The Sans Pareil Mystery (The Detective Lavender Mysteries Book 2) Read Free Page B

Raleigh Close. As he brushed the dust from his black coat and splashed water onto his face, he frowned. He had intended to call on Magdalena tonight but he would have to return his rooms in Southwark to change before he made the visit. He allowed himself a wry smile as he imagined the shock in her beautiful eyes if she could see him now. Her fine, aristocratic nose would recoil at the smell and the filth. But as he smoothed his dark hair back from his temple, he frowned again. He realised with a pang of regret that he may have to postpone his plans: he had an unidentified corpse and a murder to solve. It could be a very long night. Sighing, he left the narrow washroom and made his way up to James Read’s first-floor office.
    When Lavender entered the spartan room, he found the chief magistrate of Bow Street at work at his cluttered desk. As usual, James Read’s wig lay discarded amongst the inkstands, broken quills and piles of parchment.
    ‘Am I disturbing you, sir?’ Lavender asked.
    ‘No, not at all, Stephen.’ Read laid down his quill, scratched his greying head and gestured towards the piles of paperwork before him. ‘I’m ready for a respite from this. The Home Department issues more and more demands every day. I can’t keep up with it.’
    Lavender sat down on the chair opposite.
    ‘So what happened at Raleigh Close?’ Read asked. ‘I heard that you found the body of a young woman.’
    Briefly, Lavender explained the situation. Magistrate Read smiled when he heard about the mynah bird. ‘Trust you to work that one out, Stephen. You really are the best detective we have when it comes to solving bizarre mysteries. The story will be round Covent Garden by now and won’t do your reputation – or ours – any harm. For a man born in London, you have remarkable knowledge of the flora and fauna of the natural world.’
    ‘I had a good education,’ said Lavender, ‘and I find that reading helps accumulate knowledge.’
    ‘So, this unidentified woman has no visible marks on her body?’ Read asked. ‘I shall request that the autopsy is carried out by a surgeon experienced in pathology from Guy’s Hospital. We need to know how she died – along with where, why and at whose hand.’
    ‘It would help if we could also find out who she is,’ said Lavender, drily.
    ‘Well, we have not received any reports here at Bow Street of a missing woman,’ Read replied. ‘I shall send a messenger to the magistrate’s offices at Middlesex and Westminster to find out if they’re missing a woman.’
    ‘That’s strange,’ said Lavender. ‘The putrefaction of the corpse will have been slowed by the cold weather, but she has obviously been dead for several days. Someone must have noticed she was gone.’
    Read shrugged. ‘Dozens of young women arrive in London every day, Stephen. They look for work, try to make their fortune on the stage or try to snare a rich husband. She might be a new arrival. Of course, most of them end up on the streets . . .’ He stood up, stretched and walked across to stand at the drapeless window behind the desk. His glance took in the markets, theatres and gin shops of the bustling and notorious Covent Garden. ‘The great square of Venus,’ he said, slowly.
    ‘Excuse me?’
    ‘Covent Garden,’ Read explained. ‘When Inigo Jones built his Great Piazza nearly two hundred years ago, he planned it to be a magnificent square based on the neoclassic style of the continent: the first of its kind in England, inhabited by the rich and the titled.’
    Lavender was familiar with this history. ‘I don’t think he expected it to become the biggest market for fresh produce in the country.’
    ‘No.’ Read sighed sadly. ‘And I think he would have been shocked to know that his precious Covent Garden is now also the greatest market for carnal flesh anywhere in the world.’
    Lavender said nothing. The seedy underbelly of Covent Garden was a thorn in the side for Read. The proliferation of