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

one who can catch ruthless killers.

You ought to read what the judge said to Tommy Odell

when he was sentenced for Caroline Muran’s murder.”

“I have read it,” Witherspoon said softly.

“I’d like to go to the execution,” Nivens continued. “Too

bad they did away with public hanging; it would be a deterrent for others, show them what happens when they disregard the law.”

“Murder is a horrific crime,” Witherspoon commented.

He didn’t wish to engage in a debate with Nivens, but he

didn’t agree with him, either. He wasn’t in the least sorry

that public executions had been banned. The idea of watching someone die, even someone who might deserve the 14

Emily Brightwell

punishment, was grotesque. He couldn’t imagine any human being enjoying such a spectacle.

“Do you ever want to see any of yours hang?” Nivens

continued chattily.

“No.”

“I wish I could be there,” Nivens said eagerly. “It isn’t

fair that they’ll let the press into the hanging shed but they

won’t let us in to watch. I’d love to see that nasty little

woman-killer swing from the neck until he’s as dead as

that poor woman he shot.”

Witherspoon lost what remained of his appetite. He

pushed his lunch away.

“It’s odd that a pickpocket would be carrying a gun,”

Barnes said. He watched Nivens carefully and was rewarded

by seeing an angry flush creep up the man’s fat cheeks.

“You sound like Odell’s counsel,” Nivens snapped. “But

the fact is he was carrying a weapon. When the husband

tried to fend him off, Odell panicked and shot the woman.”

“Why didn’t he shoot the husband?” Barnes asked. A

lot of coppers had wondered about this case; there was

something really odd about the whole business. “Why bash

him over the head if he had a gun? You know as well as I do

that you can’t count on knocking someone out, even if you

strike them with something like a brick. But a gun is generally very reliable, especially at close range.”

Nivens shoved the newspaper back under his arm.

“How the devil should I know why the fellow acted the way

he did. Like most people of his class, he’s stupid. He

pawned Mr. Muran’s pocket watch less than a mile from

where he’d done the killing.” He glared at them. “You’d

best watch what you say, Constable Barnes, the chief inspector won’t want questions about a closed case being bandied about. The department is still smarting over the

licking we took from the press over those Ripper murders.”

“Constable Barnes was simply making a comment,”

Witherspoon said quickly.

“Humph,” Nivens snorted. “Then I’ll thank him to keep

Mrs. Jeffries Appeals the Verdict

15

his comments to himself. I’ll not have the two of you wandering about asking questions about my case. Do you understand? This was my case; I solved it and I won’t let you or anyone else ruin it for me.”

“I assure you, Inspector,” Witherspoon said earnestly,

“we’ve no interest in this case whatsoever.”

Nivens said nothing for a moment, then he turned on his

heel and stalked toward the door, almost knocking over a

constable who had the misfortune to wander in his path.

“I want to make sure you all understand that we’ve no

guarantee we’ll be successful if we undertake this endeavor,” Mrs. Jeffries said. They had been debating the issue for almost an hour now and it was almost noon.

“We’ve no guarantee we’ll be successful on any of our

cases,” Mrs. Goodge pointed out. “So I don’t see that we’ve

anything to worry about with this one.”

“But like Mrs. Jeffries says, the inspector won’t be able

to give us any bits and pieces on this one,” Wiggins countered, “and that’ll make a big difference. We might not find out anything.”

“Of course we’ll find out things,” Mrs. Goodge argued.

“People don’t stop talking about a murder just because

someone’s been arrested and sentenced to hang. There’s

plenty of information out there, and there’s no reason we

can’t find out every little detail of what happened that

night.”

“Maybe we can get a copy of the police file,” Betsy

mused.

“We’ve no reason to ask the inspector whether or not he

even has access to the file,” Mrs. Jeffries said. “It wasn’t his

case.”

“Are you sayin’ we shouldn’t do this?” Smythe asked

the housekeeper. He was amazed that it was Mrs. Goodge,

who wasn’t exactly a champion of the criminal classes, who

was arguing so vehemently for their intervention. He’d

have thought that with something like this, the chance to

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Emily Brightwell

prove someone innocent, it would be Mrs. Jeffries wanting

them to take it on.

She shook her head. “No, not at all. I’m merely trying

to make sure that we all understand we might not succeed. I don’t want anyone feeling disappointed or guilty if we can’t prove Mr. Odell innocent. The task might be

impossible.”

“But why would it be so different?” Betsy asked. “As

Mrs. Goodge pointed out, people will still be talking about

the case. They’ll still be clues for us to follow up.”

“Yes, but without the inspector actively on the case,

we’ll need an enormous amount of evidence to get anyone

to take notice.” She didn’t want to have to point out that

on most of their previous cases, she’d used a deductive-

reasoning method that relied half on instinct and half on

evidence to catch the killer. She wasn’t sure that would

work on this murder. The trail was cold and she had a feeling that the timing of an investigation had a direct bearing on her own sense of urgency. Perhaps she wouldn’t be able

to pull it off this time.

“Then we’ll get the evidence,” Smythe promised.

“Even with evidence,” she continued, “it’ll have to be

very compelling to get an execution stopped.”

Smythe had had enough. They could go on arguing for

hours, but they didn’t have that much time. “This isn’t like

you, Mrs. J. What’s really botherin’ you?”

She hesitated before she answered. She was almost

afraid that voicing her concern aloud would make it come

to pass. It was silly, but she felt it nonetheless. “My worst

fear is that we’ll find enough to convince ourselves the man

didn’t commit the murder, but we won’t get enough to convince the authorities not to hang him.”

“Cor blimey, that’d be a terrible thing,” Wiggins said

softly.

“I’d not like trying to sleep at night knowing an innocent man had been hung because we weren’t clever enough to save him,” Betsy murmured.

Mrs. Jeffries Appeals