The Corpse of St James's Read Online Free PDF

grown up and sophisticated, and this is how it all ended.’
    â€˜That’s how it strikes you?’ asked Carstairs, sounding interested. ‘I’d have put rather a different interpretation on it.’
    â€˜A prostitute? Well, it’s possible, but somehow I don’t think so. Her clothes are “dressed up” but not tawdry. Everything is expensive. Is her handbag under there still?’
    The other policemen shook their heads, and the man called Bob said, ‘Nothing else of any size. We’ll do a closer examination, but there’s certainly no handbag.’
    â€˜Which obviously makes identification harder.’ I shook my head. ‘Poor child,’ I said again. ‘What killed her, do you have any idea yet?’
    â€˜At a guess, I’d say she was smothered. There’s a bit of bruising about the mouth, and her lipstick is smeared. A number of explanations for that, but there are some indications in her eyes, as well.’
    I knew about the tiny haemorrhages in the eyes that could occur in cases of either smothering or strangulation. ‘No bruises on her neck?’
    â€˜Not that anyone’s found yet. We’ll know a lot more when she’s been examined.’
    I sighed. ‘Looks like an evening out gone wrong. Sad, and sordid, and quite definitely
not
my cup of tea. Thank you, Mr Carstairs, for indulging me. I won’t get in your hair any more.’
    Someday I’ll learn not to make rash promises.

FOUR
    O ur reservation at the Ivy had long since lapsed, and the maître d’ was inclined to be haughty about our failure to cancel. His tone changed once Alan had explained the situation, but he remained firm. So sorry, sirs, madam. There were simply no tables available. Perhaps in another two hours, though even then . . .
    â€˜Alan, let’s just go back to the hotel. They have a wonderful restaurant, and I don’t think I’m quite up to the Ivy, anyway, after . . . all that.’
    All that
, as both men understood, comprised a morning of excitement, pomp and pride, followed by the striking contrast of murder. None of us was feeling terribly festive.
    We were, however, hungry, so when we reached the Goring and had freshened up a bit, we presented ourselves at the dining room door, only to be told by a distraught concierge that we had missed lunch by half an hour. ‘But meals are always available in the bar, if you’d like something light. Or afternoon tea begins soon in the lounge, though I fear we may be fully booked. Or we can send something up to your room.’
    â€˜It’s a conspiracy,’ I said, trying to laugh about it. ‘All of London is determined to keep us from our food. No, I didn’t mean you,’ I assured the concierge. ‘Not your fault, but it’s not ours, either. Unavoidable. I vote for the bar, if that’s all right with the rest of you?’
    The barman was genial. ‘I understand we’ve some starving Americans, have we?’
    â€˜One starving American and two starving Englishmen. And since it’s been a pretty trying day so far, perhaps we’ll start with a glass of sherry?’
    â€˜Certainly, madam. We’ve some lovely Amontillado, if that suits.’
    â€˜Admirably.’
    We ordered our meals of sandwiches and salads, and sipped our sherry. I for one would happily have kicked off my shoes, but I realized the Goring was not that kind of place.
    Alan lifted his glass. ‘I propose a toast to Jonathan, a verray parfit gentil knyght!’
    Jonathan acknowledged the toast with a little duck of the head, and muttered something deprecating.
    â€˜Jonathan, I’m so sorry the day turned out this way,’ I said after clinking glasses with Alan. ‘It was meant to be a celebration, and then it was spoilt.’
    â€˜Hardly your fault, was it?’
    â€˜I could have insisted we leave and turn the whole thing over to Mr Carstairs. He looks