Read Mrs. Jeffries in the Nick of Time for Free Online Page B

relations that didn’t behave properly?”
    “He thought so.” Cooper laughed. “He had words with one of his nephews a couple of days ago because the fellow can’t seem to hold on to a position, but he doesn’t ever cut anyone off. He takes ’em all in but he makes ’em all dance to his tune and do what he says. None of ’em like it, but they put up with him. Guess havin’ all that money buys a lot of forgiveness.”
     
    “He’s a bit surly,” Wiggins announced as he and Smythe came into the warm kitchen of Upper Edmonton Gardens. “He didn’t ’ave much luck tonight.”
    “I’m not in a surly mood.” The coachman shucked off his coat and hung it on the coat tree. “I’m cold and hungry, but I’m bloomin’ well not surly.”
    Betsy giggled as she poured a cup of tea and put it on the table as he slid into his seat. “Drink this while I get your supper out of the warming oven.”
    Everyone had, of course, waited up for them. But no one started asking questions until both men were settled at the table with full plates in front of them.
    “Was it a murder?” Mrs. Jeffries directed the question to the footman.
    Wiggins nodded vigorously and swallowed his mouthful of cooked cabbage. “He was shot. I had a quick word with the gardener, not that I think he’s a proper gardener, but the lad was there when it happened and heard the gun go off.”
    “I didn’t ’ave a word with anyone except a right miserable publican,” Smythe complained. “It’s no wonder his pub is empty.”
    “You were at the same pub?” Mrs. Goodge asked, her expression confused.
    “There was no place to hide near Humphreys House,” Smythe explained. “So we each went off in different directions to the closest pub to see if the news had gotten around the neighborhood. Wiggins got lucky, I didn’t.” He glanced up and looked toward the window as they heard the distinctive rattle of a hansom cab pull up outside. “Cor blimey, looks like the inspector is home already.”
    “We’ll continue this in the morning,” Mrs. Jeffries said as she got up.
    Betsy was already on her feet and moving toward the cooker. She grabbed a thick tea towel from the work table, opened the warming oven and took out the covered plate that held the inspector’s dinner. She put the plate on the serving tray that the housekeeper had at the ready.
    Mrs. Jeffries grabbed the tray and started for the back stairs. “Everyone go on up and get some sleep. Wiggins, you’ll need to get up extra early to go fetch Luty and Hatchet. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day.”
    “Don’t you stay up too late yourself,” the cook called as Mrs. Jeffries disappeared up the stairs.
    Inspector Witherspoon had already shed his coat and hat by the time she reached the front hallway. She stopped by the open dining room door. “Good evening, sir. I took the liberty of bringing your supper up, sir. I thought you might be hungry.”
    “Bless you, Mrs. Jeffries.” Witherspoon smiled gratefully. “I’m famished. But I certainly didn’t expect the household to wait up for me. I could have easily made myself a bite to eat.” He took a deep breath, inhaling the rich aroma of the food as he came to the dining room and stepped inside.
    Even though he was now a rich man with a huge house, he’d been raised in very modest circumstances and consequently treated his staff like human beings. “No need for that, sir. Mrs. Goodge has kept a lovely beef and cabbage stew in the warmer for you. Sit down and eat this while it’s hot.”
    As soon as the inspector was tucked into his food, Mrs. Jeffries went to the drawing room and poured two glasses of sherry. She put them on a silver tray she’d brought up from the old butler’s pantry earlier that evening. “I thought you might like a drink to ward off the chill,” she said as she returned.
    “Excellent, that’s precisely what I need.” Witherspoon speared a piece of beef onto his fork. “And I’m glad you brought a