Murder in Park Lane

by Karen Charlton

  ‘He’d spent time with the vicar and knew he were frail and useless at his job,’ Woods added.

  ‘Exactly. It was a huge risk – but the two men carried off the deception. No one would come to London looking for MacAdam now. He was free to carry on the pretence that he was the impoverished second son of a baronet and claim the hand of Miss Howard.’

  ‘But what does that Collins fellah get out of this? Why help MacAdam to fake his own death?’ Woods spoke directly to Lavender’s plate of food.

  ‘Money. MacAdam must have promised Collins a large amount of money in order to secure his help with the deception, probably to be paid after his marriage to Miss Howard. Collins, whoever he is, must be as twisted and evil as MacAdam. Finding him is our first task when we get back to London.’

  Woods stared at Lavender’s food with moist lips. He swallowed the spittle back hastily. ‘That wheedlin’ sawbones said Collins were in Yorkshire.’

  Lavender frowned and nodded. His fork hesitated over his fish. The pathetic look of hunger on Woods’ face was putting him off his food. ‘We’ll find Collins,’ he said firmly. ‘Collins is complicit in this despicable fraud and it’s possible he’s also responsible for MacAdam’s death. If MacAdam refused to pay Collins for his part in the deception, they may have had an altercation that led to the stabbing.’

  They paused for a moment while Lavender took another self-conscious mouthful of his meal and washed it down with a swig of ale.

  ‘So, if David MacAdam weren’t the corpse in the coffin . . .’ Woods said quietly to Lavender’s fish, ‘who the devil was it?’

  Irritated, Lavender pushed his plate away. ‘I think I’ve lost my appetite.’

  Woods looked scandalised at the waste of food and sat back in his chair, nursing his ale.

  ‘I’ve no idea, at the moment, who – or what – is buried in that grave, Ned. It’ll take days to arrange the exhumation. But I’ve a horrible feeling that when they open that coffin, we’ll have another murder to solve.’

  Chapter Ten

  Tuesday 22nd September, 1812

  They took the first coach back to London and arrived in the capital just before nine o’clock. Woods had missed breakfast. The journey was uneventful apart from the constant loud growling from his stomach. The noise brought him plenty of funny looks and comments from the other passengers and Woods spent most of the journey apologising. Embarrassed, Lavender buried himself in his book of heraldry and drafted a letter to the bishop in his notebook, requesting an exhumation.

  ‘We’ll go to Bow Street first and then call on Mrs Palmer,’ Lavender said. ‘I need to tell Magistrate Read about the developments in this case.’ He desperately wanted to go home to see Magdalena but duty came first. ‘I’d also like to have a word with Mr Bentley today. He might know something about the devious plan of his fellow lodgers. We’ll wait until Mrs MacAdam has identified her husband before we visit the Howards this afternoon.’

  The stable yard at the back of Bow Street Magistrates’ Court and Police Office was a hive of noisy activity, bustling with officers, stamping horses and jangling harnesses. Several of the big, hard-faced men glanced up and hailed Woods in a friendly manner. Lavender wondered if Woods missed the companionship of the horse patrol. His role with Lavender was essential but more sedentary. Had the lack of exercise over the last few months contributed to Woods’ expanding waistline?

  ‘Da! Da!’ Woods’ son Eddie pushed his way through the crowd of men. Beaming smiles lit up the round moon faces of both father and son when they greeted each other. Eddie had grown another two inches this summer and was now as tall as his father, though not quite as broad. He’d changed in other ways, too, according to his mother, Betsy. She’d quietly confided in Lavender a few weeks ago that the constant company of the powerfully built, gruff – but often humorous – officers of Bow Street had curtailed his childish temper and made him quieter. Her firstborn was growing into a thoughtful young man.

  But Woods didn’t seem to care that his son was now a man in a man’s world. He threw his arm round the lad’s shoulders, hugged him tight and ruffled his curly brown hair like he’d done since he was a child.

  ‘Gerroff, Da!’ Eddie struggled to free himself and smooth down his curls.

  Lavender laughed and felt a pang of jealousy.

