Jeffries.”
“As do I.” Betsy got to her feet. “What do you want me
to tell Selma Macclesfield?”
“I’ll go and start shadowin’ Russell Merriman,” Smythe
said.
Mrs. Goodge looked at the housekeeper. “What do you
need me to do?”
Mrs. Jeffries smiled gratefully at her staff and then gazed
at the cook. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to
spend your day being at the ready, so to speak.”
C H A P T E R 1 1
Q
“We’ve got to get to the Turner household today, sir,”
Constable Barnes said to Witherspoon. He’d spent the
last hour in the kitchen with Mrs. Jeffries, and he wasn’t
certain he understood what was going on, but he’d decided to trust her. The worst that could happen was that they’d end up asking all the principals in the case a few
more questions. Mrs. Jeffries had given him a list. Just in
case.
“We’ve a meeting with the chief inspector this morning
and I’d like to go to Barrick Street and search those empty
building near the scene of the crime,” Witherspoon replied.
“But if you think your source was sure of his information,
we can interview the Turner women, too. Perhaps we’ll
have another word with Roderick Sutter as well.”
Barnes had told the inspector that a “source” had come
forward with some new information about the whereabouts
of some of the suspects on the night of the murder. “He
was sure, sir, and he’s generally been reliable in the past.”
193
194
Emily Brightwell
“What took him so long to come forward?” Witherspoon asked. They were standing in the foyer. The inspector reached for his heavy overcoat and slipped it on.
“He doesn’t like Inspector Nivens,” Barnes lied. “Nivens
arrested him once and was excessively rough, so he kept
what he knew to himself until the word got that we were
having another look at the case. But he definitely saw both
the Turner women leave their house that night. He was
working that neighborhood, sir. I expect he was casing the
whole area looking for a nice empty house to rob.”
“And he’s sure it was them he saw?” Witherspoon
reached for his bowler and popped it onto his head.
“Oh yes, he noticed the address when Miss Turner came
out. As I said, sir, he was watching the area. Then a few
minutes later, Mrs. Turner left. He told me he crept around
the back of the house and had a look through the window.
He was hoping the place would be empty, but he spotted
the housekeeper so he left.” Barnes opened the front door
and they stepped outside. “He was going to rob the place,
sir. But as he didn’t actually do the deed, we’d no reason to
hold him. Why do you want to interview Sutter again, sir?”
“I want to get a better sense of the man.” Witherspoon
went down the stairs. He’d thought about how Mrs. Jeffries had told him he was very perceptive and quite good at getting people to talk freely. He wanted to have another
chat with Sutter and see if his “inner voice” could sense
anything. “We might as well ask him to tell us again where
he was that night. After all, he was very angry with Mrs.
Muran.”
Barnes waved at a hansom that had turned the corner.
He hoped he’d be able to get the inspector to the Turner
house by the time Merriman got there. He’d do his best.
Betsy shed her jacket and hat as she hurried down the hall.
Mrs. Goodge was sitting at the table when she came into the
kitchen. “No one else is here,” the cook said. “But Wiggins
Mrs. Jeffries Appeals the Verdict
195
has reported in that he’s done his bit. I sent him back to
keep watch on the house.”
“What about Smythe?” Betsy asked.
“I’ve not heard from him. But I’m expectin’ Mrs. Jeffries back any moment now.” She glanced anxiously at the clock and noted that it was past noon. “Leastways, I hope
she’s back soon.”
“Where did she go?”
“To the Muran house,” she replied. “She sent Ruth
along to the Fortune Hotel. But I think she only did that so
Ruth would feel useful.”
Betsy flopped down in her chair, a worried look on her
face. “I hope she knows what she’s doing.”
“So do I,” Mrs. Jeffries said from the doorway. “Were
you able to have a word with Selma Maccelesfield?” She
took off her cloak and gloves.
Betsy’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I only
meant that I hope this goes right . . .”
Mrs. Jeffries held up her hand. “I know what you meant
and I took no offense. What did you learn?”
“She told me that the gun is still in the house. Apparently,
when Mrs. Turner had her little spell at the Muran house,
Mr. Muran neglected to take the weapon from her.”
“That was foolish of him,” Mrs. Goodge muttered.
“It wouldn’t have mattered if he had taken it away from
her. Miss Turner keeps a derringer,” Betsy continued.
Mrs. Jeffries sighed. “Well, my news isn’t much better.
Keith Muran knows that Merriman is taking over the estate.”
“How did you find that out?” The cook stared at Mrs.
Jeffries in admiration.
“I bribed the day girl for information when she put the
laundry basket out the back,” she replied. “Muran told
Merriman over dinner last night that he was going to honor
his sister’s wishes with the company. He made it clear he
was going to sign the contracts to complete the purchase of
196
Emily Brightwell
the row houses. He’s an appointment with the solicitors
later this afternoon. I expect he’ll sign the contracts then.”
