Mrs. Jeffries Appeals the Verdict by Emily Brightwell (lightest ebook reader txt) 📕

very useful,” Mrs. Goodge said. “Just because

the woman died doesn’t mean there was foul play. Doctors

are wrong more often than they’re right, and even big

strong people can succumb to an illness.”

“That’s true,” Mrs. Jeffries agreed. “We’ve learned from

our past cases that we must keep an open mind and not

make assumptions until all the facts are known.” She looked

at Betsy. “Anything else?”

Betsy shook her head. “Not really. But I’ll keep at it.”

“Can I go next?” Wiggins asked. “I’ve found out something as well.”

“Go on, then,” Smythe said. “We’re waitin’.”

Wiggins told them about his meeting with Charlotte

Brimmer. “Like I was sayin’, the Turners have barged in

and taken over the Muran house. The servants don’t like

either of them, especially Mrs. Turner. Claims she don’t

know how to run a proper house.”

“Why wouldn’t she know how to run a household?” Mrs.

Goodge asked. “She’s a lady. Her husband was an army officer in India and she’d have run her own household out there.”

“Maybe it’s different in them foreign places,” Wiggins

replied. “Charlotte says Mrs. Turner can barely read or

write, doesn’t know how to order provisions properly, and

Mrs. Jeffries Appeals the Verdict

145

has a nasty temper to boot. The servants hate her. Charlotte

says she’ll go along for days being decent and kind and then

someone will drop a spoon or leave a smudge on the table

and she’ll go mad. The first time I saw Charlotte, she looked

scared to death, and that was because that very morning

Mrs. Turner threw the salt cellar at the scullery maid. Cut the

poor girl on the head. Accordin’ to Charlotte, that wasn’t the

first time Mrs. Turner had acted like a mad woman. When

she loses her temper, she likes to throw things about the

place.”

“That’s not so unusual,” Mrs. Goodge said. “I once

worked for a woman that got so angry over a dinner party

that didn’t go well she turned over the table in the butler’s

pantry and made us eat with our plates on our laps for a

week. We hated her.”

“Why didn’t people leave and find other positions?”

Betsy asked the cook.

Mrs. Goodge smiled sadly. “It’s not like now. Back in

those days there weren’t many positions. Times were hard.

You couldn’t go off and get a job in a factory or a shop.”

“Some people are just born mean and nasty,” Wiggins

continued. “Mrs. Turner is even horrible to her own daughter. Charlotte told me that right after the New Year she overheard the old woman tell Lucy Turner that she’d better

quite larkin’ about, that her beauty was startin’ to fade and

if she didn’t grab herself a husband soon, she’d lose her

chance.”

“How awful,” Betsy exclaimed.

“That’s why Charlotte’s lookin’ for another position;

she’s afraid that once the mourning period is past, Mr. Mu-

ran is goin’ to marry Miss Turner,” Wiggins said. “They

don’t want to have to put up with Mrs. Turner.”

“And they’re certain Mrs. Turner would move into the

Muran house as well?” Smythe asked.

“That’s what Charlotte thinks,” Wiggins replied.

“Did you find out if there’s a gun in the Muran household?” Smythe helped himself to a second slice of cake.

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Emily Brightwell

“Charlotte’s never seen one.” Wiggins wondered if he

ought to ask Mrs. Jeffries to help him find the maid another

position.

“The Turners probably have a gun,” Mrs. Goodge said.

Wiggins looked at the cook in admiration. “Cor blimey,

Mrs. Goodge, ’ow’d you find that out so quick?”

“I’m only guessing, lad,” she admitted ruefully. “But

colonial families generally all have guns. My guess is that

Mrs. Turner kept her husband’s weapons when they returned from India and that they’re somewhere in the Turner house.”

“That’s true,” Mrs. Jeffries added. “You’ve done very

well, Mrs. Goodge.”

“Thank you.” The cook sighed. “But as I said, I’m only

guessing. The only other tidbit I heard today was from

Maisie Dobson. I invited her for morning coffee because

she used to housekeep for a gentleman that lives just up the

road from the Murans. But she didn’t really know anything.” The cook frowned and shook her head. “All I got out of her was that Mr. Muran dearly loved his wife—the

silly girl had seen them holding hands once and decided on

that flimsy evidence that they were madly in love.”

“Maybe they were,” Wiggins said.

The cook ignored him. “That’s really all I found out. I’ve

got some more sources coming in tomorrow. Let’s hope I

find something useful.”

“Everything’s useful,” Mrs. Jeffries said softly. “And

you’ve certainly done better today than I have. I found out

absolutely nothing.”

“I learned a bit about Russell Merriman,” Smythe said.

“He wasn’t in the country when his sister was killed, and

more importantly, he loved her. He wouldn’t have had her

murdered.”

“Besides, if he had, he wouldn’t be the one kicking up a

fuss and getting the case reopened,” Betsy muttered. “He’d

just let Tommy Odell hang.”

Mrs. Jeffries Appeals the Verdict

147

Mrs. Jeffries nodded slowly. She still wasn’t sure about

Merriman. Devotion to a sibling could be faked, and there

might be a goodly number of facts about the matter that

they hadn’t uncovered as yet. For the moment, Merriman

was still on her list of suspects.

“What are we going to do next?” Wiggins asked. “If you

don’t mind my sayin’ so, time’s movin’ right along and

we’re no closer to sussin’ out who really murdered that poor

woman.”

“I know.” Mrs. Jeffries hadn’t learned anything new because she’d spent the afternoon thinking about the murder.

She’d put all the facts together and tried to come up with

some idea as to who truly benefited from Caroline Muran’s

death. But she’d not come up with any definite conclusions. Just before the others returned, she’d realized she might be approaching the problem from the wrong set of

assumptions. Sometimes, murder indirectly benefited the

killer. She needed time to think, but the truth was, she was

afraid that time was the one commodity they didn’t have.

“It’s a puzzle, isn’t it.”

“It’s a puzzle we’ve got to solve if we’re going to save

Tommy Odell from the hangman,” Smythe said. “And so

far, we’re not findin’ out much that’s useful. One of the first

things we’ve got to do is start eliminatin’ people from our

suspect list.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” Betsy asked.

“For starters, I’m goin’ to find that hansom driver and

see if he lied. Keith Muran told the inspector he’d asked the

driver to wait for them that night,