Mrs. Jeffries Rocks the Boat
Read Mrs. Jeffries Rocks the Boat Online
Authors: Emily Brightwell
Tags: #Fiction, #blt, #Mystery & Detective, #Women Sleuths
INSPECTOR WITHERSPOON ALWAYS TRIUMPHS…
HOW DOES HE DO IT?
Even the inspector himself doesn’t know—because his secret weapon is as ladylike as she is clever. She’s Mrs. Jeffries—the determined, delightful detective who stars in this unique Victorian mystery series! Be sure to read them all…
The Inspector and Mrs. Jeffries
A doctor is found dead in his own office—and Mrs. Jeffries must scour the premises to find the prescription for murder!
Mrs. Jeffries Dusts for Clues
One case is solved and another is opened when the Inspector finds a missing brooch—pinned to a dead woman’s gown. But Mrs. Jeffries never cleans a room without dusting under the bed—and never gives up on a case before every loose end is tightly tied…
The Ghost and Mrs. Jeffries
Death is unpredictable…but the murder of Mrs. Hodges was foreseen at a spooky séance. The practical-minded housekeeper may not be able to see the future—but she can look into the past and put things in order to solve this haunting crime!
Mrs. Jeffries Takes Stock
A businessman has been murdered—and it could be because he cheated his stockholders. The housekeeper’s interest is piqued…and when it comes to catching killers, the smart money’s on Mrs. Jeffries!
Mrs. Jeffries on the Ball
A festive jubilee celebration turns into a fatal affair—and Mrs. Jeffries must find the guilty party…
Mrs. Jeffries on the Trail
Why was Annie Shields out selling flowers so late on a foggy night? And more importantly, who killed her while she was doing it? It’s up to Mrs. Jeffries to sniff out the clues…
Mrs. Jeffries Plays the Cook
Mrs. Jeffries finds herself doing double duty: cooking for the Inspector’s household and trying to cook a killer’s goose…
Mrs. Jeffries and the Missing Alibi
When Inspector Witherspoon becomes the main suspect in a murder, Scotland Yard refuses to let him investigate. But no one said anything about Mrs. Jeffries…
Mrs. Jeffries Stands Corrected
When a local publican is murdered, and Inspector Witherspoon botches the investigation, trouble starts to brew for Mrs. Jeffries…
Mrs. Jeffries Takes the Stage
After a theatre critic is murdered, Mrs. Jeffries uncovers the victim’s secret past: a real-life drama more compelling than any stage play…
Mrs. Jeffries Questions the Answer
Hannah Cameron was not well-liked. But were her friends or family the sort to stab her in the back? Mrs. Jeffries must really tiptoe around this time—or it could be a matter of life and death…
Mrs. Jeffries Reveals Her Art
Mrs. Jeffries has to work double-time to find a missing model
and
a killer. And she’ll have to get her whole staff involved—before someone else becomes the next subject…
Mrs. Jeffries Takes the Cake
The evidence was all there: a dead body, two dessert plates, and a gun. As if Mr. Ashbury had been sharing cake with his own killer! Now Mrs. Jeffries will have to do some snooping around—to dish up clues…
Berkley Prime Crime titles by Emily Brightwell
THE INSPECTOR AND MRS. JEFFRIES
MRS. JEFFRIES DUSTS FOR CLUES
THE GHOST AND MRS. JEFFRIES
MRS. JEFFRIES TAKES STOCK
MRS. JEFFRIES ON THE BALL
MRS. JEFFRIES ON THE TRAIL
MRS. JEFFRIES PLAYS THE COOK
MRS. JEFFRIES AND THE MISSING ALIBI
MRS. JEFFRIES STANDS CORRECTED
MRS. JEFFRIES TAKES THE STAGE
MRS. JEFFRIES QUESTIONS THE ANSWER
MRS. JEFFRIES REVEALS HER ART
MRS. JEFFRIES TAKES THE CAKE
MRS. JEFFRIES ROCKS THE BOAT
MRS. JEFFRIES WEEDS THE PLOT
MRS. JEFFRIES PINCHES THE POST
MRS. JEFFRIES PLEADS HER CASE
MRS. JEFFRIES SWEEPS THE CHIMNEY
MRS. JEFFRIES STALKS THE HUNTER
MRS. JEFFRIES AND THE SILENT KNIGHT
MRS. JEFFRIES APPEALS THE VERDICT
MRS. JEFFRIES AND THE BEST LAID PLANS
MRS. JEFFRIES AND THE FEAST OF ST. STEPHEN
MRS. JEFFRIES HOLDS THE TRUMP
MRS. JEFFRIES IN THE NICK OF TIME
MRS. JEFFRIES AND THE YULETIDE WEDDINGS
MRS. JEFFRIES SPEAKS HER MIND
MRS. JEFFRIES FORGES AHEAD
MRS. JEFFRIES AND THE MISTLETOE MIX-UP
MRS. JEFFRIES DEFENDS HER OWN
Anthologies
MRS. JEFFRIES LEARNS THE TRADE
MRS. JEFFRIES TAKES A SECOND LOOK
MRS. JEFFRIES
ROCKS THE BOAT
E
MILY
B
RIGHTWELL
BERKLEY PRIME CRIME, NEW YORK
MRS. JEFFRIES ROCKS THE BOAT
A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author
PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / September 1999
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 1999 by Berkley Publishing.
