Mrs. Jeffries Takes the Cake by Emily Brightwell Read Free Book Online Page A

in.”
    “Other than the neighbors, who else disliked him?” Witherspoon asked.
    “None of the servants were fond of him,” she said. “He was such a tattletale. One small infraction and he’d go running to Andrew.” She held up her hand and ticked off her fingers as she spoke. “Let’s see, the neighbors and the servants. Then there are his business colleagues. He wasn’t terribly popular with any of them. Not that he does much work these days; he simply sticks his head in his office every once in a while to annoy poor Henry.”
    “Henry?” Witherspoon queried.
    “Henry Alladyce. The son of my father’s late business partner,” she replied. “Oh yes, of course, I almost forgot. I loathed the man.” She looked up at Witherspoon and Barnes and smiled brightly. “I thought I might as well tell you myself rather than have you learn it from the servants. I didn’t like my father. I’ve barely spoken to him for months.”
    Witherspoon was so scandalized he could barely speak. He knew he oughtn’t to be so shocked; as a policemen, he’d seen enough horror to convince him that human beings were capable of anything. Yet still, he was stunned by the cheerful way she spoke of hating her own father, her own flesh and blood. “I see,” he finally said.
    Barnes asked, “Why did your father come into town early?”
    “He wanted to stop by his office and check on things.” She smiled. “At least that’s what he told us. But it was obviously just a ruse to get away early.”
    The inspector regarded her quizzically. “Why do you say that? From the manner in which you describe your father and your relationship with him, why would he need a ruse to get away?”
    “Oh, he wouldn’t care about offending me.” Shelaughed. “Not one whit. But he walks on eggs not to offend Andrew. Andrew’s important, you see. He’d walk over burning coals rather than offend my husband. So he needed a ruse, you see. That’s why he came up with that sad tale of going to his office.”
    The inspector’s head started to ache and he found himself wishing he wasn’t getting all this information quite so quickly. He could barely take it all in. “I’m not sure I understand.” He shook his head, almost to try and clear it. “What makes you think there was a ruse…I mean—”
    “What the inspector means,” Barnes interrupted, “is why did your father want to come home early in the first place? Why not just wait and come with either you or Mr. Frommer.”
    “I should think that’s obvious,” she declared. “He was meeting someone. Someone he didn’t want the rest of us to know about.”
    “You think he planned to meet someone here?” Witherspoon said. “Why? What makes you think so?”
    “Because he was having tea with whoever killed him,” she replied proudly. “I overheard one of the constables talking when I was waiting for you to question me. Plus I saw the tea trolley being taken out of the room. So it must have been planned, mustn’t it?”
    Witherspoon hazarded a guess. “He could have met someone when he was at his office and invited them back for tea?” He’d have a quiet word with the constables later. It was easy to slip and talk about the circumstances of the murder, he could understand that, but he would warn them to be a bit more careful when there was a possible suspect in the area.
    Mrs. Frommer shook her head. “He wouldn’t have done that. He was neither generous nor kind and he never ever did anything impulsively. Every aspect of his life wasplanned out to the last detail. Believe me. I know the man. He came back early to meet someone. Furthermore, the house had been empty for two weeks.”
    “Yes, we know that,” the inspector said.
    “But you don’t understand the significance of it,” she insisted. She pointed in the direction of her father’s quarters. “The man was shot while having tea. But the house had been empty, which means there wasn’t a scrap of food to be had. Yet