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

like to go to Barrick Street and search those empty

building near the scene of the crime,” Witherspoon replied.

“But if you think your source was sure of his information,

we can interview the Turner women, too. Perhaps we’ll

have another word with Roderick Sutter as well.”

Barnes had told the inspector that a “source” had come

forward with some new information about the whereabouts

of some of the suspects on the night of the murder. “He

was sure, sir, and he’s generally been reliable in the past.”

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“What took him so long to come forward?” Witherspoon asked. They were standing in the foyer. The inspector reached for his heavy overcoat and slipped it on.

“He doesn’t like Inspector Nivens,” Barnes lied. “Nivens

arrested him once and was excessively rough, so he kept

what he knew to himself until the word got that we were

having another look at the case. But he definitely saw both

the Turner women leave their house that night. He was

working that neighborhood, sir. I expect he was casing the

whole area looking for a nice empty house to rob.”

“And he’s sure it was them he saw?” Witherspoon

reached for his bowler and popped it onto his head.

“Oh yes, he noticed the address when Miss Turner came

out. As I said, sir, he was watching the area. Then a few

minutes later, Mrs. Turner left. He told me he crept around

the back of the house and had a look through the window.

He was hoping the place would be empty, but he spotted

the housekeeper so he left.” Barnes opened the front door

and they stepped outside. “He was going to rob the place,

sir. But as he didn’t actually do the deed, we’d no reason to

hold him. Why do you want to interview Sutter again, sir?”

“I want to get a better sense of the man.” Witherspoon

went down the stairs. He’d thought about how Mrs. Jeffries had told him he was very perceptive and quite good at getting people to talk freely. He wanted to have another

chat with Sutter and see if his “inner voice” could sense

anything. “We might as well ask him to tell us again where

he was that night. After all, he was very angry with Mrs.

Muran.”

Barnes waved at a hansom that had turned the corner.

He hoped he’d be able to get the inspector to the Turner

house by the time Merriman got there. He’d do his best.

Betsy shed her jacket and hat as she hurried down the hall.

Mrs. Goodge was sitting at the table when she came into the

kitchen. “No one else is here,” the cook said. “But Wiggins

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has reported in that he’s done his bit. I sent him back to

keep watch on the house.”

“What about Smythe?” Betsy asked.

“I’ve not heard from him. But I’m expectin’ Mrs. Jeffries back any moment now.” She glanced anxiously at the clock and noted that it was past noon. “Leastways, I hope

she’s back soon.”

“Where did she go?”

“To the Muran house,” she replied. “She sent Ruth

along to the Fortune Hotel. But I think she only did that so

Ruth would feel useful.”

Betsy flopped down in her chair, a worried look on her

face. “I hope she knows what she’s doing.”

“So do I,” Mrs. Jeffries said from the doorway. “Were

you able to have a word with Selma Maccelesfield?” She

took off her cloak and gloves.

Betsy’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I only

meant that I hope this goes right . . .”

Mrs. Jeffries held up her hand. “I know what you meant

and I took no offense. What did you learn?”

“She told me that the gun is still in the house. Apparently,

when Mrs. Turner had her little spell at the Muran house,

Mr. Muran neglected to take the weapon from her.”

“That was foolish of him,” Mrs. Goodge muttered.

“It wouldn’t have mattered if he had taken it away from

her. Miss Turner keeps a derringer,” Betsy continued.

Mrs. Jeffries sighed. “Well, my news isn’t much better.

Keith Muran knows that Merriman is taking over the estate.”

“How did you find that out?” The cook stared at Mrs.

Jeffries in admiration.

“I bribed the day girl for information when she put the

laundry basket out the back,” she replied. “Muran told

Merriman over dinner last night that he was going to honor

his sister’s wishes with the company. He made it clear he

was going to sign the contracts to complete the purchase of

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the row houses. He’s an appointment with the solicitors

later this afternoon. I expect he’ll sign the contracts then.”

“You learned a lot of details,” Betsy exclaimed. “That’s

amazing.”

“Not really,” Mrs. Jeffries sighed. “As the girl was serving dinner, she heard the whole conversation.”

“How did Mr. Muran react?” Mrs. Goodge asked.

“He was polite, but the girl said it was obvious he

wasn’t pleased. But he could hardly make a fuss as both the

Turners were there as well. Has Wiggins reported back?”

Mrs. Jeffries took her seat.

“He popped in to say that he managed to get the message to Charlotte and she’s agreed to come get him if she sees anyone playing about with the food.”

Barnes got down from the hansom and tried to figure out

what in the name of thunder he was going to do next. It was

almost one o’clock, and it had taken every bit of ingenuity

he possessed to get the inspector here. Now what? He

stared at the outside of the Turner house and wondered if

he’d made a big mistake.

“I do hope the ladies are at home,” Witherspoon said. “I

hope to speak to Sutter again today.”

“This shouldn’t take long, sir,” Barnes replied. He looked

around, wondering where Smythe and Wiggins were hiding. Mrs. Jeffries had told him they’d be close by. She’d seemed convinced that something was going to happen today. Mind you, she hadn’t told him what that something might be, merely that it was important to get the inspector

to the Turner house. He straightened his shoulders and

started up the walkway.

They were three feet from the front door when there

was a loud bang from inside the house.

“That was a shot, sir!” Barnes flung open the front door

and charged inside. Witherspoon was right behind him.

A woman’s screams pierced the air as they raced down

the hall. The door at the end of the hall suddenly burst

Mrs. Jeffries