The Sans Pareil Mystery (The Detective Lavender Mysteries Book 2) (10 page)

‘He felt it was his duty.’

For a moment Read couldn’t look him in the eye. Lavender was seething. He wanted to chase after the devious Forsyth and wipe the self-righteous smile off his face. How dare that ridiculous man try to stir up trouble for him and Magdalena? Lavender fought back his anger and tried to bring the conversation back to something less personal. He needed to diffuse the tension in the room created by that dandyprat, Forsyth.

‘Does Professor Quincy still teach Spanish for the Home Department?’

Read eyed him suspiciously. ‘Yes, although they tend to use a room in the language school on Hart Street these days.’

‘How old is Quincy now?’

Read narrowed his eyes and frowned. ‘I can see where your thoughts are going. Quincy’s health has been a cause for concern for some time.’

‘Look, sir,’ Lavender said with as much sincerity as he could muster. ‘I know that you’re concerned for my happiness.’ This was a lie. He knew damned well that Read’s overriding concern was for the reputation of Bow Street Magistrate’s Court. ‘But whom I choose to associate with in my private life is my business and I will deal with any consequences of my friendship with Doña Magdalena, as and when they arise. But this doesn’t affect the fact that Doña Magdalena’s skills – and her discretion – could be invaluable to the Home Department. If you, and they, can’t appreciate this fact and overlook her religion, then you’re not making decisions in the best interests of the country. Besides which, she takes her maid with her everywhere as a chaperone so there will be no impropriety.’

Suddenly Read grinned. ‘She takes that little maid everywhere? How unfortunate for you, Stephen!’ He laughed. ‘That must make the courting a little awkward, eh? There’s nothing like a little
dueña
glaring at you from the corner to dampen your ardour while you’re trying to enjoy a bit of relish.’

Lavender shrugged as the other man cackled. He was just grateful that the tension between them had lifted.

Another thought seemed to suddenly strike James Read. ‘She’s very observant, you said? And discreet?’

‘Yes.’

‘And her loyalty to the British Crown is without dispute?’

‘Nobody hates the French more than Doña Magdalena and she is makes every effort to fit into English society as best she can. She’s well aware that England will be her home for some time and is grateful for the sanctuary she has found here. Her son is at an English school.’

‘Mmm. Well, we’ll see what the Home Department thinks. We may just have a use for Señora Morales after all.’

‘What do you have in mind?’

But Read wouldn’t be drawn into divulging any further details. ‘Tell me, how are you progressing with this case of the dead actress? Oh, by the way, the news-sheets have heard about the story. I had a reporter here earlier, trying to get information about the case. I didn’t tell him anything except the basic facts but I suspect that he will probably elaborate on them. If you still have any family to notify about the girl’s death, I recommend that you do it before they sit down and read the grisly version over tomorrow’s boiled eggs and breakfast kippers.’

Chapter Eleven

Lavender was relieved to hear from the housemaid who answered the door at Mrs Willoughby’s home in Wandsworth that April Clare’s sister wasn’t only alive but also in good health. The girl told them that Mrs Willoughby was taking tea in the parlour.

Both he and Woods froze with shock when the maid showed them into the room.

‘Gawd’s teeth!’ Woods exclaimed. The blood drained from his face. ‘It’s a ghost! A damned spirit!’

April Clare’s sister sat in front of the fireplace, glanced up and frowned at their whispering. Harriet Willoughby was an animated version of the corpse they had left on a slab back at Bow Street. The two women were identical in every way, from their thick, glossy raven hair and creamy complexions down to their curvaceous figures. Lavender understood Woods’ initial superstitious reaction and shared his shock. It was as if the dead girl had been reincarnated and was now sat calmly in this neat little parlour in suburban London.

‘I think that Lady Caroline forgot to mention something important,’ he whispered.

‘Have you come from my stepmother, Detective?’ Mrs Willoughby asked. ‘I heard you whispering. Is everything well with Lady Caroline?’ Her large, dark eyes stared dolefully across the room at him. He detected a slight puffiness and redness in the rims.
Had she been crying?

Lavender cleared his throat. ‘My apologies, Mrs Willoughby. Yes, we have just come from Lady Clare’s home. Unfortunately, we have some bad news for you about your sister, Miss April Clare.’

Suddenly, her shoulders shook and the woman dissolved into ugly sobs. Lavender and Woods exchanged a startled glance and moved swiftly across the carpet towards her. Her distress was genuine but Lavender wondered what had upset her; he hadn’t told her about April’s death yet. He reached for his handkerchief then realised that it was still sodden from Lady Caroline’s tears. He gestured to Woods who pulled out his own grubby handkerchief and offered it to the distraught woman. She took it gratefully with a trembling hand.

Afternoon tea was set out on a silver tray on a nearby table. Lavender poured a cup of the steaming beverage and held it out to her. ‘Here, try to drink this. It may help,’ he suggested. ‘Do you want sugar?’

