02 - Mrs. Jeffries Dusts for Clues (22 page)

Mrs. Jeffries tilted her head to one side and studied the girl’s earnest expression. “Why did you feel so strongly about it? Cassie had blackmailed you out of a position, and you hadn’t much money of your own. Under those circumstances, I should think you’d have been very tempted to hang on to that pouch.”

“Tempted to steal?” Mary cried. “I’m no thief, Mrs. Jeffries, and it’s a right good thing too. I reckon Cassie were murdered for that money. If I’d a kept it, the same thing would have happened to me.”

“Why do you think the money caused Cassie’s murder?” Luty Belle asked bluntly. “Are you sayin’ you know who wanted the money, you know who wanted her dead?”

Mary hesitated. “I’m not sure. But I know she didn’t come by that money honestly. She had ways of gettin’ things from people, usually men. And I know that she was plannin’ on causin’ a lot of trouble, and I didn’t want any part o’ it.”

Luty’s black eyes narrowed. “Trouble fer who?”

“Malcolm Farnsworth, for one,” Mary replied. “I knew about him because she told me when we was a-changin’ clothes so she could take my place at the Everdene house. She went on and on about him, almost like she didn’t know what she were sayin’. She said she wasn’t lettin’ him get away with it, that he’d do right by her if it was the last thing he ever did, and that if he thought payin’ her off with a few quid would get rid of her, he had another think comin’.”

“Cor,” Smythe exclaimed. “She said all that?” He looked at Mrs. Jeffries. “It wouldn’t be the first time a man’s done killin’ to keep his secrets from showin’. Looks to me like we might ’ave a motive for murder ’ere.”

“So it would appear.” Mrs. Jeffries turned to Mary. “Did Cassie say what she planned to do when she got to the Everdene house?”

“No, she just rambled on about how Malcolm would see that she didn’t mean to be trifled with. That he’d have to marry her or she’d cause a scandal.” Mary shrugged. “When I asked her how she could do that, she told me that if she had to, she’d stand right up in church if Malcolm tried to marry Antonia Everdene. Said she’d tell the whole world she was going to have Malcolm’s bastard.” Mary broke off as a blush crept up her cheeks. “It weren’t very nice language, I know. But that’s what she said.”

Betsy pursed her lips. “So you’re sayin’ that Cassie went to the Everdenes’ just to show Malcolm he couldn’t get rid of her?”

“That’s what she said,” Mary answered. “But I thought she was talkin’ crazy. She’d already taken money from him.”

“You mean she claimed the money in the pouch was definitely from Malcolm Farnsworth?” Mrs. Jeffries felt this was an important point.

“Well, she didn’t exactly say he give her the money,” Mary admitted, “but who else was there? And I know she saw Malcolm that day, ’cause she showed me a ring he give her. It were a pretty one too. She had it on a chain round her neck.”

“But if’n he give Cassie a ring,” Wiggins put in, confused, “wouldn’t that mean he meant to marry ’er?”

Betsy snorted. “Not always. If Cassie were raisin’ a fuss, he might ’ave given her the ring to keep her quiet. He probably lied through his teeth and told Cassie he’d marry her. Then, when she found out he were really fixin’ to propose to Antonia Everdene, she might have been mad enough to want to get a bit of her own back.”

“But ’ow would Cassie know that Malcolm Farnsworth was goin’ to ask Miss Everdene for her ’and?” Wiggins asked curiously.

It was Mary who answered. “She could have found out easy enough. Cassie was always hangin’ about…She might have seen Andrew Lutterbank that day, and he might have told her. Like I said before, Cassie weren’t scared of Mr. Andrew. She
used to brag that she knew how to handle him. She were half-mad that day, rantin’ and ravin’ about Malcolm and Emery Clements and Andrew Lutterbank. She might have seen any of them, and any of them could have told her about Malcolm plannin’ on proposin’ to Miss Everdene.”

“Did she specifically state she’d seen any of those gentlemen?” Mrs. Jeffries asked. She watched the girl carefully.

“Not exactly,” Mary replied slowly. “I don’t recall evrythin’ she said that mornin’, but I do remember I had a…a…”

“Impression,” Betsy supplied helpfully.

“That’s right, a impression she’d seen them all. But I couldn’t say for certain.” Mary sighed. “All I know is I was ever so glad when she left and I could get away.”

“So the last time you saw Cassie Yates was the morning she made you change clothes and took your place at the Everdene house, is that correct?” Mrs. Jeffries asked briskly.

“That’s right.”

“Why have you been hiding yurself?” Luty asked. She tilted her chin and stared hard at the girl.

