Read Online Mrs. Jeffries Wins the Prize by Emily Brightwell - Free Book Online

you.”
    â€œThen I must have misheard what she was asking. For goodness’ sakes, we’ve had a murder here, the police are mucking about in my conservatory, and the two of you are complaining about something I may or may not have said last week.” Helena started forward as the other constable lifted a tray of seedlings so he could look underneath.
    â€œIt wasn’t last week, it was two days ago.” Isabelle pointed to the plants.
    Helena ignored her and continued on toward the constable trying his best to cram the tray of seedlings back into their narrow space.
    â€œTake a look at this, Inspector.” Barnes held up a thick brown burlap-wrapped bundle he’d just taken off the shelf of the second cupboard. “It’s very heavy.” The constable put the bundle on the edge of the table in front of him and shoved a potted fern out of his way.
    â€œOf course it’s heavy.” Helena turned on her heel and retraced her steps. The inspector, Isabelle, and Thea trailed after her. “Those are gardening tools, Constable,” she continued. “Please be careful with them, they’re very valuable.”
    â€œAs is everything else in this place,” Isabelle muttered.
    â€œDon’t be rude, Isabelle.” Helena gave her friend a quick, disapproving frown. “It doesn’t become you.”
    Barnes untied the two straps that held the bundle together and unrolled the fabric, revealing a row of polished gardening implements. They were tucked into long pockets sewn onto the cloth. The constable pulled out a small pruning knife and handed it to Witherspoon. “It’s very fancy, sir, and the wooden handles are carved in the same pattern as the shears that stabbed Mr. Filmore.”
    The inspector held it up and studied it carefully. “It certainly looks like the same pattern that was on the murder weapon.”
    â€œAnd there’s an empty space here where the shears should go.” Barnes pointed to the largest pocket, which was now empty.
    â€œAre you saying my gardening shears murdered Mr. Filmore?” Helena demanded. “That is absurd.”
    â€œThen where are yours?” Barnes asked. “Surely a set like this would contain a pair of shears?”
    â€œTufts, he’s my gardener, has probably misplaced them. He’s old and getting forgetful.”
    â€œIs that the reason you’re sacking him?” Isabelle asked sweetly.
    â€œYou’re one to talk,” Helena shot back. “You’ve gone through six gardeners in the last two years, but none of them has been good enough to get your orchids so much as an honorable mention at our annual competition.”
    â€œOur annual orchid competition isn’t important now.” Thea put her hand on Helena’s arm. “Someone has been murdered here, Helena, and the truth is he was killed with your shears. I know this is difficult for you and you’re terrified of a scandal, but you must tell the truth. I saw the handle poking out of Mr. Filmore’s chest. It was exactly like that one.”
    â€œDidn’t you see it, Mrs. Rayburn?” Witherspoon pressed.
    â€œOf course I didn’t see it,” she replied. “No decent person stares at something sticking out of a dead man’s chest.”
    â€œAnd your eyesight isn’t all that good,” Thea said. “But mine is and I did take a good look at it.”
    â€œMy eyesight is just fine.” Helena took a deep breath and looked down at the implements spread out on the table. “This is unbearable. These aren’t just tools, they’re works of art—the handles were carved by a master artisan. My mother-in-law bought them in Paris fifty years ago. They are priceless.”
    â€œIf they were so valuable, ma’am, why were they in an unlocked conservatory?” Barnes asked.
    â€œI’ve already told you, the keys have gone missing and the only way in here was to