A Mrs. Jeffires Mystery 11 - Mrs. Jeffries Questions the Answer (18 page)

“If ’e can’t support ’er,” Wiggins asked curiously, “why’s ’e trying so ’ard to talk ’er into marryin’ ’im now? And I know ’e is. I ’eard it with my own ears.”

Smythe shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe ’e’s got expectations of an inheritance or somethin’. But I do know that right now, Reese hasn’t got two farthings to rub together.”

“Perhaps that’s something we ought to find out,” Mrs. Jeffries murmured thoughtfully. “We’ve concentrated our efforts on finding out what we could about what Ripton stands to inherit. But as Wiggins pointed out, Dr. Reese was a relation as well.”

“I think I can find out,” Smythe volunteered. He already had Blimpey working on that very problem. “It may take a day or two, though. The family fortune seems to be muddled up with trusts
and all sorts of complicated bits and pieces.”

Mrs. Jeffries nodded. She was a bit disappointed that the others didn’t agree with her reasoning about Brian Cameron. But then again, she told herself briskly, other points of view are most important. Besides, she had a few other things to tell them, but that could wait for a few moments. “Were your sources able to give you any other information?”

“Not really,” Smythe admitted. “Just ’eard more about what we already knew, you know, that Ripton was ’ard up for cash and that Cameron was a bit of a ladies’ man.”

“You’ve done better than I have,” Betsy said morosely. “All I found out was that the Cameron household’s been sending a lot of telegrams to Yorkshire, but that’s just because of his uncle being so ill.”

“At least you found that out,” Mrs. Goodge said. “With Aunt Elberta hovering around the kitchen like the Angel of Death, I haven’t found out a ruddy thing.”

“There’s something I don’t understand,” Hatchet said with a frown. “If Hannah Cameron’s money was all gone, why did John Ripton ask her for a loan?”

Mrs. Jeffries brightened and silently patted herself on the back for having had the foresight to learn that particular fact. “Her own capital might have been gone,” she replied, “but she could borrow from the trust. As a matter of fact, from what I can tell, the trust was set up specifically to keep most of the family money out of her husband’s hands. She can borrow from it whenever she
pleases and, of course, it never has to be paid back.”

“But is’n that the same as ’avin’ the money?” Wiggins asked. “I mean, couldn’t Mr. Cameron just get ’er to give ’im some whenever ’e needed it?”

“Of course,” Mrs. Jeffries replied. “For the first few years of their marriage, that’s precisely what she did. But as the marriage deteriorated, so did Hannah’s willingness to dip into her money.”

Hatchet nodded in satisfacton. “Yes, it makes sense now.”

“What makes sense?” Luty asked irritably. “You’re gettin’ as tight-lipped as one of them mummys at the British Museum. Come on, tell us what ya mean.”

“I was going to tell what I’ve learned, madam,” Hatchet answered. “I was merely waiting my turn.”

“All right, all right,” Luty waved impatiently and looked around at the rest of them. “Everyone finished?” As they nodded in assent, she shot her butler a scathing glare. “There, happy now? It’s your turn.”

“Thank you, madam.” Hatchet reached for a napoleon and laid it daintily on his saucer. “As I told you at our last meeting, I’d decided to look more closely at John Ripton. In doing so, I not only found out that he was hard-pressed for money, but that he’d asked his half-sister for a loan. Well, my sources confirmed yesterday that Ripton had gotten the loan from Mrs. Cameron. As a matter of fact, he and Mrs. Cameron had an appointment at her bank for the day after the lady was murdered.
That’s the real reason he stayed the night at the Cameron house. Mrs. Cameron was going to loan him two thousand pounds from the family trust.”

“Cor blimey,” Wiggins exclaimed. “I guess Ripton was right narked when she were killed.”

“Bloomin’ Ada,” Smythe muttered. “That lets ’im out as the killer.”

“Not so danged fast,” Luty charged. She hated it when Hatchet got the goods before she did. “If Ripton’s gonna inherit the family trust, then seems to me he’d have the best motive for killin’ the woman. With her dead, he gits it all.”

“No, he doesn’t, Luty,” Mrs. Jeffries said. “The trust was set up by Mrs. Cameron’s family specifically for her. When she died, the ability to borrow from the trust died with her. All Ripton gets is the property and the means of upkeep for the house.”

“So that means Ripton was better off with her alive than dead?” Betsy murmured.

“Correct, Miss Betsy.” Hatchet grinned. “For all their dislike of one another, my sources confirmed that Mrs. Cameron frequently helped her half-brother financially.”

“But them properties must be worth something,” Luty charged.

“They are,” Hatchet said. “No doubt Ripton will make a handsome profit off them.”

“More than two thousand quid?” Wiggins asked.

“Probably,” Hatchet answered. “There’s rumors in the city that the area over by the Commercial Docks is scheduled for redevelopment…” His voice trailed off and he frowned thoughtfully. “Which means that Ripton could stand to gain a
lot more than what his half-sister was going to loan him.”

“Then that gives ’im a motive to kill Mrs. Cameron,” Wiggins exclaimed.

“Now, Mrs. Hadleigh, do you think you could be more specific as to the exact time you went upstairs on the night of the murder?” Barnes asked. He’d decided that if the inspector’s timetable was going to be of any use at all, they ought to get another quick statement out of the houseguests before they questioned the servants again. He hoped the inspector didn’t mind, but he hadn’t had a chance to ask for permission.

