Death of a Courtesan: Riley Rochester Investigates

by Wendy Soliman

  Riley was perfectly sure that he would not.

  ‘Well?’ Salter asked when Riley returned to his office.

  ‘I felt a little sorry for him,’ Riley said, throwing himself into his chair.

  Salter guffawed. ‘Never thought I’d live to hear those words pass your lips with regard to Danforth. He resents you and this is your opportunity to bury him.’

  ‘I am not vindictive, Jack. You know that.’

  ‘Aye well, you’re a better man than I’ll ever be.’

  ‘Danforth’s been suspended. He’ll have a hard time explaining that one to his wife. Thompson is taking control of the investigation and I am to report directly to him.’

  ‘That’s good to know. At least he appreciates our efforts and doesn’t try to undermine us every step of the way.’ Salter scratched his ear. ‘Blimey,’ he said, glancing out the window. ‘I think the rain’s actually stopped at last.’

  ‘Plenty more dark clouds on the horizon,’ Riley replied, following the direction of Salter’s gaze, but thinking about the direction the case was taking rather than the temporary lull in the weather.

  ‘Will Danforth lose his rank, or will they just throw him out?’

  Riley shrugged. ‘It’s hard to say. His involvement won’t have done him much good. Thompson shares your opinion of Mrs Sinclair’s establishment and doesn’t think much of the men who frequent it.’ Riley leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. ‘Danforth is guilty of poor judgement but if…no, when the commissioner gets to hear about it, it might be enough to see him sacked. You know how keen he is for the Detective Department to maintain a spotless reputation. We’ve had to fight hard enough to overcome all the resentment and justify our existence. Danforth’s predilections won’t help our cause if they become public knowledge, which they undoubtedly will.’

  Salter grinned. ‘Well then, I suppose we’d better find the murderer as quickly as we can and save his sore arse.’

  Riley chuckled. ‘Danforth recognised two of the names on the list. A solicitor and an ironmonger.’

  ‘And we have one more, which you will have no trouble in believing,’ Salter said, still grinning broadly. ‘Boyland is the minister in a small Methodist chapel in Victoria.’

  Riley rolled his eyes. ‘And the other two?’

  ‘Still trying to track them down.’

  Sergeant Barton put his head round the door. ‘I have a man by the name of Grant at the front desk. Says you will want to talk to him about this case.’

  ‘His name is on the list,’ Salter said. ‘He’s one I couldn’t track down.’

  ‘Obviously wants to do his civic duty,’ Barton said, chuckling.

  ‘Very well. Show him in. We’ll talk to him in here.’

  The man who shuffled through the door was short—not much more than five feet—with a round, shiny bald head that resembled an egg. He wore wire-rimmed spectacles perched on the end of his nose, was smartly dressed and had to be at least fifty. His air of respectability made him seem an unlikely candidate for the type of punishments Adelaide routinely dealt out. His perversion was confirmed when he lowered himself gingerly onto the chair that Riley indicated, having first extracted a dazzling white handkerchief from his pocket and fastidiously dusted the seat.

  ‘Thank you for coming to see me, Mr Grant. I am Inspector Rochester and this is Sergeant Salter. You have saved my detectives the trouble of tracking you down.’

  ‘I heard of the incident this morning,’ Grant replied briskly, ‘and knew you would want to talk to me. Frankly, I would prefer for that conversation to take place here, rather than at my place of employment or my home.’

  ‘What is your line of work?’

  ‘I am a senior clerk for a shipping company situated on the wharf, with a reputation to maintain. I cannot have details of my private affairs becoming public knowledge.’ He shook his round head decisively. ‘Oh dear me, no. That would never do.’

  Salter asked for his employer’s name and Grant supplied the information reluctantly. ‘I cannot see what help that will be to your enquiries, indeed I cannot. My duties for Frobisher and Sons have absolutely nothing to do with my personal life.’

  ‘I will be frank with you, Mr Grant,’ Riley said, studying the odd little man, unsure quite what to make of him. ‘I find it hard to believe that a man in your position could afford Adelaide’s services.’

