The Ghost and Mrs. Jeffries (22 page)

“Listen, Mr. Vogel,” Mrs. Jeffries said quickly. “If you don’t speak to me, you’ll find yourself under arrest. If I could find you so quickly, then the police can’t be far behind.”

Slowly the door opened, revealing a grim-faced young man and an equally worried-looking young woman standing behind him.

“Who are you?” Benjamin Vogel said flatly. “A blackmailer? How much will it take to buy your silence? Be warned, though, we’ve not much money.”

“I’m afraid you don’t understand, Mr. Vogel,” Mrs. Jeffries said. “I’m not here to blackmail you, I’m here to help you.”

“Why should you want to help me?” Vogel said suspiciously. “I’m nothing to you.”

Mrs. Jeffries decided to take a firmer line. Standing out on the landing trying to convince this young man she was solely interested in justice was simply taking too much time. “That’s correct, I don’t know you from Adam. However, I do know that the gun used to kill Abigail Hodges is buried in St. John’s churchyard, the stolen jewels were found in Miss Marsden’s room at the Hodges house and that neither you nor Miss Marsden has an alibi worth two shillings.”

Vogel’s jaw dropped and the color drained from his cheeks.

“Now,” she continued firmly, “if you’ll let me and my friends inside, perhaps we can help you extricate yourselves from this terrible mess.”

Silently Vogel opened the door.

Mrs. Jeffries, with Smythe and Wiggins right behind her, rushed into the room. “As I’ve told you, my name is Mrs. Jeffries and this is Smythe and Wiggins.”

“I still don’t understand why you should want to help us?” Vogel put his arm protectively around the woman.

“Because if I don’t, you’re going to be arrested for murder, a murder I’m not all that certain that you or Miss Marsden had anything to do with.”

Felicity stepped forward. “How do you know who I am? I’ve never seen you before.”

“But I’ve seen you,” Mrs. Jeffries replied. “Now, we don’t have much time. I suggest you answer my questions as quickly and completely as you can.”

Felicity Marsden looked at Benjamin Vogel and he nodded slightly. “Would you like to sit down?” he asked. He grimaced as his glance took in the shoddy, scratched table and chairs and the lumpy settee that made up the furniture. “It’s fairly dirty, but Fliss and I managed to spend the night here without having to fend off anything worse than the cold and damp.”

Mrs. Jeffries shook her head. “No, thank you. First of all, I must know where the two of you were on the night Abigail Hodges was murdered. The police already know that neither of you have alibis.”

“We were together,” Felicity Marsden replied. She lifted her chin defiantly. “And I’ll tell the whole world if it’s necessary. I don’t care what anyone thinks of us or our morals. We were together and no one can prove otherwise.”

“Be careful, Fliss,” Vogel said gently. “You’re making it sound as though we were doing something wrong. But we weren’t.” He looked at Mrs. Jeffries and said, “It’s not what you think. We weren’t doing anything improper. Fliss and I arranged to meet at the theatre, then we spent the next two hours walking about, just talking. That’s the only way we’ve managed to see each other since Abigail started interfering in our lives.”

“So you’ve been seeing each other all along,” Mrs. Jeffries said, confirming what she already knew. “And breaking off your engagement was merely a pretense. Is that correct?”

Vogel dropped his gaze. “Yes. We had no choice. Abigail didn’t think I was good enough for her niece. She tried
buying me off, and when that didn’t work, she told Fliss a packet of lies.”

“I never believed her,” Felicity declared. “Never, not for one moment.”

Mrs. Jeffries studied the girl shrewdly. “But you pretended you did, didn’t you?”

“There was no choice.” Felicity shrugged her shoulders. “I knew what Abigail was capable of. I knew how very ruthless she could be.”

“Excuse me,” Smythe interrupted, “beggin’ your pardon, miss, but you’re of age. Why didn’t you just tell Abigail to sod off and marry Mr. Vogel. Why sneak about?”

The two lovers exchanged glances. Then Vogel cleared his throat. “We were trying to wait her out. My company has agreed to send me to Canada. It’s a promotion.” He smiled proudly. “But that’s not going to happen till next month. I was going to go on to Toronto and Fliss was going to make arrangements to join me there as soon as possible.”

“But short of tossin’ Miss Marsden out on ‘er ear,” Wiggins asked, “what could Mrs. Hodges ‘ave done to you if she knew you was still seein’ each other?”

