“Because he was married to Walker’s only child,” Mrs. Jeffries explained. “And he didn’t want to see her ruined socially. However, I think the reason Bruce was going to flee wasn’t just because he was afraid of being arrested, I think he’d realized that Walker was going to help his daughter with a divorce.”
“That’s right, my source said Walker was tryin’ to find out how much a divorce cost.” Luty nodded. “Which means that Bruce woulda had nothing. He’d lose his job, his house, and maybe his freedom if Gilhaney was as smart as everyone thought.”
“What I don’t understand is the relationship between Gilhaney and Hazel Bruce,” Phyllis said. “Why would he leave her so much money?”
It was Ruth who answered. “I suspect he genuinely cared for her. My guess is that the first time she told her father she wanted to leave her husband was when she and Gilhaney began their liaison. Her father was adamant that he wouldn’t help. She probably felt utterly hopeless.”
“She might have even broken it off with Gilhaney so he could move on to someone else,” Betsy muttered. “Relationships are never black and white. There’s always shades of gray.”
“We’ll get more details once the inspector comes home.” Mrs. Jeffries smiled broadly. “I’m sure he’ll be as pleased as we are that we all of us will be enjoying the Christmas holiday we planned!”
• • •
The inspector did have more details to share when he came home. He started for his study, but Mrs. Jeffries stopped him. “Oh no, sir, you must come downstairs. Lady Cannonberry is here—she brought over a bottle of wine for all of us to enjoy, and everyone’s dying to hear about today. We heard you’ve arrested Gilhaney’s killer.”
Mrs. Goodge, Luty, and Ruth had come up with this ruse earlier.
He grinned in surprise. “Gracious, how did you find out about it?” Without waiting for her reply, he turned toward the back stairs and hurried off.
“Lady Cannonberry’s butler, Everton, told her and she told us. I’ve no idea how he knew.” She raced to catch up with him. They clattered down the stairs and into the kitchen.
The others were sitting around the table, wineglasses at the ready.
Ruth stood up. “Gerald, I do hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of coming over and bringing some holiday cheer. We’re all so proud of you. You’ve done the impossible—you’ve solved the case.” She sat back down.
“It wasn’t just me. Constable Barnes and many other policemen did their share.” He sat down at the head of the table next to her. He patted her hand. “It’s so kind of you to bring the wine. Shall we have some?”
“I’ll pour, sir,” Mrs. Jeffries offered. “You will tell us about the arrest, won’t you?” She moved around the table pouring a small amount into each of their glasses.
“Of course. We arrested Theodore Bruce.” He told them what had happened, taking care not to be melodramatic about the events in the Bruce house itself.
Nonetheless, when he’d finished, Ruth grabbed his hand. “Oh, Gerald, you could have been killed.”
“We took care to stay down, but Bruce was far more concerned with trying to kill his wife rather than any of us. Luckily, both Mr. and Mrs. Bruce were almost out of ammunition by the time Constable Griffiths started hurling rocks through the window.”
“What about Mr. Smalling, sir?” Mrs. Jeffries asked. “Is he going to be alright?”
“He is; it’s a minor head wound. Apparently, Bruce coshed him on the side of the head as he was trying to get out the front door.” Witherspoon took a sip of the wine. “The poor man happened to arrive just as Ted Bruce realized that Mrs. Bruce had stolen the briefcase from a secret compartment in the floor beneath his desk. Smalling told us he was getting Mrs. Bruce to sign some documents when her husband charged into the drawing room and began shouting. Smalling didn’t object to the shouting, but Mrs. Bruce suddenly stood up and pulled a gun out from under the cushions, pointed it at her husband, and called him a murdering pig. At that point, Mr. Smalling decided to retreat. He grabbed his documents and briefcase and ran for the door. Bruce chased him, pulled his own gun out, and bashed him on the side of the head.”
“And the rest of the household? What were they doing?” Mrs. Goodge asked.
“Florence Bruce wasn’t home, but the servants had realized something was terribly wrong and got out the front and back doors.”
“What was in the briefcase, Gerald?” Ruth was still holding his hand.
“Christopher Gilhaney’s ring and stickpin and the brass knuckles he always carried, along with ten thousand pounds in cash. Ted Bruce has been stealing from Walker and Company for years.”
“Was ’e embezzlin’?” Wiggins looked at the wine bottle and made a face when he saw it was empty.
“Bruce claimed all he did was skim a bit off the top—that’s how he referred to it—but stealing is stealing. He kept the money in that hiding place beneath his desk. He killed Gilhaney because he knew the man would spot what he’d done right away and he wasn’t ready to leave England until now.”
“Why now?”
“I’m not sure how he did it, but he managed to get money out of the company on a monthly basis.”
“It probably has something to do with taking a bit off the regular monthly expenditures,” Luty muttered. “Skimmin’ his cut before the bills got paid to the vendors.”
“That’s certainly possible, but that’s the reason he stayed. He wanted the December money. He’d realized that Newton Walker was serious about getting him out of the company and out of his daughter’s life.”
“Did you arrest Mrs. Bruce?” Phyllis asked. “She was shooting at him as well.”
Witherspoon sighed. “We’ve not made a decision about charging her as yet. Mr. Walker arrived with his solicitor in tow and pointed out that she was merely defending her life.”
“But didn’t you say that Mr. Smalling said she pulled her gun out first?” Betsy said.
“I did.” Witherspoon smiled skeptically. “But the Walker solicitor pointed out that she probably had the gun because she was terrified he was going to kill her. I’ll let Chief Superintendent Barrows make that decision.” He looked at Ruth. “Shall I walk you across the garden?”
“Absolutely not. You go upstairs and have a rest. I want to speak to Mrs. Goodge for a moment. We’re still coming up with tomorrow night’s menu.”
“We’ve got to go,” Betsy said as she and Smythe got up. “The little one will be wanting her bath. We’ve some presents to wrap as well.”
“I’ll bring the carriage around the front.” Hatchet rose to his feet.
“Wiggins, can you move the buckets of sand into the drawing room?” Mrs. Jeffries stood up. “I had them put into the back hall and the tree will be here early tomorrow morning. Oh dear, I’ve got to get up to the linen cupboard for a floor sheet. I want to make certain it’s in place before they bring it into the house. If we don’t have something under that tree, it’ll scratch the wood.”
Within a few moments, the kitchen was empty save for Mrs. Goodge, Ruth, and Luty.
The cook lifted her glass. “Ladies, I do believe we did it. We got them back on the path to justice.”
“It wasn’t easy. There were moments when I felt awful. I had to say some terrible things,” Ruth said.
“Horsefeathers.” Luty lifted her glass. “We did what was right and if we hadn’t done it, Gilhaney’s killer would be on his way to South America tonight.”
“True, but I know how Ruth feels. I felt like cryin’ at some of the things I said to Wiggins. He looked so hurt. Still, sometimes you’ve got to be cruel to nudge people in the right direction. I’ll toast to us.” Mrs. Goodge raised her glass. “Here’s to us, we’re three very clever ladies.”
Ruth lifted her glass. “Oh no, in keeping with the season, here’s to us, three very wise women.”
They clinked their glasses.
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Mrs. Jeffries and the Three Wise Women Page 25