Mrs. Jeffries in the Nick of Time (32 page)

“I’ll bet she stole it,” Betsy suggested. “You know, to muddy the waters a bit or make the police think he was the guilty one.”

“But she didn’t know ’e’d be leavin’ the gun case in the hallway on the very day she was plannin’ on murderin’ her uncle,” Wiggins argued, waving his cup dangerously for emphasis. Some of the tea slopped over the side of the cup, spilling onto his sleeve.

“She hadn’t planned to do it,” Betsy speculated. “But I think she’s the sort of person who seizes opportunities and is willing to take a risk. Joseph Humphreys said he left the gun case in the hallway for the maid to take up to his room. I think Annabelle Prescott saw it there, opened the case, stole the gun, and slipped it into her pocket. For all we know, she might have even used it to commit the murder.”

“I agree she probably stole Joseph’s gun,” Mrs. Jeffries said. “But I don’t think she used it for the actual killing. She acted impulsively in stealing the weapon, but I’ll wager she had her own at the ready for the murder. Remember, we know she knew how to shoot. Leo Kirkland verified that fact.”

“His other relatives didn’t like the idea of him sellin’ off his good stock, either.” Wiggins pursed his lips. “But they didn’t commit murder.”

“Maybe they weren’t smart enough to come up with a plan that would keep them from hanging,” Betsy suggested. “You’ve got to admit, Annabelle Prescott thought most of it through pretty carefully. She almost got away with it.”

“Almost, but not quite,” Mrs. Jeffries said. “There were lots of places where her plans came undone. She hadn’t counted on Michael Collier arriving at the house tonight to see Imogene Ross.”

“I don’t think she realized they’d fallen in love,” Betsy interjected.

“She wasn’t as clever as she thought she was. Not only did we figure out what she’d done, but Imogene Ross came to the same conclusion, and I have a strong suspicion that Michael Collier might have even begun to think along those lines as well.”

“And both of them almost lost their lives because of it,” Hatchet reminded them. He looked at Mrs. Jeffries. “What was it that made you realize Annabelle Prescott was planning on murdering Miss Ross tonight?”

“The moment Betsy said that Agnes had told her the house was going to be empty, I knew something had happened and she planned on killing again,” Mrs. Jeffries said thoughtfully. “Mrs. Goodge’s comments set me to thinking as well. No matter how eccentric a household might be, it simply isn’t done to send all the servants off to the music hall three days after there’s been a death in the family. Then when Betsy made those comments about the housekeeper getting the laudanum out of Mr. Humphreys’ medicine chest, I knew she had something fiendish in mind.”

“Imogene Ross and Michael Collier owe you a great debt of gratitude,” Hatchet said to the housekeeper. “If not for you, they’d both be dead.”

“They owe
all of us
a debt of gratitude,” Mrs. Jeffries corrected him. “Without everyone’s contribution, especially Smythe’s, those two would be lying on mortuary tables as we speak.”

“Any of you would have done the same thing.” Smythe blushed, embarrassed by the praise.

“He’s a brave one, my man.” Betsy patted his arm gently. “But I’ll not have you doing such a thing again, you hear me.”

“I hear you, love.” He laughed in delight. He was glad to be alive and glad to have her sitting beside him.

“Good,” Betsy replied. “Next time, let someone else grapple with the crazy killer lady.”

Fred suddenly jumped up and ran for the back hall as the door opened.

“The inspector’s back.” Luty got up. “We’d best be on our way. We’ll be back tomorrow morning to hear the rest of the details,” she whispered as Witherspoon came into the kitchen.

“We’re just on our way out, Inspector.” Hatchet rose and grabbed Luty’s cape off the back of the chair. He draped it over her shoulders. “Madam has had enough excitement for one night.”

“Fiddlesticks.” She snorted delicately and then looked first at Wiggins and then at Smythe. “And as for you two, don’t you be scarin’ me like that again. But you’re both right brave and we’re real proud of you. Come on, Hatchet, let’s go before we wear out our welcome.”

As soon as they’d gone, Mrs. Goodge started to get up, but the inspector waved her back to her chair. “I’ve something to say,” he said. “I want you all to know how much I appreciate all that you’ve done for me.”

Alarmed, the cook looked at Mrs. Jeffries, who gave a barely imperceptible shake of her head, indicating that Mrs. Goodge wasn’t to panic. Not yet. They’d wait until they heard the rest of what he was going to say before they assumed he’d figured out just how much they helped on his cases.

“But I must say, even though Smythe and Wiggins acted properly tonight, I was so frightened for both of them when all the shooting started. Please, please, don’t ever put yourself in danger like that again.”

“That’s what I said, Inspector,” Betsy replied pertly. “And they’ve both promised me they won’t.”

 

Betsy stood at the window of the third-floor sitting room, staring out into the night. She was very proud of herself. She’d done an excellent job of keeping the others, especially Smythe, from seeing how horribly upset she’d been tonight.

Tears sprang into her eyes and she hastily brushed them away. She’d already had one good cry in the privacy of her room and she didn’t need another. But my Lord, when Smythe’d walked in with that bandage peeking through the opening of his shirt and she’d seen the bloodstains on his clothes, she’d almost died.

“Betsy, are you alright?” Smythe stood in the door, hesitating before coming fully into the room. He knew she’d been crying, he knew she was barely hanging on to her emotions, and he didn’t want to push her over the edge. Dignity was important to his Betsy.

She brushed her cheeks quickly and quietly tried to clear her throat before she spoke. “I’m fine. I just needed a few moments to myself. You know, let some of the excitement wear off before I go to bed. Otherwise, it’d take ages to fall asleep.”

He moved farther into the room, coming up to stand behind her. Her back was still to him, so he put his hands on her shoulders and stared out the window with her.

When he’d come into the kitchen tonight, he’d seen her expression as her gaze took in the bandage and his bloodied clothing. He’d seen the horror, the anguish, and the fear she tried so hard to hide. She’d done a fine job of pretending she was just fine, that the terror were gone, and that she was as right as rain. But he knew better. He knew she was putting on a brave front for his benefit. She thought she’d lost him and that had scared her to death. Now he desperately wanted to do something to take the fright right out of her and give her something wonderful. He decided to tell her about tracking her sister to Canada.

They had plenty of time to get her whole family here before the wedding. He’d spare no expense to make sure all of them, even the little ones if her sister had had children, were in the church and watching her walk down that aisle.

“Let’s just stand here a moment and enjoy the peace of the night,” he whispered. He’d tell her in a moment and she’d be so happy the fear in her eyes would vanish in a heartbeat.

“Alright.” She leaned back against him, delighting in the solid feel of him next to her back. She’d almost lost him. She couldn’t get that thought out of her mind. If that bullet had been another inch or so either way, he’d have been killed and she’d never have seen him again. Life was short and precious; she of all people should have remembered that.

“Betsy,” Smythe said softly. “I have a surprise for you.”

She turned and threw her arms around his waist, taking care not to jostle his shoulder. “I’ve got one for you as well. Let me go first.” She didn’t wait for him to reply but simply plunged straight ahead before she lost her nerve. “I want us to get married right away. I want to do it as soon as the banns are read. I don’t want a big wedding, I don’t want a lot of fuss, I just want you to be my husband. I almost lost you tonight, my love, and I don’t want to wait a second more than necessary. This time nothing—and I mean
nothing
—will stop us from getting married.”