Free Mrs. Jeffries Pinches the Post by Emily Brightwell Page A

cheerfully.
    “Good evening, Mrs. Jeffries.” He handed her his bowler hat. “I’m sorry to be so late. I do hope Mrs. Goodge isn’t put out.”
    “Not at all. sir. We’re all quite used to your odd hours. She kept your supper warm, sir. I’ll just nip down and bring it up.”
    “Oh, do let’s have a sherry first,” Witherspoon suggested. “It’s been a long day.”
    “Of course, sir.” Mrs. Jeffries hid a smile as she led the way down the hall. This was even better than she’d hoped. He was always so much more willing to talk about his cases over a glass of sherry.
    The inspector followed her into the drawing room. He plopped down in his favorite chair as she poured them both a glass of Harvey’s. “Here you are, sir.” She gave him a sympathetic smile. “You do look a bit tired. Have you had a very difficult time? Betsy mentioned you’d been sent out on a murder.”
    “Actually”—he took a sip from his glass—“I’m quite pleased with the progress we’ve made so far. One never likes to think that murder is by any means commonplace”—he sighed—“but there does seem to be a lot of it about these days.”
    “I suspect there always has been, sir,” she replied honestly. “Perhaps in earlier times it was simply easier to hide it than it is now. If you ask me, sir, that’s a step in the right direction.”
    “How right you are, Mrs. Jeffries.” He sighed. “Of course, it isn’t always easy to distinguish between a natural death and a deliberate murder. I imagine that before the formation of the police, people were popping one another off all the time. There’s a number of poisons that simulate heart failure or seizure.” He shook his head in dismay.
    “Is that how your victim in today’s murder died?” she asked innocently.
    “Not quite. Poor fellow was stabbed. It was obviously murder.”
    “How awful, sir.” She clucked her tongue. “You’ve had a lot of stabbings in the last couple of years.”
    “Only because it’s easier for people to get hold of knives than it is guns or poison,” he replied with a sad smile. “But nevertheless, I do believe I’ve already got a suspect for this one.”
    Mrs. Jeffries didn’t like the sound of that. It could only mean one thing, if after less than one day on the case, the inspector already thought he knew who did it, then there probably wasn’t much of a mystery to solve. Drat. “So soon? How very clever of you, sir.”
    “Well, I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself, but we do have someone we’re keeping our eye on. His story doesn’t really ring true, if you know what I mean.”

    “I’m afraid I don’t, sir,” she said. “You haven’t really told me anything about your case at all.”
    He took another swig of sherry. “I am getting ahead of myself. Do forgive me, I know how very interested you are in my work. The victim was a man named Harrison Nye. Quite a wealthy fellow, judging by the house he owns. But then again, appearances can be deceiving. For all I know the house may be mortgaged to the hilt and there might have been creditors hounding the fellow every day.” He continued talking for the next half hour, filling the housekeeper in on all the details he’d gleaned thus far.
    Mrs. Jeffries listened carefully, tucking everything she heard safely into her phenomenal memory.
    “So you can understand why I want to keep my eye on Oscar Daggett,” he finished. “There was something odd about the man’s behavior. Mind you, we’ve got to pop back in the morning. It’s imperative we have a word with Daggett’s staff.”
    “I take it you don’t believe he was home when he claimed to be,” Mrs. Jeffries asked. Her mind was working furiously. Coupled with the information she already had from the others, she knew this case was more complex than the inspector thought. There were already far too many questions that needed answers.
    “It’s not that so much as it is what one of the maids told us when we first