  It was nearly three years since he’d first met Sebastián, Magdalena’s child from her first marriage. He got along well with his stepson when Sebastián was home from boarding school but he knew their relationship lacked the spontaneity that Woods enjoyed with his own sons. Sebastián had always called him ‘Sir’, for a start. Was it too late to change and become less formal? Maybe their new child would change things. He’d heard that a new baby in the house could change everything.

  ‘Detective Lavender?’ The Chief Clerk, Oswald Grey, picked his way through the mud and horse dung littering the cobbled yard towards them. ‘Magistrate Read wants to see you both – urgently.’ Grey was a dour man at the best of times but there was something in his frown and his tone that sounded sinister. Lavender and Woods exchanged puzzled glances.

  ‘You have a few minutes with Eddie,’ Lavender said. ‘I’ll go up to the office and see what Magistrate Read wants.’

  Lavender found James Read behind his cluttered desk, enveloped in his voluminous black court robes and wearing his wig of office. He glanced up and scowled deeper when Lavender knocked and entered. He didn’t suggest that Lavender sit down in the battered chair opposite his desk. ‘Ah, Lavender – you’ve caused me trouble this morning.’

  ‘I have?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve had a visit from Sir Richard Allison. The man is furious. He wants me to give this Park Lane murder case to another officer. He requested John Townsend.’

  ‘Ah.’ Lavender took off his gloves and sat down anyway. ‘Why is he so incensed?’

  ‘Oh, do make yourself comfortable, why don’t you, Lavender?’ Read said sarcastically. ‘Apparently, Sir Richard asked you to conduct your inquiries discreetly but you sent Woods around the neighbourhood alerting most of Mayfair to the murder at number ninety-three.’

  ‘Sir Richard should have known better,’ Lavender said firmly. ‘We don’t conduct murder investigations discreetly. Alerting the public is the best way to get witnesses to come forward. And as for his suggestion that you replace us, I doubt old Townsend would be able to handle this case. He works better in London ferreting out criminals amongst his close network of criminal “acquaintances”. Woods and I have already found another victim in Essex, a suspected murder – and it’s linked to the death on Park Lane. The complexity of this case would baffle Townsend.’

  Read frowned, removed his itchy wig and scratched his close-cropped greying head. ‘Suspected murder? Was the second victim murdered, or not?’

  ‘We’ll have to dig him up first to be sure.’

  ‘Dig him up!’

  ‘Yes.’ Lavender explained what they’d learned about David MacAdam and his treachery to the horrified magistrate. ‘We need to ask the Bishop of London for an exhumation of the grave.’ He pulled out the letter he’d drafted to the bishop and passed it to Read.

  The lines in Read’s furrowed brow deepened. He sighed heavily and shook his head. ‘This is a nasty case. You’re right – you’re the only one of my officers with the intelligence to untangle this web of deceit. Townsend would be out of his depth. You’ll just have to use your charm and placate Sir Richard – and you’ll need to do that, Lavender, because you’ll need his help with those remains in Chelmsford when you exhume them. I know he can be a difficult man at times but his experience is invaluable – he’s the best in London when it comes to explaining how our murder victims met their grisly fates.’

  Lavender nodded. ‘To be honest, I hadn’t thought so far ahead but yes, I’ll need Sir Richard’s help.’

  ‘Then don’t antagonise him further.’ Read scanned the notes Lavender had handed him. ‘I’ll contact the bishop today and ask him for haste in issuing
the faculty for exhumation. Meanwhile, we’ll open the inquest into MacAdam’s death tomorrow morning at nine o’clock. Make sure you and Woods are present.’

  ‘Thank you. To be honest, sir, I’m concerned about how involved Sir Richard is in this case. He seems to be overly familiar with Mrs Palmer and her household and I don’t know why. He seems to have lost his professional detachment as far as MacAdam’s murder is concerned.’

  Read’s eyebrows gathered together into one long line across his piercing eyes. ‘Is this why your wife was questioning my wife about Sir Richard’s background yesterday?’

  ‘Ah, I take it Magdalena wasn’t as discreet as she promised to be?’

  ‘Your wife was discreet after a fashion – Charity had no notion she was being probed for information about the Allisons but I recognise an interrogation when I hear about one. What’s happening, Lavender?’

