The Sans Pareil Mystery (The Detective Lavender Mysteries Book 2) by Karen Charlton Page B
Authors: Karen Charlton
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their absence.’
‘Thomas Lawrence, the outstanding British portrait painter was amongst the guests,’ Duddles volunteered, his voice rising with excitement. ‘Along with various peers and their wives and that new chap who does interesting things with glazes – John Constable, I think he’s called.’
‘Same name as me then,’ Constable Woods said suddenly.
The other men glanced up at Woods curiously but Lady Caroline didn’t notice the awkward pause.
‘It was odd though,’ she said. ‘The girls sent a note that said they would arrive together in Harriet’s carriage; their invitations had definitely been accepted.’
‘And you have not heard from Mrs Willoughby since Friday night?’
‘No. Oh, my goodness!’ Suddenly she reached out and grabbed his arm. Her watery eyes widened with shock. ‘You don’t think that anything has happened to Harriet, do you? She’s not also lying murdered in an abandoned building, is she?’ He heard the panic in her voice.
‘No,’ he soothed. This thought had crossed his mind. ‘I’m quite sure that Mrs Willoughby is safe. But Constable Woods and I will go straight to see her and we will send you word that she’s well.’
‘Yes, yes – please do. And please be gentle when you tell Harriet about April. They were close. Harriet has never had a robust constitution and is very delicate. Tell her that I will be along as soon as I can.’ Large tears rolled down her pale cheeks.
Lavender picked up his gloves and rose to leave. ‘Again, please accept my condolences, Lady Caroline, and if there is anything we can do to help, don’t hesitate to ask.’
‘Just find the evil fiend who did this, Detective Lavender,’ she said. Her voice cracked with anger. ‘And make sure he swings for it at the next assizes.’
Chapter Ten
‘Are you thinkin’ that we may have two murdered women on our hands?’ Woods asked as they walked back onto the chilly, crowded streets of Covent Garden.
Lavender frowned and his jaw tightened. ‘I’m alarmed to discover that April Clare was in the company of her sister on Friday,’ he confessed. ‘And that Mrs Willoughby hasn’t been seen since. I propose that we saddle up and go straight to Wandsworth. If she’s there, then at least she will be able to shed some light on the events of Friday night.’
Lavender grabbed Woods and managed to push him into the doorway of a shop just in time to avoid a spray of muddy water as a fast-moving carriage raced by. There were yells of anger from less fortunate pedestrians who had not been as alert and quick-thinking.
‘This case is becomin’ a real mystery,’ Woods said, as they resumed their steady pace. ‘We’ve got the dead daughter of a baron buried beneath the floorboards of a rotten buildin’ in one of the seediest parts of London – and the body of the pimp who used the same buildin’ for a snoozin’-ken for the Covent Garden Nuns. Both of them are on a slab in our morgue. I still think that the dead gal and the buttock-broker were connected in some way. What do you think?’
‘I don’t know,’ Lavender admitted. ‘But I doubt they knew each other. My suspicion is that both Miss Clare and Darius Jones were somehow in the wrong place at the wrong time.’
‘And in the wrong shoes,’ Woods interrupted. ‘Don’t forget those ruddy shoes.’
‘Ah, yes – shoes,’ said Lavender. ‘And boots.’
‘Boots?’
‘Yes. I promised to go to Bushy House and collect Magdalena’s reward from the Duke of Clarence. This may be a fortuitous arrangement. I would welcome the opportunity to question Dorothy Jordan about April Clare. Lady Caroline said that the Duke’s mistress had become the young woman’s patron.’
Woods grinned. ‘That were a clever little trick your Spanish widow pulled on the Sailor Prince and his floozy.’
The sides of Lavender’s mouth twitched in amusement. ‘Once again, Ned, she’s not my Spanish widow. And it may be her last little money-earning
‘Thomas Lawrence, the outstanding British portrait painter was amongst the guests,’ Duddles volunteered, his voice rising with excitement. ‘Along with various peers and their wives and that new chap who does interesting things with glazes – John Constable, I think he’s called.’
‘Same name as me then,’ Constable Woods said suddenly.
The other men glanced up at Woods curiously but Lady Caroline didn’t notice the awkward pause.
‘It was odd though,’ she said. ‘The girls sent a note that said they would arrive together in Harriet’s carriage; their invitations had definitely been accepted.’
‘And you have not heard from Mrs Willoughby since Friday night?’
‘No. Oh, my goodness!’ Suddenly she reached out and grabbed his arm. Her watery eyes widened with shock. ‘You don’t think that anything has happened to Harriet, do you? She’s not also lying murdered in an abandoned building, is she?’ He heard the panic in her voice.
‘No,’ he soothed. This thought had crossed his mind. ‘I’m quite sure that Mrs Willoughby is safe. But Constable Woods and I will go straight to see her and we will send you word that she’s well.’
‘Yes, yes – please do. And please be gentle when you tell Harriet about April. They were close. Harriet has never had a robust constitution and is very delicate. Tell her that I will be along as soon as I can.’ Large tears rolled down her pale cheeks.
Lavender picked up his gloves and rose to leave. ‘Again, please accept my condolences, Lady Caroline, and if there is anything we can do to help, don’t hesitate to ask.’
‘Just find the evil fiend who did this, Detective Lavender,’ she said. Her voice cracked with anger. ‘And make sure he swings for it at the next assizes.’
Chapter Ten
‘Are you thinkin’ that we may have two murdered women on our hands?’ Woods asked as they walked back onto the chilly, crowded streets of Covent Garden.
Lavender frowned and his jaw tightened. ‘I’m alarmed to discover that April Clare was in the company of her sister on Friday,’ he confessed. ‘And that Mrs Willoughby hasn’t been seen since. I propose that we saddle up and go straight to Wandsworth. If she’s there, then at least she will be able to shed some light on the events of Friday night.’
Lavender grabbed Woods and managed to push him into the doorway of a shop just in time to avoid a spray of muddy water as a fast-moving carriage raced by. There were yells of anger from less fortunate pedestrians who had not been as alert and quick-thinking.
‘This case is becomin’ a real mystery,’ Woods said, as they resumed their steady pace. ‘We’ve got the dead daughter of a baron buried beneath the floorboards of a rotten buildin’ in one of the seediest parts of London – and the body of the pimp who used the same buildin’ for a snoozin’-ken for the Covent Garden Nuns. Both of them are on a slab in our morgue. I still think that the dead gal and the buttock-broker were connected in some way. What do you think?’
‘I don’t know,’ Lavender admitted. ‘But I doubt they knew each other. My suspicion is that both Miss Clare and Darius Jones were somehow in the wrong place at the wrong time.’
‘And in the wrong shoes,’ Woods interrupted. ‘Don’t forget those ruddy shoes.’
‘Ah, yes – shoes,’ said Lavender. ‘And boots.’
‘Boots?’
‘Yes. I promised to go to Bushy House and collect Magdalena’s reward from the Duke of Clarence. This may be a fortuitous arrangement. I would welcome the opportunity to question Dorothy Jordan about April Clare. Lady Caroline said that the Duke’s mistress had become the young woman’s patron.’
Woods grinned. ‘That were a clever little trick your Spanish widow pulled on the Sailor Prince and his floozy.’
The sides of Lavender’s mouth twitched in amusement. ‘Once again, Ned, she’s not my Spanish widow. And it may be her last little money-earning
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