Mrs. Jeffries and the Mistletoe Mix-Up (31 page)

“He needed something small enough to carry in his pocket,” she replied. “He’d been to the McCourt house many times, so he knew there were paraffin lamps downstairs he could use to start the fire, but he needed additional paraffin to spill on the carpet and in the hallway. So he put the lamp oil in the jar and doused the carpet and the rugs with it. He needed the smell to be so bad, the tea would have to be canceled.”

“But how could he know that he’d have a chance to start the fire?” Ruth asked. “It began downstairs in the servants’ hall. He could have been caught at any moment.”

“I don’t think he had a choice. He wanted that sword, and this was his only chance. He couldn’t steal it once McCourt made it public that he owned it.”

“But Lydia Kent would have said that she sold it to McCourt, not Brunel,” Mrs. Goodge said.

“But Lydia Kent was supposed to have been gone by then,” she reminded them. “Remember, Luty found out that a man matching Brunel’s description bribed the waiter at the hotel to find out when she was leaving. If McCourt had paid her properly, she’d have been in Paris by the time the murder was committed and was going straight back to the Far East from there.”

“That was Brunel’s big mistake,” Luty said. “He didn’t realize that she stayed in town to git her money.”

“That’s what I think must have happened,” Mrs. Jeffries said. “He got lucky when he did the killing. Everything happened as he’d planned; the servants were busy in the kitchen when he set the fire, and he used the excuse of looking at the vase in the foyer rather than waiting in the morning room with the others. That gave him the chance to get downstairs without being noticed. I think he went down, grabbed the lamp, and started the fire and then got back to the foyer in time for Mrs. McCourt to see him when she came out of the study. Remember, he was the only person that didn’t report hearing the McCourts quarreling.”

“That’s because he wasn’t there,” Hatchet said thoughtfully. “He was downstairs starting the fire. I still think he took a terrible risk. His plan could have fallen apart at any moment.”

“I know, but he was desperate. He couldn’t allow the Goryeo sword to become part of the McCourt collection, because he wanted to buy the collection from the widow, and with the sword added, the value would go up enormously,” she said. “He was greedy, but he also wanted to get the collection as cheaply as possible.”

“He committed the murder when the others went outside,” Ruth commented. “But if the odor was so awful, how could Brunel be sure that McCourt wouldn’t go outside as well?”

“They were cousins and he knew McCourt’s character better than anyone.” She smiled wryly. “He knew he’d never go outside with the door and windows open. Brunel left the house when everyone else did. He put his wife in a hansom and then rushed back, slipped into the study, and grabbed the Hwando. Then he committed murder, and while Daniel McCourt was dying, he took the case from the armoire, hung the mistletoe, and, when he was certain his victim was dead, slipped out the servants’ door. He shoved the case under the gap in the fence between the McCourt and Crandall houses and then went next door and buried it deep in the mulch. I’m certain he’d already broken the lock on the Crandalls’ gate. After that, he got a hansom and went to see his own solicitor. Later that night, when he judged it safe, he came back, retrieved the sword, and went home. What he didn’t realize was that he’d dropped pine and bark mulch on the attic floor landing.”

“Harriet got in trouble over that!” Phyllis exclaimed. “She’d not swept because no one had been up there in weeks and there was no need. Is that where he hid the sword?”

“Probably. We’ll find out when the inspector gets home, but it was when you told us that detail that I remembered I’d tracked the same mulch here that day I hid in the Crandalls’ passageway.”

“Why did he hang the mistletoe?” Betsy asked. “Why take the time to do that when someone could walk in at any moment?”

“I suspect he did it because he did know that story of how McCourt had proposed to his wife,” Mrs. Jeffries guessed, “and he wanted to point the finger at her. Or perhaps he just wanted to muddy the waters. Perhaps if he’s confessed, he’ll have told the inspector.”

 

The others had gone by the time Witherspoon got home that evening. “This case is finally concluded.” He smiled wearily as he handed his bowler to Mrs. Jeffries. “That’s why I’m so late. We’ve made an arrest, and after taking care of everything at the station, I had to go to the Yard and give Chief Inspector Barrows a full report.”

“Gracious, sir, who did you arrest?” She hung his hat up and helped him take off his coat.

“Leon Brunel. Let’s have a glass of sherry, Mrs. Jeffries. I’m not quite ready for dinner yet.”

She clucked sympathetically as she ushered him down the hall and into the drawing room. While he settled into his favorite chair, she poured both of them a glass of Harveys.

“Now, sir, do tell what happened. How on earth did you figure out that Leon Brunel was the killer?” She handed him his drink and sat down.

“Well, it was rather odd, but as you always tell me, my inner voice was apparently working most diligently.” He chuckled and took a quick sip. “Constable Barnes had heard that one of the McCourt servants claimed she’d heard someone walking about in the passageway late the night he was murdered. Once we confirmed this fact, it suddenly occurred to me that if we spoke with the servants in all of our suspects’ households, one of them might know who had been out and about in the middle of the night.”

“How very clever of you, sir!” she exclaimed.

He smiled modestly. “It was simple logic, Mrs. Jeffries, but it did lead to the arrest. The Brunel home is the closest one to the McCourt house, so we went there first and the most peculiar thing happened. When the housekeeper went to get Mr. Brunel’s permission for us to speak to the staff, both Brunels came down, and Mrs. Brunel offered to answer our questions. Mr. Brunel became enraged, and within moments, she was accusing him of murder and claiming he’d hidden something in the attic. He tried to attack her, so Constable Barnes and I held him back.”