“You learned a lot of details,” Betsy exclaimed. “That’s
amazing.”
“Not really,” Mrs. Jeffries sighed. “As the girl was serving dinner, she heard the whole conversation.”
“How did Mr. Muran react?” Mrs. Goodge asked.
“He was polite, but the girl said it was obvious he
wasn’t pleased. But he could hardly make a fuss as both the
Turners were there as well. Has Wiggins reported back?”
Mrs. Jeffries took her seat.
“He popped in to say that he managed to get the message to Charlotte and she’s agreed to come get him if she sees anyone playing about with the food.”
Barnes got down from the hansom and tried to figure out
what in the name of thunder he was going to do next. It was
almost one o’clock, and it had taken every bit of ingenuity
he possessed to get the inspector here. Now what? He
stared at the outside of the Turner house and wondered if
he’d made a big mistake.
“I do hope the ladies are at home,” Witherspoon said. “I
hope to speak to Sutter again today.”
“This shouldn’t take long, sir,” Barnes replied. He looked
around, wondering where Smythe and Wiggins were hiding. Mrs. Jeffries had told him they’d be close by. She’d seemed convinced that something was going to happen today. Mind you, she hadn’t told him what tha
t something might be, merely that it was important to get the inspector
to the Turner house. He straightened his shoulders and
started up the walkway.
They were three feet from the front door when there
was a loud bang from inside the house.
“That was a shot, sir!” Barnes flung open the front door
and charged inside. Witherspoon was right behind him.
A woman’s screams pierced the air as they raced down
the hall. The door at the end of the hall suddenly burst
Mrs. Jeffries Appeals the Verdict
197
open and Keith Muran, his face white with fear, came running out.
“This way,” he called to the two policemen. He threw
himself at a set of double doors and shoved them open. The
three men rushed inside.
“Oh my God, oh my God, it was an accident. I told him
to leave the wretched gun alone, but he insisted on picking
it up.” Lucy Turner was standing next to the dining table
staring down at Russell Merriman. There was blood pouring out of a wound in his chest.
Witherspoon pushed her aside and knelt down beside
Merriman. “Get everyone out of here,” he ordered Barnes.
“Oh my God, he’s dead,” Lucy weeped.
“Get ahold of yourself!” Mrs. Turner ordered her daughter. “And tell us what happened.”
“Barnes, send one of the servants out for a constable,”
Witherspoon yelled. “Have them send along a doctor right
away.”
“A doctor!” Lucy cried harder. “What good will a doctor do? He’s dead and it’s my fault. I told him to leave the gun alone, but he said he wanted to have a look at it, he
wanted to examine the handle.”
“It was an accident, Lucy.” Keith put his arm around her
and gently tugged her toward the door. “Come along now.
Let’s do what the policeman says.”
“We need to clear this room,” Barnes instructed. Two
maids, both the Turner women, and Keith Muran hovered
just inside the dining room. He herded all of them out into
the hallway.
Barnes looked at the maid closest to him. She had plastered herself against the wall and was staring at him out of wide, frightened eyes. “Go to the corner and find a constable,” he ordered. “Tell him there’s been an accident and that Inspector Witherspoon is on the scene. Ask them to send
for a doctor and to come along here straightaway. Tell him
to bring plenty of help.”
She nodded and charged for the front door.
198
Emily Brightwell
Barnes ushered them into the drawing room. Keith Mu-
ran led Lucy to a chair and knelt down next to her. She was
weeping quietly.
Mrs. Turner took a seat on the settee. She looked at
Lucy and then turned her attention to the other maid. “Get
her some brandy.”
“That’s probably a very good idea.” Barnes nodded at
the girl and she rushed out of the room.
“Do be quiet, Lucy,” Mrs. Turner snapped. “You’re making a spectacle of yourself.”
“Oh my God, he’s dead,” Lucy cried. “Poor Russell, he
was covered in blood. It’s dreadful, simply dreadful. But I
told him to leave it alone. I told him it wasn’t safe.”
The door opened and the maid slipped back in carrying
a glass of amber liquid. She gave the glass to Keith Muran
and he put it up to Lucy’s lips. “Drink this. It’ll make you
feel better.”
Barnes watched her closely. Her fingers trembled as
they closed around the glass, but she managed to swallow.
She coughed delicately and lay back against the chair. “He
shot himself in the chest. He’d turned the gun to look at the
handle and it went off. I’d told him to leave it alone. I’d
told him, but he didn’t listen.”
“Could you please tell us what happened?” Barnes said.
He didn’t care how distraught she was; he wanted her
statement.
Lucy looked at him with tear-filled eyes. “I’m not sure
what to say. It all happened so quickly.”
“Why don’t you start from when Mr. Merriman arrived,” Barnes suggested.
“For goodness’ sake, Constable.” Muran stood up, but he
kept his hand on her shoulder. “She’s had a terrible shock.
