A Mrs. Jeffires Mystery 11 - Mrs. Jeffries Questions the Answer (30 page)

He wasn’t in the least worried that Cameron would try to make a run for it. Not with Fred standing guard. The man had flattened himself against the building, his face a mask of terror as the dog snarled viciously at him.

“It’s all right, Fred,” he told the dog. “You’ve done a good job, but we’ll take over now.” Fred didn’t budge.

“Here, boy,” Wiggins called softly, and the animal, with one last snarl at the cowering man, trotted over and began licking the footman’s cheek.

“Brian Cameron,” the inspector said firmly, “you’re under arrest for the murder of Hannah Cameron and the attempted murder of Kathryn Ellingsley and Cuthbert Wiggins.”

It was very late by the time they were all gathered around the kitchen table. The inspector was still at the station, but Wiggins, wrapped in one of Mrs. Goodge’s knitted afghans and with a cup of cocoa in front of him, was quite happily enjoying being the center of attention.

Smythe, who’d very much liked the way Betsy had fussed when he’d arrived home in wet clothes and wrapped in a blanket, was quite content to sit back and enjoy a glass of fine Irish whiskey while the footman retold the tale several times over.

“All right.” Luty put down her glass and stared at Mrs. Jeffries. “Tell us how ya figured it out.”

“Actually”—she smiled briefly—“there was one fact that kept bothering me. It was something Betsy said yesterday. Namely, that everyone in that household except Hannah Cameron knew that Kathryn Ellingsley went out at night.”

“I don’t follow ya,” Smythe said. “What does that ’ave to do with anythin’?”

“But that was the key to the puzzle,” she replied. “Don’t you see, Brian Cameron didn’t know his wife knew about Kathryn. He’d no idea she was
in the room. He wanted to murder Kathryn Ellingsley all along. I figured it out yesterday, but then when I found out who Kathryn’s heir was, I wasn’t sure I was right. You see, I’d gotten the inheritance sequence wrong.”

“What does that mean?” Wiggins asked.

“It means that we were confused from the start,” she replied. “We kept focusing on Hannah Cameron…”

“She was the one that was murdered,” Hatchet interrupted, somewhat testily. He and Luty were both annoyed that they’d missed the action down on the wharf.

“Yes, I know,” Mrs. Jeffries said. “But that was a mistake. You see, Cameron knew about Kathryn. He went into that room that night, expecting to find Kathryn slipping in. Instead, his wife was standing by the door waiting to catch the girl in the act, so to speak. In the darkness, he stabbed her. But she was the wrong one.”

“I still don’t understand why ’e’d want to kill a nice girl like Miss Ellingsley,” Wiggins said.

“He wanted her dead so that he could inherit their uncle’s fortune,” Mrs. Jeffries said. “That’s why he kept sending all those telegrams to Yorkshire. He was running out of time. But I got confused. I thought his plan was to murder Kathryn and then wait until their uncle died and then inherit her share of the estate. Last night, when you found out who her heir was, that it was Connor Reese, I still didn’t understand until it was almost too late.”

“I’m confused,” Mrs. Goodge complained. “I can’t make heads nor tails of it.”

“It’s very simple, really,” Mrs. Jeffries said.
“Neville Parrington had a burglary six months ago.” She pulled the telegram out of her pocket and read it to the them.

Ellen and Edward Cameron inherit after K.E.

Parrington’s will stolen in London burglary six months ago.

Hope this helpful and keep up the good work.

Cheers, Edwin Trent

She shook her head disgustedly. “But even with this, it still didn’t make sense because I was still focusing on the wrong thing. You see, I didn’t realize until Wiggins came along and told us today that Neville Parrington was on his deathbed. It was then that the shoe dropped.”

“I’m glad you know what you’re talkin’ about.” Mrs. Goodge sniffed. “I don’t. What does Parrington’s burglary have to do with our murder?”

“I’m not explaining it very well.” She sighed. “And I’ve no proof, but I’m sure that Brian Cameron was the one that stole his uncle’s will. The circumstances were very much the same.”

“That’s true,” Hatchet said. “According to my source, that burglary wasn’t done by a professional. Neither was the one at the Cameron house.”

