A Mrs. Jeffires Mystery 11 - Mrs. Jeffries Questions the Answer (6 page)

“Who else was in the ’ouse?” Wiggins asked.

“A number of servants were there,” Mrs. Jeffries replied, “but most of them were asleep, of course. Then there’s the governess, Kathryn Ellingsley; the two guests, Fiona Hadleigh and a Mr. John Ripton; and, of course, Brian Cameron.”

“What kind of knife was it?” Hatchet asked.

“Just a simple butcher knife,” Mrs. Jeffries frowned. “According to Constable Sayers, there’s no way to trace it. There’s a lot we don’t know, but there’s plenty enough for us to get started.”

Betsy got to her feet. “I’ll get over to Mayfair straight away and start asking questions. By this time, the news of the murder will be all over the place.”

“Excellent, Betsy.” Mrs. Jeffries smiled in approval.
“Concentrate on the shopkeepers and find out what you can about the victim and her family.”

“Do you want me to try and make contact with a servant?” Betsy asked.

“Only if you can do so without running into Inspector Nivens,” Mrs. Jeffries warned. “Remember, we’ve all got to keep a sharp eye out. He’s actually helping the inspector with this case. They’ve both been assigned to it and I don’t want him catching so much as a glimpse of any of us.”

“’Old up, Betsy,” Smythe called to the maid as he too got up. “We might as well go together. If it’s all right with Mrs. J., I’ll head over that way and begin talking to the cabbies and seein’ what I can pick up at the pubs.”

“That’s a good idea,” the housekeeper said. She watched in approval as the two of them put on their hats and coats and started for the back door. Both of them knew precisely what to do, precisely how to begin this investigation.

“I reckon you want me to start buzzin’ my sources about information on Brian Cameron,” Luty said.

“If you would, please. That would be most helpful,” Mrs. Jeffries replied. Luty was rich. She knew a lot of bankers and financial people. Using charm, grace, tact, diplomacy, intimidation and stubborness, she could find out how much a person was worth down to his last penny.

“I’ll get the word out too,” Mrs. Goodge said. She openly glared toward the hall. “With any luck, Aunt Elberta will sleep a few hours and leave me in peace. I’ve got a fair number of people stopping
by today. Once I tell ’em about the murder, I might be able to learn all sorts of things.”

“What do you want me to do?” Wiggins asked. “With Inspector Nivens hanging about and gummin’ up the works, it’ll not be easy for me to meet up with a servant from the Cameron ’ousehold.”

Mrs. Jeffries had already considered that problem. “I know. I think that this time instead of trying to talk with one of them at the Cameron house in Mayfair, perhaps you ought to see if anyone leaves the household.”

“You want me to follow ’em?” Wiggins’s eyes widened. “You mean you want me to ’ang about waiting for someone to come out? But that could take all day. Besides, what if a copper spots me ’angin’ about the place? They’ll be combing the neighborhood asking questions.”

“I know, Wiggins,” Mrs. Jeffries said sympathetically. “Your task isn’t going to be easy. Just do the best you can.”

Wiggins looked doubtful. “Don’t be surprised if I’m back ’ere pretty fast. We can’t risk my gettin’ caught.”

“Use your noggin, boy.” Luty reached over and patted his hand. “A clever lad like you ought to be able to give a few policemen the slip.”

Hatchet put his elbow on the table and leaned forward. “I’ve heard the name Ripton before. I can’t remember where. You say the man staying as a houseguest was named John. John Ripton?”

“That’s right, though I don’t know as yet what connection he has to the Camerons.”

“Probably a pretty close one if he was spendin’ the night there,” Luty put in.

“Perhaps I’ll start my inquiries with this gentleman,” Hatchet said.

“Good. That’ll keep you out of my hair,” Luty rose to her feet. “I’m goin’ to git started then. What time should we meet back here?”

“Four o’clock,” Mrs. Jeffries replied. “That should give everyone time to learn something.”