Vogel laughed bitterly. “She could have ruined our entire future. My new position will ensure Fliss and I can marry. I’ll easily be able to support a wife once I’m in Toronto. But if Abigail had known we were still seeing each other, she’d have gotten me sacked. She was a rich, powerful woman. I work for Tellcher’s, they’re a rather conservative merchant bank. If she’d had any idea I was still engaged to Fliss, she’d have been ‘round there like a shot. One word from Abigail Hodges would have been enough to have me tossed in the street with no references and no prospects.”

“But instead Mrs. Hodges is dead, you’ve still got your employment and Miss Marsden stands to inherit a great deal of money,” Mrs. Jeffries said thoughtfully.

“But we didn’t have anything to do with her murder,” Felicity cried.

“Perhaps,” Mrs. Jeffries replied. “But you can’t deny that you both had good reason to wish Abigail Hodges was out of the way.”

Felicity waved her hand impatiently. “Of course we did, she made our lives miserable. We had to sneak around like two children hiding from their nanny. Wouldn’t you loathe having to behave in such an undignified fashion? But we didn’t kill her. The night Abigail was murdered we were walking around trying to keep warm. It was a horrid night out, cold and damp and foggy. And that wasn’t the first time we’d had to spend what few hours we had together on a public street.” She closed her eyes briefly and shuddered. “But I didn’t mind that part of it so much. I could easily put up with the cold and the wind and the rain. What I hated was the constant worry that someone, some friend of Abigail’s, would see us.”

“Well, if you’ve been sneakin’ around for two months without gettin’ caught, you’ve been pretty lucky,” Wiggins said cheerfully.

“Lucky!” Felicity Marsden snapped. “We weren’t in the least bit lucky. We were almost discovered several times.” She turned to her fiancé. “Remember when we saw Mrs. Popejoy? That was a close call. She’d have gone running to Abigail like a shot.”

“Mrs. Popejoy,” Mrs. Jeffries interrupted quickly. “What about her? Did she happen to see you that night?”

“Not that night, but one other time we were together. It was a fortnight or so ago.” Felicity laughed nervously. “And it wasn’t just Mrs. Popejoy we almost ran into either. We thought Uncle Leonard was with the woman. That would have been utterly disastrous. Leonard wouldn’t have kept silent. He knows what side his bread is buttered on.”

“Now, Fliss, don’t upset yourself,” Vogel said gently. “Everything turned out all right in the end. Mrs. Popejoy didn’t see us and the man she was with wasn’t your uncle. In the dark and the fog, you just thought he looked like Leonard.”

“I know,” Fliss replied. “But it was still a very close thing. When I think of how Aunt Abigail could have ruined—would have ruined you without a second thought, it makes my blood run cold.”

“If I was you, Miss Marsden,” Smythe said, “I’d keep them feelin’s to myself when the police start talkin’ to you.”

“The police! Why should I talk to the police. We’re innocent.” Felicity began wringing her hands together. “As much as I loathed my aunt’s interference in my life, I wouldn’t have killed her and neither would Benjamin.”

“Then why did you run?” Mrs. Jeffries asked.

“I was scared. First I found that wretched gun and then last night Uncle Leonard told me that Abigail’s jewels had been found in my room. Today, when the maid told me that the police were downstairs waiting for me, I couldn’t think of what to do, so I tossed a few things in my bag and slipped out the backdoor. I went straight to Benjamin’s.”

“Who, luckily for you, hadn’t gone in to work today,” Mrs. Jeffries said, turning her attention to Mr. Vogel. “Could you tell me why you didn’t go in this morning, please?”

Vogel shifted uneasily. “I sent a note there, telling them I was ill and that I wouldn’t be in for a few days.” He jerked his chin up defiantly. “Well, why shouldn’t I take some time off. I’ve an excellent record, and after I saw my gun had been taken, I decided perhaps it would be best to…to…”

“Be prepared to make a run for it?” Mrs. Jeffries finished for him. She felt a wave of sympathy for them, but she had to make sure their flight hadn’t been prearranged. “Now, Miss Marsden. Can you tell me where exactly in the house you found the gun, and more importantly, why you didn’t give it to the police right away?”

“I found it in my drawer yesterday morning. As soon as I saw it, I knew I couldn’t give it to the police. It was Benjamin’s.” She swallowed painfully. “Even worse, the gun had been fired recently. The barrel still smelled of
powder. But as God is my witness, I’ve no idea how it got into my drawer. I was terrified. All I could think of was getting rid of the obscene thing.”

“’Ow come you buried it in a bloomin’ churchyard?” Smythe asked. “If I was goin’ to get rid of a gun, I’d throw it into the Thames.”

