Mrs. Jeffries Speaks Her Mind (7 page)

“If everyone else is goin’ out, I’m goin’, too,” Wiggins declared as he leapt up, raced to the coat tree, and grabbed his jacket. “I’ve time to get there and have a go at findin’ a servant and still get back ’ere by suppertime.”

Fred followed after Wiggins, his tail wagging hopefully. “We don’t have time for walkies now, old boy,” Wiggins told him as he slipped on his coat. “But I’ll take you out as soon as I come back. You can come to the door with us.” He grinned at the women as he and the dog hurried to catch up with Smythe.

As they went past, Samson, Mrs. Goodge’s fat orange tabby cat, stared disdainfully at the two of them from his perch on the top of a stool. The staff had rescued the cat in the aftermath of one of their earlier cases. He was mean-spirited and nasty to everyone except the cook. She, on the other hand, couldn’t understand why the entire household disliked her beloved pet, but then again, he’d never taken a chunk out of her arm or scratched her fingers.

“I must go as well,” Ruth said. “I’ve a dinner party at Lord Cahill’s to attend and I’ll very carefully see if any of them have heard of Olive Kettering or her murder.”

“That would be very helpful.” Mrs. Jeffries knew all of them would be discreet, but still, she was worried. It was so early in the investigation that she was afraid someone would mention to the inspector that on the very day of the murder, strangers had been asking questions about the victim. That situation, of course, could lead to some very awkward moments.

Gerald Witherspoon had no idea that much of his success was due to the fact that he had a great deal of help on his cases. With the aid of Constable Barnes, who’d soon figured out that the household was snooping about on their own and finding out some very useful bits of information, they made sure their inspector learned everything they’d found out about the victims and the suspects in any given case.

Witherspoon had been in charge of the Records Room when Mrs. Jeffries had become his housekeeper, and in the passing years, he’d become the most successful homicide detective in the history of the Metropolitan Police Force. His household and their friends were determined to keep him in the dark about this little fact. Truth to tell, in recent years, the inspector had become very proficient on his own. Still, he’d never learn near as much without their assistance, and, furthermore, helping the cause of justice was important to all of them.

It gave their lives meaning on a level that none of them could explain very well, but which they felt deep inside. But of course, keeping the inspector in the dark about them was only one of their current difficulties. Mrs. Jeffries had seen the other brewing since Betsy and Smythe had come back from their wedding trip and moved into their own flat.

As soon as the kitchen was quiet, the cook sighed. “Did you see that? We’ve got a problem and I’m not talking about our case.”

“I know.” Mrs. Jeffries helped herself to another cup of tea. “Betsy could barely make herself be civil when Phyllis’ name came up. I don’t know why she doesn’t like her; the girl tries so very hard to please. And frankly, it’s not like Betsy to be so aloof.”

“I don’t think Betsy will let herself feel kindly toward Phyllis,” Mrs. Goodge replied.

“But the question is why.” Mrs. Jeffries shook her head. “I simply can’t understand it. Phyllis goes out of her way to be friendly and Betsy is simply polite.”

“It’s all the changes in her life,” the cook said wisely. “They’re good changes mainly, but all change is hard.”

“Do you think she’s frightened that Phyllis is going to take her place?”

Mrs. Goodge shrugged. “Probably. But she’ll have to get over that. She’ll just have to trust in us, that we’d never push her aside.”

 

Betsy climbed down from the carriage and stepped out onto the pavement. She waved at Luty and Hatchet.

“Mind you be careful,” Luty called to her as the carriage pulled away. “It’s getting dark.”

She nodded and then turned and started up the street toward the row of shops just ahead. I knew this was going to happen, she told herself. She knew the minute she and Smythe left the house that everything would be different and now it was happening. That girl was worming her way into the household and before long, she and Smythe would be out in the cold.

Betsy dodged around an elderly matron carrying a shopping basket. She knew she was being unreasonable, that the household would never push them aside, that the bonds they’d forged these past few years wouldn’t get frayed just because she and her husband lived around the corner. But fear wasn’t reasonable and the truth was, she was just afraid.

