Mrs. Jeffries Appeals the Verdict Emily Brightwell (great books for teens TXT) 📖

are,” the cook

pointed out.

“That doesn’t matter,” Wiggins explained. “I’ll just try to

find out if anyone in Mrs. Muran’s circle owned a weapon.

That ought to be useful.” He looked at Smythe. “And you

ought to find out if the fellow that was sacked has a gun.”

“I’d already thought of that,” Smythe replied. “It might

take a day or two, though.”

“That would be most helpful.” Mrs. Jeffries looked

around the table. “Who would like to go next?”

“Let me,” Betsy entreated. “It’ll not take long. I walked

my feet off but I didn’t hear all that much. Mainly, it was

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Emily Brightwell

just a repeat of what you’ve already told us. Mrs. Muran

was very nice and well liked by her servants. Her factory

workers are going to miss her, as she was getting ready to

have their housing redone properly. The local merchants

are going to miss her as well. She apparently settled her accounts promptly at the end of each month.” She shrugged.

“It’s not much, I know, but I’ll be out again tomorrow to

see what I can find out.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself; you’ve learned a lot.”

Smythe patted her shoulder. “Not as much as me, but

enough so that you can hold your head up.”

She laughed and cuffed him playfully on the arm. “You

just wait. I’ll find out lots more than you do tomorrow.”

“I hope I find out who owns a gun tomorrow,” Wiggins

muttered. “I didn’t find out anything at all today.”

“No one would talk to you?” Smythe asked, his voice

sympathetic.

“The only person I met was a housemaid, but she wasn’t

much of a talker. I hung about the area for ages, but I didn’t

see anyone else that seemed likely to speak to me. It was

all posh ladies goin’ to tea and gentlemen comin’ home

from work. All in all it wasn’t a good day.” He wondered if

he ought to tell the others about how scared the poor girl

had been. No, they might think he’d been silly and incompetent; best to leave it alone and make his own amends.

The girl was probably fresh in from the country and he

needed to be careful in how he approached her. If she saw

him skulking about it would likely frighten her more.

“Not to worry, Wiggins, you’ll do better tomorrow. We

both will,” Betsy said cheerfully.

“Of course you will,” Mrs. Goodge said quickly. She

was bursting to tell them her news. “Now, I’d like to have a

go if no one minds.”

“You must of found out somethin’ excitin’.” Wiggins

grinned. “I can always tell; your cheeks go all pink.”

Mrs. Goodge laughed. “Really? I’d no idea. You’re right,

though, I did find out something exciting and it was almost

Mrs. Jeffries Appeals the Verdict

53

by accident, but that’s neither here nor there. It seems the

housekeeper for Mr. and Mrs. Muran has melancholia and

has taken to her bed. She’s had it ever since she heard about

Mrs. Muran’s murder.”

“Melancholia?” Wiggins frowned. “Is that the sad

sickness?”

“It’s generally more of a mental or nervous condition,”

Mrs. Jeffries replied. “At least that’s what I’ve always

heard. Sorry, Mrs. Goodge, I didn’t mean to interrupt. Do

go on.”

The cook told them about her visit from young Tom

Briggs. She left out the part where she had to chase him

clear across the communal garden with promises of seed

cake and sticky buns in order to get him to come back.

“According to what Tom overheard his mother tellin’ his

father, his aunt Helen hasn’t set foot back in the Muran

household since she heard about the murder.”

“Where does she live?” Smythe asked.

“Number Eighteen Cedar Road, near the Waltham

Green railway station.”

“She wasn’t a live-in housekeeper?” Mrs. Jeffries

queried.

“No, she used to come in before breakfast and then

leave as soon as the dinner was served.”

“That’s an odd way to run a ’ousehold, isn’t it?” Wiggins

asked curiously.

“It’s actually becoming more and more common,” Mrs.

Jeffries replied. “I wonder if the other staff lived out as well.”

“I don’t know,” Mrs. Goodge frowned. “That isn’t the

sort of detail I’d expect Tom to know.”

“We can find out easily enough,” Betsy said. She

reached for the teapot and poured herself a second cup.

“I’ll go along tomorrow and see what’s what,” Wiggins

offered. “I was plannin’ on goin’ back anyway, you know to

suss out who’s got a gun or not. Or would you rather I go

along to where the housekeeper lives and see what I can

find out there?”

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Emily Brightwell

Mrs. Jeffries thought for a moment. “Go back to the

Muran neighborhood. We’ve learned a bit about the victim,

but I think we need to learn something about the rest of the

household as well.”

“I can go along to Cedar Road,” Betsy offered. “The

shopkeepers can wait for another day.”

“Good.” the housekeeper looked at Smythe. “How did

you do today?”

“Not as well as Mrs. Goodge, but a bit better than Wiggins,” he grinned. “I found the cabbie that dropped the Murans off on the night of the murder. Accordin’ to ’im, when they first got in the hansom, Mr. Muran told the driver to

take them home. But then he suddenly sticks his head out

and tells the driver to take them across the river to Barrick

Street. Last he saw of them, they were walking down the

road.”

“Did he see anyone else in the area?” Mrs. Goodge

helped herself to another slice of bread.

“No, he said the place was deserted. It’s one of them areas that’s full of little factories and warehouses. Once the workday ends, there’s no one about. The cabbie, who seems

to know the neighborhood, claims most of those businesses

don’t even have watchmen at night.” He told them the rest

of the information he’d gotten that day, taking care to tell

them every little detail, including the comments of the other

two cabbies about the night of the murder. Previous cases

had taught them that sometimes it was the unimportant detail that solved the case.

“Some businesses are so cheap,” Mrs. Goodge muttered

darkly. “You’d think they’d pay for a watchman or two. A

deserted street in the middle of the night isn’t exactly going to have many witnesses about.”

Smythe sat back in his chair. “I thought I’d go around

and have a good look at the road where they got let off. It’d

be ’elpful if we knew exactly where the murder happened,

you know, the exact spot.”

“Will you have enough