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

pub. The old fellow

hadn’t known anything, and he didn’t want the others to

think he’d been larking about in a tavern instead of snooping for clues.

“You’ve done well today,” Mrs. Jeffries said. She turned

her attention to Lady Cannonberry. “Ruth, you go next.

Did you have any luck today?”

“As a matter of fact, I think I did,” she said, smiling eagerly. “But I’m not certain it has anything to do with the murder.”

“Tell us anyway,” Mrs. Goodge instructed. “We never

know what’s useful and what isn’t until after the case has

been solved.”

“It’s about Caroline Muran’s brother. It’s so sad, really.

He also came to a tragic end.” She told them the gossip

she’d gotten from Olga Spreckles. When Ruth was finished,

she leaned back in her chair and waited to see what the others thought. When several moments passed without any of the others making any comments, she feared the worst. “Oh

dear, I was afraid it wasn’t going to be very useful.”

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Jeffries said briskly. “You’ve given us

an enormous amount of good information. It is strange that

both brother and sister should die like that.”

“And now we know that the marriage was a surprise to

all of Caroline Merriman’s friends,” Betsy commented.

“That could be significant.”

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“Why’d she want to get married at her age?” Wiggins

asked curiously. “Sounds like she were a bit of a spinster,

what with her running the factory and giving money to them

ladies that chain themselves to fences.”

“They don’t only chain themselves to fences,” Ruth said

defensively. “The women’s sufferage movement is dedicated to giving women the same rights under the law as men. That’s very important.”

“Oh, I weren’t sayin’ it were wrong,” Wiggins said

hastily. “I quite admire ’em. I think everyone should be able

to vote and have a decent position. Bein’ poor is awful and

it’s been my observation that woman seem to be more poor

than men. Leastways there seems to be more of ’em, especially in the more miserable parts of the city. I didn’t mean any offense.”

“None taken,” Ruth replied with a smile.

“I quite agree with Wiggins,” Mrs. Goodge said stoutly,

“and one of these days, we’ll have a nice old natter about

the rights of everyone, but right now, let’s get back to

the matter at hand.” She glanced at the carriage clock on the

pine sideboard. “Time marches on and I don’t want to be

late getting the inspector’s chicken in the oven.”

“I wonder how Mr. Muran’s first wife died,” Betsy said.

“I think that might be something worth pursuing,” Mrs.

Jeffries muttered. “Do you happen to know the lady’s Christian name?” she asked Ruth.

“I can find out.” Ruth’s pale brows drew together. “I’ve

heard something about her, but I can’t recall what it might

have been. I believe she might have been ill for quite some

time before she died. It should be easy enough to find out

the details.”

“That would be most helpful,” Mrs. Jeffries replied.

“There’s a hint of scandal in that direction.” Mrs. Goodge

wrinkled her face as she concentrated. “I heard that Lucy

Turner, that’s Caroline Muran’s cousin and probably the

younger of the two women Wiggins followed today, had set

her cap for Keith Muran.”

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“The older one was her mama,” Wiggins added. “What’s

her name?”

“Edwina Turner,” Mrs. Goodge replied. “She and her

daughter apparently live off a small pension from her late

husband. He was an army officer in India. When he died,

Edwina and Lucy came back to London to live.”

“They might have wanted Mrs. Muran dead,” Wiggins

suggested. “Maybe Miss Turner wants to marry him now

that he’s a widower.”

“It’s possible,” Mrs. Goodge replied. “But I don’t think

so. The gossip I heard is that Miss Turner’s pride took a

beating when Muran married her cousin. Besides, the

house they’re living in belonged to Caroline. It now belongs to the estate, and they may or may not be allowed to go on living there.”

“This is all very interesting,” the housekeeper murmured. She wondered what, if anything, it all meant.

They seemed to be learning a great number of facts, but

were they facts that would actually solve this case before

poor Tommy Odell was hanged? “Why don’t you let me

go next. My information dovetails nicely with what

we’ve heard so far.” She told them of her meeting with

Constable Barnes and the little bit of eavesdropping he’d

done.

“Was the constable suspicious of this case as well?”

Ruth asked.

“Apparently so, but that’s not all I found out.” She gave

them the details of her meeting with Dr. Bosworth, emphasizing Bosworth’s conviction that the weapon in the case was a pistol. She glanced at Wiggins. “Perhaps your idea

about finding out what sort of weapons our suspects have

isn’t so far-fetched.”

“I’ll keep tryin’,” he promised. “But first I’ve got to find

a servant that’ll talk to me.”

“This case is a bit of a mess,” Betsy said, sighing. “I

don’t understand anything yet. It’s so sad: first her brother

dies and then poor Caroline gets murdered.”

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“Not to worry, we’ll sort it out eventually, and one of

them at least will have justice,” Mrs. Jeffries replied.

“Can I finish?” Mrs. Goodge asked.

“Oh dear, I am sorry, you should have said something.”

The housekeeper smiled apologetically at the cook. “I

didn’t realize you still had more to report.”

“No harm done.” The cook made sure she had everyone’s attention before she resumed speaking. “I’d not waste too much time worrying about Caroline’s brother.”

“But the poor bloke died in a foreign country,” Wiggins

protested.

“No he didn’t.” She smiled smugly. “Russell Merriman

isn’t dead.”

“Not dead?” Wiggins repeated.

“But Olga was certain,” Ruth exclaimed. “She went to

his memorial service.”

“I’ve no doubt that they had a service for him,” Mrs.

Goodge continued, quite enjoying herself. Today she’d

struck gold. Her old friend, Ida Leacock had popped in for

morning coffee, and when Mrs. Goodge had mentioned

Caroline Merriman’s murder, Ida supplied her with the information that Caroline’s supposedly dead brother had turned up very much alive. “But he didn’t die in America.

It was some sort of mistake. He got put in jail.”

“Your source was sure of this?” Mrs. Jeffries asked.

Dozens of question were now whirling about in her head.

“Absolutely.” Mrs. Goodge reached for her tea cup. “Ida’s

niece works as a housekeeper to a Mr. John Brandon—he’s

Russell Merriman’s solicitor. Helen, that’s the niece, gave

Ida all the details about his return