  It was Lavender’s turn to sigh. ‘I needed information to placate Ned Woods. I can’t see it myself but he’s convinced Mrs Palmer is Sir Richard’s mistress.’

  Read laughed sharply then frowned again. ‘In May, Sir Richard pulled a pistol ball out of Woods’ shoulder and saved his arm from amputation. Has none of this softened his dislike of the surgeon?’

  ‘No. It seems to have intensified it, if anything. Ned doesn’t like being beholden to anyone for anything.’

  Read shook his head, turned back to his paperwork and gestured Lavender towards the door. ‘Pride, sheer pride,’ he muttered darkly.

  Lavender rose and turned to go.

  ‘If you want to know more about Sir Richard’s relationship with Mrs Palmer, Stephen,’ Read called after him, ‘ask him yourself.’

  Lavender and Woods made a short detour to Lavender’s home on their way to Park Lane. He left Woods in the street with their horses and bounded up the steps two at a time.

  Magdalena was delighted to see him when he walked into the house and fell into his arms. He buried his face in her sweet-smelling ebony hair and pulled her warm, plump body closer.

  ‘I haven’t got much time,’ he whispered. ‘How are you both?’

  Smiling, she disentangled herself from his arms and sat down, reassuring him that she and the baby had spent a comfortable night. He sat on the chair opposite, still holding her hand. He’d heard that women ‘bloomed’ in the middle stages of pregnancy and he saw this in Magdalena. Her flawless olive complexion glowed with health and her glossy black hair was thicker than ever.

  ‘We’re on our way to see Mrs Palmer again and Sir Richard may be there. I want to know what you found out from Charity Read yesterday.’

  Sadness clouded her bright eyes. ‘It’s a terribly sad story. Sir Richard had a tragic childhood.’

  ‘He did?’

  ‘Yes, his mother died when he was born and his elderly father died when he was only ten years old. The family wasn’t wealthy at all.’

  Lavender frowned. ‘So what happened to him? Who brought him up?’

  ‘He was passed around from the care of one relative to another. He had no real home.’

  ‘So how did he progress from being a penniless, friendless orphan to become such an eminent London surgeon?’

  ‘Fortunately, he was an exceptionally bright student, and ambitious. His family scraped together enough money to train him as a doctor at Oxford, but without money or contacts, his career was never destined to amount to much. It was his marriage to Katherine Willis that launched him.’

  Lavender searched his memory. ‘Willis? I know that name . . .’

  ‘Lady Allison was the only daughter of the Reverend Doctor Francis Willis.’

  ‘Of course! The King’s famous physician who cured him of his first bout of madness.’

  ‘Well, after their marriage, Sir Richard’s career advanced quickly at Guy’s Hospital and it wasn’t long before he was knighted for his services to medicine.’

  ‘Was it a marriage of convenience, do you think?’

  Magdalena shrugged her pretty shoulders. ‘Who knows? Charity Read told me they’re an amicable couple and seem happy together – although they’ve never had children. Katherine Willis never expected to find a husband and was delighted her marriage elevated her to the peerage.’

  ‘Why didn’t she expect to marry?’

  Magdalena leaned forward with a twinkle in her eye. ‘Because she had settled into spinsterhood. She’s quite a plain woman and was over forty when they married. She’s fifteen years older than Sir Richard.’

  Lavender sat back, surprised. ‘Good grief.’

  ‘Will you tell Ned?’ Magdalena asked, smiling.

  ‘What? About the age difference between the Allisons? Definitely not. He’s already convinced Sir Richard has a penchant for older women and that Mrs Palmer is his mistress. It’ll only fuel his prejudice against the man.’

  Chapter Eleven

  Lavender’s heart sank when he saw both Mrs Palmer and Sir Richard standing at the open doorway of the house on Park Lane. They were with a short man in a hat and a light-coloured coat over a vivid red and orange checked waistcoat. Following Read’s warning, he expected a tense confrontation with Sir Richard and knew it would take some persuasion before the surgeon accepted them back on to the investigation. He’d hoped any confrontation would take place in the parlour but now it looked like they would have to plead their case for readmission out here on the street.

  But raised voices reached their ears when they drew nearer. Sir Richard and Mrs Palmer were in dispute with the man on the doorstep. The surgeon was red with anger and shouting. Mrs Palmer looked pale and clutched her shawl tightly round her shoulders.

