Mrs. Jeffries Stands Corrected (25 page)

“How long they gonna be?” Wiggins complained. “I’m gettin’ hungry again.”

“Stop your moaning.” Mrs. Goodge smiled as she watched Hatchet duck behind a tree, hiding from the laughing Amanda. “Them two aren’t talking about the weather, you know.”

“Do you think it’ll be all right?” Betsy asked anxiously. She glanced at the back door of Upper Edmonton Gardens. “They’ve been in there a long time.”

“I hope so,” Mrs. Jeffries replied.

“Caught ya.” Luty, holding Amanda’s hand, tagged Hatchet as he pretended to run from the little girl. Amanda giggled uproariously.

“Well, I wish they’d ’urry,” Wiggins said, frowning at the back door. But his frown vanished suddenly. “Blimey, ’ere they come.”

Everyone, except the child, turned and saw Michael and Sarah coming out the back door.

He took Sarah’s hand and together they crossed the lawn toward the others.

Amanda, seeing her mother, came running out from behind the tree she’d been hiding behind. She stopped suddenly and stared at the tall man holding her mother’s hand.

Luty, Hatchet, Wiggins and Betsy had all come to stand in a group next to Mrs. Jeffries.

Michael Taggert knelt down and looked at the beautiful
little girl watching him. Tears filled his eyes.

“I think,” the housekeeper said softly, “that we’d better go inside. Mr. Taggert may like some privacy when he meets his daughter.”

“I know that neither of them is the murderer,” Mrs. Goodge announced. She sniffed and swiped quickly at her eyes, wiping back the sentimental tears that threatened to roll down her cheeks.

“’Corse neither of ’em is the killer,” Luty agreed. “It’s got to be one of the others. Why, did you see the way that man looked at his little girl? I tell ya, he had tears in his eyes, he was so happy. A feller like that ain’t capable of murder and you only have to look at Sarah to know she couldn’t do it.”

“But the inspector thinks it might be Sarah,” Betsy said worriedly. “What if he arrests her tonight and that poor little baby loses her mama?”

“It’d be a crime, that’s what it would be,” Wiggins agreed. “Separatin’ a mama and her child ought to be against the law.”

Mrs. Jeffries glanced toward the back hall and hoped she hadn’t made the mistake of her life. They were all sitting
at the table in the kitchen, waiting for Sarah, Amanda and Michael to come inside. Everyone had been deeply moved by what they’d just witnessed. Now they were all convinced that Amanda Hewett was a darling little angel, Sarah Hewett was a saint and Michael Taggert a knight in shining armor.

Mrs. Jeffries was at this point fairly certain that at least Sarah was innocent. Getting the woman to come here had been a kind of a test. She’d reasoned that though Sarah was adamant about keeping her daughter’s parentage a secret—in fact, that was really her only possible motive for wanting Haydon Dapeers dead—she’d come here anyway. She’d stood in front of a group of strangers and introduced her child to its father. If Sarah had been truly unbalanced enough to murder to keep the world from knowing Amanda wasn’t Charles Hewett’s daughter, she would never have done what she did today. Sarah wasn’t guilty. Mrs. Jeffries was sure of that. But what about Michael Taggert? He’d had motive enough. He’d watched the woman he loved stay a virtual prisoner in the Dapeers house. Maybe he’d finally had enough.

They heard the back door open. Everyone turned, their attention on the back hall. Sarah Hewett, followed by Michael carrying Amanda, came into the kitchen.

“Do come in and sit down,” Mrs. Jeffries said. “We’ve some tea made. I expect you could both do with a cup.”

Sarah smiled shyly and sat down next to Mrs. Goodge. Michael Taggert took the chair next to Wiggins. He settled Amanda on his lap and then said to Mrs. Jeffries, “Tea would be nice, thank you.”

“Your little one’s almost asleep.” Mrs. Goodge nodded at the child, who was dozing against her father’s chest. “Should I take her? There’s a daybed in my room; it’s right down the hall. You can hear her if she wakes up and gets
frightened. She can have a bit of lay-down while you two have your tea.”

“Uh…” Michael, uncertain in his newfound role as parent, looked at Sarah.

“That would be lovely, thank you. It’s way past time for her nap.” Sarah got up, plucked the sleeping child off his lap and followed the cook out of the kitchen.

“I don’t know how to thank you for what you’ve done,” Michael said to Mrs. Jeffries. “Sarah told me it was you who talked her into telling me the truth.”

“Don’t thank me. I’m sure Sarah would have told you soon in any case. Did she tell you how I convinced her?”

His expression hardened. “She told me that you think she might be in danger of being arrested.”

“I’m not certain that’s the case.” Mrs. Jeffries hesitated; she wasn’t sure how much to tell Taggert. He was still a suspect, albeit a weak one. “But the possibility did exist.”

“We’ve got to decide what to do,” Michael said. “I’ll not have Sarah arrested for a murder she didn’t commit.”

Mrs. Jeffries decided to be blunt. “You may not be able to stop it. Furthermore, as I said, we don’t know for certain she is going to be arrested. I’m only making an educated guess. I could be completely wrong.” She sincerely hoped she was.

“I’ll not risk it,” he said fiercely. “I’ll not risk losing her now and I’ll not risk our daughter losing her mother.”

Mrs. Jeffries saw the anguish on his face. “Inspector Witherspoon is a good man,” she said gently. “He won’t pursue a case against someone unless he has evidence.”

“But there isn’t any evidence against Sarah,” Michael cried. “Not any real evidence anyway. She couldn’t hurt anyone.”

“And what about you, Mr. Taggert?” Mrs. Jeffries regarded him steadily.

“Michael couldn’t kill anyone, either,” Sarah declared softly. She walked to the table. “Neither of us could.”

