‘Undoubtedly,’ Salter agreed, ‘Unless he just wants us looking in the wrong places for things what don’t exist.’
‘If that’s his game then he’s made an enemy of me. I think he’s maybe too shrewd to do a thing like that.’
Their conversation took them to the common, where they encountered their three detective constables comparing notes on the corner of the aptly named Elms Road.
‘Any progress, gentlemen?’ Riley asked.
‘A few of the houses are closed up, the residents away, sir,’ Carter replied. ‘We’ve been to most of the ones immediately bordering the common, but we ain’t had no luck.’
‘There was one, sir,’ Peterson added. ‘That big one across the way, standing in its own grounds. The butler told us it was a household in mourning, wouldn’t let us in and wouldn’t even tell us who owned it.’
Riley and Salter exchanged a glance.
‘In that case, I’d best see if the butler tries to turn me away,’ Riley said. ‘Come along, Salter. The rest of you carry on. We will meet back here when you have called at the final properties.’
‘Sounds hopeful, sir,’ Salter said, glancing at the house in question, with a black wreath on the door and all the curtains firmly drawn across the windows.
‘It does indeed.’
Riley wielded the knocker. It was sometime before the door was opened and a short butler peered imperiously up at Riley, not deterred by his slight stature from attempting to appear superior. One look at Riley’s autocratic bearing and pristine tailoring caused him to have a change of heart.
‘You have business here, sir?’ he asked.
‘Lord Riley Rochester to see your mistress.’ Without giving the butler an opportunity to formulate a response, Riley pushed his personal card into the butler’s hand and swept him aside as he stepped into the entrance hall, Salter at his heels.
‘Wait in here, please,’ the butler said, opening the door to a small parlour as he attempted to regain his dignity. ‘I shall see if my mistress is available.’
‘I like it when you go all aristocratic,’ Salter said, chuckling as the door closed behind the snooty butler.
‘It has its place.’
‘How did you know this establishment belongs to a woman?’
‘Lucky guess,’ Riley replied, grinning. ‘We’ve already deduced that Ezra fixed his interest on a wealthy widow or a female of independent means. And since someone connected to these premises has recently died, it was simply a case of deduction.’ Riley glanced around the tastefully decorated room, admiring the few expensive ornaments that adorned the mantle and a couple of decent watercolours on the walls. ‘Anyway, I think we have found our elusive female.’
‘What if she won’t see us?’
‘She’ll see us,’ Riley replied, ‘if she has nothing to hide. If she tries to send us away, then we will have acquired another suspect.’
The door opened again sooner than Riley had anticipated. ‘My mistress will see you, Lord Riley, if you would be good enough to follow me.’
They were conducted into an equally elegant drawing room, the closed curtains making it difficult at first for them to see the lady seated in it. She rose from her chair as Riley was announced and he was obliged to hold back a gasp. The lamps were lit and turned down low to counter the gloom created by the closed curtains. Despite the fact that the lady was garbed in deepest black and the lack of light made her features hard to distinguish, she was one of the most beautiful women Riley had ever seen.
‘Lord Riley,’ she said, extending a small hand. ‘I am Mrs Gordon Wendall. Nancy Wendall. I have been expecting you.’
‘Mrs Wendall.’ Riley took her hand. ‘Thank you for receiving us. This is Sergeant Salter.’
‘Ma’am.’
‘Please take a seat, Lord Riley,’ she said in a pleasingly modulated voice. ‘I assume you are here about Ezra.’
As soon as Mrs Wendall resumed her chair, refreshments had been declined and the butler had withdrawn, Riley sat also. Salter leaned against the wall, his pencil poised.
‘First things first, ma’am,’ Riley said. ‘You are in mourning—but not, I think, for Ezra.’
‘You are quite wrong about that, Lord Riley. I mourn Ezra’s death with every fibre of my being. It is indescribably cruel to have had him snatched away from me and being unable to display my grief, just when…However, you are also right. My husband died three months ago.’
‘I see. My condolences for your loss.’
‘I can see what you are thinking, and I’m sure you don’t approve of my conduct.’
‘It is not for me to approve or disapprove. I am simply attempting to catch a murderer, and I very much hope that you will be able to help me in that regard.’
‘You are assured of my full cooperation.’ Mrs Wendall dashed at a tear with the handkerchief that she clutched permanently in one hand.
‘May I ask how your husband died?’
‘In an accident. A stack of barrels fell on him and crushed him to death.’
‘Barrels?’ Riley glanced over his shoulder at Salter, blinking back his surprise. ‘Your husband was a cooper?’
‘Oh yes, I assumed you knew.’ She waved a hand around the elegant room. ‘And a very successful one, as you can see. He inherited the company as a going concern upon his own father’s death.’
‘Your husband was Mrs Verity Randall’s brother?’
‘He was. I assumed she would have told you, which is why I have been expecting you.’
