Free Mrs. Jeffries Pinches the Post by Emily Brightwell

men standing in his foyer.
    “It’s the police, sir,” the girl said cheerfully. “They want to see you.”
    Witherspoon stepped forward. He was suddenly quite glad he’d listened to his constable instead of going home. This case was indeed getting strange. Another missing girl? What next? “I’m Inspector Gerald Witherspoon, and this is Constable Barnes,” he said. “Are you Oscar Daggett?”
    Daggett took a deep breath before he answered. “I am. What are you doing here? What do you want?”
    “We’d like to speak to you, sir. We’ve a number of questions for you.”
    “If it’s about that missing maid, it’s all a tempest in a teapot.” He glared at the maid. “I told you to leave the police out of this. How dare you go against my orders.”
    “I didn’t go to the police,” the girl protested. She edged behind the inspector. “Really I didn’t, sir.”
    Witherspoon decided he didn’t much care for Oscar Daggett. “We’re here about an entirely different matter,” he said firmly. “But if you’ve a missing girl in this household, we’d like to know about that as well.”
    “The girl isn’t missing,” he said, but he’d lost some of his bluster. “She’s run off home. These country girls can’t be trusted. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve an engagement for dinner, and I need to get dressed.”

    “We won’t take much of your time,” Barnes said. He gestured toward what he thought was probably the drawing room. “Can we sit down, please?” His words were polite enough, but the tone of his voice brooked no argument.
    Daggett pursed his lips and turned on his heel. “This way,” he muttered. He stalked toward an open doorway.
    The maid scurried out from behind the inspector. “Nelda wouldn’t have run off like that,” she whispered. “She’s a good girl, and she’s my friend. She’d have told me if she was going home, besides, she wouldn’t leave her young man. I don’t care what he says. Something’s happened to her.”
    “Don’t worry, we’ll be down to speak to you about your missing friend,” Witherspoon assured the girl, as he and Barnes followed Daggett.
    “Thank you, sir.” She hurried off down the hall.
    They entered a nicely furnished drawing room. It was done in masculine colors of forest green and brown. There were the usual hunting scenes on the wall and heavy, dark-upholstered furniture. Daggett sat on a chair near the marble fireplace. “What’s this about?” He didn’t invite them to sit down.
    Witherspoon didn’t mind standing up. As a matter of fact, sometimes he thought being on his feet gave him a distinct advantage. “Do you know a man named Harrison Nye?”
    Daggett nodded slowly. “Yes. I’ve known him for over fifteen years. We were in business together.”
    “What kind of business, sir?” Barnes asked.
    “A variety of things, Inspector. Insurance, shipping, mining, overseas investments.” He waved his arm expansively. “As I said, a number of things. Now, what’s this all about?”
    “When was the last time you spoke with Mr. Nye?” Witherspoon asked.
    “Last night. I popped around to have a word with him about a business matter.” He shrugged. “Unfortunately, he was in the middle of a dinner party. But we had a quick word together. Why?”
    “Harrison Nye was murdered last night.” Witherspoon watched Daggett carefully.
    Daggett’s mouth dropped open. He bolted up from his chair. “Murdered! But that’s absurd. No one would murder Harrison.”
    “But I’m afraid someone did,” the inspector said. “Do you happen to know if Mr. Nye had any enemies?”
    “He was a businessman. He could be ruthless at times, but I don’t know of anyone who’d actually want to murder him.”  

CHAPTER 4

    By the time Inspector Witherspoon climbed the stairs to his front door, his head was pounding and there was a dull ache in his lower back.
    Mrs. Jeffries was waiting for him in the front hall. “Good evening, sir,” she said