asked.
“Not really, she just said that it was a strange household,
and that no one in the neighborhood was as surprised by the
murder as they were pretending to be. I wanted to ask her
what she meant by that, but wouldn’t you know, half a
dozen customers came in all of a sudden, and I couldn’t keep
hanging about. I tried the greengrocer’s next, but there was
Mrs. Jeffries and the Silent Knight
63
a sour-faced old puritan working there, and she wasn’t interested in gossip, thank you.”
Everyone laughed. Mrs. Jeffries said, “We’ve all done
quite well today. We’ll meet again at breakfast, and I’ll tell
you what I get out of the inspector tonight. Now, we must
decide what to do about Luty and Hatchet.”
“It wouldn’t be right not to tell them,” Mrs. Goodge said.
“But Luty’s still so ill, and you know what she’s like,
she’ll not want to stay abed if we’re on a case,” Betsy
warned. “We don’t want to risk her health.”
“True, but as Mrs. Goodge says, it’s not right to keep ‘em
out of it,” Smythe argued. “Besides, I’m thinkin’ we’re goin’
to need Hatchet on this case as soon as possible.”
“Maybe we ought to wait another day or two before we
tell ‘im,” Wiggins suggested. “We don’t want Luty gettin’
upset.”
“We can’t wait. The victim’s an aristocrat,” the coachman
explained. “We need someone on the case who has access to
the rich and powerful. Lady Cannonberry’s out of town until next week, so we can’t ask her to ‘elp.”
Lady Ruth Cannonberry was their neighbor and their
friend. The inspector was trying to court the woman, but
she kept getting called out of town to take care of one or the
other of her late husband’s sick relatives.
“She’d be useful in this case,” the cook agreed. “Let’s
hope she comes home early.”
“She’ll definitely be back by Christmas,” Mrs. Jeffries
said. “She’s coming for Christmas dinner with the inspector.
Speaking of which, have you ordered the turkey yet?” Mrs.
Jeffries had been meaning to ask the cook that very question
for two days now, but she’d kept forgetting.
“The butcher’s got a nice plump one all picked out for
us,” Mrs. Goodge replied, “and he’s sending along a nice
64
Emily Brightwell
cut of beef for Boxing Day as well. I’ve ordered an extra-
large bird as Luty and Hatchet are having Christmas dinner
with us, providin’, of course, that Luty’s well enough by
Christmas.”
“Are we goin’ to have them crackers as well,” Wiggins
asked eagerly. “The ones that pop when you pull out the paper? You know, we ‘ad them last year, and they were ever so nice.”
“Christmas crackers,” Mrs. Jeffries laughed. “Of course
we are . . . Oh dear, I’m afraid we’re getting off the subject.
Sorry, Smythe, do go on with what you were saying.”
“Hatchet’s got some inroads into society,” Smythe continued. “And Mrs. Goodge can call on ‘er old friends for information, but I’ve a feelin’ this murder is goin’ to be a bit
‘arder than the others, and I don’t think we can risk leavin’
Hatchet out of it. Truth be told, we could use Luty’s connections as well.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Betsy replied. “But it’s important that Luty gets well first.”
“I agree,” Mrs. Jeffries said softly. “I also think that it’s
important that we all understand that having a murder case
this close to Christmas might be quite distracting.”
“Just a tad.” Smythe grinned. “But I don’t mind a bit of
interruption now and then.”
“Thank you, Smythe,” Mrs. Jeffries laughed. “Let’s all remember that the season is the season, and murder or not, it is important to celebrate the birth of the Lord.”
“Of course it is,” Mrs. Goodge agreed. “Now that that’s
settled, let’s decide what to do about Luty and Hatchet.”
She glanced at the clock on the pine sideboard. “It’s gettin’
late, and I’ve got a few things to do before the inspector gets
home and wants his supper.”
They discussed the matter for a few more minutes and
Mrs. Jeffries and the Silent Knight
65
decided that Mrs. Jeffries would nip over the next morning
and have a quiet word with Hatchet.
Wiggins said nothing as he was too busy wrestling with
his conscience to pay much attention to the conversation.
But by the time the meeting ended, he knew what he had to
do. After all, a promise was a promise.
It was almost half past seven before the inspector’s footsteps sounded on the front steps. Mrs. Jeffries met him at the front door. “You look absolutely exhausted, sir,” she commented as she took his bowler and hung it on the coat tree.
“It’s been a rather difficult day,” he replied. He shrugged
out of his heavy overcoat. “I do believe I could use a sherry.
That won’t inconvenience Mrs. Goodge, will it?” The inspector didn’t want his servants waiting up half the night to dance attendance on him. They worked hard and needed
their rest. On the other hand, he’d so looked forward to having a nice glass of Harvey’s and discussing this case with his housekeeper. She was such a good listener. Of course, their
neighbor, Ruth Cannonberry, was an excellent listener as
well, but for some odd reason, Mrs. Jeffries was just a bit
better at asking the sort of questions that got him thinking.
Besides, Ruth wasn’t due back yet. He sighed. He did miss
Ruth very much when she was gone.
“No sir, Mrs. Goodge has made a nice, hot pot for supper
and an apple tart for dessert. I’ll bring it up anytime you’re
ready.” She took his coat and hung it up next to the bowler.
“Let’s go into the drawing room, sir. I’ve already poured you
a sherry.”
C H A P T E R 4
�� ��
“This has been a very long day,” Witherspoon said as he
sank into his favorite chair. “What’s more, this case is already showing signs that it’s going to be very strange.”
“In what way, sir?” Mrs. Jeffries picked up the glasses of
sherry she’d poured earlier and handed one to him.
“Thank you,” he said as he reached for his drink. “You
know how, generally, when one deals with a certain class of
people, one has trouble getting much information out of
them.”
“You mean the upper classes don’t feel they’re under any
obligation to speak to a police officer,” she replied. It was
true, the