Excerpt from
The Dumb Shall Sing
, copyright © 1999 by Stephen Lewis.
This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part,
by mimeograph or any other means, without permission.
For information address: The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Putnam Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
eBook ISBN: 978-1-101-64498-0
Berkley Prime Crime Books are published
by The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Putnam Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
The name BERKLEY PRIME CRIME and the BERKLEY PRIME CRIME design are trademarks belonging to Penguin Putnam Inc.
Version_1
MRS. JEFFRIES
ROCKS THE BOAT
Table of Contents
Berkley Prime Crime titles by Emily Brightwell
Special Excerpt from
The Dumb Shall Sing
CHAPTER 1
Malcolm Tavistock unlocked the heavy, spiked gate and pushed it open. “Come along, Hector,” he said, yanking gently on the bulldog’s lead. Hector, with one last sniff at an errant dandelion that had poked up between the stone squares of the footpath, followed his master.
“Humph,” Tavistock glared at the dandelion as he and the dog stepped into the gated garden in the middle of Sheridan Square. He made a mental note to have a word with the gardener. The place certainly looked scruffy. He pulled the gate shut behind him and made sure he heard the lock engage before carefully pocketing the key.
Sheridan Square was for residents only. It wasn’t a public garden and Malcolm, for his part, would do his best to insure it never became one. It rather annoyed him that some of his other neighbors on the square weren’t as diligent as he was about insuring the security of the garden. Tugging at the dog’s lead, Tavistock strolled up the footpath toward the center of
the large square, his eagle eye on the lookout for more signs of neglect on the part of the gardener. The animal trudged along next to his master, keeping his nose close to the ground and sniffing happily at the bits of grass and clumps of leaves.
Suddenly, Hector came to a dead stop and his thick white head shot up. He sniffed the air and then lunged up the path, yanking his master along behind him.
“Hold on, old fellow,” Malcolm ordered as he pulled back on the lead. He wasn’t through ascertaining exactly how much of a tongue-lashing to give that wretched gardener. “Humph,” he sniffed as he surveyed the area. The place was abysmal. The bushes along the perimeter had grown high and unwieldy. The footpath was scattered with stems and leaves and bits of dried grass, the flower beds were filled with weeds, and the lilac bushes were completely overgrown. “Well, really,” Malcolm muttered. “Am I the only one that cares how this garden looks? The garden committee shall certainly hear about this.”
Hector lunged again, almost yanking Malcolm off his feet.
“Oh, all right.” Malcolm finally decided to let the poor dog have his walkies. He looked around, saw that he was the only one in the garden, and then dropped the lead. “Go on, boy. I’ll catch up in a moment.” Hector took off like a shot. Malcolm reached down and picked up a dirty bit of paper that was littering the path. “Honestly,” he muttered as he crumpled the paper into a tight ball, “some people have no consideration for others.”
From the center of the square, Hector howled.
Malcom was so startled, he jumped. He stuffed the paper in his pocket and ran towards his dog. His heart pounded against his chest. For all his grumbling, he loved that silly dog, and Hector might look like a terror, but he was easily upset.
Flying up the path, Malcolm skidded to a halt. Hector was perfectly all right. He was standing next to a bench upon which a woman lay stretched out sound asleep.
“Well, really,” he exclaimed. “What has become of this
neighborhood! Hector, come away from that disreputable person immediately.” This wasn’t the first time such a thing had happened. Because the garden was shielded by the high foliage from the eyes of passing policemen, vagrants occasionally climbed the fence. But this was the first time Malcolm had ever seen a woman do it. “What is the world coming to?” Malcolm muttered. He marched toward the bench. “I blame those silly suffragettes,” he told Hector. “Puts stupid ideas in women’s heads.” He bent over the sleeping woman, frowning as he realized her clothes were new and expensive. Not the sort of clothes a vagrant would wear. He was suddenly a bit cautious. “Uh, miss.” He poked her gently in the arm. “Is everything all right?”
The woman lay silent.
Hector whined softly.
Frightened now, Malcolm looked around him at his surroundings and wished he were visible from the street. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and he shivered. But he couldn’t just leave the woman lying here. “Miss,” he said loudly, “are you all right?”
Hector whined again and stuck his nose under the wooden slats. But his head wouldn’t go in very far as the lead had got tangled around the base of the gas lamp next to the bench. Malcolm bent down and untangled the lead; as he stood up, he saw what was under the bench. Stunned, he blinked and then forced himself to look again. But the view didn’t change. In the pale morning light it was easy to see exactly what it was. Blood. Lots of it. Grabbing the dog’s lead, he pulled him hard toward the gate. “Come on, Hector, we’ve got to find a policeman. That poor woman’s dead. There’s blood everywhere.”
