‘Shouldn’t her ladyship’s maid be doin’ that?’ Woods asked the girl sympathetically.
‘Yes, but she ain’t here, is she?’
The butler returned and informed them Lady Tyndall couldn’t see them. She was too busy entertaining her visitors to spare them the time.
Lavender’s temper snapped. This was the final straw. Over the last two days of this investigation he’d been lied to by most of the witnesses he’d interviewed and been left dangling with unanswered questions by a distressed young woman, a bank manager and now a coachman on his day off.
‘Please return to Lady Tyndall,’ he said, ‘and tell her I need to speak to her urgently about the murder of David MacAdam. If she doesn’t cooperate I’ll come back here with a warrant for her arrest. I’ve already got plenty of evidence she’s perverted the course of justice and hindered my investigation into this murder. I’ll use it to get an arrest warrant if I need it.’
The young maid gasped and the butler’s jaw dropped. Horrified, he hurried away with Lavender’s reply.
‘She’s a right harridan,’ Woods warned, grinning.
‘And I’m a Principal Officer with the Bow Street Police Office,’ Lavender replied.
The chair scraped noisily across the stone floor as the needlewoman rose to her feet and gathered up the gown in her arms. She looked flushed but the faint glimmer of a smile flitted around the edge of her lips. ‘I’d like to be a fly on the wall in the room when ’e tells ’er what you’ve just said,’ she said. ‘I’ll wager she bites ’is ’ead off.’ She turned to pick up the overflowing basket of laundry but Woods was beside her in an instant.
‘Let me help you with that, treacle,’ he said. ‘I can see you’ve had a busy mornin’.’
‘Bless you, sir, but no, I can manage.’ Smiling, the girl left the room.
The elderly butler looked pale and ill when he returned. ‘Follow me,’ he said.
He led Lavender and Woods into the light and spacious hallway of the house and steered them towards a small antechamber. A low murmur of female chatter and laughter and the clink of teacups and saucers emanated from the partially open drawing-room door.
Lady Tyndall waited for them on a high-backed chair. Stiff-backed and rigid, she glared at them coldly through her tortoiseshell lorgnette. The butler remained in attendance by the door.
‘Well, if it isn’t Detective Stephen Lavender and his grubby little constable.’
Lavender clenched his jaw together and made a small formal bow. He felt Woods stiffen beside him.
‘And look at the state of you, Lavender!’ she snarled. ‘Unshaven! You’re nearly as bad as he!’
Lavender resisted the urge to run his hand over his stubble and met her ice-cold glare with one of his own. ‘Yes, I didn’t have time to shave. Unfortunately, I was dragged out of my bed at an ungodly hour this morning to deal with another development in this case. A case, I may add, that I would have solved a lot quicker if you’d been honest with Constable Woods about your intimate relationship with David MacAdam.’
She didn’t flinch but Woods gave him a quick sideways glance of surprise. ‘I’d heard such wonderful reports about the smart Bow Street officers,’ the woman continued. ‘The pair of you are a disappointment.’
‘You like smart, well-dressed men like MacAdam, don’t you, Lady Tyndall?’ Woods asked, taking his cue from Lavender’s more strident attitude. ‘And you liked MacAdam – even though you told me you barely knew the man.’
She shrugged. ‘My friendship with the late Mr MacAdam was none of your business and bore no relevance to his murder or your case.’
‘I’ll decide what’s relevant and what’s not,’ Lavender said firmly. The butler shuffled uncomfortably behind him.
‘I’ve not perverted the course of justice or hindered your investigation, as you so rudely claim.’
‘You knew MacAdam had been out in your carriage on the evening of his death but you failed to mention it to Constable Woods. That, madam, is obstructing justice.’
She shrugged her shoulders and gave a small laugh. ‘It slipped my mind.’
‘So, what was the nature of your relationship with the dead man?’ Lavender asked sharply. ‘I’m sure most of London, especially the newspapers, would love to know.’
A small smile curled at the edge of her wrinkled mouth. ‘Don’t try to browbeat me, Detective; I can assure you it won’t work. You already know about my little arrangement with Mr MacAdam. I believe Louisa Fitzgerald opened her big blabbermouth and explained everything to you yesterday.’
