Mrs. Jeffries Weeds the Plot (6 page)

But he didn’t feel silly enough to go back to that shed alone. Not by himself.

A costermonger pushing a creaky cart trundled past, leaving the pungent scent of mussels and jellied eels in its wake. Wiggins sighed and started across the road. “There’s nothing for it, Fred,” he said to the dog. “There’s only one thing to do now. We’ve got to find Smythe.”

“What do you think, Mrs. Jeffries?” Betsy asked as soon as they were out of earshot of the Gentry house.

“I think we’d best get everyone together and try to make some sense of all this,” the housekeeper replied. They walked toward the omnibus stop at the top of the road. “But I’ve no doubt now that someone is trying to kill the woman.”

“Should we involve the inspector?” Betsy stared up the road, her head bobbing from side to side as she tried to see if the omnibus was coming. But there was too much traffic to see much of anything.

“Not at this time,” Mrs. Jeffries replied.

“Why?” Betsy looked at her curiously. “Don’t you believe Miss Gentry?”

“Absolutely. But we’ve no proof. The poison cream disappeared and the other two incidents could both have been accidents. At least that’s what the police will say. We need a bit more evidence before we involve the inspector. But I’ve no doubt we shall find it. Miss Gentry gave us plenty of information to begin our inquiry. Oh look, here comes the omnibus. When we get on, why
don’t you continue on to the Kensington High Street and Knightsbridge.”

Betsy laughed. “So that’s why you wanted us to take the omnibus instead of walking. You want me to get Luty and Hatchet.”

“Of course, have them back at Upper Edmonton Gardens by teatime. We’ve much to discuss.”

Betsy frowned. “Will Smythe be back by then? For that matter, did he say where he was going today?” He’d been very closemouthed this morning and she, of course, had too much pride to pry. She wasn’t going to become a nosy nellie simply because they’d got engaged. But she was just a tad hurt that he’d gone off without saying anything to her.

Mrs. Jeffries opened her coin purse and took out two ha’pennies and a sixpence. The omnibus pulled to a stop and the two women, holding tightly on to the wooden handrail, climbed aboard. The were two seats just inside. Mrs. Jeffries slid in by the window, leaving Betsy the one on the aisle. She handed the coins to the conductor and said, “One for Holland Park Road and one for the Kensington High Street.”

Smythe wasn’t in a good mood. He hung the harness on to the wall of the tack room and stepped into the stable proper. Howards, the livery where the inspector stabled his horses and carriage, was a large commercial concern, but at this time of day, it was relatively quiet.

He pulled the door shut behind him, locked it, and walked across the aisle to the stall where Bow and Arrow munched happily on their fresh oats. “Bloomin’ Ada,” he muttered to himself, “it’s been a waste of a day. That’s what I get for tryin’ to be clever. A bleedin’ wild goose chase.”

“What kind of wild goose chase?” Wiggins asked as he and Fred popped around the corner and into view.

Surprised, Smythe started and then quickly caught himself. “What the blazes are you doin’ ’ere?”

“I come to find you.” Wiggins grinned. “I didn’t know ya talked to yourself.”

“I don’t.”

“Then who was ya talkin’ to? The horses?”

“All right, every once in a while I talk to myself. What of it? Why was ya lookin’ for me? Did Mrs. Jeffries send ya?”

Wiggins’s smile faded. He looked down at the dog, who’d plopped down by his feet. “Uh, I need some ’elp with something.”

“What are you on about, lad?” Smythe asked. He looked carefully at the boy; a line of sweat clung to his hairline and his face was flushed. Fred was panting like he’d run with the hounds of hell on his heels. “And let’s get that dog some water. Fred’s tongue’s hangin’ out.”

They made their way to the pump in the front of the stable. The scent of horse and manure wasn’t as strong out in the open air. Wiggins worked the handle and water gushed into the trough. Fred helped himself.

“Now, what’s all this about, then?” Smythe asked softly. He could tell by the boy’s expression that something serious was clouding his mind.

“You’ve got to promise not to laugh at me,” Wiggins muttered. He kept his gaze on Fred.

“’Ave I ever laughed at you?”

Wiggins shook his head. “It’s just that this sounds so silly, but it’s not. It were real. I felt it. Something ’appened there. Somethin’ awful. Fred felt it, too.”

Smythe was genuinely alarmed now. Wiggins could go a bit foolish over a pretty lass, but he had good instincts. Alarmed, his voice was harsher than he intended. “What are you talkin’ about? What’s wrong?”

“I went over to that school you was at yesterday,”
Wiggins began. “The one next to that Miss Gentry’s house.”

“Why? I’d already had a good gander about the place, already said them bricks ’ad been pried off the top and pushed over the wall. What was you hopin’ to find?”

Wiggins shrugged. “I’m not sure. But it wasn’t like I ’ad anythin’ else to do, so I went along and ’ad a look myself. Fred and I squeezed through the gate and we was just startin’ down that bend toward the back when Fred stopped dead in his tracks and we ’eard somethin’ comin’ from the second shed.”