Inspector Witherspoon wished that Inspector Nivens would stop pacing. Just watching the man was making him tired. He stifled a yawn and promised himself that unless another corpse landed at his feet, tonight he was going to get a decent night’s sleep. He wasn’t used to trying to think on so little rest.

“Really, Witherspoon,” Nivens said testily, “must you keep yawning?”

Constable Barnes, who was standing in the corner of the Cameron drawing room, shot Nivens a quick glare. “The inspector didn’t get much sleep last night, sir,” he said flatly. “Unlike you, sir, he was here at the crime scene until well after three o’clock.”

“Don’t be impertinent,” Nivens snapped. His mouth clamped shut as the door opened and a young woman stepped inside.

Witherspoon smiled at her kindly. She was quite a lovely woman. Dark auburn hair neatly tucked up in a modest fashion, pale white skin and strikingly beautiful brown eyes. She was dressed in a black skirt and a high-necked gray blouse.

“I’m Kathryn Ellingsley,” she said. “I understand you want to ask me a few questions.”

Inspector Witherspoon introduced himself and
the others. “Please sit down, Miss Ellingsley.”

Her skirt rustled faintly as she walked to the settee and sat down. “I don’t know what I can tell you about this dreadful thing,” she began. “I was asleep. I generally go to bed right after the children.”

“We understand that,” Witherspoon replied. “But it’s always helpful in a case like this to question everyone in the household.”

“I’ve already been questioned,” she said, but she sounded more confused than angry. “I don’t understand.”

“You don’t really need to understand,” Inspector Nivens said. “Just answer our questions. What exactly do you do here?” He stalked over and stood directly over the young woman. His posture, like his tone, was meant to be intimidating.

Kathryn shrank back against the cushions. “I’m the governess.”

“How long have you worked for the Camerons?” Nivens demanded.

“Almost six months,” Kathryn answered.

“What are your duties?” Nivens stared at her stonily, deliberately giving her the impression he didn’t believe a word she said.

But she’d regained her composure. She straightened her spine and looked him directly in the eye. “I’ve already told you I’m the governess. I should think my duties would be obvious even to someone like…”

Infuriated by her tone, Nivens interrupted. “Don’t be impertinent with me, girl.”

“And I’m Brian Cameron’s cousin,” she finished.

Nivens was taken aback. It was one thing to browbeat the servant of a wealthy household; it was quite another to do it to a blood relation. Even a poor one. He stepped back, his expression softening. “I see,” he said, giving her a quick smile. “Well, then, if you were asleep, we shan’t bother you with any more questions. You may go, Miss Ellingsley.”

Witherspoon, who didn’t believe in browbeating anyone, gaped at Nivens. “Excuse me,” he said. “But I do have a few questions for Miss Ellingsley.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Witherspoon.” Nivens waved at him dismissively. “Miss Ellingsley said she was asleep. What could she possibly tell us?”

“We’ll never know if we don’t ask,” the inspector said. He turned and smiled at her. “I’m sorry to intrude on you at what must be a very difficult time, Miss Ellingsley, but if you wouldn’t mind…”

Kathryn Ellingsley smiled and deliberately turned toward the Inspector. “Ask what you like, Inspector. I want you to catch the person who did this terrible thing.”

“Do you know if Mrs. Cameron had any enemies? Anyone who wished her ill?”

Kathryn shook her head. “Hannah hadn’t any enemies that I know about. There were people who didn’t like her very much, but that’s to be expected, isn’t it? No one is well liked by everyone.”

“Who didn’t care for her?” Witherspoon pressed.

“Oh, you know, some of the neighbors weren’t
all that friendly to her, and she wasn’t particularly popular with the servants.”

“Was she a hard mistress, then?” Nivens put in. “Given to sacking people, was she?”

Kathryn turned and gave him a long, steady stare before answering. “Certainly not. But she was strict with the staff. It was her way.”

“Could you be a bit more specific?” Witherspoon urged her.

