The Ghost and Mrs. Jeffries (28 page)

Witherspoon turned to stare at Mrs. Popejoy. “Is that correct?”

“I—I—I’m not really certain,” Mrs. Popejoy muttered.

“Mrs. Popejoy,” the inspector said sternly, “I’m afraid I must insist that you come down to the station also. There’s something very much amiss here. I think, perhaps, you know more about Mrs. Hodges’s death than we’ve been led to believe.”

“Now see here,” Phipps sputtered. “The only thing Mrs. Popejoy did that night was go to Southend to visit a friend. That’s hardly a crime.”

“No, but conspiracy to murder is,” Barnes put in softly.

“Murder!” Mrs. Popejoy exclaimed. “I didn’t kill anyone. And I’m not going to take the blame.”

Outside the window, Mrs. Jeffries and Betsy huddled closer to the window, straining to hear everything that was being said. The housekeeper felt a surge of relief as she heard the uncertainty in Mrs. Popejoy’s voice. Their plan was working. Esme Popejoy had become so unhinged during the séance that she didn’t realize what she was saying.

“It was his idea, his plan,” Mrs. Popejoy insisted. Her voice had a high-pitched hysterical ring to it. “He killed them both. He bungled the first one and now he’s trying to pin this one on me. But I won’t have it. I’m not going to face the hangman for the likes of him.”

“Shut up, you stupid fool,” Hodges hissed. He glared at her. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. She’s
a silly, hysterical woman and you can’t believe a word she says.”

“They’ll believe me, all right,” Mrs. Popejoy yelled. “I’m not the one that pulled that trigger. I’m not the one that’s going to hang.”

“I think we’d better get to the station,” the inspector said. “We’ll need complete statements from both of you.”

“We’re not going to accompany you anywhere,” Hodges stated flatly.

“I’m afraid you are, sir,” Witherspoon began. He broke off suddenly and his eyes widened. Beside him, he heard Constable Barnes’s sharp hiss of breath.

Hodges had pulled out a gun.

Witherspoon fought off a surge of panic as he stared down into the barrel of a revolver. “Now, Mr. Hodges, sir. Put that thing away before someone gets hurt.”

“Put this gun down?” Hodges laughed. “And let you arrest me. I hardly think so, Inspector.”

“But I wasn’t going to arrest you,” Witherspoon replied. He swallowed heavily. “I was merely going to have you and Mrs. Popejoy accompany me to the station.”

“To help with your inquiries.” Hodges sneered and jerked his head towards Mrs. Popejoy. “She wouldn’t last an hour under police interrogation. I should never have trusted her. Silly, stupid cow. I should have known how weak she was when she started believing in this spiritualism nonsense. Go to the station with you? Do you think I’m a fool?”

“No, of course you’re not a fool,” the inspector said. He forced himself to stay calm. Egads, here he was in a whole roomful of people facing a madman with a gun.

A chill blast of wind slammed into the room, rattling the partially open window. Hodges started and whirled towards the window.

Suddenly a hand sliced down on Hodges’s arm and with a cry of rage he dropped the gun. It clattered to the floor and skittered across the room.

Barnes rushed to Hodges, twisted his arms behind his
back and slapped him in a pair of handcuffs.

There was a loud commotion in the hallway and everyone turned. Three police constables burst into the room. “We heard you needed some help, sir,” the first one said.

Witherspoon blinked in confusion. Where the devil had these fellows come from? But he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Quite right, we can use a hand here.” He pointed to Mrs. Popejoy, who was staring blankly into space. “Please apprehend that lady.” Then he turned to Leonard Hodges. “I’m arresting you for the murder of Abigail Hodges.”

The inspector cautioned both his prisoners and a moment later they were led away.

Hatchet knelt down and picked the weapon up. He handed it to Witherspoon. “I believe you should take charge of this, sir.”

“Thank you, er, ah…Mister…”

“Hatchet, sir. I’m Mrs. Crookshank’s butler.”

“Well, good work, Mr. Hatchet.” Witherspoon stared at him curiously. “I must say, that was a rather nice trick. Wherever did you learn how to disarm a man in that fashion?”

“Now will someone please tell me ‘ow you knew it were Mr. Hodges and Mrs. Popejoy?” Wiggins pleaded.

They were sitting in the drawing room at Upper Edmonton Gardens, for Mrs. Jeffries insisted they might all as well be comfortable. The inspector was likely to be tied up for hours at the police station.

Mrs. Goodge had brought in a tray of cocoa and a Battenberg cake. “You mean you haven’t figured it out yet?” she asked as she sliced the cake.

“If I’d figured it out, I wouldn’t be askin’ now, would I?” Wiggins replied. He nodded his thanks as the cook handed him a plate.

“Well,” Mrs. Jeffries began, “I can’t say it all came to me in a blinding flash, but once all of you began bringing
in your various items of information and gossip, I realized the murder could only have been committed by the two of them. There were so many little things that didn’t add up.” She shrugged. “And once I began to really examine everyone’s motive, the suspect who had the most to gain was Mr. Hodges.”

“Excuse me, madam,” Hatchet said. “But I don’t quite follow that line of reasoning. Surely Mr. Felcher, Mrs. Trotter and Miss Marsden all benefited by Mrs. Hodges’s death.”