‘What arrangement is that?’
‘It’s very simple. I like to take tea at the better hotels in the city and sometimes I would ask Mr MacAdam to join me, that’s all. There’s nothing outrageous in this. Absolutely nothing to interest the tattling gossips.’
Lavender laughed. ‘You paid MacAdam a regular monthly income and loaned him your carriage, like he was your paramour. Excuse my scepticism, Lady Tyndall, but I think there was more to your relationship than you claim.’
Her grey ringlets quivered as she gave a short, cold laugh. ‘Then you’re wrong. It was friendship, companionship – that’s all.’
‘Why did you pay MacAdam money?’ Woods asked.
‘He’d left his employment and struggled for money. I’m a generous woman, Constable, I like to help my friends.’
‘To the tune of twenty pounds a month?’ Lavender intervened. ‘That’s excessively generous of you, madam.’
‘I’m excessively rich.’
She was matching them phrase for phrase, batting their questions back like they were involved in a tennis rally. Lavender decided to change tack.
‘Did you visit MacAdam’s corpse with your maid at Bow Street yesterday morning?’
‘I did not.’ Nothing. No response. He switched subject again.
‘How did you feel about MacAdam’s relationship with Miss Howard?’
This time she gave a small, almost imperceptible flinch at the sound of the young girl’s name. ‘I didn’t care about her.’
‘Didn’t you?’
‘Of course not. That’s why I was quite happy to loan him my carriage when he went to visit her. Have we finished now, Detective? I have guests waiting.’
‘Just one last question, madam. Where were you on the night of MacAdam’s murder?’
‘Ha!’ she laughed. ‘So, I’m to be accused of his murder now, am I? Dear me, I thought better of you, Lavender.’ She leaned forward, snarling. Spittle flew out of her mouth. ‘I’m sure your grubby little constable here has already told you. I was tucked up in my bed by nine o’clock – like the rest of my household.’
She rose angrily to her feet and smoothed down her dark gown. ‘This interview is over, Detective. I shall contact Magistrate Read when my guests have left and inform him of your insolence and bullying.’
‘I’m sure you will.’
‘Your attitude is intolerable.’
‘And so, madam, is yours.’ Lavender gave a curt bow, turned and strode out of the door, which the shocked butler only just managed to open in time.
‘I take back what I said about you yesterday!’ Woods burst out laughing as they went to retrieve their horses. ‘You’re more forceful than that reporter, Dowling, when you want to be.’
Lavender just shook his head. The encounter with her ladyship had left him drained. He needed to think. They left the dark back alleyway and walked the animals out into the sunshine on Park Lane.
‘Do you really think that old harridan murdered MacAdam?’
‘I don’t know. We don’t have any evidence linking her to the crime but Magdalena warned me not to dismiss these old women lightly. Lady Tyndall had the opportunity to kill him. She was one of the few people, maybe the only person, who knew where MacAdam was that evening – and where and when he would return.’
‘Ike Rawlings had been stalkin’ MacAdam, too, don’t forget. He knew where MacAdam was that night.’
Lavender’s mind was still on
his recent encounter with Lady Tyndall. ‘Personally, I don’t believe that nonsense about her generosity. She strikes me as the kind of woman who might try to buy herself a man and use the promise of money to bind him to her.’
‘Oooh, that’s scary,’ Woods said. ‘Do you think she might have been jealous of his courtship with Miss Howard?’
‘Yes. And I think she’s capable of great anger and passion.’
‘But why loan him her carriage to visit her rival? It don’t make sense.’
‘Perhaps she didn’t know where he went. Maybe he lied to her.’ Lavender lifted his foot to the stirrup and swung up into the saddle. ‘We’ll talk to her coachman tomorrow when we return from Essex – and it won’t hurt to seek out her maid and ask her a few questions, too. But right now, we have to take David MacAdam home to Chelmsford.’
It always helped talking things through with Ned, but Lavender knew he’d wandered off into the realm of speculation about Lady Tyndall. The woman was probably one of the most unpleasant creatures he’d ever met, but that didn’t make her a murderer. They still didn’t know where MacAdam had been stabbed and they didn’t have a murder weapon. Without that – and some witnesses to the crime – he would struggle to bring this case to a conclusion.
