32 - Mrs. Jeffries and the Merry Gentlemen by Emily Brightwell

Author:Emily Brightwell
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Mystery, Cozy, _rt_yes, tpl, British Detectives, Fiction, Women Sleuths, Victorian England, Traditional British, _NB_fixed
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2013-09-20T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 7

Mrs. Jeffries stood at the drawing room window and stared out into the dark night. She focused her gaze on the gas lamp across the road and tried to think of a plan of action. The inspector was due home any minute now and she still wasn’t certain of what she was going to say when they had their sherry tonight. Today’s meeting had netted so much information that it wouldn’t be fair to expect Constable Barnes to pass it all along. But what would be the most reasonable tidbits for her to weave into their conversation? She cast her mind back to the meeting, going over every report one by one. Surely Wiggins witnessing Kimball’s altercation was something Barnes should handle. He could always say one of his informants had told him that Kimball was a gambler. Likewise, the constable and his network of sources could easily have obtained Hatchet’s and Luty’s information. But there was still the information from the others.

A dog barked frantically, jerking her out of her reverie. She blinked and realized that her neighbor, Mrs. Pomeroy, and her buff-colored spaniel, Sasha, were on the pavement outside the window. The dog was bounding up and down, straining against its lead and howling at a cat that darted across the empty road. Mrs. Pomeroy, on the other hand, was staring straight at her with a curious, bemused expression on her face. Embarrassed, she gave the woman a smile and quickly drew the curtains. The barking faded as Mrs. Pomeroy resumed her walk. Drat, she thought irritably, her train of thought was completely ruined.

But Mrs. Jeffries didn’t have time to marshal her thoughts again because, almost immediately, she heard the distinct sound of a horse’s hooves and the jangle of a harness. She peeked through the curtains just as a hansom cab pulled to the curb and the inspector got out. It was pointless to try to plan what might or might not be possible to convey to him, she decided; she’d just have to do her best.

She went to the foyer and opened the door as Witherspoon mounted the top step. “Good evening, sir. Gracious, you must be exhausted. You’re home so very late.”

“I’ll admit that I am a bit tired.” He smiled wanly as he took off his hat and coat.

“Of course you are, sir. You do work so very hard when you’re on a homicide case.” She took the inspector’s garments and hung them on the coat tree.

“I don’t suppose Amanda is still here?” he asked hopefully as he unwound his scarf and tossed it on the top peg.

“No, sir, I’m sorry, but Betsy did say she was going to bring the baby around tomorrow morning. She said she’d try to be here before you left for the day so you could see how well Amanda is walking.”

“That’s the best news I’ve had all day. I know Christmas is only a few days away, but I had so hoped to see the little one before then.

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