“What do you mean, you ’eard somethin’? What’d ya ’ear?”

“I don’t know what it was,” Wiggins admitted. “But it scared me. Scared Fred, too. His hackles come up and his ears went back and then ’e started barkin’—”

“Well, what was it?”

“I don’t know.” Wiggins slumped his shoulders. “I got so scared I ran. I picked Fred up and ran like the devil. That’s why I come ’ere to get you. I know somethin’ bad was in that shed and I want you to come back with me.”

Betsy arrived back at Upper Edmonton Gardens a few minutes before tea. Luty Belle Crookshank and her butler, Hatchet, accompanied her.

“We got here as quick as we could,” Luty exclaimed. She was a small, thin elderly American woman with white hair, brown eyes so dark they looked almost black, and a razor-sharp mind. She loved bright clothes almost as much as she loved investigating crime. This afternoon she wore a huge hat decorated with yellow flowers and two bright purple plumes, a lavender dress with lace on the collars and cuffs, and a pair of outrageously huge amethyst earrings.

“Good day, everyone,” Hatchet said politely as he followed
Luty into the kitchen. “I hope all is well with the household.” He was a tall man in his late fifties, with a full head of snow-white hair, a dignified demeanor, and a love of detective work that surpassed even his employer’s.

“We are all well,” Mrs. Jeffries replied. She nodded toward the others. “Do sit down and have some tea. We’re just waiting for Wiggins and Smythe to come before we begin. They ought to be here any moment now.” She looked at the maid. “What have you told them?”

“Just that Miss Gentry wants us to find out who is trying to kill her. That’s all.”

“Girl’s lips were sealed tighter than a bank vault,” Luty said. She took the empty seat next to the cook.

“To be fair, madam,” Hatchet said as he slipped into the seat next to Mrs. Jeffries, “Miss Betsy explained that she wanted to wait until the others could be here to share what she and Mrs. Jeffries learned today.”

“I wasn’t trying to be mysterious,” Betsy said earnestly. “I just didn’t think Mrs. Jeffries would want us having to explain everything twice. Besides, Wiggins and Smythe’ll be here soon. I’m sure of it. They know we were going to be having one of our meetings.”

“Maybe we’d better leave Fred out ’ere,” Wiggins suggested. “We could tie ’im to the inside of the gate.”

“Why do that?” Smythe asked curiously. “Seems to me if you’re right and there’s somethin’ amiss back at that shed, we’d do best to ’ave Fred with us.”

Fred wagged his tail and woofed softly, as though he agreed with the coachman.

“Well, if ya think so, but he barked ’is ’ead off before.” Wiggins started up the short drive to the gate.

“Wait a minute,” Smythe ordered. “I thought you told me you run off like the ’ounds of ’ell was on yer ’eels?”

“I did.”

“Then who closed the ruddy thing behind you?” Smythe asked.

Wiggins stared at the now-closed gate and shook his head. “I swear, it were open when I left. I was carryin’ Fred and I didn’t stop to pull it closed.”

Smythe frowned at the latch. “It’s not locked, just pulled up close together. This is gettin’ interestin’.” He edged the gate open and squeezed his big frame through.

Fred jumped through and Wiggins followed. Once they were all inside, Smythe stood for a moment. Cautiously, he looked to his left and then his right. Then he turned his attention to the derelict school building. His gaze started at the top and scanned the windows, assuring himself that none of the curtains moved or twitched. After he’d satisfied himself that they weren’t being watched, he said, “Show me where you ’eard these noises at, then.”

Wiggins started across the cobblestones. “It’s just ’round there.” Now that the moment was at hand, he hoped he wouldn’t disgrace himself in front of the person he most admired. But as they headed for the shed, he found his steps slowing. Even Fred’s frisky trot suddenly slowed to a much more sedate pace. He didn’t like where this walk was heading.

From the corner of his eyes, Smythe saw Wiggins dropping behind. He knew then that the lad had really been frightened. But he didn’t let that rattle him. Wiggins was a bit on the imaginative side. What did set the hair on the back of Smythe’s neck prickling was when he noticed the dog’s reaction. Cor blimey, he thought, what’s going on here?

They reached the shed. Wiggins took a deep breath. Fred sniffed the crack under the door and whined softly. Smythe gave the door a gentle nudge. Slowly, it creaked open and a shaft of sunlight illuminated the dark space.

The inside of the place was covered with cobwebs and dust. A wooden bench with missing slats ran the length of the small room. In the dim light, it was hard to make out much detail, but Smythe could see where the dust on the stone floor had been disturbed.

“Do you see anything?” Wiggins asked.

“Just a lot of dirt and mess …” Smythe paused as he spotted a large mound on the far side of the room. He pushed the door open wide to get more light into the room. “Damn.” He charged inside and flew over to the mound.