When she reached the corner, she stopped and took a deep breath. She’d worry about Phyllis later; right now she had work to do. Important work that would prove to everyone that she was valuable, that she had worth. Betsy gasped when she realized what she’d been thinking. What on earth was wrong with her? She was acting like a silly fool. She sighed, brought her thoughts under control, and took her bearings.

On the opposite side of the road was a greengrocer’s, a chemist’s, an ironmonger’s, and a draper’s. She glanced at the shops on this side of the street. There was a grocer’s, a fishmonger’s, a tobacconist’s, and a men’s haberdashery. Betsy had always had decent luck at greengrocers’ so she waited for a break in the traffic and then crossed the street.

She paused outside the stall and saw that the clerk was a young man. He was helping an elderly woman. Betsy grinned to herself. Young lads like this fellow were usually eager to talk. She knew she had to be careful, that the knowledge of the murder might not have spread to the high street as yet, but there was a part of her that was desperate to prove she was still useful, that moving out of the house at Upper Edmonton Gardens hadn’t rendered her completely incapable. She gave herself a shake as she realized where her thoughts were going again and stepped into the open stall.

The elderly customer left and Betsy took the spot she’d just vacated.

“May I help you?” the clerk asked.

Betsy gave him a shy smile. “Yes, thank you, may I have some of those carrots, please? About a pound should do it.”

He nodded respectfully, reached into the bin, and pulled out a huge handful of vegetables. He kept glancing at Betsy as he put them on the scales. “This is a pound, ma’am,” he commented. “Will this do you?”

Betsy blinked and drew a sharp breath. He’d called her “ma’am.” It wasn’t the first time she’d been addressed in that manner, but it was the first time it had happened when she was on a case and giving a young man her best sweet-young-girl shy smile.

“Are you alright, ma’am?” The clerk stared at her anxiously.

“Of course I’m alright,” she snapped.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any disrespect, it’s just that I thought I heard you make a sound . . .” He blushed furiously and looked away.

Betsy realized she must have gasped aloud in surprise and now she felt like a fool. “Please, it’s my fault. I did make a funny sound.” She forced herself to smile. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m dreadfully upset.” In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought as she made an instant decision to put her bad behavior to good use. “But I’d no right to be rude to you. You see, I heard a rumor that someone I know has just died. As a matter of fact, she lives quite close to here. I wonder if you’ve heard of her, it’s a Miss Olive Kettering.”

He drew back in surprise. “You’re a friend of hers? I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m afraid the rumor is true.”

“Oh no.” Betsy’s hand flew to her mouth. She wished she could cry easily or at least tear up a bit but her eyes were as dry as a piece of old newspaper. It wasn’t fair; only a few minutes ago she’d been ready to bawl like a baby and now, when a few tears might come in handy, she couldn’t do it.

He stared at her sympathetically. “I’m sorry, ma’am. This is a hard way to find out such terrible news. Was Miss Kettering a close friend?”

“She wasn’t really a friend,” Betsy admitted. “But I did know her. How on earth did she die? The last time I saw her, she was the picture of health.”

“Oh dear, this is most unpleasant, but you’ll know soon enough. Miss Kettering was murdered this morning. I know it for a fact, as Tommy—he’s the lad that delivers for us—brought us in a huge order from the Kettering house and he said it was for the reception after the funeral.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “The police are there now. They’re questioning everyone.”

“That’s awful. Poor Miss Kettering. Do you have any idea how she died? How she was murdered?”

“She was shot in the head,” he replied. “That’s what Tommy said.”

“But who on earth would want to kill her?” Betsy exclaimed. She was groping in the dark here, hoping to hit something.

His sympathetic expression vanished and he stared at her warily. “Are you sure you know Olive Kettering? Because frankly, she was not a very nice person. From what I’ve heard, they’re lots about that would love to see her six feet under.”

