Free 02 - Mrs. Jeffries Dusts for Clues by Emily Brightwell

toward the room they’d left earlier, “who is?”

CHAPTER 4

    Luty was in high spirits all the way home. Mrs. Jeffries dropped her off in Knightsbridge and then proceeded on to Upper Edmonton Gardens. She’d changed her mind about having a talk with Garrett McGraw—there were a few more facts she needed before she tackled that duty.
    As she’d expected, the household was gathered in the kitchen for the noon meal. Mrs. Jeffries decided to wait until she heard their various reports before telling them that Luty Belle was certain the body discovered in Magpie Lane wasn’t Mary Sparks.
    She paused in the doorway and studied their faces. Smythe was hunched over his plate like a disgraced dog, Wiggins was shoveling rolls into his mouth as if he hadn’t eaten in days, Betsy was smirking, and Mrs. Goodge was staring out the window with the intense concentration of a cat watching a sparrow.
    Calling out a cheerful greeting, Mrs. Jeffries crossed the room and took her seat at the head of the table. “And how is everyone today?” she asked kindly, feeling that no matter how important the case, the amenities should be observed. Wiggins, Mrs. Goodge and Betsy assured her they were all just fine. Smythe grunted.
    Betsy tossed her blond curls over her shoulder and shot the coachman a triumphant glance. “Best let me go first this time,”she chirped happily. “I expect I’ve got a bit more to tell than the others.”
    Smythe gave her a quick glare but said nothing.
    Obviously Betsy’s inquiries had gone better than anyone elses, Mrs. Jeffries thought as she filled up her plate. And the pretty maid wasn’t being tactful about the fact either. But then she really didn’t blame her. Smythe was hardly reticent about lording it over Betsy when he stumbled onto a particularly good bit of information.
    “All right, Betsy,” she agreed. “Do tell us what you’ve learned.”
    “It was ever so interestin’,” the girl responded eagerly. “I went back to the shop and found out where Cassie Yates used to live.”
    “Used to live?” Mrs. Goodge interrupted. “You mean she’s not there now?”
    Betsy shook her head. “Her landlady told me she left two months ago. She had rooms in Morton Street, off the Brompton Road.” She wrinkled her nose. “It wasn’t a very nice place, but it’s respectable. The landlady, Mrs. Rose, claimed she didn’t allow men up in the rooms or any other carryin’s on. Said that Cassie didn’t cause any trouble. She paid her rent on time and kept a civil tongue in her head.”
    Mrs. Jeffries was delighted that Betsy was taking care to pronounce her
h
s properly today. “Did the landlady say where Cassie had gone?”
    “She doesn’t know.”
    “Oh, dear,” Mrs. Jeffries murmured. There was a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. She’d been so hoping that Betsy would report that Cassie Yates was alive and well. An image of the body she’d seen that morning lying in the mortuary flashed through her mind. “That’s rather bad news. I was hoping to hear that Miss Yates was now a respectable married woman.” Or even an unrespectable one living in sin, she silently added.
    “But she is,” Betsy exclaimed. “That’s why Mrs. Rose don’t know where she’s livin’ now. She got married. Cassie weren’tjust braggin’ when she claimed one of the men she’d been seein’ actually wanted to wed her.”
    Wiggins reached for another bread roll. “Did you find out ’is name?”
    “No, more’s the pity. The only thing Mrs. Rose could tell me was that he was tall and fair-haired. She claims she didn’t get much of a look at his face—he ’ad on a top ’at and a scarf. She thought it were right funny, but the feller claimed he ’ad a bad cold and needed to keep the chill out.” She broke off and laughed. “But Mrs. Rose says he was a real gentleman. He dressed nice and carried himself well. He come and got all Cassie’s things the day after they got married. Took ’em away in