  ‘I have given many loyal years of service to my employers, and they recompense me accordingly. They think very highly of me and depend upon me to keep business flowing efficiently.’ He sat a little straighter and grasped his lapels, clearly proud of his achievements. ‘I am unmarried, inspector, and my mother recently died, leaving me an annuity. I neither drink nor smoke. I am a pillar of the local church and Adelaide is…was, my only indulgence.’ He removed his handkerchief from the pocket to which he had returned it and mopped his brow. ‘I don’t know what I shall do without her.’

  ‘You were with her last night?’

  ‘Indeed, I was her first client. I always like to go first, when she is still full of energy and enthusiasm and hasn’t been sullied by anyone else.’

  ‘Did you remain after that?’

  ‘No, of course not.’ He looked shocked by the suggestion. ‘Why would I?’

  ‘There was a party,’ Salter said. ‘Don’t you like them, either?’

  ‘No, sergeant, I do not. I went there for one reason and one reason only. The same reason all of Adelaide’s clients went there, I would imagine. She is…was, the best whore in the business when it came to fulfilling…certain desires, and was worth every penny I spent on her. I have a very high tolerance for pain, or I thought I had. But Adelaide persuaded me to stretch my boundaries. She knew I could take more, even though I did not, and that the rewards would more than compensate for the additional discomfort.’ He allowed himself a small smile, as though he had achieved something remarkable. In his eyes, he very likely had. ‘And she was right, of course. Needless to say, I would have tried it anyway, simply to please her. Men of my persuasion always go that extra mile to please their dominatrix. It is our raison d’être.’

  Salter grunted and opened his mouth to speak but Riley, sensing that his comments would be derogatory, silenced him with a look.

  ‘Adelaide knew exactly how far to take matters so that I could achieve more satisfactory release. I cannot reach it any other way,’ he added casually, as though discussing the weather. ‘I am a man like any other and have my needs. Can you imagine how frustrating it is not to be able to satisfy them?’

  Riley exchanged a glance with Salter, surprised that such a prim individual could talk about his sexual peccadillos in such clinical terms without showing the least sign of embarrassment.

  ‘You left at what time?’ Salter asked.

  ‘A little after nine. I went straight home to my rooms in Langley Street. I live alone and spoke to no one, so I’m afraid I can’t prove it. Hopefully you will take my word for it. I am a God-fearing man and always speak the truth. I did not kill Adelaide, but might well be tempted to murder whoever did. He has selfishly deprived London of its best dominatrix.’ He shook his round head, sanctimonious in his disapproval. ‘Those of us who appreciated her unique talents will find her impossible to replace.’

  ‘Did she seem the same as always last night?’ Salter asked.

  ‘I noticed no particular changes in her manner. It was her job to give orders and mine to obey them without question. That is how it works. If I took it upon myself to instigate a conversation she would punish me by…well, by withholding punishment. I would not take that risk for any consideration, no matter how curious I might have been about her background, I can assure you of that.’

  ‘Blimey…’ Salter muttered, earning a frown from Riley.

  ‘Was there something else you wished to add?’ Riley asked when Grant opened his mouth and then snapped it shut again without speaking.

  ‘I am unaware if sh
e told anyone this and cannot think what help it will be to your enquiry. However, I will tell you myself rather than have you hear a biased account from a third party.’ He rotated his head, ran a finger around his collar and then looked Riley square in the eye. ‘I offered to help the girl out by marrying her.’

  ‘You did what?’ Salter’s eyes bulged. ‘When? How long ago?’

  ‘A few months back. I made her a business proposition. I did not love her, nor she me, but I did have an ongoing need for her services. I saw her regularly, once a week, and it was getting to the stage when that was no longer enough for me. I disliked making the journey to Maiden Lane and waiting my turn if someone got there ahead of me so it would have suited me to have her at home, willing to oblige me whenever the need arose. I told her that I was a man of modest means and that if she became my wife, she would only have my needs to concern herself with, and the rest of the time would be her own.’

  ‘You said you wanted to help her out,’ Riley said. ‘What did you mean by that?’

