Mrs. Jeffries Weeds the Plot (11 page)

“You saw Mr. McIntosh?”

He shook his head. “Actually, no. I stuck my head in the back door and called out, but there was no answer. I tried several times but I never found the fellow. What’s all this about, Inspector?”

“I’m afraid the reason Mr. McIntosh never answered you was because he was dead.”

Eddington’s mouth gaped open. “Dead? Gracious, that’s terrible.”

“Sorry to say, he was murdered, sir. That’s why we’re here making inquiries.”

They met back at Upper Edmonton Gardens at four o’clock for their meeting. Betsy was the last to arrive. “I’m sorry to be so late,” she said, tossing her beloved one of her warm smiles as she rushed across the kitchen to put away her things. “But I was doing ever so well.”

“That’s excellent, Betsy,” Mrs. Jeffries said. She was sitting at the head of the table. “Hurry and sit down so we can get started. It looks as if we’ve all something to report.”

“I don’t,” Smythe admitted easily. “So far I’ve not turned up a ruddy thing.” He didn’t mind letting the others have their moment of glory. His turn would be coming. Blimpey hadn’t failed him yet and he had no doubt he’d give them an earful at tomorrow’s meeting.

“Well, who’s gonna go first?” Luty asked eagerly. Since she was bouncing up and down in her chair, it was obvious to everyone she was bursting to talk.

“Patience, madam,” Hatchet said. “We’ll all have our say in good time.”

“I think we ought to let Luty talk,” Wiggins said. “Looks to me like she’s got somethin’ real interestin’ to tell us.”

“That’s right nice of you, boy.” Luty patted his arm. “And I do have somethin’ interestin’ to say. But I expect the rest of you do, too.”

Mrs. Jeffries poured Betsy’s tea and handed it to her as the maid took her place next to Smythe. She’d seen the warm, intimate smile the girl had given the coachman and was delighted the two of them were getting along so well. Sometimes on their investigations, Betsy had a tendency to be too competitive with him and Smythe could be a tad overprotective of her. “If everyone else agrees, why don’t you go first, Luty.”

“Seein’ as how no one is raisin’ a fuss, I believe I will.” She paused to take a deep breath. “As this case is gettin’ complicated, I made me out a list.” She pulled a
rolled-up piece of paper out of the bright red sleeve of her dress. “I know we decided to keep things separate, but I had old Teddyworth’s ear, so I decided to kill two birds with one stone and find out all I could about the people in both situations.”

“Huh?” Wiggins said. “Who’s Teddyworth?”

“One of Madam’s bankers,” Hatchet said smoothly. “He’s well connected in the City.”

“Thank you, Hatchet,” Luty said tartly. Turning her head, she gave the butler a wide smile. “I did a little checking into our murder victim’s finances.”

Hatchet snorted. “He was a caretaker, madam. He could hardly have had ‘finances’ as far as the City was concerned.”

“Fat lot you know,” Luty shot back. “He had a deposit account at the West London Commercial Bank over on Sloane Square. Had a hundred and thirty-five pounds in it.”

“I stand corrected, madam,” Hatchet said loftily. “Now we know that the man had a veritable fortune, I’m sure we should conclude that’s the reason he was murdered. Do tell us who his beneficiaries might be.”

“Hatchet, you don’t have to be so sarcastic,” Luty said. “I know it ain’t a fortune. But it’s something. Now, if it’s all the same to you, I’ll get on with my report. This McIntosh fellow wasn’t the only one I found out about.” She squinted at the paper she’d just unrolled. “Our Miss Gentry has plenty, too. Her fortune’s valued at a hundred thousand pounds.”

“Gracious, that
is
an enormous amount.” Mrs. Jeffries wasn’t sure what this meant, but she knew it meant something. That much money often attracted trouble.

“Just so you’ll know, I did a bit of snoopin’ about Miss Gentry, wanted to make sure we could trust her, if you know what I mean,” Luty continued. “She was livin’ on the edge of poverty, gettin’ by all these years on a
tiny inheritance from her mother, when all of a sudden the woman who would have been her mother-in-law up and dies and leaves her sittin’ pretty.”

“Exactly how did Mrs. Dempsey die?” Mrs. Goodge asked.

