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

at Lucy Turner.

She raised her head, an expression of horror on her face.

“Thank God you’re alive.” Keith Muran started toward

Russell. “We thought you were dead.”

Suddenly, Lucy Turner leapt to her feet and charged at

her cousin. Holding her hands out as claws, she flew across

the room. “Why won’t you stay dead?” she screamed. “Ye

gods, you bloody Merrimans have caused me no end of

trouble. I finally got rid of that damned sister of yours

and then you had to come back from the grave and ruin

everything.”

Witherspoon pulled Merriman out to the hall at the

same time that Barnes hurled himself after the screaming

woman. He tried grabbing her shoulder, missed, and

stumbled to his knees. It was Mrs. Turner who stopped her

daughter.

She grabbed her arm, whirled her about, and slapped

her across the face. “Stop it. Just stop it. It’s over. It’s all

over.”

“No!” Lucy screamed. “He’s mine, it’s all mine! I

worked for it, I put up with that sanctimonious chit for

years. I’m sick of being the poor relation. She stole him

from me and now her bloody brother is stealing everything

else. I’ll not have it, I tell you. I’ll not have it!” She shook

her mother’s arm off and started for the hallway.

Witherspoon was dragging Merriman toward the front

door as quickly as he could. He wasn’t sure what was

happening, but the look in that woman’s eyes convinced

him he needed to get the man out of there as fast as possible.

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Barnes grabbed Lucy from behind just as the front door

opened and two police constables burst inside. Lucy, her

gaze locked on Russell, punched and kicked at Barnes as

she tried to get to her prey.

“Help the constable!” Witherspoon yelled.

The two constables rushed toward Barnes as he grappled with Lucy, but just then, Mrs. Turner jumped into the fray. “Leave my daughter alone, you monsters,” she cried.

“She can’t help herself. She’s out of her mind.”

“I’m no more out of my mind than you are,” Lucy

screamed at her mother. She yanked one arm out of Barnes’

grasp, balled her hand into a fist, and punched one of the

constables in the eye.

“Lucy, please stop,” Keith Muran pleaded. He was ineffectually waving his hands at the struggling mass of bodies.

“Shut up,” she snarled at Muran as one of the constables

forced her to her knees. “This is your fault, you bloody

twit. If you’d married me instead of her, we’d not be in this

fix. I should have hit you hard enough to kill you when I

had the chance.”

Witherspoon leaned Merriman up against the wall.

“Will you be all right here?” he asked anxiously. “I must

help. I’m afraid she’s going to make a run for it.”

“It’s the mother you’ve got to worry about,” Russell

commented. He could see everything. “She just kicked one

of the constables in the knee. Uh-oh, he’s going down. Go

on. I’ll be fine here.”

“I do wish the doctor would hurry,” the inspector complained. He didn’t like leaving a bleeding man propped against a wall, but from the drawing room he could hear

bumps, screams, grunts, and the sound of furniture breaking.

Russell looked at his shoulder. “Don’t worry. It’s only a

flesh wound. I’ll be all right. Go and lend them a hand. I do

believe she’s going to whip all three of them.”

And she almost did. But in the end, they managed to get

Mrs. Turner out of the way and a pair of cuffs on Lucy.

202

Emily Brightwell

“Lucy Turner,” Witherspoon said. “You’re under arrest

for the murder of Caroline Merriman Muran and the attempted murder of Russell Merriman.”

“Go to hell,” she said, sneering.

Wiggins and Smythe arrived home a little past four in the

afternoon. “Where have you been?” Betsy demanded. “I’ve

paced so much I’ve almost worn a hole in the floor.”

“We got away as soon as we knew what ’appened.” Wiggins grinned broadly. “Mrs. Jeffries, you ought to be one of them fortune tellers they ’ave at the music hall. Somethin’

did ’appen today, and that’s why we’re so late gettin’ back.”

“Lucy Turner tried to kill Russell Merriman,” Smythe

announced. He grabbed Betsy’s hand and pulled her toward

the table, which had been set for tea. “She confessed to

killing Caroline Muran as well. It was quite a dustup, it was.

Both them Turner women have pretty powerful punches.”

“What happened?” Mrs. Goodge demanded. She and

Ruth Cannonberry were already seated.

“Is Inspector Witherspoon all right?” Ruth asked anxiously.

“He’s fine, but one of the other constables is goin’ to

’ave a black eye,” Wiggins said cheerfully. He slipped into

his chair. “Miss Turner popped him one right in the face,

she did.”

“And Mrs. Turner got another one in the knee, but I expect he’ll be fine in a day or two,” Smythe added.

Mrs. Jeffries, who’d been pacing the floor along with

Betsy, took her seat at the head of the table. “Smythe, tell

us what happened. Start from the time you and Wiggins arrived at the Turner house to keep watch.”

Smythe nodded. “Well, as you know, I was followin’

Russell Merriman this morning, but that didn’t take much

doin’ as both he and Keith Muran were home until half past

twelve. Then they went to the Turner house in Chelsea. I

followed along and met up with Wiggins.”

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“I ’ad us a good hidin’ place all sussed out,” Wiggins interrupted. “The house across the road had one of them tangled overgrown gardens, so we just nipped in behind the bushes. There was no one about, so it was right easy. Mind

you, it did get a bit cold.”

“We watched the men go in and then we settled down to

wait. Just before one o’clock a hansom pulls up. The inspector and Constable Barnes gets out. Nothin’ had ’appened up until then, and I’ve got to tell ya, Constable Barnes looked worried. But just as they was walking to the

door, a shot rang out.”

“How dreadful,” Ruth muttered.

“Inspector Witherspoon and the constable rushed the

door and barged straight in.” Smythe shook his head. “I’ve

got to tell ya, we weren’t sure what to do, so we just stayed

put. A few minutes later, Charlotte came rushing out and ran

down the street like the hounds from hell was at her heels.”

“I went after her,” Wiggins interjected. “But I couldn’t

catch her, she went that