Must you question her this very minute?”
“My poor cousin is dead.” She dabbed at her eyes
with a handkerchief she pulled from the sleeve of her sapphire blue dress. “I’m not sure I can speak of it. It’s too horrible.”
Mrs. Jeffries Appeals the Verdict
199
“I’m afraid you’ll have to,” Barnes said flatly. He
looked at Muran. “I suggest you either leave the room or be
quiet, sir. This is a very grave matter. A man is dead.”
“How dare you,” Muran snapped.
“It’s all right.” Lucy reached up and patted his hand.
“I want to tell them what happened. I want to get it over
with.” She took a deep breath. “Russell was the first to arrive, so we chatted while we waited for Keith to get here.
I happened to mention that I was using our grandmother’s
silver, and Russell asked if he could see it.”
“Where was Mrs. Turner?” Barnes asked.
“She was still upstairs,” Lucy replied.
“I had to go up and change my shoes,” Mrs. Turner volunteered. “The others were bothering my feet.”
“Go on,” Barnes instructed. He wished more help would
arrive. They needed the doctor here. Poor Witherspoon was
dreadfully squeamish about corpses, so it didn’t seem fair
that he should get stuck with Merriman’s body.
“I took him into the dining room. The table was already
set and he had a look at our grandmother’s silver. Just then
Keith arrived and I heard the girl put him in the drawing
room. I didn’t want to keep him waiting, so I tried to hurry
Russell up a bit. I told him he’d have plenty of time to look
at the silver while we ate our lunch. He laughed”—she
stopped as her eyes filled with tears yet again—“but as we
were walking out, he spotted my derringer.”
“You had a gun just laying about in your dining room?”
Barnes pressed.
“It was in a gun box, Constable. It was lying on the
desk. Russell saw it, and before I could stop him he’d lifted
the lid and taken the thing out. It’s quite a fancy weapon.
My father had it made in India. It’s got a carved ivory handle. Russell picked it up. I told him to put it back, that I’d brought it down to take it to a gunsmith for repairing—the
wretched gun has a loose trigger. But before I could explain, he’d turned the gun toward himself and it went off.”
“Why did he turn the gun?” Barnes asked softly.
200
Emily Brightwell
“He wanted to have a closer look at the handle. He was
muttering something about the carving . . . then it went off
and I started screaming. Oh God, poor Russell . . .” she
broke off and buried her face in her hands.
“That’s quite a story, Lucy. Too bad it’s all a lie.” Russell Merriman, propped up by Witherspoon, stood in the open doorway and stared sadly at Lucy Turner.
She raised her head, an expression of horror on her face.
“Thank God you�
��re alive.” Keith Muran started toward
Russell. “We thought you were dead.”
Suddenly, Lucy Turner leapt to her feet and charged at
her cousin. Holding her hands out as claws, she flew across
the room. “Why won’t you stay dead?” she screamed. “Ye
gods, you bloody Merrimans have caused me no end of
trouble. I finally got rid of that damned sister of yours
and then you had to come back from the grave and ruin
everything.”
Witherspoon pulled Merriman out to the hall at the
same time that Barnes hurled himself after the screaming
woman. He tried grabbing her shoulder, missed, and
stumbled to his knees. It was Mrs. Turner who stopped her
daughter.
She grabbed her arm, whirled her about, and slapped
her across the face. “Stop it. Just stop it. It’s over. It’s all
over.”
“No!” Lucy screamed. “He’s mine, it’s all mine! I
worked for it, I put up with that sanctimonious chit for
years. I’m sick of being the poor relation. She stole him
from me and now her bloody brother is stealing everything
else. I’ll not have it, I tell you. I’ll not have it!” She shook
her mother’s arm off and started for the hallway.
Witherspoon was dragging Merriman toward the front
door as quickly as he could. He wasn’t sure what was
happening, but the look in that woman’s eyes convinced
him he needed to get the man out of there as fast as possible.
Mrs. Jeffries Appeals the Verdict
201
Barnes grabbed Lucy from behind just as the front door
opened and two police constables burst inside. Lucy, her
gaze locked on Russell, punched and kicked at Barnes as
she tried to get to her prey.
“Help the constable!” Witherspoon yelled.
The two constables rushed toward Barnes as he grappled with Lucy, but just then, Mrs. Turner jumped into the fray. “Leave my daughter alone, you monsters,” she cried.
“She can’t help herself. She’s out of her mind.”
“I’m no more out of my mind than you are,” Lucy
screamed at her mother. She yanked one arm out of Barnes’
grasp, balled her hand into a fist, and punched one of the
constables in the eye.
“Lucy, please stop,” Keith Muran pleaded. He was ineffectually waving his hands at the struggling mass of bodies.
“Shut up,” she snarled at Muran as one of the constables
forced her to her knees. “This is your fault, you bloody
Mrs. Jeffries Appeals the Verdict Page 24
