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

“I’m sorry to have to bring you all here, especially on

such a sad day, but I think I might know who murdered Sir

George.”

“What are you saying?” Brent demanded. “If you know

who did it, just go ahead and arrest that person. There’s no

reason to inconvenience the rest of us.”

“Really, Inspector, couldn’t this wait until tomorrow?”

Fiona Burleigh complained. “It’s been a long day, and I’m

tired.”

“It could wait until tomorrow, but you’re leaving tonight, isn’t that correct, Miss Burleigh?” Witherspoon asked.

“Mrs. Merryhill said you’ve hired a hansom to take you to

the train station at six o’clock.”

“That’s none of your business, Inspector.” Her eyes narrowed angrily, and she glared at the housekeeper, who gazed back at her without flinching. “My coming and going isn’t

anyone’s concern but my own.”

“No one’s trying to stop you from leaving.” Lucinda

smiled cattily.

“Of course, no one’s stopping you from going about your

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business,” the inspector said. “But before you go, could you

please show us your hands and arms.”

Fiona’s jaw dropped in surprise. Barnes quickly scanned

the faces of the others and realized that everyone was equally

stunned by the inspector’s demand.

“I beg your pardon,” Fiona said. “What did you say?”

Witherspoon smiled kindly. “I know it’s a very odd request, but if you’ll do as we ask, we can eliminate you as a suspect, and you can be on your way. If you’re uncomfortable rolling up your sleeves in our presence, Mrs. Merryhill has consented to help us.”

Fiona stared at them for a long moment, then she

moved over and stood directly in front of the inspector. She

stuck her hands out. After a moment, she reached over and

began unbuttoning the cuffs on the sleeves of the black

dress she wore.

“If the rest of you ladies will unbutton your sleeves as

well, this will go much faster,” Barnes said to the others. He

kept his position by the door.

“This is outrageous,” Clark sputtered. “My cousins will

do no such thing.”

“I don’t mind.” Nina Braxton had already began to undo

the small studs on her cuffs.

“Neither do I.” Charlotte had got up and was doing the

same as her sister.

“Well, I for one am not disrobing in front of the police,”

Lucinda announced.

“Have you got something to hide?” Fiona asked. She’d

unbuttoned both cuffs. She shoved the sleeves up each arm

and thrust them at the inspector.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lucinda snapped. “Raleigh, do

something. This is an utter outrage.”

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“I think it would be best if we did what they asked,”

Brent said softly. “We don’t want them thinking we’ve

something to hide.”

The inspector nodded. “Thank you, Miss Burleigh. We

very much appreciate your cooperation.”

“Can I go now?” she asked. “I think I’d like to leave immediately.”

“Of course, we’ve your address if we need to ask you any

more questions.”

Fiona gave Lucinda and Raleigh a withering look as she

stalked out of the room.

Charlotte Braxton stepped over to the inspector and

thrust her hands and arms out. “Is this what you needed to

see.” She rolled her wrists back and forth, exposing her arms

completely. Her plump arms were clear of blemish.

“Thank you, Miss Braxton. That’s fine.”

“Good.” Charlotte went back to her seat. “Now everyone

can stop suspecting me.” She stared at her older sister. “I

know that’s what everyone was thinking, just because I was

out late that night. Well, I wasn’t fond of Father, but neither were any of you. Why don’t you go next, Lucinda? Or is Fiona right? Do you have something to hide?”

“Of course not,” Lucinda yelped. She reached over and

yanked her left sleeve so hard that buttons flew every which

way. Then she did the same to the right.

She closed the short space between her and the policemen and thrust her hands virtually under the inspector’s nose. “Have a good look,” she ordered. “There’s not a mark

anywhere. Not that I’ve any idea what on earth it is you

think you’re going to find.”

“Thank you, Miss Braxton.” Witherspoon ignored her

tirade.

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225

Nina Braxton stepped forward next. The sleeves of her

dress were already open and neatly folded back.

She, too, was clear of any claw marks.

Raleigh Brent came next, rolling up the cuffs of his and

shaking his head. “If you’d just tell us what it is you’re looking for,” he complained. “We’d be able to help a great deal more with your inquiry. I don’t want you to think Lucinda

and I aren’t anxious to catch her father’s killer.”

“Do be quiet, Raleigh, and show them your bloody

arms,” Lucinda snapped. “Oh, dear, please forgive me, darling, I’m so distraught I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“I know what came over her,” Nina said to Charlotte.

“Fiona’s gone.”

“I understand, dearest.” Raleigh smiled weakly at his fiancée. He gamely stuck his arms out in front of the policeman. “I do hope you’re happy, sir. This exercise has so upset my fiancée that she’s not even aware of what she’s saying.”

“Thank you, Mr. Brent,” Witherspoon said kindly. He

felt badly for the poor fellow. Whether the man realized it

or not, he’d just had a preview of what marriage to a rich

woman with a nasty temper was going to be like.

Rolling down his sleeves as he walked, Raleigh went

over to stand next to Lucinda. “It’s your turn now,” he said

to Clark.

Clarence Clark snorted derisively. “You’re not master

here yet.”

“And when I am, you’ll not be here long,” Brent shot

back. He took Lucinda’s arm and herded her toward a love

seat as far away from the others as possible.

“I wouldn’t count on that,” Clark smiled slyly. “Or hasn’t

your precious fiancée told you?”

Brent stopped. “Told me what?”

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“That I’ve a lifetime interest in this house. I can stay here

until the day I die.”

“Mr. Clark, will you please roll up your sleeves?” Witherspoon asked. He struggled to hold back his disappointment. He’d been so sure, the idea had been so logical. He’d not known the identity of the killer, but he’d been sure the

killer would be marked.

“I most certainly will not.” He whirled around and went

back to stand by the fireplace.

“You will,” Lucinda shouted. “Or I’ll make damned certain you never step foot in that greenhouse of yours again.

You have a right to live here, but you’ve no right to