‘Yes – no – yes,’ she stammered. A little confused, Lavender took the silver tongs and dropped two cubes of the fine white crystals into the china cup before placing it in front of her. Grasping the drink with both hands, she raised it to her lips and gulped it down. Eventually she sat back and stared up at him with swollen eyes.

‘April is dead, isn’t she?’

He was taken aback. He abandoned his carefully prepared speech and said quietly, ‘I’m afraid so, Mrs Willoughby. We found her body in an empty house in Covent Garden yesterday.’

‘I knew it! I knew it!’ The young woman now collapsed into a new spasm of tears. Alarmed at her grief and remembering Lady Caroline’s warning about Mrs Willoughby’s delicate constitution, he sat down beside her on the sofa and took her hand in his.

‘Is Captain Willoughby at home?’ asked Woods. He had wandered across to the window to examine the large brass compass, mounted on gimbals that glinted in the light streaming through the lace curtain. ‘Should we send for him?’

The mention of her husband had a strengthening effect on the distraught woman. ‘No. Captain Willoughby has been away at sea for nearly a year,’ she said between sniffles. ‘He’s in the Indian Ocean aboard HMS
Boadicea
.’ She pointed above the fireplace to a magnificent oil painting of a thirty-eight-gun warship in full sail and at a jaunty angle on choppy seas. ‘He commissioned that painting on his last voyage.’

‘Is there anyone else we can fetch?’ Lavender asked. ‘Lady Caroline said she will be calling soon but perhaps there is someone we can call immediately?’

She shook her head and did her best to compose herself. ‘I will be fine until my stepmother arrives.’ Her face crumpled again. ‘Oh, Detective! I’m so glad you’re here! I have been frantic with worry over the last few days and had no idea what to do!’

‘What’s happened, Mrs Willoughby? And how did you know that your sister was already dead?’

She fell silent. Lavender squeezed her hand again and was conscious of the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece in the short silence that followed. He decided to try gentle questioning. She seemed to be struggling to find the right words. ‘Did you see Miss Clare on Friday night?’ he asked. ‘Lady Caroline said you were due to travel to her soirée together.’

‘Yes. April arrived just after lunch. She had a few days when she wasn’t needed at the theatre. She often spent time with me during these lulls. Her lodgings are rather drab and uncomfortable and I’m so desperately lonely since Nesbit went back to sea.’ She sighed. Her beautiful eyes stared vacantly ahead. Lavender had the impression that she was looking for inspiration or trying to retrieve a memory. ‘We ate a light supper here and then dressed for the party. I had hired a hansom cab for the journey, as Captain Willoughby and I don’t keep a carriage.’

‘What happened on the journey?’ Lavender prompted gently.

‘We crossed the river and were just approaching the Five Fields area when our cab was set upon by highwaymen.’

Lavender grimaced. The dangerous marshland known as Five Fields, south of Hyde Park, was a notorious stamping ground for tobymen and footpads. He felt her hand tremble again. The experience must have been traumatic for the two sisters.

‘But they didn’t want money or jewels. They wrenched open the door of the cab and reached in for April.’ Her voice faltered. ‘I heard one of them yell: “Get the actress!”’

‘Could you see their faces?’ Lavender asked.

‘No. No – they wore masks.’

‘Did any of them sound like foreigners?’ Woods asked. He moved across to perch on the arm of the chair.

She glanced up at him, confused. ‘They dragged April outside and disappeared with her into the gloom.’ Large tears rolled down her smooth cheeks again, then she started to babble again. ‘It happened so fast, Detective. I heard April scream . . . I have never felt so wretched in my life when they rode away with her. So useless . . . so utterly helpless . . .’

‘There was nothing you could have done, Mrs Willoughby.’ Lavender waited until she was more composed. ‘Did they say anything else?’ he asked. ‘How many of them were there?’

‘Three. Four, maybe. One of them said: “Go back home. Stay away from the law. We’ll be in touch.” That’s how I knew they wanted a ransom.’

‘Did they get in touch?’

‘No. I haven’t heard a thing from them – nothing. But I knew . . .’

‘What did you know?’

‘I knew she was dead.’ The starkness and simplicity of her statement and the utter certainty in her tearstained and tragic face made the hairs stand up on the back of Lavender’s neck.

‘We’re twins you see, detective. We’re connected. I felt her life force go out several days ago. She’s left me. Left me for good.’

Lavender saw Woods turn pale and shuffle uncomfortably on the arm of his chair. He shared his constable’s discomfort. Although Lavender didn’t believe in most aspects of the supernatural he had never been able to discount the existence of a strange, unnatural bond between siblings who had shared a womb.

‘What I don’t understand,’ Woods said, ‘is how they knew which one of you were which?’

‘I was wearing a partial veil,’ Mrs Willoughby said. ‘It was dark and I was – I was at the back of the coach on the far side. April was nearer the door they opened.’

‘So the kidnappers were not intimate with you or your sister. They didn’t know either of you personally,’ Lavender said thoughtfully.

‘How do you work that out, sir?’ Woods asked.

‘They didn’t know that her sister was an identical twin but they had followed Miss Clare and knew what she looked like.’

