being too busy saving his own hide to allocate the case himself. Anyway, the maid will be able to tell us what time she found the body, then we will have a clearer idea.’

  ‘So Danforth’s been running around this morning tying up his alibi,’ Salter said. ‘Better to be embarrassed than looked upon as a viable suspect.’

  ‘It’s Danforth’s reputation, such as it is, that won’t survive the scandal. We won’t say anything but you can bet a pound to a farthing that news will leak out. It’s not the sort of salacious gossip that can be kept under wraps indefinitely. Danforth has crossed too many of the policemen who will become involved with this case for us to expect them to keep it to themselves. He’ll become a laughing stock, I’m afraid. There’s no way to prevent that from happening.’

  ‘And he’ll only have himself to blame,’ Salter said with a derisive snort. ‘Right now he’s probably singing his heart out to the superintendent, secure in the knowledge that Mrs Sinclair and her staff will back up his story or risk him shutting them down once the dust settles. But what about the other men who were here? Won’t they be queuing up to tell us one of our own was here until last knockings—if you’ll pardon the expression?’

  ‘By that late at night they would have been too intent upon their own pleasures to pay too much attention to who else was in the place. Besides, they probably don’t want their presence advertised, and they won’t want to get on the wrong side of a senior policeman.’ Riley released a slow breath. ‘Anyway, time will tell.’

  Salter curled his upper lip. ‘Danforth has a wife and eight kids. Why would he want to come to a place like this?’

  Riley shrugged. ‘Why does any man? Mrs Sinclair is clever enough to have identified certain deviant needs, and caters for them. Even if Mrs Danforth wasn’t worn out from all those confinements, I very much doubt whether she would agree to take a birch to her husband’s backside. Besides, wives are for the purpose of procreation only.’ Riley offered his sergeant a wry smile. ‘Surely you are aware of that? It’s common knowledge that they find sexual congress distasteful.’

  ‘Blimey, no one’s told my missus that. Wears me out, so she does.’

  ‘Then you’re a lucky man, Jack.’

  ‘And well I know it.’ Salter puffed out his chest. ‘What about Danforth? Are you going to run back to the yard and confront him?’

  ‘Not yet. He had his opportunity to speak with me this morning and chose not to take it. Now it’s my turn to keep him waiting and wondering.’

  Salter grinned. ‘I like your thinking.’

  ‘We will talk to the remaining five girls ourselves, as well as the staff, and then look at Adelaide’s room before we return to the yard full of fresh ideas and enthusiasm. Hopefully.’

  ‘This ain’t going to be an easy one, sir. Too many suspects.’

  ‘More than we have so far considered, I fancy,’ Riley replied. ‘Mrs Sinclair is successful, which will have caused resentment among the competition. She’s only been open for business for five years and has cornered a niche market. She mentioned to us that her rivals had consistently tried to tempt Adelaide away from her. When that failed, perhaps one of them decided to remove her from the game, so to speak, permanently. We’ll need to talk to her again about those competitors…’

  ‘Have a heart, guv,’ Salter groaned. ‘There are dozens of cathouses in this part of London alone.’

  ‘But not that many catering for special needs at the wealthier end of the market.’

  Salter screwed up his nose, unconvinced, but before he could voice further protests the door opened and both men turned to watch the caramel-skinned beauty flounce through it, still wearing her flimsy attire. This was Mirabelle, Adelaide’s main rival. She shivered in the cool room. Mrs Sinclair had left her commodious woollen shawl behind, which Riley wordlessly passed to Mirabelle.

  ‘We don’t get too many gents in this establishment encouraging me to put my clothes on,’ she said, looking torn between continuing to flaunt herself in front of them—an instinctive reaction that probably came as naturally to her as breathing—and keeping herself warm. In the end she compromised by wrapping her upper body in the shawl but allowing her robe to fall open when she sat down and crossed her shapely legs.

  ‘My condolences on the loss of your friend,’ Riley said briskly.