Mrs. Jeffries saw Mary’s throat muscles move as the girl swallowed. Finally, she said, “Because I was scared of Malcolm. Garrett told me that no one had seen Cassie about since that day she went to the Everdenes’. Malcolm was still engaged to Antonia Everdene, and I knew Cassie wouldn’t have stood for that. I knew somethin’ bad must have happened, but I didn’t have no real proof that he’d done anythin’. What could I say? Who’d believe me? I didn’t even know for sure she was dead until tonight.”

“But didn’t you see the story of the body being discovered in the newspapers?” Mrs. Jeffries asked.

Mary shook her head. “No, I don’t have money to waste on newspapers. I knew I should do somethin’ about Cassie, but I weren’t sure what. So I decided to stay here until Mark come back. He’d know the best thing to do.”

Mrs. Jeffries nodded and asked, “And when is your fiancé due back?”

“At the end of the week,” Mary replied with a shy smile.

“Good,” Luty said firmly. “But afore then, you’d best come with me to see Inspector Witherspoon. We’ll go tomorrow morning. Cassie Yates mightn’t a been much good, but she didn’t deserve to be murdered and stashed in some dark hole of a cellar like she was nothin’.”

“You want me to go to the police?” Mary’s voice squeaked in alarm.

“But of course, my dear,” Mrs. Jeffries said firmly. “You must tell Inspector Witherspoon everything you’ve told us.”

“But what about Mr. Malcolm? I don’t want him comin’ after me.”

“You needn’t fear Malcolm Farnsworth,” Mrs. Jeffries said soothingly. “I’m sure that once the inspector hears what you have to say, Mr. Farnsworth will no longer be a problem.”

As soon as she said the words, something tugged at the back of her mind. She tried to grasp what it was, but she couldn’t.

“Don’t you worry none,” Luty said as she stamped her cane. “You jus’ go pack yer things and come with me. You can stay at my house till yer man gets back, and don’t be frettin’ none about a no-good polecat like Farnsworth. I keep a six-shooter under my bed, and Hatchet’s purty danged good with a rifle. We ain’t scared a him. Tomorrow mornin’ we’ll go see the inspector, and by tomorrow night Mr. Malcolm Murderin’ Farnsworth will be locked up tighter than the crown jewels.”

* * *

Inspector Witherspoon allowed himself a smug smile as Mrs. Jeffries took his hat and coat. He couldn’t help it. For once, the day had gone exceedingly well. Perfectly, in fact. This wretched murder was virtually solved. By tomorrow morning, they’d have the rest of the evidence they needed to arrest the murderer.

“You’re looking very happy, sir,” Mrs. Jeffries said as she hung his hat on the rack and then turned and led the way to the drawing room. “Have you had a good day?”

“An excellent day, Mrs. Jeffries,” the inspector said as he settled into his favorite chair. “We’ve made monumental progress in this case. Why, it’s practically solved. I must say, your
comments this morning at breakfast helped enormously. You were quite right, you know. The only way to truly determine if Antonia Everdene was telling the truth was to question her servants.” He broke off and accepted a glass of sherry. “I must say, we had a spot of luck there.” He broke off and frowned slightly. “Er, I hope you don’t mind, but when it became clear that Essie Tuttle wouldn’t tell us the truth because she was afraid of losing her position, I did make a rather, a well…a rash promise.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, I’m afraid I had to assure the girl that I’d find her another post,” Witherspoon confessed. “Well, I thought that if worse came to worst, perhaps you could find a spot for her here. I know you’re in charge of the household, Mrs. Jeffries, and I certainly wouldn’t be presumptuous enough to interfere in any way, but do you possibly think we could find something for Essie to do here at Upper Edmonton Gardens?” He leaned forward, his expression earnest. “I know that’s not a particularly usual method of getting the truth from a witness, but honestly, Mrs. Jeffries, the poor girl was utterly terrified. I couldn’t get a word out of her until I’d told her I’d find her another place. If you don’t think she’d fit in here, do you suppose Mrs. Crookshank might be able to use another housemaid? Her house is rather enormous, and despite dear Mrs. Crookshank being rather eccentric, she strikes one as being a most kindhearted soul.”

“Not to worry, sir,” Mrs. Jeffries said quickly, wanting to get the inspector back to the case. “I’m sure that between Luty and me we can work something out for the girl. Now, do go on, sir. I’m burning with curiosity.”

The inspector sighed with relief. “Oh, gracious,” he cried, “I’m forgetting to give you the best news of all.”

Mrs. Jeffries prepared to took surprised.

“Luty Belle came to see me this morning, and you’ll never guess who she brought with her.”