“Are you alright, sir?”

“I’m fine, just a bit sore, and luckily, the housekeeper ran and fetched more constables. We searched the house and found the Goryeo sword in his attic.”

“The one that Miss Kent told you about yesterday?”

“Yes, and of course, once we had that, we knew he must have stolen it, because Miss Kent confirmed that she’d given it to McCourt.”

“Is that why he did it? To obtain that sword?”

“Oh yes. When we found it, he started ranting and raving that McCourt had no right to it, that it should rightly be his.” He broke off and sighed. “It was quite astounding, and frankly, I was happy when the constables led him away. I do believe the fellow is a bit demented. Can you imagine, murdering a relative because you want something for your collection?”

“Did he say why he’d hung up the mistletoe?” she asked.

“He did it to incriminate Mrs. McCourt. Apparently, Mr. McCourt had proposed to her under a sprig of mistletoe.” He stopped and stared morosely at his glass. “Honestly, Mrs. Jeffries, I don’t understand it at all,” he finally murmured.

“You said it yourself, sir,” she ventured. “Brunel appears to be slightly mad. Greed can do that to some people. Objects and things become more important than human beings.”

“No, no, that’s not what I mean.” He sighed heavily. “I don’t understand why so many of our cases end with a spouse or a sweetheart turning on a loved one.”

“You mean Mrs. Brunel?”

He shook his head in disbelief. “You should have seen her. It was bizarre. She stood there with this odd, cunning expression on her face and then threw him to the wolves with great abandon. She actually looked the man straight in the eye and said she’d watch him hang and would get all his money. Thank goodness the other constables had arrived by then, because he was so enraged, I doubt that Barnes and I could have kept him off her. She kept goading him, telling him that her marriage settlement guaranteed that if he died, she’d get it all, and there was sod all—those were her exact words—that he could do about it. I don’t condone murder under any circumstances, but she took such obvious pleasure in destroying him. She loathed him, and he was her husband. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen this. It’s happened before numerous times. It’s enough to put you off the very idea of a decent, loving relationship between a man and a woman.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond, as he’d gone from delight at catching the killer to depression about the nature of male/ female relationships. “Inspector, you must remember that your cases tend to involve the class of people that marry for money or position. It’s rare the upper class marries for love. Most ordinary people marry because they do love each other, and they spend their lives taking care of each other.”

He looked up, his expression hopeful. “Truly?”

“Of course, sir,” she said. “I was married a good many years, and I loved my husband dearly. We did occasionally have words, as all couples do, but we were very devoted to each other.” Mrs. Jeffries got up. “But most people don’t hate one another, especially at this time of the year. Lady Cannonberry dropped in this afternoon and said she’d like to invite you to breakfast with her tomorrow.”

He brightened immediately. “That’s a wonderful idea, and now that the case is solved, perhaps we can go shopping tomorrow as well. Yes, yes, I’m sure she’ll like that. She knows how I value her opinion. There are two more days before Christmas, and there’s no reason we shouldn’t celebrate the season properly.”

“Of course, sir,” she agreed. “Would you care for another sherry or would you like me to serve you dinner now?”

“I’ll have dinner now.” He glanced at the clock on the mantel. “I feel so much better, Mrs. Jeffries. This dreadful case is over, Christmas is upon us, and I’ve seen the most enchanting doll that I’m going to buy for my goddaughter tomorrow.”

 

 

THE INSPECTOR AND MRS. JEFFRIES
MRS. JEFFRIES DUSTS FOR CLUES
THE GHOST AND MRS. JEFFRIES
MRS. JEFFRIES TAKES STOCK
MRS. JEFFRIES ON THE BALL
MRS. JEFFRIES ON THE TRAIL
MRS. JEFFRIES PLAYS THE COOK
MRS. JEFFRIES AND THE MISSING ALIBI
MRS. JEFFRIES STANDS CORRECTED
MRS. JEFFRIES TAKES THE STAGE
MRS. JEFFRIES QUESTIONS THE ANSWER
MRS. JEFFRIES REVEALS HER ART
MRS. JEFFRIES TAKES THE CAKE
MRS. JEFFRIES ROCKS THE BOAT
MRS. JEFFRIES WEEDS THE PLOT
MRS. JEFFRIES PINCHES THE POST
MRS. JEFFRIES PLEADS HER CASE
MRS. JEFFRIES SWEEPS THE CHIMNEY
MRS. JEFFRIES STALKS THE HUNTER
MRS. JEFFRIES AND THE SILENT KNIGHT
MRS. JEFFRIES APPEALS THE VERDICT
MRS. JEFFRIES AND THE BEST LAID PLANS
MRS. JEFFRIES AND THE FEAST OF ST. STEPHEN
MRS. JEFFRIES HOLDS THE TRUMP
MRS. JEFFRIES IN THE NICK OF TIME
MRS. JEFFRIES AND THE YULETIDE WEDDINGS
MRS. JEFFRIES SPEAKS HER MIND
MRS. JEFFRIES FORGES AHEAD
MRS. JEFFRIES AND THE MISTLETOE MIX-UP

 

Anthology
MRS. JEFFRIES LEARNS THE TRADE