Read Online Mrs. Jeffries and the Merry Gentlemen by Emily Brightwell - Free Book Online

3

    â€œWe weren’t at our best last night and I know we missed something.” Constable Barnes put his empty mug down and got to his feet. “But we’re going to make up for it today. Everyone in Edison’s household is going to be interviewed again.”
    â€œDon’t be so hard on yourselves.” Mrs. Jeffries smiled kindly. “You both put in a full day’s work before you even got the case. I think you learned quite a bit.”
    â€œAnd thanks to young Wiggins I now know Edison had some sort of emotional ruckus with a young lady in Holland Park.” He frowned. “That was good work on his part but now I’ve got to figure out a likely source before I can pass that particular tidbit along to the inspector.”
    â€œYou’ll come up with something. You always do.” Mrs. Goodge wiped her hands on a clean tea cloth and reached under her worktable for a bag of flour. “If push comes to shove, you can always just say one of your informants passed it along to you.”
    Barnes shot her a grateful grin. As was his custom when working a murder, he’d stopped in the kitchen to have a word with Mrs. Jeffries and Mrs. Goodge before going upstairs to fetch the inspector. During one of the inspector’s earlier cases, the constable had realized the household was actively involved in gathering information and seeking out clues. Barnes understood the value of “amateurs” and took full advantage of the situation. Many of London’s good citizens would sooner die than give a policeman the time of day, but those same people would then turn around and talk a blue streak to anyone who’d put a pint of beer or even a cup of tea in front of them. Mrs. Jeffries and the others could also skirt the edges of the law with a bit more ease than either himself or the inspector. In return for the information they passed to him, he freely shared with them, and this morning he’d given them additional details he’d picked up from the victim’s household.
    â€œI’d best get upstairs, then. The inspector’s probably finished his breakfast and we’ve a lot of ground to cover today.” He headed for the staircase, pausing just long enough to give them a cheerful wave. “I’ll see you ladies tomorrow morning.”
    * * *
    â€œNell’s bells, the traffic gets worse every day,” Luty announced as she swept into the kitchen. Her butler and constant companion, Hatchet, trailed behind her. “I was scared ya was goin’ to start without me.”
    Luty Belle Crookshank was a small, elderly American with a love of bright clothes and shiny jewelry. She unbuttoned her crimson cloak and let it slide off her thin shoulders and into Hatchet’s waiting hands. Her dress was the same color as the cloak but trimmed with white lace at the collar and the cuffs. Gold earrings dangled from her lobes and a matching pendant hung around her neck. A star-shaped gold broach was pinned at her throat.
    â€œI told you they wouldn’t start without us.” Hatchet took their outer garments to the coat tree and hung each on a peg. He was a tall, white-haired man with a ready smile and a quick wit. As usual, he was dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, a white shirt, and, in honor of the season, a maroon tie. “Honestly, madam, there was no need to keep shouting at poor McGregor to go faster. I believe half of London must have heard you.”
    â€œFiddlesticks. McGregor loves to make that carriage fly! He was grinnin’ like a fool.” She stopped and surveyed the faces around the table, her eyes narrowing as her gaze stopped on a lovely blonde. “Alright, Betsy, where’s my baby?”
    Luty Belle, along with Mrs. Goodge and the inspector, was godparent to Smythe and Betsy’s one-year-old daughter, Amanda Belle. They’d met and fallen in love while working for the Inspector as a coachman and housemaid.