A Mrs. Jeffires Mystery 11 - Mrs. Jeffries Questions the Answer Read Online Free Page B
Author: Emily Brightwell
himself and turned her shoulder so that he could see her back. He swallowed heavily and closed his eyes. The handle of the blade stuck out obscenely. The green velvet fabric was soaked with blood. There was more blood on the carpet, directly beneath where she’d lain. He eased her gently back down andstood up. His forehead creased in thought. “Has anyone touched the body?”
“No, sir,” Constable Sayers said. “Her husband found her, sir, and he had sense enough not to touch anything.”
“It looks as if she were standing looking out onto the garden and was struck from behind,” the inspector commented.
“Yes, sir.” Barnes had knelt down on the other side of the body. He too stood up. “That’s one of the reasons I’m fairly sure it weren’t a burglary.”
Nivens snorted. “I didn’t realize you were such an expert, Constable.”
Witherspoon looked at him sharply. “Constable Barnes’s observations are always most pertinent. I agree with him.”
Barnes smiled, grateful that his superior had stood up for him. “I’m thinkin’, sir, that if she were standin’ looking out at the garden, the burglar”—he tossed a quick glance at Nivens—“would have already been in the room.”
“Of course he would have,” Nivens said quickly. “And that’s the whole point. She came in and saw the window was broken, walked over to have a look at it and when she had her back turned, the killer, who was probably hiding in that bedroom”—he pointed toward the door on the other side of the room—“stabbed her and then escaped. This is a simple robbery gone bad. There was no reason for the Chief to call you out on this one. With my sources among the thieves of this city, I’ll soon find who killed her.”
“Do the doors open in or out?”
“In, sir,” Barnes replied.
Witherspoon glanced down at the body again and noted that it was lying less than two inches from the door. “If that was the case, Inspector Nivens,” he asked softly, “how did the burglar get out?”
Nivens looked confused. “I don’t understand your question. Isn’t it obvious? He walked out the way he got in.”
“Through the French doors?”
“Yes,” Nivens said, but his voice wasn’t as certain as before.
Witherspoon looked down at the floor again, studying the carpet surrounding the body. He frowned, trying to recall some of the conversations he’d had with his housekeeper. Why, just last week they’d had quite an interesting discussion about blood. What was it she’d said? Then he remembered. “I don’t think so. If he’d killed her in a panic, he’d have wanted to get out in a hurry. That means she’d have still been bleeding quite profusely.”
“So?” Nivens asked sullenly, his gaze on the doorway in case the Chief Inspector toddled back in just as the brilliant bloody Witherspoon was expounding on one of his ridiculous theories.
“What I’m trying to say”—Witherspoon wasn’t sure exactly how to put it. He wished he could remember the precise way Mrs. Jeffries had discussed the matter. “—is that if he tried to get out this door while the poor woman was still bleeding profusely, there’d be blood all over the carpet. He would have had to jostle her and shove her out of the way. As you can see, there’s only blood directly beneath the body, which implies that she fell almostdirectly after she was struck down and that the body hasn’t been moved at all. That means the killer couldn’t have gone out these doors.”
Nivens stared at him thoughtfully. Then he said, “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
CHAPTER 2
“I knew it,” Mrs. Goodge cried. “I just knew it. Here we finally have us a nice, ripe murder and I’m saddled with my daft old aunt.”
“Stop yer frettin’, Mrs. Goodge,” Smythe said kindly. “It’ll not be as bad as ya think. We’ll find a way to keep yer auntie occupied.”
“Doing what? She’s eighty-five if she’s a day,” Mrs. Goodge
“No, sir,” Constable Sayers said. “Her husband found her, sir, and he had sense enough not to touch anything.”
“It looks as if she were standing looking out onto the garden and was struck from behind,” the inspector commented.
“Yes, sir.” Barnes had knelt down on the other side of the body. He too stood up. “That’s one of the reasons I’m fairly sure it weren’t a burglary.”
Nivens snorted. “I didn’t realize you were such an expert, Constable.”
Witherspoon looked at him sharply. “Constable Barnes’s observations are always most pertinent. I agree with him.”
Barnes smiled, grateful that his superior had stood up for him. “I’m thinkin’, sir, that if she were standin’ looking out at the garden, the burglar”—he tossed a quick glance at Nivens—“would have already been in the room.”
“Of course he would have,” Nivens said quickly. “And that’s the whole point. She came in and saw the window was broken, walked over to have a look at it and when she had her back turned, the killer, who was probably hiding in that bedroom”—he pointed toward the door on the other side of the room—“stabbed her and then escaped. This is a simple robbery gone bad. There was no reason for the Chief to call you out on this one. With my sources among the thieves of this city, I’ll soon find who killed her.”
“Do the doors open in or out?”
“In, sir,” Barnes replied.
Witherspoon glanced down at the body again and noted that it was lying less than two inches from the door. “If that was the case, Inspector Nivens,” he asked softly, “how did the burglar get out?”
Nivens looked confused. “I don’t understand your question. Isn’t it obvious? He walked out the way he got in.”
“Through the French doors?”
“Yes,” Nivens said, but his voice wasn’t as certain as before.
Witherspoon looked down at the floor again, studying the carpet surrounding the body. He frowned, trying to recall some of the conversations he’d had with his housekeeper. Why, just last week they’d had quite an interesting discussion about blood. What was it she’d said? Then he remembered. “I don’t think so. If he’d killed her in a panic, he’d have wanted to get out in a hurry. That means she’d have still been bleeding quite profusely.”
“So?” Nivens asked sullenly, his gaze on the doorway in case the Chief Inspector toddled back in just as the brilliant bloody Witherspoon was expounding on one of his ridiculous theories.
“What I’m trying to say”—Witherspoon wasn’t sure exactly how to put it. He wished he could remember the precise way Mrs. Jeffries had discussed the matter. “—is that if he tried to get out this door while the poor woman was still bleeding profusely, there’d be blood all over the carpet. He would have had to jostle her and shove her out of the way. As you can see, there’s only blood directly beneath the body, which implies that she fell almostdirectly after she was struck down and that the body hasn’t been moved at all. That means the killer couldn’t have gone out these doors.”
Nivens stared at him thoughtfully. Then he said, “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
CHAPTER 2
“I knew it,” Mrs. Goodge cried. “I just knew it. Here we finally have us a nice, ripe murder and I’m saddled with my daft old aunt.”
“Stop yer frettin’, Mrs. Goodge,” Smythe said kindly. “It’ll not be as bad as ya think. We’ll find a way to keep yer auntie occupied.”
“Doing what? She’s eighty-five if she’s a day,” Mrs. Goodge
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