Mrs. Jeffries & the Yuletide Weddings (14 page)

“How did you find that out?”

“I saw him at the same antique shop where I was selling some of my late husband’s things so I could pay my dressmaker’s bill. Honestly, I don’t know what I’m going to do if I can’t find another rich husband. This time, I’ll make sure he doesn’t have a packet of relatives with their hands out.”

“Oh dear, you’ve had to support your husband’s family?”

Lydia laughed harshly. “Not voluntarily. Elwood’s body wasn’t even cold before his mother and brothers charged through our house grabbing everything. They claimed everything of value that we had belonged to the ‘family estate’ and not to my husband personally. They carted off paintings, porcelains, all of my beautiful carpets, and every piece of silver they could get their hands on. I only managed to keep some of my jewels because my sister had the good sense to grab the jewelry chest and climb out onto the roof until they were gone.”

“That’s so unfair!” Ruth cried.

“It most certainly was.” Lydia nodded in agreement. “But there was nothing I could do about it. They had the law on their side; I couldn’t prove the Caravaggio or the Donatello belonged to my late husband. I’m not going to let that happen to me again, that’s for certain. The next time I marry it’ll be to a nice, ordinary rich man.”

“That’s very wise of you,” Ruth said. “But I still think you were treated abominably. I very much appreciate all you’ve told me. I’ll pass the information along to the inspector. If there’s ever anything I can do for you—”

Lydia interrupted. “There is. I’d like you to introduce me to Jonathan March. You do know him, don’t you? I saw you with his sister at the Edmondsons’ autumn ball and you seemed to be great friends with her. I’ve been trying to meet him for ages now; he’s rich, and the only family he has is a sister!”

 

Upstairs, the front door slammed shut, startling all of them. Mrs. Jeffries leapt up. “Oh dear, it’s the inspector. He’s home earlier than usual.”

Luty and Hatchet rose to their feet as well. “We’ll go out the back,” Luty said. Hatchet grabbed their garments off the coat tree and draped Luty’s voluminous wrap over her shoulder. “We’ll be here for the morning meeting,” he called as he hustled his employer toward the back door.

Mrs. Jeffries nodded and ran for the back stairs. The inspector was hanging up his bowler as she stepped into the front hall. “Good evening, sir. We were so busy downstairs we didn’t hear your hansom pull up out front.”

“That’s because I walked home from the station.” He unbuttoned his coat and hung it up.

“From Ladbroke Road?” she asked, referring to the local station where he and Constable Barnes were assigned. “But I thought you were going to be in Islington today, at the Moran house.”

“I was at the Moran home and Constable Barnes and I were making a good deal of progress when I got a message calling us back to the Yard. By the time I’d finished the meeting with Chief Inspector Barrows, it was too late in the afternoon to go all the way back to Islington, so we went to the station to write up our reports.”

“Oh dear, sir. I hope the chief inspector wasn’t expecting an arrest this early in the investigation,” she said sympathetically. She edged him toward the drawing room. He could do with a nice glass of sherry.

Witherspoon smiled wearily. “The chief inspector isn’t quite that unreasonable, but he made it quite clear the Home Office wanted everything cleared up before Christmas.” He sighed. “I don’t know what it is about politicians that makes them believe setting a timetable to apprehend a killer is remotely possible.”

“Of course it isn’t, sir. But perhaps as you’ve had such success in the past, they’re of the opinion that you’ll come through yet again.” They’d reached the open doorway to the drawing room. “Would you care for a glass of Harveys, sir?”

“That sounds wonderful,” he agreed. “But only if you’ll join me.”

She stepped past him and went to the liquor cabinet on the far side of the room. “Of course I will, sir. You know that I want to hear all about your day. Mrs. Goodge says dinner won’t be ready for another half hour.”

He went to his favorite overstuffed chair and sat down.

She poured the amber-colored liquid into two glasses, recorked the bottle, and picked up their drinks. She handed him his sherry and sank down on the settee next to his chair. “Were you able to find out anything useful from Miss Moran’s tenants?” she asked.

He took a sip before he answered. “Actually, as I said, we were making very good progress today. That’s what was so annoying about being interrupted and having to go all the way across town. I’d just finished interviewing an elderly lady who had quite a bit to say when the message came. Constable Barnes had learned some very useful information as well.”

