Mrs. Jeffries & the Silent Knight by Emily Brightwell (black female authors .TXT) 📕

he said with a laugh as the dog pulled him toward the back

door.

The rest of the household cleared up the last of the dinner dishes and by the time Witherspoon and Fred came home, the household was ready for a brief meeting. They

waited till Witherspoon was safely up the stairs before taking their places at the table.

Mrs. Jeffries told them everything she’d learned, taking

care not to leave out anything. They’d learned from previous

cases that even the most insignificant detail could be important. When she’d finished, no one said anything for a moment or two.

Finally, Smythe said, “So it was probably someone in the

house that killed him.”

“Why would you say that?” Betsy asked. “The door to his

bedroom was wide open. Anyone could have gotten inside.”

“There weren’t no evidence it had been forced,” Wiggins

pointed out, “so that means he opened the door.”

“And from what we’ve heard of Sir George, he doesn’t

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71

sound the sort to open the door to a stranger,” Mrs. Goodge

added.

Betsy looked doubtful. “I’m not so sure. Something

might have lured him outside. He might have heard a noise

and gone out to investigate.”

“Humph,” the cook snorted. “More likely he’d get one of

the servants up and make them go out to investigate. I’ve

worked in enough noble houses to know those people would

wake a housemaid or a footman rather than put themselves

to any trouble.”

“Both of you could be correct,” Mrs. Jeffries said to the

two women. “But it’s early days yet, so we’ve plenty of time

to find out what happened.”

“I thought the chief inspector told our inspector he

wanted the case finished by Christmas,” Wiggins said.

“He didn’t exactly tell him that,” Mrs. Jeffries clarified.

“He simply said it would be a good idea.”

“And we all know what that means,” Smythe snorted. “It

means find the killer or else. Not to worry though, I’ve faith

in our inspector and in all of us.”

“At least now we’ve a goodly list of names to start working on,” Mrs. Goodge said. “I’ll get my sources on it right away. I’m sure there’s plenty to be had about Sir George’s

daughters.”

“And the houseguests,” Betsy said. “We mustn’t forget

about them. I wish I knew where Fiona Burleigh came from,

she’s a Braxton cousin. Maybe she wanted Sir George dead.”

“I’ll see if I can find that out,” Mrs. Goodge said. “And

I’ll see if I can find out where Raleigh Brent hails from as

well.”

“Good,” Mrs. Jeffries stood up. “Then we know what

we’re about then.”

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Emily Brightwell

“There were a lot of people in the house when Sir George

was murdered,” Wiggins said. “We’ll be stretched a bit to

try and cover them all.”

Luty Belle Crookshank owned a beautiful home in Knights-

bridge. Hatchet, Luty’s tall, distinguished white-haired

butler, let Mrs. Jeffries in the front door. “This is a pleasant

surprise. Madam will be delighted you’ve come to see her,”

he said as he took her cloak.

“Actually, it’s you I’ve come to see. I don’t even want

Luty to know I’ve been here.” Mrs. Jeffries replied.

“Let’s go into the drawing room,” Hatchet said softly. He

glanced at the grand staircase leading to the second floor.

“The walls have ears.”

Generally, a butler would have escorted his visitor to the

butler’s pantry, but Hatchet had a very unusual relationship

with his employer and essentially had the run of the house

and the command of the household.

He escorted Mrs. Jeffries into an elegantly furnished

drawing room done in pale blue and cream. “Do sit down,

Mrs. Jeffries and tell me what’s wrong.” He motioned her

toward an ivory-colored damask settee.

“Nothing is really wrong,” she replied as she sat down.

“But we’ve a murder.”

“Sir George Braxton?” He sat opposite her on an ivory-

and-blue-striped wing chair.

She nodded. “We’re going to need your help.”

“So the inspector caught that one, did he?” Hatchet

pursed his lips.

“I’m afraid so.” She told him about the circumstances of

the inspector getting the case. “But my real concern isn’t the

murder, it’s Luty. She’s far too ill to be out investigating, yet

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73

I’m concerned she’ll hear about it and be very upset that she

wasn’t included.”

“She will hear about it, and she will be most upset,”

Hatchet replied slowly, “but, nonetheless, she’s still too ill

to be out. Don’t worry, Mrs. Jeffries, I’ll handle Madam.”

“Good,” she smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that. We’re

going to need you on this case, Hatchet. You’ve so many

sources in aristocratic circles, and, frankly, without Luty,

we’ll have to rely on you.”

He shrugged modestly. “I’m pleased to be of service.

Now, what else have you learned about the murder?”

Inspector Witherspoon and Constable Barnes made themselves a makeshift office in what was the old butler’s pantry.

Barnes whipped out his notebook and took a seat at the

rickety table. “I’ve asked Mrs. Merryhill to send the servants

in again. They were all in such a state yesterday that I want

to reinterview them and see if they’ve remembered anything

else.”

“That’s an excellent idea. It’s odd, isn’t it? If you wait too

long to take a statement, witnesses may have forgotten all

sorts of useful information, but if you interview some people too quickly, they’re in such a dither they can’t recall anything.”

“Are you going to interview the sisters again?” Barnes

asked curiously.

“Oh, yes, only this time I’ll make sure to speak to each of

them privately.” He frowned slightly. “They do tend to argue if they’re together in the same room.”

“I know,” Barnes replied. “I heard them last night just

before we were leaving. What about the solicitors, sir? Are

you going to find out why they were here yesterday?”

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Emily Brightwell

“That’s on my list of questions to ask,” he replied. “I’ll be

in Sir George’s study if you need me.”

Mrs. Merryhill waited for the inspector at the top of the

stairs. “I’ll escort you to Sir George’s study,” she said

solemnly. “Miss Burleigh is waiting for you.”

“Thank you, but that’s not necessary. I know where the

study is located. However, I would appreciate it if you’d tell

Sir George’s daughters that I’ll need to speak with them

sometime today.”

She nodded briefly. “I’ll insure they get the message, Inspector.”

He pulled open the door and stepped inside the study.

The room was large, poorly lighted, and crammed full of

oversized furniture, the centerpiece of which was a huge

mahogany desk.