  The features of the fellow with the gaudy waistcoat were hidden beneath the brim of his hat but Woods grinned when he heard his angry tones and thick accent. ‘I know that voice.’ He leapt out of his saddle, threw his reins for Lavender to catch and strode towards the argument. ‘Well, well, if it ain’t young Billy Summersgill causin’ trouble.’

  The man glanced up in horror at the sight of the burly Bow Street officer bearing down upon him, and Lavender caught a quick glimpse of a pale, pock-marked face and small, beady eyes. The fellow turned and was off down the road in a flash, racing away like a young hare.

  Woods laughed and yelled after him: ‘There ain’t nowhere to run, Billy. I know where to find you.’ He turned back to Lavender. ‘Shall I get him, sir?’

  ‘Who is he?’

  ‘He’s a debt collector for his da’s firm of moneylenders in the Seven Dials. They’re an unscrupulous bunch of rogues, the Summersgills.’

  ‘Why did he run?’

  Woods shook his head. ‘I don’t know – guilt over somethin’, most likely. Shall I give chase, sir?’

  ‘Wait a minute.’ Lavender turned to the red-faced surgeon. ‘What did he want, Sir Richard? Is this relevant to the murder inquiry?’

  ‘He wanted payment for the interest on a debt of a hundred guineas run up by MacAdam,’ Sir Richard snapped angrily.

  ‘When my maid told him MacAdam was dead, he wanted entry to the house,’ Mrs Palmer added. She shuddered and pulled her shawl even more tightly round her thin shoulders. ‘I’m so glad you’re here, gentlemen. He’d become most unpleasant.’

  Lavender was relieved to hear her welcome. ‘Why did he want entry into the house?’

  ‘The damned man wanted to come inside and search MacAdam’s room for some ring or other,’ Sir Richard said. ‘And if he didn’t find it, he said he was within his rights to take Mrs Palmer’s furniture instead of the interest owed on the debt.’

  ‘So Summersgill is playin’ the bum-bailiff now, is he?’ Woods said, smiling. ‘Do you want me to get him, sir?’

  ‘Yes, drag him into the cells at Bow Street and question him about MacAdam and this ring. I’ll meet you back there.’

  Woods swung himself into the saddle and cantered off down the street in pursuit of Billy Summersgill.

  ‘The shame of it!’ Mrs Palmer wailed miserably. ‘First a murder in my house – and
now there’s debt collectors and bailiffs at my door.’

  ‘Let’s go inside, ma’am,’ Lavender said gently. ‘Woods will deal with Summersgill – he won’t bother you again. I need to talk to you both about David MacAdam and what we’ve discovered in Essex. May I come in?’

  Mrs Palmer nodded but Sir Richard hesitated and narrowed his eyes.

  Lavender knew he was weighing up his request. ‘I know you’ve asked for another officer to take over this case, Sir Richard, but Magistrate Read has refused to remove us. You’ll understand why if you let me explain what we now know about David MacAdam. John Townsend would be out of his depth with a case of this complexity.’

  There was an awkward pause, then Sir Richard nodded. Lavender tied his horse to the park railings and followed them inside to the parlour. Sir Richard took the fireside seat opposite Mrs Palmer and glared coldly at Lavender, who remained standing by the door.

  ‘What is this ring Summersgill spoke about? One hundred guineas is a lot of money for one item of jewellery. Did either of you see MacAdam with an expensive ring – or notice one in his room, yesterday morning?’

  Mrs Palmer shook her head. ‘I assume it’s something he bought for his sweetheart.’

  ‘So you knew MacAdam was courting a young woman?’

  Mrs Palmer lowered her eyes and nodded. She looked embarrassed and twisted her shawl in agitation. ‘I once overheard him bragging to my other lodgers that he’d caught himself a wealthy heiress.’

  Lavender took a sharp intake of breath. ‘That’s not a pleasant way to talk about a young woman.’ He paused for a moment and eyed her bowed head thoughtfully. ‘But you also knew – or suspected – that MacAdam was already married, didn’t you? I saw some hesitation yesterday when I questioned you about his family.’