“Oh dear, that’s most unfortunate.” She clucked her tongue sympathetically.

“Now, of course, since everyone in the house seems to feel they’ve already made their statements, my fear is that the ladies will all get together and begin talking among themselves about what they said.”

“People do like to talk, sir.” She stared at him curiously. “Why shouldn’t they speak to one another about the case?”

“Because I’ve a feeling there was more information to be had,” he replied. “And once they all start chatting with each other, they’ll influence one another if we conduct more interviews. There was one lady, a Miss Farley, who claimed she neither heard nor saw anything pertinent to the case. Yet after I thought about what I’d learned from Mrs. Middleton and Miss Bannister, I realized that Miss Farley might be mistaken in thinking she’d nothing to say.”

“I don’t understand,” Mrs. Jeffries admitted.

“Agatha Moran came home from a six-month tour of the continent last week. According to Mrs. Middleton, her housekeeper, except for being a bit tired, she was as right as rain when she got in. The next morning, Miss Moran immediately set to work. She took all the hotel receipts, correspondence, and even the old newspapers into her office, and when she emerged a few hours later, her entire demeanor had altered. From that moment until she left the house to go Bayswater and her own death, her behavior was strange and erratic. Everyone in the house noticed.”

“So why didn’t Miss Farley . . .” Mrs. Jeffries broke off. “I see what you mean, sir.”

“Good, I was afraid I wasn’t expressing myself very well. I know that sometimes I get a bit muddled—”

She interrupted. “You’re not muddled, sir.” She stared at him over the rim of her glass. She liked to think that she and the others were one of the primary reasons for his success as a detective, but occasionally, such as now, she wasn’t so sure. Sometimes his observations about human behavior were right on the mark, and occasionally she thought he’d have been a success even without their help. “You were very clear and you’re right to be concerned. When you do interview Miss Farley again, you don’t want her statement to have been influenced by anyone else.”

“My point precisely. We took statements from four people today, and I daresay, only one of them will have the good sense not to discuss the matter—she’s the mother of a police constable.” He smiled proudly. “She recognized me straight away. I didn’t even have to introduce myself.”

“How very interesting, sir.”

“Indeed it was,” he agreed. “Jane Middleton is a very intelligent woman. Her statement was very concise and her observations I’m sure will turn out to be important. But the entire episode was a bit strange.”

“Strange in what way?” Mrs. Jeffries asked.

He told her about their meeting with the Moran housekeeper.

Mrs. Jeffries listened carefully as he gave her the details of the encounter. “Gracious, it sounds as if she was expecting something awful to happen to Agatha Moran,” she observed when he’d finished.

“She was,” he agreed as he took a quick sip. “But it was one of those situations where she felt very helpless. She could tell that her employer was terribly agitated and upset about something, but Miss Moran wouldn’t tell her what it was.”

“You don’t think she was holding anything back out of respect?” Mrs. Jeffries pressed. “Women sometimes do that when they think they’re protecting a friend’s good name or reputation.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so. She seemed quite relieved to be talking to us.”

“Why hadn’t she gone to the police when Miss Moran didn’t come home last night?”

“She told me she was afraid that Miss Moran had done something she oughtn’t to have done and that by going to the police, she might get her into trouble.”

“In other words, she was afraid that Agatha Moran was going to be the one to commit a crime,” she mused.

“That was the impression I had,” he admitted. “But Jane Middleton isn’t a fool. She told us that if we’d not come to the house when we did, she was going to go to the local police station to report her employer missing.”

“And she was certain that Agatha Moran’s leaving the house yesterday afternoon had something to do with the Evanses?” Mrs. Jeffries wanted to make certain she had understood him correctly.

“Oh yes, she was sure of that. The only connection she knew of between them was that Miss Moran had been the Evanses’ governess, but that was years ago. Naturally, Mrs. Middleton’s comments will insure that I examine all of them far more closely, but when Constable Barnes gave me the particulars of his interview with Mrs. Ellen Crowe, it became obvious we ought to look in more than one direction. Mrs. Crowe wasn’t overly fond of Agatha Moran, either.” He finished his sherry, put the glass down, and leaned toward her, his expression earnest. “Naturally, she didn’t come out and tell Barnes that she didn’t like Miss Moran; as a matter of fact, she said just the opposite. But he told me that as he was taking her statement, he noticed how angry she became as she recalled an incident in their mutual past.” He repeated everything Barnes had told him on the hansom ride to Scotland Yard.