“No, both of them were done by Cameron. He stole his uncle’s will to find out one thing—who was Parrington’s heir? I expect he was a bit annoyed to find out it was Kathryn Ellingsley and not himself.”

“But why’d Cameron wait six months to kill her?” Betsy asked.

“He didn’t want to arouse suspicion,” Mrs. Jeffries stated. “We know he fired his governess to give her a position in his house and I expect he was absolutely delighted when she fell in love with Dr. Reese. If you’ll recall, Kathryn and Dr. Reese met at the Cameron house.”

“But Dr. Reese had gone there to ’ave a go at Mrs. Cameron,” Wiggins interjected. “It’s not like ’e were a guest.”

“True.” Mrs. Jeffries grinned. “But I’ll wager that Cameron noticed they were attracted to each other and I’ll bet if you asked Dr. Reese, you’d find out that it was Brian Cameron who gave him Kathryn’s Yorkshire address so that Reese could correspond with her.”

“You mean he connived to get the girl to come?”

“That’s it precisely. He wanted Kathryn in London. I expect that he was planning on her having an unfortunate ‘accident.’ Let’s remember what we know about Brian Cameron. He needs money. But it wouldn’t do him any good to kill his wife. He’ll not get anything from her estate, but he would get quite a bit of money if Kathryn Ellingsley were dead. And she had to die before Neville Parrington did. Don’t you see, she’d left her estate to her fiancé, Dr. Reese. If Parrington died before Kathryn did, she’d inherit. There was no point in killing her then. All the money would go to Reese. If she died before Parrington, the estate would go to Cameron’s children. Essentially, he’d have control of a
huge amount of money to do with it what he pleased.” She sat back and smiled.

They looked at her blankly.

“Oh, I know it’s a bit muddled. But I’m certain of it.”

“But why were you so confused when you found out Reese and not Cameron was her heir?” Betsy asked. “You looked ready to spit nails last night when Hatchet and Smythe come in.”

“Because, like most people, I’d assumed that Kathryn left her money to her family. If not to Cameron then to his children. That’s all the family she had. It was only when I thought about it and found out from Wiggins today that Cameron was taking Kathryn to Yorkshire that I realized what he was up to. He had to kill her before Neville Parrington died. Otherwise, Cameron would get nothing. I’d suspected he was the killer, but I was a bit confused as to the details. But not to worry. We sorted it out in the end.”

Luty shook her head. “I’m still confused.”

“Me too,” Smythe muttered, but he didn’t mind all that much. Good Irish whiskey could take the edge off anything. That and the fact that Betsy had kissed him when the others weren’t looking.

“I still think it shoulda been that Hadleigh woman,” Mrs. Goodge muttered.

“She was a strong suspect,” Mrs. Jeffries said, “but she really had a very flimsy motive. She hated Hannah Cameron, but from what we learned, she’d hated her for a long time. Besides, I didn’t think it was her because she was still fully dressed when the inspector arrived.”

Wiggins cocked his head to one side. “Huh?”

“Remember, the victim was stabbed. That means the murderer probably got blood on his clothes. Even the cleanest of stabbings involves some blood spurts. There wasn’t any blood on her clothes when the inspector got there. Brian Cameron was wearing a heavy dressing gown over his clothing. I expect there was a drop or two of blood on that shirt of his. But he didn’t dare take it off in case the police searched the house, so he did the cleverest thing possible. He kept the shirt on and put on a dressing gown.”

“’E was takin’ a bit of a risk,” Smythe commented.

“Not really,” Mrs. Jeffries said. “He’d done his best to make it look like a burglary. If Chief Inspector Barrows hadn’t come onto the scene so quickly and spotted that it was murder, Cameron would have gotten away with it. Can you really see Inspector Nivens asking a gentleman to remove his dressing gown?”

“Gracious, are you all still up?” Inspector Witherspoon, smiling broadly, stepped into the kitchen. “Oh, I’m so glad to see that Wiggins and Smythe are all right. I can’t tell you how worried I’ve been.”

“We didn’t hear you come in, sir.” Mrs. Jeffries wasn’t sure what to do.

“Oh, that’s all right. I expected to be at the station all night.” Witherspoon ambled over to the table and pulled out a chair. “But Chief Inspector Barrows insisted I come home. I think he could tell I was a bit concerned about Wiggins and Smythe. By the way, he sends his heartiest regards to you two.” He nodded at them. “If not for your bravery,
that young woman would be dead now. You should be very proud of yourselves. Very proud indeed.”

