Read Online 02 - Mrs. Jeffries Dusts for Clues by Emily Brightwell - Free Book Online

rested in silent dignity. As they walked farther into the room, Mrs. Jeffries realized that the temperature was very low. She wondered how the hospital kept this room so cold.
    “It’s not a very pretty sight,” Bosworth warned as he drew back the covering. Mrs. Jeffries steeled herself, Luty took a deep breath, and Inspector Witherspoon stepped back a pace.
    The face was unrecognizable. Black, bloated and without color, it could be identified as female only by the long blond hair.
    “Humph,” Luty snorted. “The hair is the right color, but I can’t tell anything from looking at the face.”
    Mrs. Jeffries nodded. “Did Mary have any distinguishing marks or scars upon her person?”
    “Not that I know of.” Luty gestured for Bosworth to lower the covering. She turned to the inspector. “Where’s her clothes?”
    Witherspoon, who was trying not to look at anything except the floor, didn’t realize that Mrs. Crookshank was addressing him.
    “He gone deaf or something?” Luty asked irritably when the inspector didn’t reply.
    “Inspector Witherspoon,” Mrs. Jeffries said gently, “Luty would like to see the victim’s clothing.”
    “Huh. Oh. Certainly. Uh, I believe they’re…” He broke off because he didn’t quite remember where they were.
    Bosworth finally spoke up. “They’re still here. The police haven’t taken them into evidence yet. We don’t like to let them go until after the coroner’s verdict.”
    Witherspoon, who’d never heard of such nonsense, shook his head. “All right, then. Go and get them. We’ll wait, uh, well, out in the hallway.”
    They moved into the corridor, and Witherspoon took several long, deep breaths of air. After a few seconds he began to feel better.
    “How come they took her clothes off anyways?” Luty wanted to know. “Seems downright disrespectful if you ask me.”
    “Dear lady, nothing could be further from the truth,” Witherspoon assured her quickly. “But the doctors can hardly determine causes of death if they can’t examine the victims, and the only way to do that is to undress them.”
    “Here’s the victim’s things, sir,” Bosworth said, handing a cloth bag to Inspector Witherspoon.
    Gritting his teeth, the inspector put the bag on the floor and reached inside. He pulled out a tattered, dark blue dress with a silver broach pinned to the lapel.
    Luty Belle gasped. Then she reached over and lifted the rightsleeve. A small moan of distress escaped her as she studied the inside lining of the wrist.
    “I take it the dress is familiar to you?” Mrs. Jeffries said gently. Her heart went out to Luty. One look at the woman’s face was enough to assure her that the dress had, indeed, belonged to Mary Sparks.
    Numbly, Luty nodded her head.
    “But how can you be sure?” Mrs. Jeffries persisted.
    Luty didn’t answer right away. Her throat worked convulsively for a moment, and her breathing was harsh. “Because I told her to sew this here little pocket into the lining.” She held the sleeve toward Mrs. Jeffries. “Mary didn’t like to get out and about much. She was always scared of pickpockets and the like. Last summer, I showed her this old trick from when me and Archie used to hang about the Barbary Coast.” She blinked furiously to hold back the tears. “See, the pocket’s just big enough to hold a few coins. But Mary never carried more than a shilling or two.”
    Witherspoon knew he should be relieved now that the body had been positively identified. But he felt awful. Poor Mrs. Crookshank, despite her eccentricities, was dreadfully upset.
    “There, there,” he said. “Don’t distress yourself, madam. You have my assurances that Scotland Yard will find the evil perpetrator that foully ended this young woman’s life.”
    Luty gave him an incredulous stare. Mrs. Jeffries quickly said, “Of course, Inspector. We have every confidence in the police.”
    Witherspoon’s chest expanded. Luty snorted.
    “Now,” the inspector said.