Read Online Mrs. Jeffries Takes the Cake by Emily Brightwell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Emily Brightwell
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enemies.When he and my father were building this business, Roland wasn’t above undercutting someone else’s rates.”
“I see,” Witherspoon replied. This interview wasn’t getting them much information. But at least they’d confirmed that Ashbury hadn’t called here before going to the Frommer home. “Well, thank you, Mr. Alladyce. You’ve been most helpful. Do get in touch with us if you can think of anyone who might have had a reason to want to harm Mr. Ashbury.”
“Oh.” Alladyce brightened immediately. “Then you’d best sit down, Inspector. I can think of lots of people who would have loved to harm Roland.”
“I do hope you don’t mind my bringing Morris with me.” Ruth Cannonberry whispered the words to Mrs. Jeffries as they walked across the small terrace behind Upper Edmonton Gardens. They headed toward the oak table which sat invitingly underneath the shade of a large tree. Her houseguest, who’d been introduced to them as Morris Pilchard, was at the far end of the gardens. He stood beneath a yew tree, staring fixedly at the trunk.
“Of course we don’t mind,” Mrs. Jeffries assured her. The others were already at the table, which was set for a splendid morning tea. “Your guests are always welcome.”
“Thank you.” Ruth smiled brightly and her pale, middle-aged face was transformed. “I really didn’t know what else to do with him. He’s not terribly interested in seeing the sights of London.” She sighed and turned her head, seeking her houseguest. “He must be watching ants,” she muttered when she spotted him.
“Is he a naturalist, then?” Mrs. Jeffries tried to move Lady Cannonberry along a bit faster. The others werechamping at the bit to get started, and if the truth were known, she was rather in a hurry herself.
“Oh no.” Ruth shrugged. “He simply likes watching bugs. Oh, this looks lovely,” she exclaimed as they finally reached the table. “Mrs. Goodge”—she beamed at the cook—“you’ve outdone yourself. It looks wonderful.”
The table was loaded with food. There was a large brown pot of tea, a plain seedcake, scones, cream, jam, a Victoria sponge and a bowl of quince sprinkled with sugar.
“Thank you,” the cook replied briskly. Naturally the reason she’d baked so much was to feed her sources when they came trooping into her kitchen. But it didn’t do any harm for Lady Cannonberry to think the display had all been laid out for her. “We wanted to welcome you home right and proper.”
Mrs. Jeffries took her seat. “Wiggins, please go and fetch Mr. Pilchard while I pour the tea.”
Wiggins was off like a shot. For a few moments they made small talk and filled their plates. The footman returned with the errant houseguest, who blushed when he realized none of the others had touched their food and were waiting for him.
“I’m so sorry,” he apologized quickly as he took the seat next to Lady Cannonberry. “Sometimes I do get carried away. Nature is so very fascinating.”
Morris Pilchard looked to be in his fifties. Tall and thin, he had a long, melancholy face with deep-set hazel eyes and a rather protruding nose. His complexion was pale, his hair a nondescript beige blond streaked with gray.
“Please don’t apologize, Mr. Pilchard,” Mrs. Jeffries said briskly. “We all quite understand. The garden is a fascinating place.” She was determined to get this tea moving right along so they could finish their meeting andget back on the hunt. Unfortunately they’d been in the middle of Wiggins’s report when Lady Cannonberry and her houseguest had turned up.
“Has the inspector any interesting new cases?” Ruth asked brightly.
They all looked at the housekeeper, waiting to follow her lead before opening their mouths and risk giving the game away. Everyone liked Ruth Cannonberry and no one wanted to lie. She was too good a friend for that.
Mrs. Jeffries smiled, delicately reached for a scone and laid it on her plate. She was
“I see,” Witherspoon replied. This interview wasn’t getting them much information. But at least they’d confirmed that Ashbury hadn’t called here before going to the Frommer home. “Well, thank you, Mr. Alladyce. You’ve been most helpful. Do get in touch with us if you can think of anyone who might have had a reason to want to harm Mr. Ashbury.”
“Oh.” Alladyce brightened immediately. “Then you’d best sit down, Inspector. I can think of lots of people who would have loved to harm Roland.”
“I do hope you don’t mind my bringing Morris with me.” Ruth Cannonberry whispered the words to Mrs. Jeffries as they walked across the small terrace behind Upper Edmonton Gardens. They headed toward the oak table which sat invitingly underneath the shade of a large tree. Her houseguest, who’d been introduced to them as Morris Pilchard, was at the far end of the gardens. He stood beneath a yew tree, staring fixedly at the trunk.
“Of course we don’t mind,” Mrs. Jeffries assured her. The others were already at the table, which was set for a splendid morning tea. “Your guests are always welcome.”
“Thank you.” Ruth smiled brightly and her pale, middle-aged face was transformed. “I really didn’t know what else to do with him. He’s not terribly interested in seeing the sights of London.” She sighed and turned her head, seeking her houseguest. “He must be watching ants,” she muttered when she spotted him.
“Is he a naturalist, then?” Mrs. Jeffries tried to move Lady Cannonberry along a bit faster. The others werechamping at the bit to get started, and if the truth were known, she was rather in a hurry herself.
“Oh no.” Ruth shrugged. “He simply likes watching bugs. Oh, this looks lovely,” she exclaimed as they finally reached the table. “Mrs. Goodge”—she beamed at the cook—“you’ve outdone yourself. It looks wonderful.”
The table was loaded with food. There was a large brown pot of tea, a plain seedcake, scones, cream, jam, a Victoria sponge and a bowl of quince sprinkled with sugar.
“Thank you,” the cook replied briskly. Naturally the reason she’d baked so much was to feed her sources when they came trooping into her kitchen. But it didn’t do any harm for Lady Cannonberry to think the display had all been laid out for her. “We wanted to welcome you home right and proper.”
Mrs. Jeffries took her seat. “Wiggins, please go and fetch Mr. Pilchard while I pour the tea.”
Wiggins was off like a shot. For a few moments they made small talk and filled their plates. The footman returned with the errant houseguest, who blushed when he realized none of the others had touched their food and were waiting for him.
“I’m so sorry,” he apologized quickly as he took the seat next to Lady Cannonberry. “Sometimes I do get carried away. Nature is so very fascinating.”
Morris Pilchard looked to be in his fifties. Tall and thin, he had a long, melancholy face with deep-set hazel eyes and a rather protruding nose. His complexion was pale, his hair a nondescript beige blond streaked with gray.
“Please don’t apologize, Mr. Pilchard,” Mrs. Jeffries said briskly. “We all quite understand. The garden is a fascinating place.” She was determined to get this tea moving right along so they could finish their meeting andget back on the hunt. Unfortunately they’d been in the middle of Wiggins’s report when Lady Cannonberry and her houseguest had turned up.
“Has the inspector any interesting new cases?” Ruth asked brightly.
They all looked at the housekeeper, waiting to follow her lead before opening their mouths and risk giving the game away. Everyone liked Ruth Cannonberry and no one wanted to lie. She was too good a friend for that.
Mrs. Jeffries smiled, delicately reached for a scone and laid it on her plate. She was
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