‘They don’t keep a carriage, sir,’ Carter said. ‘And they only employ a couple of servants. Well three all told. A cook, a maid of all work and a footman.’
‘Damn,’ Riley muttered. ‘So how did they get to Clapham, always supposing either of them was there?’
‘There are ways,’ Salter said darkly.
‘So as things stand, we have Gideon and Verity with questions to answer, Sam Dawson, who might well have compelling reasons to get rid of his brother, and James, Lady Randall’s footman, who wasn’t where he said he was and whose nose had been put out of joint because Ezra had replaced him in Lady Randall’s affections. Added to that we have Bishop, the landlord of the Plough, who was worried about his daughter’s attraction towards Ezra. We don’t know whether that affection was reciprocated—but we do know that Ezra was an impossible flirt with an eye for a pretty face.’ Riley paused. ‘There is, of course, also a possibility that he offered Sally a position at this club of his.’
‘And if Bishop was aware of that,’ Salter added, ‘it would give him a motive too, so he wouldn’t have admitted it to us. We didn’t ask him if Reggie Lane frequents his establishment, but you can be sure that Bishop will know of him anyway, and he’d be more frightened of him than of us.’
‘Ezra must have had some front to go up against him, in that case,’ Soames said. ‘Mind you, he could well have paid the ultimate price before his club even got off the ground. Men like Lane ain’t shy of doin’ away with the opposition.’
‘A good point, Soames,’ Riley replied, ‘which is why I intend to track down Lord Buckingham today. According to Ruth Dawson, he was involved with Ezra’s club in some way. Hopefully he will be able to shed some light on their intentions. We have also yet to ascertain why Gregg argued with Ezra just before his death. It’s entirely possible that Sir Philip’s butler took matters into his own hands, or worked in conjunction with Verity.’
‘And the servants in that household are scared of Gregg, so they’ll say whatever they’re told to,’ Salter added.
‘We haven’t spoken with Sir Philip’s coachman yet, sir,’ Peterson said. ‘He wasn’t there when I went round earlier and I wasn’t sure if you’d want me talking to the other servants, alerting them to our suspicions, like.’
‘I am glad you did not, Peterson. Stout is trying to find out a bit more about Gregg, so we’ll leave him and Sir Philip for later. In the meantime, Jack, I want you back in Clapham since it’s your stamping ground. Grill Bishop on Reggie Lane and find out just how tight his hold actually is on local gambling. Talk to the daughter as well, on her own, and try to get her to open up to you about her friendship with Ezra. She won’t say a word if her father’s around.’
‘Leave it to me, sir.’
‘The rest of you, write up your reports. One of you needs to call in at the Reform Club and check that Gideon did actually dine there on the night of the murder.’
‘I can do that one, sir,’ Carter offered.
‘Good. Try and pin the doorman down to his arrival and departure times. You’ll probably find that he remembers.’
‘Will do, sir.’
‘Right, gentlemen. A good day’s work. We’re making progress, even if we do have more suspects than we started the day with.’
‘Better than having none at all, which is what usually happens,’ Salter said, reaching for his hat.
‘I wish you all a good evening,’ Riley said, ushering them from his room.
Riley spent another hour reading reports, signing off various requests relating to other cases and then, glancing at the clock, realised this would be the best time to catch Buckingham. He acknowledged Sergeant Barton as he left Scotland Yard and since the weather was fine, took the decision to walk the mile to White’s Club in St. James’s Street. He reflected as he strode along that the club, the last word in gentlemen’s exclusivity, was an establishment in which he had grilled more than one aristocratic witness or suspect. He chuckled, thinking that the ruling body would take a dim view if they knew, and probably accuse him of lowering the tone.
He arrived at his destination and acknowledged the porter, who took his hat and gloves. Riley climbed the stairs to the main body of the club and found his quarry ensconced in a lively discussion with several other members that sounded as though it was in danger of becoming heated.
‘Rochester.’ Buckingham raised a hand when he saw Riley and detached himself from the squabbling throng. ‘I thought I might have the pleasure of a visit.’
‘It would have saved time if you’d come to me,’ Riley replied on a note of mild censure.
‘What, and risk being clapped in irons?’ Buckingham laughed. ‘No one’s ever accused me of having courage.’
Riley smiled. ‘Have you done anything to require being locked away and left to rot?’
‘Can’t expect me to condemn myself with my own words,’ Buckingham replied, oozing an air of confidence as he and Riley took facing wingback chairs in a quiet corner. A steward approached them and Riley ordered whisky for them both. There was no reason that this interview, for want of a better description, shouldn’t be conducted in a civilized manner. Riley didn’t have much time for Buckingham, whom he considered to be lazy and self-indulgent, but he had yet to establish whether or not he had broken the law.
‘Tell me about Ezra Dawson,’ Riley invited when their drinks had been delivered and tasted and the steward had withdrawn. ‘How did your path cross with that of a footman?’
Buckingham leaned back in his chair and chuckled. ‘He was more than just a footman to Ida, but
