Mrs. Jeffries and the Feast of St. Stephen (A Victorian Mystery) by Emily Brightwell Page B

you’ve heard their names before, haven’t you?” Luty charged. She and Hatchet were very competitive when they were on a case. Each of them reveled in finding out more information than the other.
    “I may have heard them mentioned in casual conversations,” Hatchet admitted. He knew the Farringdons’ butler, but he’d die before he’d own up to it in front of Luty.
    Luty snorted. “You’ve got something up your sleeve, but then again”—she grinned—“so do I.”
    “Excellent. It seems we’ve all something to do to keep busy until this afternoon.” Mrs. Jeffries looked at Smythe. “Would you like to take today to rest? You’ve had a hard, long journey.”
    He shook his head and got up. “I’m fine, Mrs. Jeffries. I’ve got some business of me own to take care of this morning, but I’ll be able to get on the hunt by the afternoon.” He shot Betsy a quick glance. She was concentrating on doing the buttons on her coat and didn’t look up.
    “Should I go to the Whitfield ’ouse after I’ve seen the inspector?” Wiggins asked. “I’ll be careful.”
    “Yes, that’s a good idea,” the housekeeper said as she got up. “And I’ll see if I can get a word or two out of the good doctor. Mind you, if he was up all night doing the postmortem, he might go home instead of to St. Thomas’s Hospital.”
     
“Oh dear, it looks as if Dr. Bosworth was correct.” Witherspoon frowned and shook his head as he read from the postmortem report open on the desk. He and Constable Barnes were in the enquiries room in the police station on Kings Road. They’d met here instead of at the Ladbroke Grove station because it was closer to the victim’s home. As both stations were in Witherspoon’s district, it didn’t matter which one they used as a base. “It was a massive dose of poison that killed the poor fellow.”
    “Foxglove?” Barnes asked.
    Witherspoon squinted at the writing on the page. “So it appears.” He sighed and got to his feet. “Perhaps we’d better go and break the news to his sister-in-law.” He reached into his coat pocket for his watch. “Oh dear, I think I’ve forgotten my watch.”
    “That’s all right, sir. I’ve got mine,” Barnes replied just as a constable appeared in the doorway. Wiggins stood right behind him.
    “This lad says he’s from the inspector’s household,” the constable explained.
    “He is.” Barnes grinned. He knew exactly why Wiggins was here. “Come in, young Wiggins, and tell us what brings you down here.”
    “Good morning, Constable Barnes.” Wiggins took off his flat cap and bobbed his head respectfully.
    “Gracious, Wiggins, is everything alright at home?” Witherspoon was surprised by the apprehension that had gripped him when he’d seen the footman. He’d been on his own for most of his adult life, but in the past few years he’d become very attached to his household, and one of them showing up unexpectedly might be bad news indeed.
    “Everything’s fine, sir.” Wiggins pulled the inspector’s watch out of his pocket and handed it to Witherspoon. “You forgot your watch, sir, so Mrs. Jeffries sent me down to make sure you got it. We thought you might need it.”
    Relief swept through the inspector. “Thank you, Wiggins. That was very thoughtful of you.”
    “It’s a good thing you arrived when you did,” Barnes said. “The inspector and I were just on our way out.”
    “Goin’ back to Ladbroke Grove, were you?” Wiggins asked.
    “Actually, we’re on our way back to the Whitfield residence,” Witherspoon said as he tucked his watch into his waistcoat pocket. “The postmortem shows that the poor fellow was poisoned.”
    “Ah, what a shame, especially at this time of the year.” Wiggins popped his cap onto his head and edged toward the door. He’d found out what he needed. They had them a murder.

CHAPTER 3
    Wiggins kept his distance from the two policemen. He’d toyed with the idea of going back to Upper Edmonton