“No, Constable,” she said coldly. “I cannot. I wasn’t all that aware of the time when I went upstairs, merely that it was late. The best I can tell you is what I’ve already said. I
think
it was close to half past eleven.” She started for the door. “Now, if you don’t mind, I must get ready to leave. The funeral’s in less than an hour.”

“Yes, Inspector,” Brian Cameron added. “Your questions will have to wait. We simply don’t have time to spare.” With that, he joined Mrs. Hadleigh at the door, nodded brusquely and the two of them left.

“Sorry, sir,” Barnes said hastily. “Didn’t mean to overstep my authority…”

“It’s quite all right, Constable.” Witherspoon sighed. “I understand what you were doing and if I do say so myself, it was a jolly good idea. You were trying to pinpoint their movements before I spoke to the staff, weren’t you?”

Pleased, Barnes nodded eagerly. “I thought it
would be easier that way”—he glanced glumly at the closed door —“but it looks like they flummoxed us.”

“Not to worry, Barnes,” the inspector said kindly. “While they’re gone, we’ll have a nice chat with the staff. That’ll give me a chance to fill out our timetable. By the time they’re back from the funeral and the house is quiet, I’ll have all sorts of questions for the lot of them. By the way, I wonder where Inspector Nivens is today? Do you think he’s going to the funeral?”

“I shouldn’t think so, sir.” Barnes was in a quandry. Nivens wasn’t planning on paying his respects to the dead today. The constable knew that for a fact. He had his sources of gossip at the Yard, and what he’d heard this morning when he’d run into Constable Griffith had confirmed his worst suspicions about Nivens. That’s why he’d been so eager to ask his questions. But he didn’t want to say anything to the Inspector. He could be wrong. There might be a perfectly good reason why Inspector Nigel Nivens had gone over everyone’s head and gone off first thing today for a visit to the home office.

“Does everyone understand what they’re to do?” Mrs. Jeffries asked.

“I’m to keep on digging about all of them,” Mrs. Goodge said.

“And I’m to find out what I can about Fiona Hadleigh,” Betsy clarified. “But, Mrs. Jeffries, her house is in the country.”

“She spends a lot of time with the Camerons,” Luty pointed out. “We already know that. Seems
to me a resourceful gal like you ought to be able to get someone’s tongue waggin’ about the woman.”

Betsy looked doubtful. “Well, I’ll do my best…”

“You’ll do fine.” Smythe patted her on the shoulder and was rewarded with one of her beautiful smiles. If he had to, he could always set Blimpey on the problem of the Hadleigh woman. Of course, he’d have to figure a way to get the information to Betsy without her knowing what he’d done.

“You still want me to keep my eye on Connor Reese?” Wiggins asked. “Wouldn’t you rather I try findin’ out what I can about John Ripton?”

“I’m taking Ripton,” Hatchet answered. “I’ve already got my sources digging further into the man’s life. I fear changing at this late date will only delay our investigation.”

“Is there some reason you’re not interested in Reese?” Mrs. Jeffries asked. “I know it’s a bit of a bother, having to go over to the East End…”

“It’s not that I don’t like the East End,” Wiggins interrupted. Actually it was, only he didn’t want the others to think him a coward. The police had never caught this Ripper fellow that had done in all those poor women. The bloke might still be about and maybe by now, he’d decided to start slicing up young men as well.

“I don’t like the East End,” Betsy said cheerfully, “and no one else who’d ever spent much time there would like it either.” She’d grown up in that district and thanked her lucky stars daily that she’d managed to get out.

“It is a long ways for the lad,” Smythe said thoughtfully. “Why don’t I take Reese and let Wiggins have Brian Cameron? Cameron’s ’ouse is close by and I can always use the carriage to get over to that part of town if I ’ave to.”

“As long as the two of you think that’s a good idea,” Mrs. Jeffries said, “then I don’t see why any of us should object. Luty, are you all right with your task?”

Luty nodded. “If there’s anything to know about Kathryn Ellingsley, I’ll find it. She’s a suspect too, though it seems to me that exceptin’ fer havin’ to sneak out to meet Dr. Reese, she’d have no reason to want the woman dead.”

“Oh, I don’t think she could be the killer,” Wiggins objected.

“You never think a pretty woman’s capable of murder.” Hatchet sighed, as though he couldn’t remember what it was like to be taken in by a pretty face. “Despite much evidence to the contrary. The female of the species is frequently deadlier than the male.”

Luty chuckled. “Too bad so many of you men keep forgettin’ that.”

“Excellent.” Mrs. Jeffries smiled in satisfaction. “We all know what we’re going to be doing. I’ll keep prodding the inspector and in general picking up what I can, and all of you will be out there gathering clues.”

Mrs. Goodge shifted in her seat. “Don’t you think it’s time we got back? That butcher’s boy is due round and I’d like to have another go at him.” She was going to get some information out of Tommy Mullins if she had to shake it out of him.

“Goodness,” Mrs. Jeffries said, “you’re right. We really ought to get going. We’ve a lot to do today. But before we go our separate ways, I just want to say that for the first time since this case began, I’ve a very good feeling about it. I just know we’re going to be successful in bringing this killer to justice.”

“Mrs. Hadleigh, I do realize you’re tired,” the inspector said politely, “but we really must trouble you to answer our questions. It’ll only take a few moments.”