 

“This is Mr. Dorian Kettering,” Mrs. McAllister said as she led the tall, slender man into the drawing room. “He’s Miss Kettering’s cousin. I haven’t told him anything.”

Dorian Kettering stared at the two of them in confusion. He had strong, prominent cheekbones, brown eyes, and a wide, full mouth. He stepped forward and extended his hand. “How do you do, sir?”

“I’ll leave the two of you alone, then.” Mrs. McAllister nodded respectfully, then turned and left, closing the drawing room door behind her.

“Excuse me, sir, but who exactly are you and why are there policemen everywhere?” Kettering blurted out.

“I’m Inspector Gerald Witherspoon and I’m afraid I’ve some very bad news. Your cousin was murdered this morning.”

Kettering sucked in his breath as the blood drained out of his face. “Oh, my Lord, murdered? But how can that be? Who would kill Olive?”

“Why don’t you sit down, sir?” Witherspoon gestured toward the settee. He didn’t necessarily think that going pale was a sign of complete innocence. Murderers were often quite good actors.

“Why would anyone want to harm Olive?” He sat down and put his head in his hands. “May God have mercy on her soul.”

“Are you a clergyman, sir?” Witherspoon asked.

Kettering looked up. “No, I studied divinity at the University of Edinburgh but I’m not a clergyman. I’m merely a student of different religious traditions.”

“Do you have an occupation, sir?”

He shook his head. “I’m most fortunate, sir, in that I’ve a small yearly income that allows me to indulge my passion. I’ve recently come back from America. There has been the most interesting religious revival movement in that country. I met with some of the most amazing people, a Mr. Washington Gladden, he’s a pastor of the First Congregational Church in Cleveland, Ohio, and he’s forging new ideas about Christianity, it’s about love for thy neighbor and putting the words of the Lord into actions . . . oh dear me, I’m blabbering on and my poor cousin is dead. Forgive me, sir, I don’t know what has come over me. I don’t usually behave in such a manner. I’m sure you’ve questions you must ask.”

“That’s quite alright, sir,” he replied. “Sometimes shock makes us behave in odd ways. I understand that you and a niece were Miss Kettering’s only close family? Is that correct?”

“Yes, my niece and I are the only ones left. Poor Patricia, she’ll be most upset.”

“And where does your niece live?” He glanced out the window to see if it had started to rain again.

“Patricia—er, Mrs. Cameron—lives here in London, in Clapham. I’ll need to go see her right away. I don’t want her getting the grim news from the papers. She and Olive haven’t seen or spoken to one another since Patricia’s marriage three years ago. Olive didn’t approve, you see. But they were once very close.”

Witherspoon turned to stare at him. “Miss Kettering hadn’t spoken to her niece in three years?”

Dorian grimaced slightly, as though he were embarrassed. “Don’t think badly of her, Inspector. My cousin had some very strong notions about right and wrong, but she wasn’t a bad person. She didn’t approve of Patricia’s choice of a husband, but that’s not an unheard-of situation in many families.”

“Why did you come to see your cousin this afternoon?” he asked. “Did you have an appointment? Was she expecting you?”

“No, I came by to try to talk some sense into her, but she didn’t know I was coming. We’ve been at odds recently and that was weighing heavily upon my heart, Inspector.”

“You and Miss Kettering had some difficulties with one another?”

“You could say that,” he replied.

“Let me make certain I understand you correctly. Olive Kettering hasn’t any family except for you and her niece, Mrs. Cameron, and she was at odds with both of you?”

Dorian nodded slowly. “I’m afraid that’s right. Oh, we’ve some other distant relations, but there’s been no contact with that branch of the family in years. But as I said, my cousin had very strong notions about right and wrong and apparently, she thinks both Patricia and I are in the wrong.”

“And what did you hope to accomplish by coming to see her today?” he pressed.

Kettering smiled sadly. “I’d hoped she would open her heart a bit, but in truth, I didn’t think I’d have much success. Now that the Reverend Samuel Richards has his greedy little hooks into her, I doubt that the Second Coming could have made her open her heart and look favorably upon her own family.”