Mrs. Jeffries and the Midwinter Murders by Emily Brightwell

Author:Emily Brightwell [Brightwell, Emily]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2021-11-16T00:00:00+00:00

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Hamish McGraw’s office was located on the ground floor of a two-story redbrick building just off the Kensington High Street.

“Mr. McGraw will see you now, Inspector.” The thin, black-haired clerk stood by the open door on the far side of the room and motioned them forward.

They stepped between the wooden railing separating the reception area from the three clerks’ desks and followed him to an open door. The clerk stuck his head inside McGraw’s office. “Here’s the police, sir.” He nodded at the two men and stepped back.

Witherspoon and Barnes stepped into the office. The room was large with an elaborate globe and brass chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. Directly opposite the door was a pale pink fireplace topped with a huge, wood-framed mirror and bracketed by floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled with law books, ledgers, and file boxes. A bearded white-haired man stood up from behind the massive desk in the center of the room.

“Good day, gentlemen. I’m Hamish McGraw. I’ve been expecting you.” He gestured at the two chairs in front of the desk. “Please have a seat.”

They took their seats as McGraw sat down. The constable took out his pencil and notebook and then flipped to a blank page.

“Thank you. I’m Inspector Gerald Witherspoon, and this is my colleague, Constable Barnes,” the inspector said.

“And you’re here to question me about Harriet Andover,” McGraw said. “I couldn’t believe it when I heard the news about Mrs. Andover. This is a dreadful business, Inspector, absolutely dreadful.”

“Murder is always dreadful,” Witherspoon replied. “How long have you represented the late Mrs. Andover?”

“Twenty-five years.” He smiled sadly. “After all these years, Inspector, she has become more of a friend than a client.”

“Of course, Mr. McGraw. I’m sorry for your loss, sir. Do you mind telling me the details of that first meeting with Mrs. Andover?”

McGraw’s white eyebrow rose. “Is that relevant? It was a long time ago, so I hardly think it is pertinent to the matter at hand.”

“It’s relevant in the sense that it might help us to understand her character,” Witherspoon explained. “When conducting homicide investigations, we’ve discovered that the more we know about the victim, the more likely we are to catch the assailant. It’s difficult to put it into words—”

McGraw interrupted, “I understand, Inspector. Not everything that is useful can be articulated factually.” He smiled slightly. “I’m well aware of your reputation, sir, and frankly, when I heard you were in charge of Mrs. Andover’s case, I was very relieved. Harriet was a force to be reckoned with, and though she didn’t suffer fools gladly, she was a good friend and, most importantly, a decent person. I want her killer caught.”

“And we’ll do our best to ensure that happens as quickly as possible.”

“Twenty-five years ago, Harriet Tichner, as she was then, came to me for two reasons. She was purchasing a small commercial building opposite the Nine Elms Locomotive Works and she wanted me to do the conveyancing for the purchase. I didn’t think it a very good investment, especially for a single woman.

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