Read 12- Mrs. Jeffries Reveals Her Art Online
Authors: Emily Brightwell
Tags: #rt, #tpl, #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #General
INSPECTOR WITHERSPOON ALWAYS TRIUMPHS…
HOW DOES HE DO IT?
Even the inspector himself doesn’t know—because his secret weapon is as ladylike as she is clever. She’s Mrs. Jeffries—the determined, delightful detective who stars in this unique Victorian mystery series! Be sure to read them all…
The Inspector and Mrs. Jeffries
A doctor is found dead in his own office—and Mrs. Jeffries must scour the premises to find the prescription for murder!
Mrs. Jeffries Dusts for Clues
One case is solved and another is opened when the inspector finds a missing brooch—pinned to a dead woman’s gown. But Mrs. Jeffries never cleans a room without dusting under the bed—and never gives up on a case before every loose end is tightly tied…
The Ghost and Mrs. Jeffries
Death is unpredictable…but the murder of Mrs. Hodges was foreseen at a spooky seance. The practical-minded housekeeper may not be able to see the future—but she can look into the past and put things in order to solve this haunting crime!
Mrs. Jeffries Takes Stock
A businessman has been murdered—and it could be because he cheated his stockholders. The housekeeper’s interest is piqued…and when it comes to catching killers, the smart money’s on Mrs. Jeffries!
Mrs. Jeffries on the Ball
A festive jubilee celebration turns into a fatal affair—and Mrs. Jeffries must find the guilty party…
Mrs. Jeffries on the Trail
Why was Annie Shields out selling flowers so late on a foggy night? And more importantly, who killed her while she was doing it? It’s up to Mrs. Jeffries to sniff out the clues…
Mrs. Jeffries Plays the Cook
Mrs. Jeffries finds herself doing double duty: cooking for the inspector’s household and trying to cook a killer’s goose…
Mrs. Jeffries and the Missing Alibi
When Inspector Witherspoon becomes the main suspect in a murder, Scotland Yard refuses to let him investigate. But no one said anything about Mrs. Jeffries…
Mrs. Jeffries Stands Corrected
When a local publican is murdered, and Inspector Witherspoon botches the investigation, trouble starts to brew for Mrs. Jeffries…
Mrs. Jeffries Takes the Stage
After a theatre critic is murdered, Mrs. Jeffries uncovers the victim’s secret past: a real-life drama more compelling than any stage play…
Mrs. Jeffries Questions the Answer
Hannah Cameron was not well-liked. But were her friends or family the sort to stab her in the back? Mrs. Jeffries must really tiptoe around this time—or it could be a matter of life and death…
Berkley Prime Crime titles by Emily Brightwell
THE INSPECTOR AND MRS. JEFFRIES
MRS. JEFFRIES DUSTS FOR CLUES
THE GHOST AND MRS. JEFFRIES
MRS. JEFFRIES TAKES STOCK
MRS. JEFFRIES ON THE BALL
MRS. JEFFRIES ON THE TRAIL
MRS. JEFFRIES PLAYS THE COOK
MRS. JEFFRIES AND THE MISSING ALIBI
MRS. JEFFRIES STANDS CORRECTED
MRS. JEFFRIES TAKES THE STAGE
MRS. JEFFRIES QUESTIONS THE ANSWER
MRS. JEFFRIES REVEALS HER ART
MRS. JEFFRIES TAKES THE CAKE
MRS. JEFFRIES ROCKS THE BOAT
MRS. JEFFRIES WEEDS THE PLOT
MRS. JEFFRIES PINCHES THE POST
MRS. JEFFRIES PLEADS HER CASE
MRS. JEFFRIES SWEEPS THE CHIMNEY
MRS. JEFFRIES STALKS THE HUNTER
MRS. JEFFRIES AND THE SILENT KNIGHT
MRS. JEFFRIES APPEALS THE VERDICT
MRS. JEFFRIES AND THE BEST LAID PLANS
MRS. JEFFRIES AND THE FEAST OF ST. STEPHEN
MRS. JEFFRIES HOLDS THE TRUMP
MRS. JEFFRIES IN THE NICK OF TIME
MRS. JEFFRIES AND THE YULETIDE WEDDINGS
MRS. JEFFRIES SPEAKS HER MIND
MRS. JEFFRIES FORGES AHEAD
MRS. JEFFRIES AND THE MISTLETOE MIX-UP
MRS. JEFFRIES DEFENDS HER OWN
Anthologies
MRS. JEFFRIES LEARNS THE TRADE
MRS. JEFFRIES TAKES A SECOND LOOK
MRS. JEFFRIES
REVEALS HER ART
E
MILY
B
RIGHTWELL
BERKLEY PRIME CRIME, NEW YORK
MRS. JEFFRIES REVEALS HER ART
A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with
the author
PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley Prime Crime edition / March 1998
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eBook ISBN: 978-1-101-64494-2
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MRS. JEFFRIES
REVEALS HER ART
Berkley Prime Crime titles by Emily Brightwell
“I don’t care what kind of a report you’ve had,” Neville Grant snapped impatiently. “No one here knows that person. Now kindly take yourself away and don’t bother me or my household again.”