It was a pity. He’d hoped to be further along with solving this mystery by now. He preferred to work on one case at a time but now the exhumation loomed and he had an ominous feeling that by dawn tomorrow he would have another murder to solve.
Heaven knew what gruesome horrors the exhumation would reveal.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Lavender sent Woods ahead to Bow Street while he called home to have a shave and collect his bag for his stay in Chelmsford. When he arrived back in the stable yard, Woods, Eddie and the ostlers had already loaded MacAdam’s coffin on to the back of a wagon and hitched two chestnut horses between the shafts.
Oswald Grey stood with Woods beside the impatient animals. ‘Ah, Lavender, I’m glad you’re back. I’ve a message for you from Mr Howard on Bruton Street.’
Lavender swung out of the saddle and handed the reins of his mare to Eddie, who led her inside the stable. ‘Has he had any success tracing the member of his household who assisted the burglar?’
‘It appears not. He’s interviewed all of his servants and made no progress. He requests your assistance when you return from Chelmsford.’
Lavender frowned. ‘Damn it. I knew I should have interviewed them myself. Have we arrested Billy Summersgill?’
Grey’s long nose sniffed with disapproval. ‘I’ve told you before there’s no need to curse, Detective. No, our officers came back without the villain Summersgill. He’d left home early to meet with a customer apparently. We’ll try again tonight.’
‘Let’s hope Billy’s meetin’ isn’t with his fence,’ Woods growled, ‘or the Howards may never see that ring again.’
‘I’ve some good news though, Lavender,’ Grey said. ‘I’ve received a message from a Lady Louisa Fitzgerald. She’s prepared to put up a fifty-pound reward for the capture of the murderer of David MacAdam.’
‘Thank you, that is good news,’ Lavender said. ‘The offer of a reward may loosen some tongues.’
‘In fact,’ Grey continued, ‘I’ve had a busy morning at the desk dealing with your cases. I’ve already been visited by four journalists who want to know more about the MacAdam case and the exhumation. I’m quite exhausted with fending them off and have come out here for a moment’s reprieve, away from their incessant questions.’
Lavender smiled. ‘I’m grateful for all your hard work, Mr Grey. Thank you.’
‘And I’ve also had an unusual complaint from a Mr Thaddeus Thornton to deal with.’
‘I don’t know him.’
‘He’s the pieman in Covent Garden. A very angry pieman. Allegedly, this morning two of our officers insulted his pastry. You don’t know anything about this, do you?’
‘I’ll fetch a tarpaulin to cover this coffin.’ Woods turned on his heel and went into the stable.
‘No,’ Lavender stuttered. ‘How – how bizarre!’
Grey’s eyes followed Woods’ broad back as it disappeared. ‘Yes, that’s what I thought. Very bizarre. I can do without nonsense like this, Lavender. Bow Street is a place of serious business – not high jinks and japes. We’ve a respectable reputation to maintain. Anyway, I won’t detain you any longer. I can see you and Constable Woods are keen to go and dig up your dead body. I’ll leave you to it.’
It took them a while to negotiate the traffic of London and leave the bustling city. They joined a long line of hackney carriages and wagons and found themselves behind a coal merchant when they crawled up Cornhill. The incline caused the dusty coal to shift and slither on the wagon and lumps fell on to the road. A pair of barefoot children darted out into the street to retrieve it, coming perilously close to their horses’ hooves. Woods cursed as he jerked back on the reins.
They picked up speed once they left the city. Woods urged the horses into a trot, which ate away the miles. They flew through the small hamlets that lined the road, scattering squawking hens as they went.
Woods glanced over his shoulder at the coffin beneath the tarpaulin. ‘He’s the quietest passenger we’ve ever had,’ he joked.
Lavender smiled and felt himself relax. The market gardens that fed the city had given way to gently rolling countryside and a broad common of vivid green pasture dotted with a herd of peacefully grazing cows. A bird of prey soared in leisurely circles above their heads. ‘I don’t think we’ll have any complaints from him about your driving.’ The breeze rushed by his face and he pulled his hat down over a flapping strand of dark hair.
