The Resurrection Mystery (The Detective Lavender Mysteries Book 7) by Charlton Karen

Author:Charlton, Karen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Famelton Publishing
Published: 2024-03-07T00:00:00+00:00

Lavender spent the next few hours interviewing the servants at Beverley House. It was a frustrating and futile exercise. None of the earl’s bewildered staff knew anything about the countess’s jewels being in the strongbox and the butler confirmed the young master had never asked him to return them to the bank. No one had seen any strangers loitering in the vicinity of Beverley House and everyone, except the cook, denied telling anyone that the earl and countess had gone away to their country estate.

The cook had a round, ruddy face with scared, blinking eyes. ‘I ’ave to tell the butcher and the grocer’s that I’ll be needin’ less food in my orders fer a week,’ she explained. ‘I don’t remember particularly sayin’ “they’ve gone away” but they’ll know what I mean when I tell ’em I need less.’

Lavender sighed and closed his notebook. This damned case was hopeless.

Before visiting the bank, he decided to take his bad temper out on that bloody newspaper. It was time to take a tougher stance with those rogues.

He strode angrily into the crowded hallway of The Times offices, whipped out his tipstaff and held it aloft. ‘Detective Stephen Lavender from Bow Street.’ The crowd of people queuing by the desk moved aside and he found himself face to face with a startled bearded clerk in an ink-stained apron.

‘I’ve urgent business with your editor, Stoddard. I demand to see either him or your owner, John Walter, immediately.’

‘But…’

‘No buts. Tell me where they are now – or I’ll have you clapped in irons for impeding the course of justice.’

The clerk pointed a shaky finger towards a narrow, twisting staircase at the rear of the hallway. Lavender took the steps two at a time and found himself on a dark oak-panelled landing, faced with several half-open doors. Through one of them he saw a long, smoky room, full of men huddled over desks piled high with paper and scattered with ink bottles and quills.

He strode towards them and almost bumped into Vincent Dowling, who appeared out of nowhere and blocked his entrance.

‘Detective Lavender!’ Dowling said loudly. ‘What a pleasant surprise! How goes your investigation into the stolen Beverley diamonds?’ His pockmarked face broke into a welcoming smile.

‘Let me past, Dowling. I need to see your bloody editor.’

‘Of course, Detective Lavender!’

Why was the damned man shouting? Behind him, every reporter in the room had turned to watch this scene.

‘Just give me a minute and I’ll see if Mr Stoddard is available to see you, Detective Lavender.’

Lavender heard the sound of a chair being hastily shoved back and a door opening.

He forced Dowling aside and strode into the room just in time to see a far door closing behind the booted heels of a slight – and very fast – young man.

Dowling protested at his rough treatment and the other men in the room rose to their feet in alarm. An elderly well-dressed man, with white hair and a silver pocket watch chain swinging from his waistcoat, walked towards them, frowning.

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