  ‘Friend?’ Mirabelle sniffed. ‘I am many things, inspector, and you probably wouldn’t approve of most of them. But I am not a hypocrite. Adelaide was cruel, arrogant and self-centred. I didn’t like her and I’m not afraid to admit it,’ she said, a bitter edge to her voice. ‘I’m not sorry that she’s dead, but I didn’t kill her, and nor do I know who did.’

  ‘Why did you dislike her so much?’ Riley asked. ‘You were in the same business and lived beneath the same roof. I should have thought that would have been a basis for at least some kind of friendship.’

  Mirabelle gave a mirthless laugh. ‘It’s clear that you don’t frequent places like this, more’s the pity. The rivalry is fierce and it’s every girl for herself. We learn early on never to rely upon anyone other than ourselves. When I first started out, a more experienced girl befriended me, and like a fool I told her all about the foibles of a young man who’d taken a fancy to me. Next thing I knew, she was offering him the same services for a cheaper price.’

  ‘You ladies seemed friendly enough earlier,’ Salter remarked.

  ‘The rest of us rub along, but Adelaide made it clear that she thought herself better than all of us.’

  ‘Is that what Adelaide did here?’ Riley asked. ‘She enticed the men with the best prospects away from the rest of you?’

  ‘It doesn’t work that way. We all mill about downstairs, chatting to the customers as they come in, helping them to loosen up a bit. Not that many of them have inhibitions to start with. They like to see us girls together. Adelaide and I used to team up. She knew I was as good looking as her. I’m dark, she was fair, and we made a striking contrast that the gentlemen liked.’

  ‘You hoped to persuade one or more of your customers to take you both, thereby earning more for less effort.’

  Mirabelle sent Riley a flirtatious smile. ‘I can see that you understand the ways of our world better than I gave you credit for, inspector. Yes, we cavorted together out there in the party room, shed a few clothes and helped the gentlemen get into the mood.’ She allowed the shawl to fall away from her shoulders and shrugged in a practised move until the robe slid from one of them, leaving little to the imagination. She chuckled when Salter looked away and Riley feigned boredom. ‘But the real money was to be made in the rooms above stairs,’ she added, pouting at Riley’s disinterest and returning the shawl to her shoulders. ‘And that’s where Adelaide took no prisoners.’

  ‘Perhaps she was better at what she did than you are?’ Salter suggested.

  Mirabelle shrugged. ‘You sound just like her. That’s what she used to say when we complained about her getting all the best pickings. She said she knew what men wanted and how to give it to t
hem. What the hell did she think the rest of us did?’ Mirabelle rolled her eyes. ‘Talk about a prima donna.’

  ‘When did you see her last?’ Riley held up his hand to prevent an immediate response. ‘Think carefully. It’s vitally important. You may not have liked her, but if someone has decided to kill ladies in your profession, it is in your best interests to help us as much as you can.’

  ‘Unless you have something to hide,’ Salter added, scowling.

  ‘I hear she had her throat cut,’ Mirabelle replied, unmoved by a glower that had been known to reduce hardened criminals to quivering wrecks. ‘I wonder how you imagine a woman could accomplish that task without her majesty struggling and causing an almighty ruckus that would have roused the rest of the house.’

  Riley had indeed been pondering that question, which is why he had already decided that a woman probably hadn’t committed the crime. Unless, of course, several of them had joined forces, overpowered Adelaide and then done the deed. But he thought it unlikely.

  ‘Answer the question, if you please,’ Riley said calmly.

  ‘Well, it thinned out quickly after midnight. It always does. A lot of our gentlemen need to get home to their wives, or be up early to attend to their duties the following morning. Even so, all six of us were engaged upstairs until, oh I suppose it must have been about one-thirty. We come down and see our gentlemen off ourselves. And madam was here too, of course.’

  ‘You are referring to Mrs Sinclair or Adelaide?’ Riley asked.

  ‘Both of them. Adelaide came downstairs just after me.’ She tossed her raven mane. ‘I remember her smirking because a gent who usually asks for me was with her this time. She thought it was amusing to have stolen him.’

  ‘Are you aware if Adelaide had any interests outside this place?’ Riley asked, in the optimistic hope of receiving an informative answer.

  ‘We don’t get a lot of leisure time.’