It was Mrs. Jeffries who answered. “Pneumonia. I already checked. The death wasn’t considered suspicious. She was over eighty and had been ill a long time.”

“Annabeth Gentry took care of Mrs. Dempsey,” Betsy protested. “She had no idea of what Mrs. Dempsey was worth; no one did.”

“I ain’t sayin’ she killed the old woman,” Luty said. “I’m just sayin’ how she come to have all that cash. It’s no wonder someone’s tryin’ to kill her.”

“Money isn’t the only motive for murder,” Smythe put in. “Just because Miss Gentry inherited a bundle doesn’t mean that’s the reason someone’s tryin’ to do ’er in.”

“It’s a darned good motive, though,” Luty argued.

“I still think it’s got somethin’ to do with her findin’ that Tim Porter,” Wiggins put in. “That’s when it began.”

“I agree,” Mrs. Jeffries said.

“But yesterday you said we ought to keep things separate,” Mrs. Goodge reminded her.

“I know. But after thinking about it all night, I changed my opinion. But let’s let Luty finish and then we can discuss it.”

“Thank you, Hepzibah,” Luty said. “Now, as I was sayin’, Annabeth Gentry inherited an estate big enough to choke a horse—”

“When, exactly, did she get this inheritance?” The housekeeper wanted to get the facts straight in her mind.

“About six months ago,” Luty replied.

“Who stands to inherit from Miss Gentry?” Smythe asked softly.

“I don’t know,” Luty admitted. “But as she ain’t married, it’s probably her sisters.”

“We need to find out for certain,” Mrs. Jeffries said. “It could well be important.”

“I’ve got my sources workin’ on that very question,” Mrs. Goodge said.

“Excellent,” Mrs. Jeffries said. “Then we can continue. Luty, anything else?”

“Only that the Caraways are broke,” Luty replied. “I’ve still got my sources”—she shot the cook a quick grin—“workin’ on finding out if the good reverend’s broke, too, but I haven’t heard back from them yet.”

“If you’re finished, madam,” Hatchet interjected, “I’d like to speak next.”

“I’m done,” she replied.

Hatchet smiled apologetically at the others. “Do forgive me for jumping in, but I believe my information might complement madam’s quite nicely.”

“Go on,” Mrs. Jeffries said.

“As you’ll recall, my task was to go to Miss Gentry’s soon-to-be new abode on Forest Street and ask about. I must say, I wasn’t overly enthusiastic about the assignment, but on the whole, I must admit it went rather well…it’s quite amazing what the local people know.”

“Local people? For goodness’ sakes, it’s only a quarter of a mile from where she lives now,” Luty said impatiently.

“I know that, madam,” he chided. “I’m simply trying to give everyone a bit of understanding about the circumstances. We’ve all admitted this is going to be a most complicated case.”

“Yes, Hatchet, that’s true,” Mrs. Jeffries said. “It’s very complex.” But she rather agreed with Luty, Hatchet was being very long-winded.

“Thank you.” He smiled at the housekeeper. Luty snorted softly. “As I was saying, it’s quite amazing what
the local people can tell you. I had a most enlightening conversation with one Mr. Jonathan Parradom, one of the local tradesmen.”

“What did you find out?” Mrs. Jeffries’s voice was just the slightest bit impatient.

“It seems that Miss Gentry’s troubles didn’t start with the attempts on her life; she’s also had a terrible run of bad luck on getting her new home refurbished.”

“What do you mean?” Mrs. Goodge asked. “Everyone has troubles with builders.”

“Miss Gentry was due to move into the place at the beginning of this month. But in the past two weeks, she’s been delayed. First by a flood in the kitchen and then by a fire on the upper floors.”

“Both of these things have happened since her dog found Tim Porter’s body?” Mrs. Jeffries mused.

Hatchet nodded slowly. “Once I heard that, I, too, began to think that it all must be connected somehow. No one has this much bad luck.”

“We need to be careful here,” Mrs. Jeffries warned. “Remember, we’ve made assumptions in other cases and the results weren’t what we’d hoped.” In one awful case, by acting on theories that appeared to be true but really weren’t, they’d done very badly in their investigation. Why, they’d actually had the case solved by the inspector with virtually no help from them. Mrs. Jeffries was determined that this wasn’t going to happen again. “But, still, my instincts are telling me it’s all connected somehow.”