Kathryn Ellingsley hesitated briefly and then looked quickly toward the door. “I shouldn’t have said anything, Inspector. Mrs. Cameron was liked and respected by the entire household.”

Witherspoon smiled faintly, appreciating the fact that the girl didn’t wish to cause her cousin distress by being candid about his late wife. “Miss Ellingsley, you’ve just admitted she wasn’t universally popular. Please, do tell us what you meant. I assure you that nothing you say in this room will get back to Mr. Cameron.”

“I don’t want to cause him any more grief,” Kathryn said quickly. “He’s enough to bear now and I don’t think I ought to speak ill of the dead. It doesn’t feel right.”

“Of course it doesn’t,” the inspector agreed. “But murder victims can’t be considered in that light. If we’re going to catch the person responsible for taking Mrs. Cameron’s life, we need to know as much about the victim as possible.”

Kathryn looked down at her clasped hands. “I didn’t mean to imply that Mrs. Cameron was unduly harsh or unfair. She wasn’t. She was just strict. But no stricter than many other households.”

Witherspoon leaned forward eagerly. “In what way was she strict?”

“She made the maids account for their day out, made them tell her where they were going and who they were going with,” Kathryn said. “If Mrs. Cameron didn’t approve, she wouldn’t let them go out. She was very strict about morning prayers. None of us were allowed to be absent. But she was always there herself, so she never asked more from the staff than she asked of herself.”

Witherspoon nodded slowly. “I see,” he said. He wasn’t sure what he saw, except he had the feeling that this young woman wasn’t being all that truthful with him. He sensed she was holding something back.

“When was the last time you saw Mrs. Cameron alive?” Nivens suddenly asked.

“I guess it must have been about six o’clock. Yes, that’s right. She came up to the nursery to say goodnight to the children after they had their tea.”

“How was her manner?” Witherspoon asked.

Kathryn stared at him blankly. “Her manner?”

“Was she upset or did she seem worried about anything?”

“No, she was quite ordinary,” Kathryn replied. “She inspected the nursery, checked behind the children’s ears and then sent them off to bed.”

“What did she do then?” Barnes asked.

Nivens frowned at the constable, but for once had the sense to keep his mouth shut.

“She said goodnight and went out.” The governess shrugged. “She was already dressed in her evening clothes. I didn’t see her after that. I assumed she and Mr. Cameron had left for their engagement.
I don’t know what else I can tell you. As soon as the children were in bed, I had my supper and then went to my room.”

“Thank you, Miss Ellingsley,” Witherspoon said. “You’ve been most helpful.”

She stood up. “I hope you find whoever did this to Hannah. She wasn’t the most lovable person in the world, but she didn’t deserve to die like that.”

“We’ll do our very best, Miss Ellingsley,” the inspector promised her. “Would you be so kind as to ask Mr. Ripton to step in, please? We’d like a word with him.”

“Of course, Inspector.” She gave him a dazzling smile and exited gracefully from the room.

“We ought to keep an eye on that one,” Nivens said softly, as soon as the door had closed behind Kathryn Ellingsley. “Too pretty for her own good, if you know what I mean.”

Witherspoon didn’t. “I’m afraid I don’t.”

Nivens stared at him in disbelief. “Good Lord, man, you’ve got eyes in your head.” He jerked his chin in the direction the woman had gone. “Would you pay much attention to your wife if you had a bit of fluff like that about to play with?”

Witherspoon’s jaw dropped. He was shocked to his core. He’d never in his entire life considered women “fluff” and he certainly didn’t assume that a pretty woman in a man’s household would turn a decent man away from his marriage vows. Nor did he have any reason to believe that Miss Ellingsley was anything less than an honorable woman. He knew there were some at the Yard who considered
him a bit naive, but really, Nivens was being decidedly crass. It was only in the interests of interdepartmental cooperation that the inspector didn’t speak sharply to the man.

CHAPTER 3