‘Leave it to us, sir,’ Soames said, as the two constables stood. ‘If there’s anything to be found, we’ll find it.’
‘You take yourself off as well, Jack, and make arrangements for your operation tonight. Let me know when Verity gets here.’
‘Will do, sir.’
Left alone to reflect, Riley wondered if it would be that easy. Even if Rutherford made a positive identification, Riley had already highlighted a potential flaw with said identification. Stand Sam and Paul together and they were almost impossible to tell apart. And even if Sam was identified, it didn’t follow that he would be convicted, especially since the death had already been recorded as an accident. Dawson would likely invent a plausible reason for meeting with Wendall, who received him and sent Rutherford home, implying that he didn’t feel threatened. Besides, the coroner’s pride was at stake and he wouldn’t want to admit to having made a mistake.
Then there was the question of Verity’s accomplice in Ezra’s killing. It was almost certainly Gregg, but Riley had no way in the world of proving it. He let out a frustrated sigh, cut short when a hasty tap at the door preceded Peterson opening it.
‘I just came in, sir, and Sergeant Barton asked me to give you this message that was delivered by Mr Danforth.’
‘Thank you, Peterson.’
Riley opened the message whilst Peterson hopped from foot to foot. Presumably he already knew what it contained but was less adept than Riley at disguising his surprise when he too absorbed its contents.
‘What do you want me to do about it, sir?’ Peterson asked.
‘What’s all the excitement about?’ Salter asked, poking his head around the door.
‘See for yourself, Jack.’ Riley passed him Danforth’s note.
‘Blimey,’ Salter said.
‘Should we bring him in sir?’ Peterson asked.
‘Bring who in?’
‘Well, sir,’ Peterson said, his voice faltering. ‘Mr Gideon Randall, obviously. Why else would his wife go to his place of work? They must be in this together.’
Riley didn’t want to discourage the young detective from expressing his views, but he also required him not to act impulsively.
‘If they were working together, wouldn’t they discuss their strategy in the privacy of their own home?’ he asked.
‘Ah. Sorry, sir.’ Peterson sheepishly scratched his ear. ‘I got a bit carried away.’
‘Can you think of any other reason why Verity Randall would have gone to Whitehall?’
Riley and Salter shared a look, waiting for Peterson to reach the obvious conclusion.
‘She went to see Sir Philip,’ he said slowly.
‘Now we are in agreement. Lady Randall told us that they planned to dine alone last night, she and Sir Philip, so even if Verity dropped in unannounced, she wouldn’t have been sure of getting Sir Philip alone.’
‘He did care about his wife carrying on beneath his own roof.’ Salter rubbed his hands together. ‘Not that I blame him for that.’
‘It appears so,’ Riley said, ‘but let’s not jump to conclusions. Hold off on bringing Verity in, Jack. It can wait until tomorrow. Send Carter and Soames to the Office of Parliamentary Counsel in Whitehall instead. Have them speak to the clerk on reception and ask him to confirm that Verity did call to see Sir Philip. Find out if she ever goes there to see her husband and how often she has called to see Sir Philip in the past. Oh, and they’d best make it clear that this is a confidential police investigation. If Sir Philip or anyone else learns that they have been asking questions then the clerk will find himself occupying one of our cells. It’s vital that Sir Philip doesn’t know that we’re on to him.’
‘Leave it to me, sir,’ Salter said. ‘I’ll stop the others before they set out to fetch Verity and give them their new instructions.’
Chapter Fourteen
Riley and Amelia were engaged to dine with his family that evening. Despite Sophia’s engaging company, Riley was distracted as random speculations about various aspects of the case filtered through his mind. The pieces were falling into place, but whether he could unearth sufficient proof to bring all the guilty parties before a jury was far from certain. Forcing a confession might be his only recourse.
‘Uncle Riley, I declare you have not heard one word in ten that I just said,’ Sophia cried in exasperation.
‘On the contrary, Cabbage, I know about every knot, bow and ribbon on the hat that you will model tomorrow.’
‘I am still not sure that I approve of your exhibiting yourself, Sophia,’ Riley’s mother said in a stern tone, ‘but since it is for the benefit of a respectable charity, I suppose one cannot object to your lending your name to the cause.’
‘And you will be there yourself, Grandmamma, so it will be entirely respectable. I hope you will be there to see Sergeant Salter’s daughter’s handiwork too, Uncle Riley. She is very talented and I fully intend to have her make all of my hats in the future.’
Amelia smiled. ‘She deserves our custom,’ she agreed.
‘I am sure she does, and I shall do my very best to be there and witness her moment of triumph,’ Riley assured them both.
On the way home, Amelia asked Riley about the cause of his preoccupation.
‘Perceptive, as always, my love,’ he said, squeezing her hand. He told her about Salter’s determination to catch the