“I’m sorry to disturb you, sir,” said Constable Theodore Martin—Teddy to his friends—swallowing nervously. Just his rotten luck that the master of the house himself would answer the door and not the ruddy butler. “But we must make inquiries. It’s our duty. Are you sure none of your servants have seen this woman?”
Grant glared at the pale-faced lad who dared to continue questioning him. The fact that the man was a policeman didn’t intimidate him in the least. “Are you deaf, young man? I’ve already told you. Some incompetent has made a mistake or, more likely, is playing the police for fools, which, by the look of you, isn’t difficult to do. This household is hardly likely to be issuing invitations to women like that.”
“We’ve still got to inquire, sir,” the constable said
quickly. “Someone’s filed a report. She’s gone missing. This house is the last known place where she was, sir. That’s why we’ve got to make sure no one here’s seen her.”
“You’ve the wrong address.” Grant stamped his cane against the parquet floor for emphasis. “She wasn’t here. Now go away.”
Martin hesitated indecisively. He didn’t like to make a fuss, but if he went back to the station without even setting foot in the house, his sergeant would have his guts for garters. Ever since the ruddy Whitechapel killings, the police had to be extra careful—even if it was some flitty artist’s model that had gone missing. More likely this old tartar was right—the woman probably hadn’t come here at all. But if the missing girl turned up with her throat slashed or her guts torn out and the newspapers found out that the police hadn’t even bothered to make inquiries when she’d been reported missing—Constable Martin didn’t even want to think about that! “It is the right address, sir,” he insisted.
Grant’s wrinkled face reddened in rage. “How dare you contradict me,” he yelped, stamping his cane again and coming within a hair’s breath of smashing the constable’s toe. “I don’t care what address you’ve got.” Grant started to close the door. “And I don’t care if the girl has been kidnapped by white slavers. Someone’s made a mistake. No one here knows anything about a missing woman.”
“If I could just speak to the rest of the household, sir,” Martin persisted desperately. It wasn’t just his superiors he worried about facing if he went back without any information. It was that French woman. She’d raised such a ruckus down at the station this morning that even his hardened old sergeant had stepped back a wary pace or two
when she was ranting and raving like a she-demon.
“Don’t be ridiculous. We have guests this afternoon,” Grant snapped. “I’m not having you bother my wife or anyone else with this silly matter.”
“Then if I could have a word with your servants,” the constable asked. “Maybe one of them invited her.”
“My servants are hardly in the habit of inviting their friends for social calls.”
“But one of them might know something.”
“They’ve already been spoken to, you fool,” Grant shouted, his complexion deepening to crimson. “The butler made inquiries amongst the staff yesterday after that other constable came round bothering us with this ridiculous tale. None of them know what the blazes you’re on about either. You’ve bothered us twice now and we’ve been very patient. But enough is enough. Now get off with you and leave us in peace.” With that, he slammed the door in Martin’s face.
The constable sighed and trudged down the three steps to the paved walkway. As he went out the ebony wroughtiron gate that surrounded the property, he glanced back over his shoulder. Blooming toffs, he thought as he glared at the handsome three-story brick house, just because they’re rich they think they don’t have to answer to the law. Well, they’d find out soon enough that they did. Constable Martin knew in his bones that this wasn’t the end of things.