Felicity gave Vogel a shamefaced glance. “Because it was Benjamin’s and I knew he wanted to have it with him when he travels. He couldn’t afford to buy another one—and he’s going to Canada soon. I didn’t dare hide the gun in the house or bury it in the garden. Then I remembered Abigail and Leonard had gone to a funeral at St. John’s just last week. I knew the earth would still be soft enough to dig in, so I took the gun and buried it there.” She paused and gazed at Mrs. Jeffries curiously. “How did you find out where the gun was?”

“You were followed, Miss Marsden,” Mrs. Jeffries replied honestly. “But what makes you so certain Mr. Vogel’s gun is the one that was used to murder your aunt? Are you familiar with weapons—are you absolutely positive it had been fired recently?”

“Yes, I am,” Felicity declared. “My father taught me how to handle guns when I was a girl. He hunted. And also I’m sure that whoever really did the killing is trying to make it look as though Benjamin and I were responsible. I began to suspect yesterday that someone wants us to take the blame. Benjamin sent me a note telling me his gun had gone missing. Then when the jewels were found in my room, I knew for certain.”

“Mr. Vogel,” Mrs. Jeffries said, “assuming it was your gun that murdered Mrs. Hodges, how do you explain someone being able to steal it from your room?”

Vogel stroked his chin. “I think it was stolen on one of those nights that Fliss and I were out together.”

“You leave your rooms unlocked then?” Smythe asked.

“No, of course not. But half the time my landlady is drunk and the lock on my door is so flimsy a child could
open it,” Vogel replied earnestly.

“I suppose it’s possible,” Mrs. Jeffries murmured. She wasn’t sure she believed him, but then again, she wasn’t sure she didn’t either. “Were you planning on giving up your employment? Surely you realize that the police will be around there fairly quickly.”

Vogel shrugged. “Losing my job is better than hanging, Mrs. Jeffries. You see, the police already knew my gun was gone. Once Fliss told me about the jewels being found in her room, I knew we had to get away. I don’t know who was responsible for killing Abigail Hodges, but I do know that whoever it was is planning on making sure that Felicity and I take the blame.”

“That certainly appears to be the case,” Mrs. Jeffries said. “However, it may not come to that. Miss Marsden, who else had a reason to want your aunt dead?”

“Well, Jonathan, my cousin, wasn’t overly fond of her. She’s had control of his inheritance for years now.” Felicity tilted her head and looked sadly around the room. “Abigail’s kept him on a pittance of an allowance, otherwise he wouldn’t be living in a hovel like this lodging house. She was always trying to get him to move into her house. She liked controlling people. But he refused, preferring instead to eke out a living working for that shipping company and living in a place like this.”

Mrs. Jeffries was curious. “Why did you and Mr. Vogel come here? Was it because of your cousin? Were you hoping he’d help you?”

“We came here,” Vogel replied, “because we knew Jonathan’s landlady wouldn’t ask any questions. We were afraid to go to a hotel. We thought that would be the first place the police would start looking. We didn’t come here to involve Felicity’s cousin in our trouble.”

“Besides, Jonathan’s gone.” Felicity smiled grimly. “He’s gone to Leicestershire to take care of some business. It appears as though he’ll have the last laugh after all, now that he’s gained control of his inheritance. I don’t think
he’s even planning on staying for Abigail’s funeral or the reading of the will. He told me he’s sailing next week for America.”

“’Ow come everybody leaves this country?” Wiggins asked.

Much as Mrs. Jeffries would have liked to stop and give the footman a short, concise lesson on surplus population, improved opportunities for advancement and a pioneering spirit, she refrained. This was hardly the time or place.

“His property is in America,” Vogel explained, taking Wiggins’s question seriously.

“Exactly ‘ow much money does Mr. Felcher get control over now that Mrs. ‘odges is gone?” Smythe asked.

“I’m not certain of the exact amount,” Felicity replied, “but I think it’s close to fifty thousand pounds.”

“Cor, that’s a lot of money.” Smythe glanced at Mrs. Jeffries. “Lots would kill to get their ‘ands on that amount.”

Felicity shook her head impatiently. “Jonathan’s no more capable of murder than I am. I know he drank a little and perhaps gambled more than he should, but he’s no murderer.”

Mrs. Jeffries heard the shuffle of footsteps on the stairs. She held her breath, hoping it wasn’t Inspector Witherspoon. Everyone else heard the noise too, for the room fell silent until the steps faded down the corridor.

Sighing with relief, Mrs. Jeffries decided to hurry matters along. Time was getting on. “Is there anyone else connected with Mrs. Hodges who might have reason to wish her dead?”