Betsy sighed. “We’ve got to keep our minds sharp.”

“Agreed,” Hatchet said somberly.

“Have you finished?” Mrs. Jeffries asked.

“Yes, I believe so.” Hatchet sighed. He’d picked up another rumor or two, but after hearing Mrs. Jeffries’s warning, he decided to determine if they were true before
he confided in the others. They really must be on their guard.

“I’ve got some bits to tell,” Mrs. Goodge said before anyone else could speak up. “I found out that it’s true that Reverend Cooksey doesn’t have a parish. Furthermore, it’s not by choice.” She gave them all the details she’d learned from Ida Leahcock. When she finished, she poured herself another cup of tea.

“So if ’e doesn’t ’ave a church,” Wiggins asked, “’ow’s he makin’ a livin’?”

“He could be independently wealthy,” Hatchet suggested.

“If he was wealthy, why would his wife be shouting at him about being a bad provider,” Betsy pointed out. “Besides, I found a few things about the Cookseys today, too, and about the Caraways. They’ve been trying to get Miss Gentry to turn control of her inheritance over to one of her brother-in-laws ever since Mrs. Dempsey died. But she’s having none of it. She’s handling it herself.”

“Good for her. Did you find out anything else?” Mrs. Jeffries asked.

“A bit,” Betsy replied. “Miss Gentry is well liked about the neighborhood. All the tradesmen and shopkeepers have nothing but good to say about her.”

“Excellent, Betsy. Is that it?” The maid nodded her head, and Mrs. Jeffries turned her attention to Wiggins. “How about you? Did you find out any more about Stan McIntosh?”

“A little,” Wiggins replied. “McIntosh pretty much kept to ’imself. The local people didn’t know too much about ’im. ’E took care of the school grounds and tried to keep the place from fallin’ apart until the board of governors can sell the property.”

“Has he been there a long time?” Mrs. Goodge took another sip of tea.

“No one knew exactly ’ow long,” Wiggins said. “But I know ’e was workin’ there while it still ’ad pupils. The locals didn’t know much about the feller. I think I ought to find out if any of the staff or students from the school is still about the area.”

“What good would that do?” Mrs. Goodge asked.

Wiggins shrugged. “Maybe one of the students would know something about McIntosh. Children are right nosy, you know. They know all sorts of things.”

“I think that’s a splendid idea,” Mrs. Jeffries said. “Until we learn something more about the victim, we’ll never find out how these cases are connected.”

“Can I go next?” Smythe asked.

“I thought you said you didn’t have anything to report,” Betsy said. She watched his face suspiciously. It would be just like the man to pretend like he’d not got a thing and then to drop a big surprise on them.

“I don’t,” he said earnestly. “I mean, I don’t have any facts. But somethin’ odd ’appened and I think you ought to know about it.”

“What is it?”

Smythe told them about his visit to the local pub. About how the locals had not only closed ranks, but had been openly hostile. “I don’t know what got their backs up,” he finished. “I was bein’ right careful in what I said. Do you think it’s important?”

Mrs. Jeffries thought about it for a moment before she answered. “I’m not sure. It could just be the natural inclination of a group to close ranks against an outsider—”

“It’s important,” Hatchet said. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs. Jeffries, I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“That’s quite all right.” She waved his apology away. “But I am curious as to your reasons.”

“Yeah, so am I,” Luty added.

“Well,” Hatchet began, “Smythe was in a pub. Now, it was probably the local, but pubs are used to having
people come and go. And in a case like this, a case of murder, everyone in the place should have been talking about it. But they weren’t. I find that very strange.”

“So do I,” Smythe said. “And I think I’ll make it my business to find out why everyone got so niggled just by my mentionin’ McIntosh’s name.”

“Be careful, Smythe,” Betsy said. “I’ve got a bad feeling about it.” The words slipped out before she could stop herself. She was always trying to stop him from being overprotective of her and here she was doing the same to him.

He gave her a knowing grin. She could feel a flush creeping up her cheeks.

“I’m sure Smythe will take great care,” Mrs. Jeffries soothed.

“Now, does anyone else have anything to add?” She waited a moment but no one spoke. “As I said earlier, I think we now ought to proceed with our investigation based on the assumption that all these events are somehow connected.”