Mrs. Jeffries Wins the Prize by Emily Brightwell Page B

they’re going to pay for what they did to both of us.”
    *   *   *
    Both the other ladies decided to accompany Mrs. Rayburn and the inspector to the conservatory. As they trooped down the long hallway, the inspector considered pointing out that as Mrs. Rayburn was the owner of the property, she was the only person with the legal right to witness the search. But he didn’t wish to wield his authority like a cudgel, and furthermore, the exchanges between Helena Rayburn and her friends were very interesting.
    He was certainly no expert on female friendships, but it did seem to him that some of the remarks tossed back and forth between the ladies revealed more than they realized. He had the distinct impression that Mrs. Rayburn had a far higher opinion of herself than she had of her companions; as a matter of fact, he was certain of it. Inhis experience, the kind of arrogance that Mrs. Rayburn exhibited often had unforeseen results, and he wondered if she realized her friends might not be so kindly disposed to her when he interviewed them on their own.
    When they reached the door of the conservatory, Barnes went in first. Witherspoon entered next with the three women trailing at his heels. Constable Griffiths and another constable were already inside. They stood at the far door awaiting instructions.
    â€œAre there going to be four of you tramping around in here?” Helena demanded as she marched to the center aisle and planted herself there like a battlefield general. Thea Stanway leaned against the end of the row of tall cupboards while Isabelle Martell stayed back, propping herself against the door frame.
    â€œWe’ll be very careful of your plants, Mrs. Rayburn,” Witherspoon assured her for what he thought must be the tenth time. He motioned for the constables to start searching the long counters on his right. Constable Griffiths headed to the table nearest the outside door while the other constable started with the one along the wall. Barnes went past Mrs. Stanway to the cupboards and opened the top cabinet on the one at the end of the row.
    Witherspoon headed to his left, to the oilcloth hanging from one of the metal supports on the ceiling.
    â€œBe careful there,” Helena warned. “That covering is there to keep those plants at a constant temperature.”
    â€œYes, ma’am.” He pushed the cloth to one side. A table was shoved up against the glass wall. Plants at various stages of growth were arranged in long, neat rows along the wood. Some of them were barely pushing out of thesoil, some had green shoots arching toward the light, and two were completely blooming. The inspector stared at one of the blossoms, entranced by the loveliness of the deep purple color and the delicate, unusual shape of the petals. “Mrs. Rayburn, what kind of flower is this? It’s absolutely exquisite.”
    Helena rushed across the small space separating them. “It’s a
Vanda amesiana
and it’s very fragile. Please put the cloth back. The temperature needs to be as stable as possible.”
    Witherspoon peered under the table and saw there was nothing, then dropped the oilcloth back into place.
    Constable Griffith squatted down and shoved his head under the counter. Unfortunately, he was larger than the space, and his shoulder bashed one of the leg supports, causing some of the pots to wobble dangerously. “Oh, for goodness’ sakes,” Helena cried. “Watch what you’re doing. Those are my lady slippers and they’re very delicate.”
    â€œHelena, you told me you didn’t have any of those.” Isabelle hurried forward and poked her friend on the arm. “I asked you for a cutting and you claimed they’d all died.”
    â€œNonsense, I said no such thing,” she replied. “You must have misunderstood me.”
    â€œBut Isabelle was very clear.” Thea joined the other two. “I was there when she asked