Read Online 12- Mrs. Jeffries Reveals Her Art by Emily Brightwell - Free Book Online
Authors: Emily Brightwell
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cabbies?” Smythe asked.
“Actually, I’d prefer you find out what you can about the victim. It’s too bad we don’t know where he lived or anything else about the man, but I think it’s important we find out as much as possible.”
Smythe drummed his fingers lightly on the table, thinking. “I can nip out tonight and find out a bit about ’im from the locals. Believe me, the news of a suspicious death like that’ll already be makin’ the rounds of the local pubs.”
“You just want an excuse to go out drinking,” Betsy charged. “It’s not fair, either. The women in the household can’t go out looking for information at night—”
“Oh yes, we can,” Luty declared. “I’ve got my peacemaker out in the carriage—”
“Really, madam,” Hatchet interrupted. “I do wish you’d leave that wretched gun at home. We’re not in the Old West. Carrying a weapon is illegal here. This is a civilized country.”
Luty snorted. “Civilized? Cow patties! If you’re so dang blasted civilized, how come we always got murders to solve? You ain’t any more civilized than I am. You’ve just got a fancier accent.”
“That’s not true, lass,” Smythe said earnestly, paying no attention to anyone but Betsy. “I only ’ave a pint or two when I go out. But it’s important we get started on this—”
“We are gettin’ started,” Mrs. Goodge interrupted, “and as we don’t even know for sure that Underhill’s been murdered, I agree with Betsy. It isn’t fair that the men can go out and about at night lookin’ for clues and we can’t.”
“But you never leave the kitchen,” Wiggins protested.
“That’s not the point,” the cook replied stoutly.
“Really, everyone,” Mrs. Jeffries said firmly. “Let’s calm down a moment. There’s no need for us to be interrupting one another and making accusations. Betsy”—she looked at the maid—“I quite agree with Smythe. It is important that we get started right away. We are investigating two possibly separate matters. If he can find out a few more facts about either situation, I think he ought to go.” She glanced at Wiggins. “But I quite agree with Mrs. Goodge as well. It isn’t fair that a female can’t walk the city streets at night the way a man does. Now, can we please put our attention back to the immediate problems at hand?”
“I know what I’ll be doin’ tomorrow,” the cook said.“I’ll be getting my sources primed and while I’m at it, I’ll find out what I can about Irene Simmons.”
“What do ya want me to do?” Wiggins asked.
“Get as much information as you can from the servants in the Grant house. Find out who was there, what their relationships to one another are and if any of them had a reason for wanting Underhill dead,” she said crisply. “Also, see if any of the staff knows anything about Irene Simmons.”
“Cor blimey.” Wiggins blinked in surprise at the enormity of his task. Then he saw the teasing glint in the housekeeper’s eyes. “Oh, I get it. Find out what I can.”
“That’s right.” She laughed.
“What’ll you be doin’, Hepzibah?” Luty asked curiously.
“To begin with, I shall wait up for the inspector and find out what he’s learned this evening,” Mrs. Jeffries said. “Tomorrow, I do believe I’ll make a couple of calls.”
“To who?” Smythe asked.
“Dr. Bosworth and Nanette Lanier.”
“I can see why you want to talk to the good doctor,” Hatchet said, “but why are you going to see Miss Lanier? Hasn’t she already told you everything she knows about Miss Simmons’s disappearance?”
“Indeed she has.” Mrs. Jeffries smiled. “But I want to find out what she knows about James Underhill.”
Witherspoon’s ears were ringing by the time he finished taking Neville Grant’s statement. The man didn’t believe in speaking below a roar. He winced as the drawing room door slammed shut violently behind Grant.
“He wasn’t very helpful, was he, sir?”
“Actually, I’d prefer you find out what you can about the victim. It’s too bad we don’t know where he lived or anything else about the man, but I think it’s important we find out as much as possible.”
Smythe drummed his fingers lightly on the table, thinking. “I can nip out tonight and find out a bit about ’im from the locals. Believe me, the news of a suspicious death like that’ll already be makin’ the rounds of the local pubs.”
“You just want an excuse to go out drinking,” Betsy charged. “It’s not fair, either. The women in the household can’t go out looking for information at night—”
“Oh yes, we can,” Luty declared. “I’ve got my peacemaker out in the carriage—”
“Really, madam,” Hatchet interrupted. “I do wish you’d leave that wretched gun at home. We’re not in the Old West. Carrying a weapon is illegal here. This is a civilized country.”
Luty snorted. “Civilized? Cow patties! If you’re so dang blasted civilized, how come we always got murders to solve? You ain’t any more civilized than I am. You’ve just got a fancier accent.”
“That’s not true, lass,” Smythe said earnestly, paying no attention to anyone but Betsy. “I only ’ave a pint or two when I go out. But it’s important we get started on this—”
“We are gettin’ started,” Mrs. Goodge interrupted, “and as we don’t even know for sure that Underhill’s been murdered, I agree with Betsy. It isn’t fair that the men can go out and about at night lookin’ for clues and we can’t.”
“But you never leave the kitchen,” Wiggins protested.
“That’s not the point,” the cook replied stoutly.
“Really, everyone,” Mrs. Jeffries said firmly. “Let’s calm down a moment. There’s no need for us to be interrupting one another and making accusations. Betsy”—she looked at the maid—“I quite agree with Smythe. It is important that we get started right away. We are investigating two possibly separate matters. If he can find out a few more facts about either situation, I think he ought to go.” She glanced at Wiggins. “But I quite agree with Mrs. Goodge as well. It isn’t fair that a female can’t walk the city streets at night the way a man does. Now, can we please put our attention back to the immediate problems at hand?”
“I know what I’ll be doin’ tomorrow,” the cook said.“I’ll be getting my sources primed and while I’m at it, I’ll find out what I can about Irene Simmons.”
“What do ya want me to do?” Wiggins asked.
“Get as much information as you can from the servants in the Grant house. Find out who was there, what their relationships to one another are and if any of them had a reason for wanting Underhill dead,” she said crisply. “Also, see if any of the staff knows anything about Irene Simmons.”
“Cor blimey.” Wiggins blinked in surprise at the enormity of his task. Then he saw the teasing glint in the housekeeper’s eyes. “Oh, I get it. Find out what I can.”
“That’s right.” She laughed.
“What’ll you be doin’, Hepzibah?” Luty asked curiously.
“To begin with, I shall wait up for the inspector and find out what he’s learned this evening,” Mrs. Jeffries said. “Tomorrow, I do believe I’ll make a couple of calls.”
“To who?” Smythe asked.
“Dr. Bosworth and Nanette Lanier.”
“I can see why you want to talk to the good doctor,” Hatchet said, “but why are you going to see Miss Lanier? Hasn’t she already told you everything she knows about Miss Simmons’s disappearance?”
“Indeed she has.” Mrs. Jeffries smiled. “But I want to find out what she knows about James Underhill.”
Witherspoon’s ears were ringing by the time he finished taking Neville Grant’s statement. The man didn’t believe in speaking below a roar. He winced as the drawing room door slammed shut violently behind Grant.
“He wasn’t very helpful, was he, sir?”
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