‘With respect, sir,’ said Woods. ‘Half of London will know what Miss Clare looked like. She’s a famous actress.’ Mrs Willoughby gave him a grateful, weak smile.

Lavender fell silent for a moment, mulling over these latest revelations. He had always suspected that April Clare had been kidnapped and held prisoner in Raleigh Close. This evil scheme had been carefully thought out. Someone had known that the actress planned to spend time with her sister and then travel to Lady Caroline’s. She had obviously been followed here and the villains had seized their chance to kidnap the actress in the remote and dangerous Five Fields. It was well planned and premeditated. The fact that Darius Jones, the pimp who used Raleigh Close for his nuns, had been drowned in the Thames could still be a coincidence. But if it wasn’t a coincidence, then these villains were more brutal and calculating than Lavender had previously imagined.

But something had gone badly wrong at Raleigh Close. The actress had died before they could claim a ransom, or even contact her relatives. These criminals had not gone to all this trouble to simply murder April Clare; they could have done that when they stopped the coach at the Five Fields. No. They wanted something. But what?

Damn that surgeon, Allison. If Sir Richard had waited for them at Bow Street, they would already know how April Clare had died. Then Lavender remembered the ransacked lodgings of the dead girl and he frowned. That didn’t fit with the normal behaviour of criminals intent on abduction.

‘What happened next?’ Woods asked. ‘And what was that rascal of a cab driver doin’ while you were attacked?

‘The cab driver was as scared as me,’ Mrs Willoughby said. ‘They held a pistol up to him. The man was shaking.’ She grimaced at the memory.

‘Why didn’t you report the abduction of your sister to the constables?’ Lavender asked.

‘I was too scared,’ she said. Her head drooped with shame. ‘They had told me not to go near the law. I knew they must want money. I have a little money. I thought that if I did what they said and paid the ransom, then April would be returned to me safely.’

Lavender sighed at her naivety. Kidnapping was a crime more common than most Londoners were aware and it could be vicious. Only last summer, two innocent young boys had been taken from a wealthy family in Mayfair. The ransom had been paid but both boys had still ended up with their throats cut. The gang responsible had disappeared back into whatever sewer they had crawled out of, and so far they had eluded capture. Was it the same gang, perhaps?

‘I came home and waited,’ Mrs Willoughby wailed. ‘Hoping beyond hope, for some news – or a message. It has been interminable!’ She began to sob again. ‘I’m so glad you’re here, Detective – the last few days have been so awful, so lonely. I know you’ve brought me terrible news but at least my torment is over, and poor April is at peace. I’ve never been so frightened in my life.’

‘Did you notice anything else out of the ordinary on that night?’ Lavender asked.

Mrs Willoughby shook her head, too overcome with grief to speak.

‘If you’ll excuse me, sir,’ Woods said as he stood up, ‘I think I’ll go and talk to the servants. They may have seen or heard somethin’.’ Lavender nodded. ‘Another suggestion, sir – we should track down the driver of this cab.’

Lavender raised his head sharply. ‘Do you think he may have been in collusion with the kidnappers?’

‘It’s a possibility, sir. Most cabbies know how dangerous the Five Fields are, and most of them avoid the area like the plague. His choice of route is suspicious. He would have been better advised to take a different route and stay south of the river until the Westminster Bridge.’

‘He was very young and frightened,’ Mrs Willoughby said.

‘Bloody coward,’ muttered Woods, as he disappeared out of the room.

‘Mrs Willoughby, did Miss Clare have anyone in her life who may have wished her harm?’ Lavender asked. ‘A jealous rival, perhaps?’ Mrs Willoughby shook her head. ‘Did she ever confide in you about a sweetheart or a beau?’

Again this was met with a negative response. Lavender asked a series of questions about the dead woman but he gleaned no further information. He wondered how much Mrs Willoughby had slept since her sister had been wrenched from her life. He was relieved when Woods reappeared with a pale-faced maid.

The maid wrung her hands in her apron. ‘Oh ma’am!’ she exclaimed. ‘I’m so sorry to hear about Miss April! She were such a lovely woman.’

Mrs Willoughby rallied slightly. ‘Show the detective and the constable out, Ruby,’ she said. ‘And then return to me.’

‘Very good, ma’am.’

‘We’ll be in touch soon,’ Lavender promised as they left.

‘This is dreadful news about Miss April, dreadful,’ babbled the servant as she led them to the door.

‘Had you no idea?’ Lavender asked sharply. ‘Didn’t your mistress confide in anyone about her terrible ordeal?’

The girl blinked up at him in surprise. She had a large pair of cornflower blue eyes to match her soft, country accent. ‘Why, no, sir. I knew nuffin’ about Miss April’s kidnappin’ until yer constable ’ere just told me in the kitchen.’

‘Thank you for your help,’ Lavender said. ‘By the way, does your mistress usually take sugar in her tea?’

‘Why, no, sir.’

‘Well, I would recommend that she does today,’ he said. ‘Sweet tea is the best thing for shock. Insist that she takes a couple of lumps.’

‘Yes, sir.’

The two men pulled on their hats and left.