“And I won’t let either of us be arrested for a crime we didn’t commit,” he said, getting to his feet. “We can leave. We don’t have to go to the Gilded Lily tonight. We don’t have to sit there like sheep being led to the slaughter.”

“No, Michael, we’re not going to leave,” Sarah replied. She came around the table and stood next to him. “We’re going to face this and we’re going to see it through. I’ve faith that justice will prevail. We weren’t the only ones that hated Haydon.”

He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her closer. “But what if you are arrested?”

“Then I’ll stand trial,” she said simply, her eyes never leaving his face. “And if that happens, you’ll take care of our daughter.”

They stared at one another for a long moment, oblivious to their audience. Michael closed his eyes briefly, as though he was fighting an inner battle with himself. “All right. But if it happens, I’m going to hire you the best counsel money can buy.”

Sarah smiled weakly. “Let’s not think about that just yet. Besides, Moira will help me if it comes to it.”

“No. I’ll pay for it.”

“Oh Michael—”

“I’ve got money, Sarah,” Michael interrupted. “Lots of it. I inherited a fortune several months ago. Enough to keep us for the rest of our lives. That’s why I suggested you and Amanda come away with me. We could take the night train to the continent, catch a ship at one of the French ports; no one would ever find us.”

She lifted her chin stubbornly. “I won’t hide. I feel like I’ve been hiding since the day my daughter was born. No. We stay here, regardless of what happens.”

“All right, my love.” He pulled her closer. “We won’t run, but I will take care of both of you, come what may.”

Sarah looked at him curiously. “You never said anything about having money…and you took that awful job etching those stupid windows for Haydon. Why?”

“I was going to tell you, honestly I was.” He gave an embarrassed laugh. “But I was afraid that if Haydon found out I wasn’t flat broke, he’d never pay me. I only took that wretched job at the pub so I could see you. Didn’t you realize? Haydon did, that’s why he was such a bast—” He broke off and flushed as he realized what he’d almost said. “Forgive me, darling. I’ll never use that word in your presence again. But we must marry straightaway. No one is ever going to call our child that foul name.”

This was all very touching and Mrs. Jeffries would have loved to have sat there all afternoon. It was better than one of the serialized novels in
The Illustrated London News
, but time was wasting.

“Excuse me.” She cleared her throat loudly to get their attention. “But we really must move along here.”

Sarah broke away and took her seat at the table. Michael sat down as well. “What do you want us to do?” he asked.

“What time are you due at the Gilded Lily?”

“Eight o’clock,” Michael replied. “That inspector of yours came around right after I got your note this morning. He insists I be there tonight.”

“Moira and I both have to be there as well,” Sarah added.

“What exactly did he say?” She directed her question to Michael.

“He said that he had important information about Haydon’s murder, but he couldn’t tell me what it was.” Michael shrugged. “He said he had to show me.”

“That’s what Moira said he told her,” Sarah said excitedly.
“Do you think he’s found something? Something which will show up the real killer?”

Mrs. Jeffries didn’t think he’d found anything. But she wasn’t certain. That was what was so impossible about this situation, she didn’t know a ruddy thing! “I don’t know. But whatever he’s up to, I think you both must be there.”

“I think we can go in now,” Constable Barnes whispered to Inspector Witherspoon. “I just saw Tom and Joanne Dapeers go inside and they’re the last ones to arrive.”

Witherspoon nodded. He and Barnes were standing in a darkened shop window directly across from the Gilded Lily. A full moon had risen, casting a ghostly light over the quiet street. Witherspoon checked his watch, knowing that he had to time everything perfectly. He was so nervous he was afraid he’d get a headache. On top of that, butterflies were dancing in his stomach, perspiration trickled down his back and his heart was beating so loudly he was sure the constable must hear it. “Are both Molly and Mick inside?” he asked for third time.

Barnes, a patient man, nodded. “Yes. Molly grumbled a bit; she didn’t want to come back here. Mick’s been inside for over an hour now; he was the first one to arrive.”

“Good.” Witherspoon took a deep, calming breath, closed his eyes and listened for his inner voice. But he heard nothing. Drat, he thought, this is no time to start having doubts. But what if he was wrong? What if he made a complete fool of himself tonight? He gave himself a shake. There was no point in worrying about that now: the die was cast. Everyone was in position. Visions of the records room swam in his head, and for once Witherspoon didn’t find the image soothing.

“Er, sir?” Barnes prodded. “Are you all right?”

“Perfectly, Constable. Thank you for inquiring. Right,
then, let’s get this done with. We’ve a killer to catch tonight, Barnes. Justice must be served.”

The inspector boldly started across Minyard Street with Barnes right on his heels. Their footsteps echoed loudly on the stone pavement. Witherspoon noticed the night had become eerily silent. The foot traffic had disappeared, and except for the clip-clop of the occasional hansom, the street was deserted.

Bright light spilled out the front windows of the pub. Witherspoon grasped the door handle, gave it a turn, steeled himself and the two men stepped inside.

As instructed, Molly and Mick were behind the bar. Mick was polishing glasses with a white tea towel. Molly was standing with her arms folded across her chest and a disgruntled expression on her face.

The inspector glanced quickly around the room. No one looked particularly happy to be there. Moira Dapeers and her sister-in-law were sitting to the left of the bar, talking quietly. Michael Taggert was standing alone in front of the partition leading to the saloon bar. Tom and Joanne Dapeers were sitting at one of the round tables. Tom was drumming his fingers against the wood and Joanne appeared to be glaring at a gas lamp on the far wall. Her head snapped around at the sound of the door banging shut.

“It’s about time you got here,” she snapped. “We’ve been waiting for a good half hour.”