Mrs. Jeffries Appeals the Verdict by Emily Brightwell (black authors fiction .TXT) 📗

she’s receiving.”

“This isn’t a social call,” Barnes said quickly. “We’re police officers and we’ve come to speak to Mrs. Turner on police business.” He was tired of people treating the police like they were inconvenient interruptions to their ruddy social

life.

“Wait here.” She shoved the door shut.

“Sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to speak out of turn,” Barnes

said. “But it is tiresome the way some people seem to think

they don’t have to speak to the police at all. I mean, honestly, sir. I’m in uniform. Do they think we’re leaving a calling card?”

Witherspoon chuckled. “I expect the sight of the two of

us on the doorstep startles people, so they simply say the

first thing that pops into their heads.”

134

Emily Brightwell

The door opened and the servant motioned them inside.

“Mrs. Turner and Miss Turner will speak to you in the drawing room. It’s just down there.” She pointed to a door at the end of the short, dim hallway.

The two women were waiting for them when they stepped

into the room. The older one, who Witherspoon assumed

was Mrs. Edwina Turner, was sitting on a settee. She wore a

brown bombazine day dress with a black mourning veil that

trailed down her back. Standing by the fireplace was a much

younger woman. She had black hair, blue eyes, and exquisite

skin. Lucy Turner wasn’t in the first flush of youth, yet she

was so beautiful it didn’t matter.

“Good day,” Witherspoon said, taking off his bowler.

“I’m Inspector Witherspoon, and this is Constable Barnes.

We’ve a few questions we’d like to ask you concerning the

murder of your late cousin.”

“I see that Russell’s been very busy. I didn’t expect you

quite this quickly. Do sit down. I’m Lucy Turner, and this

is my mother, Mrs. Horace Turner.” She gestured toward

two matching parlor chairs.

“How do you do.” The inspector nodded politely as he

and Barnes sat where she’d indicated. Edwina Turner simply stared at them out of cold, hazel eyes.

Lucy Turner sat down at the far end of the settee. “Go

ahead, Inspector, ask your questions. Though I’ve no idea

how my mother or I can be of any help.”

Once again, Witherspoon’s mind went blank. Drat, this

was getting ridiculous. For goodness sakes, he was a policeman who’d solved over twenty murders. What was wrong with him? “Er, can you tell us if there was anyone

who might have wished to harm Mrs. Muran?”

Lucy Turner shook her head. “Not really.”

“Had anyone been threatening her?” Barnes asked.

“Not that I know of,” Miss Turner replied. She glanced

at her mother. “Mama, had you heard anything?”

The old woman shook her head. “No, but I don’t listen

to gossip.”

Mrs. Jeffries Appeals the Verdict

135

“How about Roderick Sutter?” Witherspoon blurted.

“Hadn’t she just sacked him?”

“You mean her factory manager,” Miss Turned replied.

“I suppose you could say he might have wished her harm,

but honestly, Inspector, I hardly think getting sacked is a

reason to commit murder.”

“When was the last time you saw your cousin alive?”

Witherspoon asked.

Her blue eyes widened in surprise at the sudden change

in direction. “Let me see . . . it was a day or two before she

died.”

“It was the day she died,” Edwina Turner interjected.

“Are you sure, Mama?” Lucy said gently. “I think it was

the day before that we went to have tea.”

“I know what day it was,” Edwina insisted. “I occasionally get mixed up, but I recall that day very well, and you should, too. Don’t you remember? Caroline was thinking

about not going to the concert that night but you told her

that she ought to go, that she’d been leaving poor Keith on

his own because she’d been working so hard at the factory.

You said it would do her good to get out and enjoy herself.

Remember?”

C H A P T E R 8

Q

Betsy smiled at the young man behind the counter. “I’d like

a tin of Cadbury’s, please, and a bar of Pears soap.”

“Yes, miss,” he replied.

She’d ordered items that the household needed so her

trip wouldn’t be wasted if she didn’t find out anything today. She was in a grocery store on the Kings Road, quite close to where the Turner women lived.

After their meeting this morning, it had been decided

that even with the inspector on the case, Odell’s date with

the hangman was still getting closer with each passing day,

so they had best find as much information as they could

about anyone who might be a suspect.

The clerk put the cocoa and the soap on the counter.

“Anything else, miss?” he asked. He was a tall, lanky lad

with dark hair, deep-set brown eyes, and a very prominent

Adam’s apple.

“That’s all, thank you,” she replied. She decided on the

direct approach. “I don’t suppose you know of a family

136

Mrs. Jeffries Appeals the Verdict

137

around here named Turner? They’re from the same village

as my mum, and she wanted me to give them her regards.”

“You don’t have the address?” he said, pushing a lock

of hair off his forehead.

“That’s the silly part. Mum sent me their address and

I’ve managed to lose it. But I know it was somewhere

around here.” Betsy forced a giggle. “That’s all right, then,

I didn’t expect you to actually know them.”

“Who said I didn’t know any Turners?” He grinned.

“But I doubt the ones that come in here are from your village. They’re both very posh and proper city ladies.”

Betsy pretended to be disappointed. But she wasn’t going home empty-handed. This case wasn’t going well, they weren’t getting information fast enough, and she was determined to find out something useful, even if she had to stand here all day. “I see. Then I expect it couldn’t be them.”

“Sorry, miss. This Mrs. Turner and her daughter are

good customers. They come in all the time and I’m sure

they’re not from a village.”

“They do their own shopping?” Betsy commented. “I

thought you said they were posh and proper.”

“They are,” he said hastily. “You can tell from the way

they act. The daughter, Miss Lucy, always wants the very

best. Mrs. Turner insists on being served by the owner and

not one of us clerks. Mind you, Mr. Winkles gets his back

up a bit over them, especially as they’re generally a bit behind on their bill.”

“They don’t pay their bill on time,” she repeated. “That’s

not very proper.”

“They’ve