“True. But how much, enough to risk being convicted of murder?” Mrs. Jeffries stated. “You see, Miss Marsden and Mr. Vogel had no reason to kill her; they already had made plans to go to Canada.”

“What about Mr. Felcher?” Betsy asked.

“True. He gained control of his inheritance, but why kill Mrs. Hodges now? He’d been putting up with his aunt for years. Besides, he had no idea what time the séance was going to end that night and he certainly didn’t know that Mr. Hodges wasn’t going to be bringing Mrs. Hodges home.” Mrs. Jeffries reached for her cocoa. “The same can be said of Mrs. Trotter. No, when you looked at the murder rationally, when you examined all the pieces of the puzzle, there was really only one solution. But of course I didn’t begin seeing the pattern until the note.”

“Which note?” Wiggins wiped a cake crumb off his cheek. “The ones you sent tonight?”

“No, the one instructing the police to search the Hodges house,” she said. “You see, that was a deliberate attempt to point the finger of guilt at Miss Marsden. Once I realized that, there was only one person who had reason to want Miss Marsden and Mr. Vogel convicted of this crime.”

“What reason?” Luty asked. “I figured whoever sent that note was just tryin’ to save his own skin.”

Mrs. Jeffries shook her head. “Oh no, that note led to the discovery of the jewels in Miss Marsden’s room. There was only one person who would benefit if Miss Marsden were
convicted of murder. That person was Leonard Hodges. You see, you can’t profit from a crime, so if she’d been convicted of murdering her aunt, Mr. Hodges would have received the whole of Mrs. Hodges’s fortune. I think that at first they really tried to make the murder look like a burglary gone bad. But when they bungled it so badly, they had to fall back on another plan. In one sense it was an even better plan. Getting Miss Marsden arrested would have given Mr. Hodges the whole of his wife’s fortune.”

“But how did they do it?” Wiggins persisted. “I know it ‘ad somethin’ to do with that hansom and stoppin’ on the way to the station. I know that Mr. Hodges got out and nipped off to kill his wife and Mrs. Popejoy got that Phipps feller to ride off with her. But didn’t the driver notice he were a different bloke than the one she started out with?”

“No, Mr. Hodges had deliberately worn the same kind of coat and hat that Mr. Phipps habitually wore,” Mrs. Jeffries said. “Remember when Betsy told us that Mrs. Hodges had gotten angry at her husband for buying some cheap clothes from a ready-wear shop in the East End? Well, then when Betsy mentioned that she’d followed Mr. Hodges to St. James Church and watched him give an almost new coat and hat away, I realized that Hodges had deliberately tried to disguise himself that night and now he wanted to get rid of the evidence.”

“How do you think he got Vogel’s gun?” Smythe asked.

“Probably exactly like Mr. Vogel himself said. He stole it.”

“Well, it was a fine piece of work, Hepzibah,” Luty said earnestly.

“Oh please, don’t give me all the credit.” She gestured around the room. “All of you deserve to take a bow. Smythe’s tracking down that coachman and confirming they’d stopped so the switch could take place, Betsy’s information about the coat and hat, Wiggins following Miss Marsden and of course you and Hatchet were invaluable.”

“Do you think Phipps was in on the plot?” Betsy asked.

“No. I think he’s an innocent pawn.” Mrs. Jeffries took a sip of cocoa. “Remember, Mrs. Popejoy hadn’t had a thing to do with the man for months. Until, that is, they were ready to do murder. Then she up and asks him to escort her to the train station. It was really a very simple plot. Mr. Hodges and Mrs. Popejoy drive off in a hansom, providing the both of them with an ironclad alibi for the murder of his wife. They make a stop, Hodges gets out, goes home, commits murder and then saunters off to his club. Mrs. Popejoy lets Mr. Phipps escort her to the train station and goes off to visit a friend. Clever, but not quite clever enough.”

“Well, it was jolly clever of you two to take that Madame Natalia along with you tonight.” Mrs. Goodge clucked her tongue. “Imagine bein’ able to do all that fancy stuff with her voice.”

Luty chuckled. “She’s good. Her father was a ventriloquist. And it sure helped to move things along. Mrs. Popejoy was so rattled by all them voices from the grave she give herself away.”

“Do you think they really did murder his first wife?” Smythe asked, his expression sober.

“Yes,” Mrs. Jeffries replied slowly, “but I’m not sure the police will ever prove it. And, of course, Hodges didn’t gain anything. Dorothy Throgmorton’s family saw to that. I suspect that’s why he married Mrs. Hodges. He and Mrs. Popejoy planned it from the beginning. We know they’ve known each other for years. He married Abigail Hodges, acted the devoted husband, introduced her to spiritualism and Mrs. Popejoy and then murdered her.”

Hatchet clucked his tongue. “Disgusting. Murdering innocent women for money.”

Mrs. Jeffries nodded and then looked at Hatchet curiously. “I must say, Hatchet, you certainly saved the day, disarming a man with a gun. You were quite brave tonight.”

“Hatchet’s right good at some things,” Luty agreed with a wide grin.

The butler glowered at his mistress. “Bravery had nothing to do with it. I assure you, I disarmed Mr. Hodges for the sole purpose of inhibiting Mrs. Crookshank from pulling out her own weapon. The last time she pulled a gun out of her muff, we were repairing holes in the ceilings for weeks.”

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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