Woods raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, he’ll be the only one who isn’t complainin’ about us today, by the sound of it. Did you get chance to warn Magistrate Read we’ve upset Lady Tyndall?’
‘No.’
Woods held the chestnuts to a steady pace as they wound up a gradual incline. The twisting road was suddenly thrown into shade by a row of poplars. Lavender yawned. It had been an early start and the last few days had been exhausting.
‘That were good news about the reward from Lady Louisa,’ Woods said. ‘It looks like she wants this murderin’ cove found as much as we do. I guess we can take her off the list of suspects.’
Lavender shrugged. ‘Not necessarily. Do you remember the Travis case?’
‘Ah, yes – I’d forgotten about him. Nasty piece of work, he were.’
Three years previously, Lavender had travelled to Birmingham at the request and expense of a wealthy landowner who wanted an officer from Bow Street to help the local constables solve the murder of his brother. Like Lady Louisa Fitzgerald, Travis had also offered a generous reward for the capture of the villain. It didn’t take Lavender long to realise that Travis had, in fact, killed his own brother. A braggart and an overconfident liar, the landowner also had a low opinion of police constables and a high opinion of his own guile and cunning. He thought he could deceive everyone. Travis was still professing his innocence when he mounted the steps of the gallows after his conviction for murder.
‘He tried to throw you off the scent by offerin’ that reward,’ Woods said, ‘but he underestimated you.’ He paused for a moment, then asked: ‘Do you think Lady Louisa murdered MacAdam, then?’
Lavender shook his head. ‘I have to keep an open mind but, no. Stabbing’s not in her nature. If Lady Louisa Fitzgerald wanted someone dead, she’d just let her ruddy hounds eat them alive.’
Woods laughed and the two men lapsed into companionable silence. The steady, rhythmic clip-clop of the hoof beats on the well-maintained road, the soft churning of the wheels and the warmth of the sun made Lavender sleepy. He lowered his chin to his chest and closed his eyes for a moment. Beside him, he felt Woods’ shoulders relax and sink down into his blue greatcoat.
It was the shrill cry of a crow overhead that jerked Lavender back awake. He glanced at Woods and realised with shock that his whi
te-faced constable had lost consciousness again. He was nodding forward with the reins slack in his hand.
The wagon jolted as the left-hand horse led its fellow into a field to graze. The vehicle tilted sharply as it left the road. Its wooden joints strained and gave an unearthly groan as it lunged towards a ditch. Behind them, the coffin slid and crashed into the side of the cart with a thud and a curious metallic clang.
Lavender yelled. He grabbed Woods with one hand to stop him toppling to the ground. With the other, he seized the reins and hauled on the horses. It wasn’t enough – he needed the strength of both hands. He let go of Woods and pulled back the animals with all his might. Woods jerked awake, regained his balance and reached out to help. Together they hauled the horses and the vehicle safely back on the road.
‘You ruddy saphead!’ Lavender yelled. ‘We’re supposed to bury MacAdam in St Mary’s – not drop him in a roadside ditch!’
‘Sorry, sir! Sorry!’
‘You swooned again, you saphead!’
Woods grimaced as Lavender uttered a string of insults. ‘Right, that’s it. This stupid fasting has gone on long enough. We’ll stop at the next tavern and you’ll eat something before you kill us both with this fainting.’
Woods ignored him and leapt down on to the dusty road. He went to calm the wide-eyed and snorting horses.
Still cursing his constable, Lavender also clambered down. He went to the back of the wagon, bent down and peered beneath at the metal axle. Something metal had definitely broken, he’d heard it. But the axle seemed intact. He walked round the other side and checked again. Nothing. He reached inside the vehicle and fingered the heavy metal chains used to raise and lower the tailgate. Had it been their rattle he’d heard?
His heart rate was calming now. His ears strained against the other noises in that quiet lane: the stamping of the horses, the gentle lowing of a cow and the wind swishing gently through the sweet-scented grass. What was it he’d heard?
Woods joined him. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing. I thought I heard something unusual, that’s all. But everything seems fine – although I can give you no thanks for that!’
Murder in Park Lane Page 20