Mrs. Jeffries wished she could take notes. There was simply so much new information to absorb. She forced herself to concentrate on what he was saying even though her mind was already churning with new ideas and theories.

“Then I got quite a bit more information out of Miss Hilda Bannister,” he continued. “She’s a very elderly woman but she’s most certainly of sound mind. She’s not addled or senile.”

Slightly dazed by the barrage of new facts, she stared at him as he told her about that interview. When he’d finished, she said, “Gracious, no wonder you were annoyed when you were interrupted and called to the Yard.”

“Indeed, it was very frustrating.” He got to his feet. “Just as I’d thought of some excellent questions to ask, Constable Barnes appeared at the head of the stairs and said we had to go, that there was a constable downstairs calling us to the Yard. And for what? For the same nonsensical warnings I get every time I’ve a case. Honestly, Mrs. Jeffries, you’d think that by this time the chief inspector would understand that I know a December murder has to be cleared up by Christmas.”

 

“I’m sorry Smythe had to leave so quickly.” Betsy smiled apologetically and picked up her fork. They were having breakfast in Norah and Leo’s sitting room. Smythe had paid extra when he made the booking for private dining facilities to be provided to her family for their meals. “But he does have work.”

“It’s alright.” Leo gave her a friendly smile. “We understand, a man’s got to work.”

“But he’ll be here this evening for dinner,” she said quickly. “And we’ll all have a chance to spend time together so you can get to know him better.”

“You’re very lucky in your household.” Norah reached for another piece of toast. “Most places wouldn’t let a mere housemaid have so much time off.”

Betsy’s eyes narrowed. She wasn’t used to thinking of herself as a “mere housemaid.” “Our inspector is very good to us. He wasn’t raised in a grand house with servants, so he treats us decently, the way people ought to be treated.”

“Of course he does,” Leo said. “Your Inspector Witherspoon sounds like a very good man. I’m jolly glad we’ve all got this opportunity to be together. Norah and I had thought to come back to England sometime for a visit, but we couldn’t ever have afforded to come like this. Your Smythe is a generous man—”

“I still can’t understand how a coachman can have so much money,” Norah interrupted with a sweet smile.

Betsy shrugged. She’d spent half the night wondering if she ought to tell Norah and Leo the truth about Smythe’s money. Norah was important to her, and she didn’t like having secrets between them, but she’d finally decided to say nothing. Smythe’s finances were his business. If he wanted Norah and Leo to know how rich he was, he could tell them himself. “He doesn’t talk about his finances with me. He just asked me if I wanted my sister and her family at the wedding. When I said I did, he promised he’d take care of the matter. Mind you, you weren’t easy to find, so that cost him a bit as well.”

Norah flushed and looked away. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“That’s alright.” Betsy laughed. She was suddenly glad she’d not told Norah that Mrs. Jeffries had said the inspector wanted her to take this entire week off to be with her family and get ready for her wedding. She turned to her brother-in-law. “How do you like Canada? Is it very different from England?”

“The difference is like chalk and cheese. Canada’s a wonderful country. No one in Halifax judges you on who your ancestors were. There, a man is known by the work he does with his own two hands. It’s a good life.” Leo grinned proudly. “We’re saving up to buy a house. In another year or two, we’ll have enough. Norah’s a fine little money manager, and I make a good wage.”

“It sounds a wonderful place. I just wish it wasn’t so far away from here.” Betsy forked the last bite of egg into her mouth.

“Perhaps next time you can come see us,” Norah suggested. “The inspector would let you both take a holiday, wouldn’t he?”

Betsy nodded. “Of course. What are you going to do today?” When she’d walked in this morning and seen Leo wearing a suit and Norah the same traveling outfit she’d arrived in, Betsy was certain they had plans that didn’t include sitting in the parlor visiting with her. She’d been relieved, because now she could do her part on this case, and just a little hurt, as she’d have thought her sister would want to spend as much time with her as possible.