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

Appeals the Verdict

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open and Keith Muran, his face white with fear, came running out.

“This way,” he called to the two policemen. He threw

himself at a set of double doors and shoved them open. The

three men rushed inside.

“Oh my God, oh my God, it was an accident. I told him

to leave the wretched gun alone, but he insisted on picking

it up.” Lucy Turner was standing next to the dining table

staring down at Russell Merriman. There was blood pouring out of a wound in his chest.

Witherspoon pushed her aside and knelt down beside

Merriman. “Get everyone out of here,” he ordered Barnes.

“Oh my God, he’s dead,” Lucy weeped.

“Get ahold of yourself!” Mrs. Turner ordered her daughter. “And tell us what happened.”

“Barnes, send one of the servants out for a constable,”

Witherspoon yelled. “Have them send along a doctor right

away.”

“A doctor!” Lucy cried harder. “What good will a doctor do? He’s dead and it’s my fault. I told him to leave the gun alone, but he said he wanted to have a look at it, he

wanted to examine the handle.”

“It was an accident, Lucy.” Keith put his arm around her

and gently tugged her toward the door. “Come along now.

Let’s do what the policeman says.”

“We need to clear this room,” Barnes instructed. Two

maids, both the Turner women, and Keith Muran hovered

just inside the dining room. He herded all of them out into

the hallway.

Barnes looked at the maid closest to him. She had plastered herself against the wall and was staring at him out of wide, frightened eyes. “Go to the corner and find a constable,” he ordered. “Tell him there’s been an accident and that Inspector Witherspoon is on the scene. Ask them to send

for a doctor and to come along here straightaway. Tell him

to bring plenty of help.”

She nodded and charged for the front door.

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Barnes ushered them into the drawing room. Keith Mu-

ran led Lucy to a chair and knelt down next to her. She was

weeping quietly.

Mrs. Turner took a seat on the settee. She looked at

Lucy and then turned her attention to the other maid. “Get

her some brandy.”

“That’s probably a very good idea.” Barnes nodded at

the girl and she rushed out of the room.

“Do be quiet, Lucy,” Mrs. Turner snapped. “You’re making a spectacle of yourself.”

“Oh my God, he’s dead,” Lucy cried. “Poor Russell, he

was covered in blood. It’s dreadful, simply dreadful. But I

told him to leave it alone. I told him it wasn’t safe.”

The door opened and the maid slipped back in carrying

a glass of amber liquid. She gave the glass to Keith Muran

and he put it up to Lucy’s lips. “Drink this. It’ll make you

feel better.”

Barnes watched her closely. Her fingers trembled as

they closed around the glass, but she managed to swallow.

She coughed delicately and lay back against the chair. “He

shot himself in the chest. He’d turned the gun to look at the

handle and it went off. I’d told him to leave it alone. I’d

told him, but he didn’t listen.”

“Could you please tell us what happened?” Barnes said.

He didn’t care how distraught she was; he wanted her

statement.

Lucy looked at him with tear-filled eyes. “I’m not sure

what to say. It all happened so quickly.”

“Why don’t you start from when Mr. Merriman arrived,” Barnes suggested.

“For goodness’ sake, Constable.” Muran stood up, but he

kept his hand on her shoulder. “She’s had a terrible shock.

Must you question her this very minute?”

“My poor cousin is dead.” She dabbed at her eyes

with a handkerchief she pulled from the sleeve of her sapphire blue dress. “I’m not sure I can speak of it. It’s too horrible.”

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199

“I’m afraid you’ll have to,” Barnes said flatly. He

looked at Muran. “I suggest you either leave the room or be

quiet, sir. This is a very grave matter. A man is dead.”

“How dare you,” Muran snapped.

“It’s all right.” Lucy reached up and patted his hand.

“I want to tell them what happened. I want to get it over

with.” She took a deep breath. “Russell was the first to arrive, so we chatted while we waited for Keith to get here.

I happened to mention that I was using our grandmother’s

silver, and Russell asked if he could see it.”

“Where was Mrs. Turner?” Barnes asked.

“She was still upstairs,” Lucy replied.

“I had to go up and change my shoes,” Mrs. Turner volunteered. “The others were bothering my feet.”

“Go on,” Barnes instructed. He wished more help would

arrive. They needed the doctor here. Poor Witherspoon was

dreadfully squeamish about corpses, so it didn’t seem fair

that he should get stuck with Merriman’s body.

“I took him into the dining room. The table was already

set and he had a look at our grandmother’s silver. Just then

Keith arrived and I heard the girl put him in the drawing

room. I didn’t want to keep him waiting, so I tried to hurry

Russell up a bit. I told him he’d have plenty of time to look

at the silver while we ate our lunch. He laughed”—she

stopped as her eyes filled with tears yet again—“but as we

were walking out, he spotted my derringer.”

“You had a gun just laying about in your dining room?”

Barnes pressed.

“It was in a gun box, Constable. It was lying on the

desk. Russell saw it, and before I could stop him he’d lifted

the lid and taken the thing out. It’s quite a fancy weapon.

My father had it made in India. It’s got a carved ivory handle. Russell picked it up. I told him to put it back, that I’d brought it down to take it to a gunsmith for repairing—the

wretched gun has a loose trigger. But before I could explain, he’d turned the gun toward himself and it went off.”

“Why did he turn the gun?” Barnes asked softly.

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“He wanted to have a closer look at the handle. He was

muttering something about the carving . . . then it went off

and I started screaming. Oh God, poor Russell . . .” she

broke off and buried her face in her hands.

“That’s quite a story, Lucy. Too bad it’s all a lie.” Russell Merriman, propped up by Witherspoon, stood in the open doorway and stared sadly