Wiggins grinned foolishly.

Smythe blushed. “It weren’t nothin’,” he muttered.

“It was so.” Betsy chided the coachman. “Just ask Miss Ellingsley.”

“Is that whiskey?” Witherspoon peered over his spectacles at the open bottle sitting smack in the middle of the table.

“Uh, yes, sir, it is,” Mrs. Jeffries admitted.

“Hatchet and I are right lucky we come by to visit,” Luty said quickly. “Otherwise we’d a missed hearin’ all about yer excitin’ evenin’. When I heard this one”—she jerked her thumb at Smythe—“had been swimmin’ in the Thames and that this one”—she nodded at the footman—“had almost had the life squeezed outta him, I talked Hepzibah into breakin’ out a bottle of yer best whiskey. I didn’t think you’d mind. Celebratin’, ya know. They ain’t dead.”

“Excellent idea, Mrs. Crookshank.” The inspector shuddered at the memory. He’d come close to losing two people who were very dear to him. “May I have some too?”

“I’ll get another glass,” Betsy said, getting up.

“What happened at the station, sir?” Mrs. Jeffries asked.

“Brian Cameron’s refused to make any statement at all,” he replied. “Thank you, Betsy,” he said as she put the glass of whiskey in front of him.

“Oh, dear, sir,” Mrs. Jeffries commented. “That will make it difficult for you.”

“Not really. We’ve a lot of evidence against
him. Miss Ellingsley managed to make a statement. Cameron’s references to her possible inheritance from her uncle give him quite a strong motive. We’re sure he meant to murder Kathryn that night, instead of Mrs. Cameron. But even if we can’t convict him of his wife’s murder, and I think we can, we’ve got the evidence of his attempted murder of Miss Ellingsley and Wiggins, of course.” He tossed the whiskey down his throat and then coughed. “Oh dear, this isn’t at all like sherry. Quite strong, isn’t it?”

“Is Miss Ellingsley all right?” Wiggins asked anxiously. He still felt bad that he hadn’t been able to prevent Cameron from tossing her into the Thames.

“She’s fine, Wiggins,” Witherspoon assured him. “She managed to keep from drowning by grabbing a piling. But if Smythe hadn’t jumped in and pulled her out when he did, she probably would have died. We’ve a number of heroes in this house.” He paused and looked curiously around the room. “Where’s Fred? Surely he should be here too.”

“He’s in the larder eatin’ a beefsteak,” Mrs. Goodge said. “A great big thick one I got from the butcher this mornin’. I figured he deserved it.”

“He most certainly does,” Witherspoon agreed with a laugh. Then he sobered and looked at Smythe and Wiggins. “Now that I know you two aren’t suffering any ill effects from our adventure, I can rest easy.” He yawned widely.

“Inspector.” Mrs. Jeffries had to ask. “Was Inspector Nivens at the station?”

“He did come by,” the inspector replied. “He
didn’t seem at all pleased that we’d solved the case, either. As a matter of fact, he quite rudely told me he wasn’t coming to my dinner party.”

“What a pity, sir.” She fought hard to keep from smiling.

“Yes, isn’t it?” Witherspoon murmured. “Too bad, really. I was going to seat him next to cousin Edwina. But she’s not coming either.”

Knowing that she couldn’t keep a straight face, Mrs. Jeffries looked down at her half-empty glass.

“’Ow come she’s not comin’?” Wiggins asked.

“Oh, she’s decided to buy her clothes in Edinburgh so she won’t be coming to London to shop for her trousseau. But not to worry; we’ll have plenty of guests,” Witherspoon said cheerfully. “I’ve invited Chief Inspector Barrows and his wife. They’re quite looking forward to it.” He started to get up, frowned and popped back down in his seat. “But there is one thing I’m still very puzzled about.”

“What’s that, sir?” Mrs. Jeffries asked.

“I can’t help wondering who that man was who came with the note.”

“I’ve no idea, sir.” Mrs. Jeffries shrugged. “As I told you”—she glanced at Smythe—“he looked very much like a banker.”

Smythe, who’d just taken a sip of whiskey, had the good grace to choke.