forgotten you,” she soothed. “But I thought that your information might make a bit more sense if we had a few more facts.”
Wiggins nodded and she continued. “Apparently, the house was full of guests when the murder happened—”
“That’ll give us lots of suspects,” Luty interrupted eagerly.
“Sorry, but I’m afraid not. The house was full but everyone except the servants were all together in the drawing room when it happened. They were waiting for Francis Humphreys to come downstairs and join them.”
“Well, nells bells,” Luty muttered.
“Yes, I know, it is unfortunate that we’ve a houseful of people, but none of them appears to have been the killer.” Mrs. Jeffries smiled ruefully and continued with her report.
They listened carefully, occasionally nodding or breaking in to ask the housekeeper to clarify a bit of information. When she’d finished, she looked at Wiggins. “Your turn. What did your young Mr. Cooper have to say?”
Wiggins looked a bit sheepish. “It really wasn’t that much, but he did say that the gunshot was loud enough to wake the dead.” As was his habit, after making that remark, he went on to give them almost a word-for-word recitation of his encounter with Johnny Cooper.
“Good gracious, that sounds like you remembered the entire conversation.” Mrs. Goodge looked suitably impressed.
“Try my best not to forget anything.” Wiggins smiled modestly.
“You’ve a good memory, Wiggins,” Betsy agreed. “We all know that sometimes it’s the smallest little thing that leads to finding the killer.”
“I’ve worked hard to train myself to recall as much as possible.” He reached for his tea mug. “It’s hard work, but it’s worth the effort.” What he wasn’t telling them was he’d also gotten in the habit of writing everything down so he wouldn’t forget. He’d even bought a little brown notebook just like the one Constable Barnes used.
Smythe looked at Mrs. Jeffries. “So should we ignore all the people that were in the house when the murder happened?” he asked.
“Seems like we’d have to if they were all in the drawing room sippin’ tea when Humphreys was shot,” Mrs. Goodge complained.
“Actually, I don’t think we ought to ignore anyone,” Mrs. Jeffries said slowly. “I thought about it last night after the inspector retired. I don’t know that I’m right, but it seems to me that considering the facts of the matter, there’s always the chance that someone in the drawing room might have had some part in the crime.”
“But the killer couldn’t have shot him if he was with the others,” Betsy pointed out. “And even though the inspector hasn’t completed all the statements, the one thing you said they were sure of was that all of the guests were in the room together when they heard the shot.”
“There might have been an accomplice.” Hatchet looked at the housekeeper. “Is that what you think?”
Mrs. Jeffries didn’t want to say too much. She’d learned to trust her instincts but even so, they had so few facts about the case. Still, there was something about the circumstances of the situation that struck her as odd. “I’m not sure what I mean,” she finally admitted. “I’ve just got the strongest feeling that we shouldn’t ignore anyone, even those that appear to have an alibi. I kept wondering why the killer would risk committing the crime when there were people everywhere. If the assailant crept onto the property and slipped into the house, he or she was taking a huge risk and could have been seen at any moment.”
“But it was raining.” Betsy poured herself another cup of tea. “Perhaps the killer counted on everyone being inside and in front of a warm fire.”
“Not the servants,” Wiggins argued. “They would ’ave been in and out doing their work. You don’t stop fetchin’ and carryin’ just because there’s a bit of wet. Any of them could ’ave seen the killer.”
“Or the killer could
Wiggins nodded and she continued. “Apparently, the house was full of guests when the murder happened—”
“That’ll give us lots of suspects,” Luty interrupted eagerly.
“Sorry, but I’m afraid not. The house was full but everyone except the servants were all together in the drawing room when it happened. They were waiting for Francis Humphreys to come downstairs and join them.”
“Well, nells bells,” Luty muttered.
“Yes, I know, it is unfortunate that we’ve a houseful of people, but none of them appears to have been the killer.” Mrs. Jeffries smiled ruefully and continued with her report.
They listened carefully, occasionally nodding or breaking in to ask the housekeeper to clarify a bit of information. When she’d finished, she looked at Wiggins. “Your turn. What did your young Mr. Cooper have to say?”
Wiggins looked a bit sheepish. “It really wasn’t that much, but he did say that the gunshot was loud enough to wake the dead.” As was his habit, after making that remark, he went on to give them almost a word-for-word recitation of his encounter with Johnny Cooper.
“Good gracious, that sounds like you remembered the entire conversation.” Mrs. Goodge looked suitably impressed.
“Try my best not to forget anything.” Wiggins smiled modestly.
“You’ve a good memory, Wiggins,” Betsy agreed. “We all know that sometimes it’s the smallest little thing that leads to finding the killer.”
“I’ve worked hard to train myself to recall as much as possible.” He reached for his tea mug. “It’s hard work, but it’s worth the effort.” What he wasn’t telling them was he’d also gotten in the habit of writing everything down so he wouldn’t forget. He’d even bought a little brown notebook just like the one Constable Barnes used.
Smythe looked at Mrs. Jeffries. “So should we ignore all the people that were in the house when the murder happened?” he asked.
“Seems like we’d have to if they were all in the drawing room sippin’ tea when Humphreys was shot,” Mrs. Goodge complained.
“Actually, I don’t think we ought to ignore anyone,” Mrs. Jeffries said slowly. “I thought about it last night after the inspector retired. I don’t know that I’m right, but it seems to me that considering the facts of the matter, there’s always the chance that someone in the drawing room might have had some part in the crime.”
“But the killer couldn’t have shot him if he was with the others,” Betsy pointed out. “And even though the inspector hasn’t completed all the statements, the one thing you said they were sure of was that all of the guests were in the room together when they heard the shot.”
“There might have been an accomplice.” Hatchet looked at the housekeeper. “Is that what you think?”
Mrs. Jeffries didn’t want to say too much. She’d learned to trust her instincts but even so, they had so few facts about the case. Still, there was something about the circumstances of the situation that struck her as odd. “I’m not sure what I mean,” she finally admitted. “I’ve just got the strongest feeling that we shouldn’t ignore anyone, even those that appear to have an alibi. I kept wondering why the killer would risk committing the crime when there were people everywhere. If the assailant crept onto the property and slipped into the house, he or she was taking a huge risk and could have been seen at any moment.”
“But it was raining.” Betsy poured herself another cup of tea. “Perhaps the killer counted on everyone being inside and in front of a warm fire.”
“Not the servants,” Wiggins argued. “They would ’ave been in and out doing their work. You don’t stop fetchin’ and carryin’ just because there’s a bit of wet. Any of them could ’ave seen the killer.”
“Or the killer could
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