“Who?”

“Mary Sparks,” Witherspoon answered smugly. “She isn’t
dead. The body we found in Magpie Lane is Cassie Yates.”

“Goodness, really?”

For the next ten minutes, Witherspoon related how Luty Belle Crookshank had shown up at the Yard with Mary Sparks in tow. He repeated Mary’s story almost verbatim. “Of course,” he concluded, “we realized Miss Sparks must be telling the truth when we accompanied them back to Mrs. Crookshank’s and dug up that pouch. It had over five hundred pounds inside!”

“Goodness, that’s a lot of money.” There was another faint tug at the back of Mrs. Jeffries’s mind. But it disappeared as quickly as it had come.

“It was a piece of luck that I’d already decided to go to the Everdene house again,” the inspector continued happily. “Hearing Mary’s story gave us precisely the information we needed to ask the right questions.”

“Nonsense, Inspector,” Mrs. Jeffries said briskly. “Luck had nothing to do with it. As usual, you’re being far too modest. It was your own brilliant detective work that made you realize that the Everdenes were trying to hide something. You’ve an instinct for such things, sir. Tell me,” she continued when he beamed with pleasure, “what did Mr. Farnsworth say when you confronted him this afternoon?”

“At first he tried to deny everything,” Witherspoon said. “But when the chap realized that we had a witness to the fact that he’d left the Everdene house shortly after Cassie Yates did, and that we knew all about his relationship with her, he caved in and admitted the truth.”

“He admitted he killed her?” Mrs. Jeffries asked in astonishment.

“Oh no, no. He admitted they’d been…,” he broke off, blushed a deep pink and lowered his eyes to his glass, “intimate. He also admitted he’d seen her earlier that day and told her it was all over between them. He gave her fifty pounds.”

“Did he give her anything else, sir?” She hoped the inspector had discovered how Cassie Yates had ended up with Antonia Everdene’s betrothal ring around her neck.

“No, just the money. Mind you, he claimed not to know
anything about the five hundred pounds we’d found in that pouch. Claimed he didn’t have any idea where that had come from.”

Mrs. Jeffries thought that was odd. Why would he lie about how much he’d given Cassie to get out of his life? “That’s a silly thing to lie about.”

“Yes, I thought so too,” the inspector agreed. “Mind you, Farnsworth claims that once he gave Cassie the fifty pounds, she agreed to let him alone. But obviously she changed her mind and threatened to tell Miss Everdene about the child. Farnsworth killed her to make sure his marriage to an heiress wasn’t in jeopardy.”

“How did she get the betrothal ring?” she asked.

Witherspoon raised his eyebrows. “Farnsworth claims she stole it from him on the morning he asked Miss Everdene to marry him. That’s probably how Cassie realized Farnsworth was going to wed Miss Everdene. She saw the betrothal ring. He admits he saw her that day before he went to the Lutterbanks. That’s how he met Cassie, you know. They began their association when she was still working there.” He sighed. “Poor silly woman, if she’d stayed away from that greedy monster, she’d still be alive. Sad, isn’t it? There’s so very much tragedy about.”

Mrs. Jeffries didn’t want the inspector to get started on one of his philosophical discourses. Frequently they had a number of quite interesting chats about the world, the cosmos and the nature of life, but this evening she needed information.

“Of course there is, sir,” she said quickly. “But you and men like yourself are certainly doing your very best to make the world a better place. Speaking of which, did Mr. Farnsworth say what happened when he arrived at Magpie Lane?”

“He did indeed.” Witherspoon clucked his tongue. “I say, I do so hate it when people lie. The man actually expected us to believe that when he got there, the house was empty. He said there wasn’t hide nor hair of Cassie Yates anywhere. Naturally, he claimed he never looked in the cellar, said he didn’t even know the house had a cellar. Well, he’d hardly admit he dragged her down there and stabbed her, would he?”

“Certainly not. Have you found the weapon yet?”

“Not yet, but we will. We’ve started looking for the hansom drivers that took him to and from Magpie Lane. Oh, by the way, Farnsworth confessed that he and Cassie had been meeting secretly there for weeks. That’s why he told her to meet him there in the note.”

“Yes, sir,” Mrs. Jeffries agreed. “Now, you were saying?”

The inspector gave her a blank look.

“We were talking about the murder weapon,” she reminded him.

“Of course, of course. What I was getting at is now that we know they were meeting in Magpie Lane, we’ll start looking for witnesses. There’ll be the hansom driver from that night and, I daresy, many others. If we get really lucky, we may even find someone who saw Mr. Farnsworth tossing something in the Thames River.”