Mrs. Jeffries Stands Corrected (19 page)

“And how did you find out that bit of gossip?” Hatchet asked irritably. As it was precisely the gossip he’d heard, he was most annoyed with his employer for stealing his thunder.

Luty smiled smugly. “From Rawdon; you know, he was talkin’ real good before that brawl broke out.”

“Brawl?” Mrs. Goodge exclaimed. “What brawl?”

Before Luty could explain, Hatchet said, “I had to rescue Madam from a rather unfortunate incident at a pub this afternoon.”

“Rescue me!” Luty snorted indignantly. “I’ll have you know I was doin’ just fine. I can still hold my own, you know. Just ’cause I’m old don’t mean I can’t skedaddle outta the way when a few fists start flying.”

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Jeffries murmured. One of her greatest fears of having Luty and Hatchet involved in the inspector’s cases was that the elderly woman would get hurt. “You could have been hurt, Luty.”

“Fiddlesticks! This ain’t the first time I’ve seen a fight—”

“Speakin’ of fights,” Wiggins interrupted excitedly. “I talked to a couple of people that were in front of the Gilded
Lily the night of the murder; they was actually watching the fight.”

“Did any of these people remember who they saw standing outside the pub?” Mrs. Jeffries asked. There was really no point in badgering Luty; she was far too stubborn to listen to any of them. “I mean, could they alibi any of our suspects?”

“What do you mean?” Mrs. Goodge asked.

“She means,” Smythe said smoothly, “that if any of the suspects was actually seen watching the fight, then they couldn’t ’ave been skulkin’ down to the taproom and stickin’ a knife in Dapeers.”

“Precisely.”

“Well”—Wiggins bit his lip—“the men from Bestal’s was seen outside. I know that ’cause the bloke I was talkin’ to told me he wondered what they was doin’ at the Gilded Lily.”

“Selling beer,” Mrs. Goodge said. “That’s why they was there, to sell beer.”

“But that’s not true,” Wiggins insisted. “Harry told me ’e knew for a fact that the Gilded Lily was gettin’ their supply from Midlands Ale. That’s why he noticed the men from Bestal’s; he’d seen them in the Black Horse and he wondered why they’d gone to the Lily.”

“Maybe the gentlemen from Bestal’s was tryin’ to change Dapeers’s mind about using Midlands,” Betsy suggested.

As Mrs. Jeffries didn’t think who Dapeers bought his beer from had anything to do with the murder, she decided to move things along. “The important thing is that we’ve now eliminated the gentlemen from the brewery. Does anyone else have anything to add?”

“Only that McNally was really desperate,” Smythe said quietly. He winced inwardly as he remembered Velma
Prewitt. “Accordin’ to what I found out, McNally’s father was goin’ to boot ’im out of the ’ouse if ’e found out about the gamblin’. Seems he’d paid his son’s debts one time too often in the past. Velma told me—”

“Velma?” Betsy asked archly. “How come you never seem to talk to cabbies and porters anymore when we’re on a case? Now it’s always women you’re chattin’ up.”

Smythe, delighted to get a bit of his own back, gave the maid a wicked grin. “Can I ’elp it if the ladies love talkin’ to me.”

“Hmmph,” Betsy snorted delicately. “And I’ll bet you love talkin’ to them too.”

Drat, thought Mrs. Jeffries, now Betsy had a touch of the green-eyed monster too. Really, she wished these two would make up their minds about each other. Normally their bantering didn’t bother her, but on this case, she was finding it definitely annoying. “I think I’d better go next,” she said firmly. “Unless, of course, you have any more to add, Smythe.”

He shook his head.

Hatchet said, “I found out that Haydon Dapeers was in financial straits. According to my sources”—he gave Luty a superior smile—“Dapeers had overextended himself opening the Gilded Lily. His suppliers were threatening him. Furthermore, I heard that the gambling debt that James McNally owed wasn’t a paltry amount. It was two thousand pounds. Two thousand pounds Dapeers desperately needed if he was going to make his new pub successful.”

“And we know that McNally was there that night,” Mrs. Jeffries said. “If only we knew if the back door was locked or not.”

“McNally could ’ave used the side entrance, the one off Bonham Road to get in,” Smythe suggested.

“And he could have used the back door, or the front
door, or climbed in an open window,” Mrs. Jeffries said in disgust. “The point is, we’re guessing. We’re starting to jump to conclusions and we really must stop. What we need are facts.”

But facts were difficult to find in this case, she thought irritably. They had far too many suspects, far too many motives and far too little information from the inspector. “We’ll just have to keep at it,” she said firmly. “And we’d better do it as quickly as possible. I have a terrible feeling that if we don’t come up with some decent evidence soon, the inspector is going to make the worst mistake of his life.”

Witherspoon grimaced as he took a quick taste of the pale ale. Gracious, the Black Horse looked like a nice pub, but the beer was dreadful. It had no taste at all.

“Stuff tastes awful,” Barnes hissed in his ear. “It’s a wonder they have any trade.” He glanced around the crowded public bar.

“Well, until the Gilded Lily opened up, there wasn’t much competition around here. The nearest pub is a quarter of a mile up the road.”

“No wonder Tom and Joanne Dapeers was so upset about Haydon Dapeers opening a pub just up the street from ’em,” Barnes mumbled. “I’d be worried too.”

“You wanted to speak to me, Inspector?” Joanne Dapeers said as she came into the bar.

“Good day, Mrs. Dapeers.” Inspector Witherspoon smiled politely. “I realize you’re busy, but I’ve a few more questions to ask.”

Joanne shrugged prettily. “All right, though I don’t know what else there is to say. I told you everything I know.”

“Could you tell me precisely where you were standing
when the fight out on the street broke out.”