  ‘I should have thought that would be obvious.’ Grant tutted. ‘She need not have intercourse with any man ever again.’

  Riley fought to disguise his surprise. ‘You and she did not…’

  ‘Oh no, inspector.’ Grant looked scandalised by the suggestion. ‘Cleanliness is next to godliness. I would never take that risk, knowing that she had been with countless other men. One never knows what diseases…No, she gave me a helping hand to achieve release, and her permission to do so.’

  ‘Her permission?’ Riley almost smiled at his sergeant’s bewilderment.

  ‘She was in control, always. I have a great deal of responsibility in my daily life, sergeant, which sometimes feels like a heavy burden. Part of Adelaide’s skill was to relieve that pressure by reversing roles. She gave the orders. All I had to do was obey them and enjoy myself. Believe me, it can be cathartic.’

  ‘She didn’t accept your proposal?’ Riley asked.

  ‘No. I’m sorry to say that she refused to see the benefits and preferred to carry on the way she was.’

  ‘Did that make you angry?’

  ‘I looked upon it as an inconvenience, inspector. But then she was a woman. One cannot expect females to have logical brains.’

  ‘I hear tell she was educated and could hold intelligent conversations on a whole range of subjects,’ Salter said.

  ‘Maybe so, but she showed a marked lack of sense in rejecting my proposal.’

  ‘Did you propose a second time?’ Salter asked. ‘I assume you thought she might have had a change of heart when she’d had time to consider the advantages of the match.’

  ‘I did, but with the same discouraging result.’ He sighed. ‘And so we resumed our normal activities and the matter wasn’t referred to again.’

  ‘I see.’ Riley steepled his fingers beneath his chin as he studied the man seated before him. Grant stared directly back at Riley, blinking like an owl behind his spectacles, his expression unguarded. He was either telling the truth or was one of those rare individuals who could lie convincingly without giving himself away. Riley had yet to decide which.

  ‘Thank you for being so candid, Mr Grant.’ He stood to indicate that the interview was at an end.

  ‘Honesty is the best policy, I find, inspector.’

  ‘I hope it will not be necessary to speak with you again but if the need arises, you can be assured of our discretion.’

  ‘Catch whoever did this, Inspector Rochester,’ Grant said. ‘In my opinion, someone who disapproves of or fails to understand the needs of those of us who enjoy domination is attempting to punish us. Sadly, I have absolutely no idea who, but if any thoughts occur to me in that regard I shall be sure to let you know.’

  ‘Your cooperation is appreciated.’

  Grant nodded and shuffled from the office slowly, clearly enjoying the painful reminder of the previous evening that his movements brought back to him.

  ‘Don’t say a word, Jack,’ Riley said, falling back into his chair and laughing. ‘Not one blasted word…’

  ‘It takes all sorts, don’t it, sir? But I think we can put him to the bottom of the list of suspects.’

  ‘Not necessarily. He treads a fine line between self-resect and conceit, and probably thought that Adelaide would jump at the chance of marrying him. Even so, he is fastidious and would have been covered in blood himself if he had slit her throat in a jealous rage. I think he would have found that more repulsive than the killing itself.’

  ‘He might not have had any clothes on at the time,’ Salter pointed out. ‘And there was a bathroom off that bedroom where he could have cleaned himself up.’

  ‘He thought he was being magnanimous in offering to marry a woman he considered beneath him. He referred to her as a whore, if you recall. She turned him down, probably laughed at him, and his pride took a denting. We’ve seen more than once during the course of our work that wounded pride can drive the most unlikely people into murderous rages.’

  ‘But we wouldn’t have suspected him of being anything other than harmless if he hadn’t told us that he’d proposed to Adelaide. Why would he do that when it must have been obvious to him that we didn’t know anything about it?’

  ‘As he said himself, he wasn’t sure if she had told any of the other girls about the proposal. He wasn’t to know they weren’t on friendly terms and probably assumed they compared notes on their customers when alone. Mirabelle and Adelaide put on a show for them at the beginning of every party that would have made them seem, quite literally I’m sure, like bosom friends. If Grant was her first customer, he would have witnessed their act and been taken in by it because Adelaide’s words and actions were never to be questioned.’ Riley laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back in his chair. ‘No, I think Grant is very clever and may possibly be trying to mislead us. His name stays on the list of suspects.’

