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“Not until we realized Rosa Rivera was a viable suspect,” I added.
Bert quickened his pace, then stopped near a large beech tree. He waved in the general vicinity of some smaller trees. “Around there. She was heading in that direction.” He pointed to the right. “Then she looked over her shoulder before leaving the woods altogether.”
We all spread out across the area Bert indicated, and it wasn’t long before Harry called out that he’d found something. We crowded around, the constables ready with their shovels. They weren’t needed. The heavy rain had washed away the leaves and soil to reveal a corner of fabric. Detective Fanning tugged on it and pulled out the entire coat, dislodging more soil in the process and revealing the crown of a bowler hat.
The front of the coat was splattered with blood.
It was a satisfying outcome, and proved that not only did Mr. Liddicoat tell the truth, but the police had wasted their time by looking for a cab driver. It didn’t prove that Rosa Rivera killed Vernon Rigg-Lyon, but thankfully Detective Fanning was willing to interrogate her, given the mechanic’s account proved she’d lied about where she was at the time of the murder.
As we left the Elms Polo Club estate, Detective Fanning turned to Harry. “You’re Hobart’s son?”
“That’s right.”
“Good detective, Hobart. Shame he was forced out of the Yard like that.” He was kinder about D.I. Hobart than D.I. Hobart had been about him. “Travel with me to the Royal Albert Hall and tell me again why you think Rosa Rivera is the killer.”
“This is Miss Fox’s investigation. She’ll tell you everything you need to know.”
“It’s your investigation, too,” I said.
“I was only involved because of my investigation into Liddicoat, and his link to Broadman. The murder was yours.”
I stared at him. “But…are you at least coming to see Rosa arrested?”
“No need. You have it in hand. But I will accept a ride back into the city, thank you.”
Nothing I said on the way back to London convinced him to come with us to the Royal Albert. He continued to insist it was my case and that I ought to be there, not him. It was infuriating. He’d been with me almost every step of the way, so why not see the investigation through to its conclusion?
We drove Harry to his office then continued on to the Hall. As we alighted from the carriage, Detective Fanning asked me to reiterate why I thought Rosa did it. “As Rigg-Lyon was her benefactor, didn’t she need him alive, particularly if she was carrying his child?” He wasn’t particularly bright, but at least he was willing to listen. Not every man in his position believed a lady detective could solve a murder.
“Let me do the talking and you’ll find out,” I told him.
It was still early. Rosa’s performance wasn’t due to begin for another two hours, but she and the other singers were there preparing. We found her alone in her dressing room, humming as she brushed her hair. The room was too small for all of us, so both constables remained outside while Detective Fanning and I spoke to her.
Rosa slowly lowered her brush to the dressing table. Her gaze met mine in the mirror’s reflection then shifted to Detective Fanning at my side. He was too busy looking around at the clothing strewn about to notice. When he spotted the corset hanging over the privacy screen, he tugged on his collar and quickly looked away.
“Miss Fox. Detective. To what do I owe the pleasure this time?”
Detective Fanning cleared his throat. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Vernon Rigg-Lyon. Come with me, please.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be absurd. What proof do you have?”
Detective Fanning looked to me.
“You weren’t here at the time of the murder,” I said. “Lord Dunmere’s mechanic drove you to the Elms.”
“Ah. So you know about that. It’s not what you think. I lied because I was worried you would assume I murdered Vernon. As his mistress, I was an obvious suspect. And clearly you do suspect me, so I was right to lie. Was I not, Detective?”
“We found the coat and hat you buried in the woods,” he blurted out.
She hesitated ever so slightly before responding. “Did someoneseeme bury them?”
“No-o.”
“Is that all your evidence?” She clicked her tongue. “I’m sorry you’ve come here for nothing, but you’re welcome to stay for my performance. Speaking of which, I have a rehearsal on stage.”
She rose and rested her hand on his arm, smiling gently. She was very beautiful, but there was something about her that transcended beauty. It was the regal tilt of her chin, the air of composure, coupled with a smoldering sensuality and a hint of vulnerability. The combination was compelling, alluring.
“May I rehearse?” She directed the question entirely to Detective Fanning. She knew I wouldn’t fall under her spell.