“Where I was standing? Hmm…let’s see now,” she replied thoughtfully. “I was standing by the window, Inspector. Yes, that’s it. Most everyone else ran outside when it started, but I had a full glass of ale and I didn’t want to spill it, so I went over and stood by the table and watched out the window.”

“And do you remember if anyone else stayed inside?” Witherspoon asked.

Her brows drew together as she concentrated. Finally, she said, “I’m sorry, Inspector, I was watching the brawl, I wasn’t looking around me to see who was where or what was going on inside the pub. But I do recall one thing.”

“And what’s that?”

“Well, when everyone came back inside and I went to find Haydon, I remember being relieved to see that Michael Taggert hadn’t come back inside with Sarah. She was standing at the bar on her own. I was afraid Michael and Haydon would have another ruckus.”

Witherspoon stared at her. “Are you absolutely certain about this?”

“Oh, absolutely,” she replied, picking up a clean hand towel from underneath the counter and flinging it open. “Like I said, they’d already had trouble that evening, so I was right relieved to see that he’d taken himself off. Come to think of it, I don’t recall seeing Taggert in the bar before the fight started, either.”

“But I thought you weren’t paying attention,” Barnes said.

She shrugged. “I wasn’t. But now that you mention it, I do recall having a quick look around to see if he was chattin’ up Sarah, and he’d disappeared. This was right after Haydon went to the taproom.”

“Mrs. Dapeers, what made you go looking for your brother-in-law?”

“You mean when I found Haydon’s body?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’ve already told the police all this. It’s not something I want to think about again.”

“I’m sure it was an awful experience for you, Mrs. Dapeers,” Witherspoon said sympathetically. “But please, do go over it once again.” He really didn’t like asking a lady to recount what must have been a dreadful experience, but after thinking about it, he’d decided that he must. Mrs. Dapeers may have seen or heard something important that night without even realizing it.

“Well, there’s not much to tell, really,” she replied. “People were drifting back in because the constable had broken up the fight outside. I realized it was getting late and that we’d better get back, so I went down the hall to say good night to Haydon. I’d noticed he’d not come out of the taproom. When I got there, he was lying on the floor with a knife in his back. I screamed and people came running in.”

“Did you see anyone?”

Joanne shook her head. “No one. Just Haydon lying there.”

Tom Dapeers came out of the back and went behind the bar. He put his arm protectively around his wife. “It’s not very nice for her to have to talk about it again,” he complained.

“I’m sorry, but it was necessary. Thank you for your help, Mrs. Dapeers.”

“If you’ve finished, Inspector, the wife and I have work to do.”

“I am finished. I’m sorry to have interrupted your busy day.”

Tom nodded and he and Joanne disappeared back into the hall.

“Odd her rememberin’ Taggert’s movements,” Barnes muttered. “And no one else’s.”

“Yes, but she did have a specific reason for keeping an eye on Taggert,” Witherspoon said slowly. “He and Haydon Dapeers had already had one heated exchange. She seems a strong-minded sort of woman, but perhaps even she didn’t want to watch another brawl. Especially after that one out in the street.”

The inspector absently picked up his tankard and took a sip, grimacing as he swallowed. His head whirled with bits and pieces of information, none of which made sense or pointed him in the direction of the killer. Perhaps he really ought to talk about this case to his housekeeper; perhaps listening to his inner voice wasn’t such a good idea after all.…

“Give us a tankard, Tom,” a man shouted from the other end of the bar. “And while you’re at it, see if you can come up with some decent entertainment. We ain’t ’ad anything ’appen round ’ere since that fight the other night.”

Witherspoon’s eyes widened as he turned his head and stared at the burly figure at the far end of the bar. Gracious, he thought, why hadn’t he thought of it before? Putting down his drink, he turned and hurriedly went over to the heavyset man in the flat cap and porter’s coat. Barnes, taken by surprise, caught up with him a moment later.

“Excuse me, sir,” the inspector said politely, “but did you actually see the fight in front of the Gilded Lily?”

The man grinned. “It were a good one too. ’Ad me a front-row seat. Best bit of brawlin’ I’ve seen in a long time.”

“And where were you standing while you were watching the brawl?” Witherspoon asked.

“I were standin’ across the road from the pub.” Then his face creased in a suspicious frown. “What’s it to you? Who the bloomin’ ’ell are ya, anyway? And why you askin’?”

“I’m Inspector Witherspoon from Scotland Yard and I think, sir, you may be able to help us with our inquiries.”

Fifteen minutes later the inspector had finished questioning Tim Magee. He had more information, but for the life of him, he couldn’t quite decide what it all meant.

But he now had a few hard facts. The inspector took comfort in that. Even if nothing quite made sense yet, he was beginning to get the glimmer of an idea about this murder. He nodded to himself. Yes, it might be a very simple case after all. Very simple, indeed.

Constable Barnes tapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Here comes Constable Griffith, sir,” he said, pointing to the uniformed officer pushing his way through the crowd.

“Good day, sir, Constable Barnes.” Griffith nodded respectfully. His cheeks were flushed and he was out of breath, as though he’d been running. “I’ve been sent round to collect you, sir,” he said to the inspector. He glanced quickly around the pub and saw people openly staring at them. “You’d best come with me, sir.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “There’s been another stabbing. Only this time it’s a woman.”

Smythe reluctantly pulled another bill out of his pocket and slid it across the table. “You’re a bloomin’ robber, that’s what you are, Blimpey. But you done good, so I expect I oughtn’t to complain.”

He was disgusted with himself for having to buy information again, but in this case, there really wasn’t anything else he could do. They were running out of time. According to Mrs. Jeffries, the inspector could be getting ready to make an arrest. And considerin’ the man didn’t have a clue about this case, it would lead to disaster.