  ‘He says he’s a God-fearing man, but engages in unnatural practises. Makes you wonder.’

  ‘One of Adelaide’s customers last night was a minister,’ Riley reminded him.

  Salter grimaced. ‘There is that.’

  ‘Grant may have told the truth when he said that he didn’t love Adelaide, but there’s no question that he was obsessed with her. And we’ve frequently seen where obsessions can lead. I think he hated the thought of her being contaminated by other men who were not as fastidious as he is when it comes to cleanliness. With no other hobbies to occupy his leisure time, I’m guessing that obsession grew to epic proportions, resulting in a proposal that he hadn’t imagined for one minute would be declined. Grant thinks highly of himself and probably considered that he was paying her the ultimate compliment. As a professional, Adelaide had probably left him with the impression that she admired him, giving Grant the courage to propose. Only imagine his humiliation when she rejected him not once, but twice.’

  ‘Right, his name stays on the list then. What next?’

  Harper put his head round the door. ‘We’ve found the identity of the remaining man, sir,’ he said. ‘Took a bit of digging ’cause he hadn’t used his real name. It was Sergeant Barton who recognised his alias. He’s been arrested once for causing an affray in a tavern frequented by prostitutes, but he was never convicted.’

  ‘Why not?’ Salter asked.

  Harper shrugged. ‘Connections in the right places. He’s a senior clerk in the Home Office. He called himself Mr Bertram when he visited Mrs Sinclair’s but Bertram is his Christian name. His actual name is Bertram Wallace.’

  ‘Well done, Harper.’

  Harper beamed at the praise and left the room.

  ‘Wallace is our most senior man, apart from Danforth, with arguably the most to lose,’ Riley said in a considering tone. ‘Which probably explains why he used an alias.’

  ‘Shall we pop off and see him now, then?’ Salter asked, rubbing his hands.

  ‘We’ll talk to the remaining four tomorrow. I want to speak with
Adelaide’s family today.’ He stood up. ‘Come on, Jack. We’d best take the train to Hertfordshire.’

  Chapter Five

  The two detectives caught their train from King’s Cross with seconds to spare. The guard closed the compartment door behind them, checked his watch and gave a loud blast on his whistle. With a belch of smoke the train dawdled away from the platform like a reluctant child, slowly building up a head of steam as it gained momentum. Riley sacrificed many of his personal standards in pursuit of his career, much to his mother’s chagrin, but drew the line at compromising his comfort when it came to travelling by rail. He and his sergeant had a first class compartment to themselves, the additional cost covered from Riley’s own pocket.

  Riley settled into a corner seat, reflecting upon all they had learned about the brutal slaying of an innocent young woman. Despite the profession that she had entered into for reasons he had yet to establish, she hadn’t deserved to meet such a grisly end, and Riley would do his utmost to see justice served.

  ‘Here,’ Salter said, looking up from the papers he was perusing and grinning. ‘Tennyson did two years at Her Majesty’s pleasure five years ago for receiving stolen goods.’ Riley’s sergeant perked up as he extracted that particular detail from the information gathered by an especially diligent detective constable who had thrust it into Salter’s hands as he left the Yard. ‘I knew there was something off about him.’

  ‘Did he indeed?’ Riley flexed a brow. ‘We shall have to have a word with him about his past misdeeds in the very near future.’

  ‘You think his criminal connections might have put pressure on him to exploit his position with Mrs Sinclair?’

  Riley shrugged. ‘The possibility crossed my mind. Once a criminal…’

  ‘Well, if anyone was in a position to let customers in through the back door and force the girls to service them for free then it would be him. The girls wouldn’t say anything either, because they relied upon him for their protection. Or there again, perhaps they got paid like always, but Tennyson pocketed Mrs Sinclair’s share, leaving her none the wiser. It would be a handy way to supplement his income.’