Mrs. Jeffries Delivers the Goods

by Emily Brightwell

  “I’m not certain. We want a few days to ourselves before we come back to London. You needn’t worry, you’ll do fine while I’m gone. Mr. Bingham can deal with any payment problems and Bobby Blankenship can handle anything that comes up in the warehouse.”

  “Yes, sir.” Phillip started to close the door and then paused. “Congratulations to both of you, sir. The whole staff is delighted you’re getting married.”

  “They’re just happy I let everyone go early today,” he teased.

  Phillip laughed. “That, too, sir.”

  “Thank you, Phillip. I’ll see you in a few days.”

  The secretary closed the door and picked up Mrs. Cory’s carpetbag. Putting it behind his desk, he opened the top drawer and took out the spare brass ring holding the keys to the offices and the double bay doors. It wasn’t dark as yet, but he left the two office lamps burning. Yet despite the illumination, the corridor was so dim he didn’t see the figure standing just inside the office across the hall.

  Louise Mannion waited till he’d disappeared down the stairs before she stepped out of her hiding spot. She stood in the doorway, staring at James’ closed office door for a moment.

  This was going to end tonight. He had to come to his senses. He had to understand that he belonged to her, she was entitled to him. She pulled the gun out of the inside pocket of her mantle and studied it intently. How many shots had she fired at Mrs. Tingley? She couldn’t remember. How many bullets were in the gun? She didn’t know that, either. But there was a bullet left for the arrogant Elise Cory.

  “Darling, don’t be such a worrier.” James held the door open so Elise could go out first. “We’ve been parted for years and I’ll not wait any longer to make you my wife. I know it’s sudden but what we’re doing is right. We belong together. We always have.”

  “You’re right, of course, darl—” She stopped as she saw Louise. “What are you doing here?”

  Louise held up the gun. “That’s odd, I ought to be asking you that question. What are you doing here with my fiancé?”

  “Fiancé?” Elise repeated. “Have you gone mad?”

  “You’re the one who is mad. He’s mine. I’ve waited long enough, much longer than you have, and this time I’m keeping what’s mine.”

  James kept his eyes locked on the weapon she held. “My Lord, Louise, what are you doing?”

  “I’m getting rid of a problem,” she replied calmly. “I usually drown my problems or use poison, but if need be, a gun will do as well.”

  “What does that mean?” James moved slowly, hoping to use his body as a shield.

  But she was having none of it. “Stop. Don’t move another step or I’ll shoot.”

  “Louise, I don’t know what you think, but you’ve made a mistake.” He swallowed and tried to keep his voice steady. “We’re not engaged. We never have been.”

  “Don’t be absurd,” she snapped. “You’re mine. You have been for years. We’ve had a few obstacles along the way.” She narrowed her eyes at Elise. “But you’re mine and I’ll not have her turning up to ruin things now, not when you finally realized how much you love me. Now, I don’t want to do this here.” She frowned thoughtfully. “But we’re close to the river. Yes, that way I won’t have to shoot. It made a terrible racket when I shot Mrs. Tingley.”

  Outside the office, Witherspoon grimaced and eased up another step. Barnes and Constable Evans were on the stairs behind him. They had heard her, too, and were already quietly moving back down to the warehouse.

  “Louise, please,” James pleaded. “I’ll do as you ask. You’re right, I do belong to you. Just let Elise go. There’s no need for a gun.”

  “And then you and I will take the train to Scotland? We’ll get married?”

  “Yes, of course, that’s exactly what we’ll do.”

  Witherspoon could hear the desperation in Pierce’s voice. He hoped Constable Griffiths would get here fast with more men. He glanced behind him and saw that Barnes and Evans had reached the bottom and were waiting for him. He eased down another step, then another.

  She laughed, but there was no real mirth in the sound. It was a harsh cackle of a lunatic and it sent chills down the inspector’s spine.

  “Do you think I’m a fool, James? You’ll only want me once she’s dead, that’s always the way it’s been. She’s bewitched you just as she did eight years ago, but I took care of her then and I’ll take care of her now.”

  “You put Bremmer up to it, didn’t you?” Elise charged forward but James blocked her with his arm. “You had him tell me those awful lies about James.”

  “Of course, but the best part was that you believed them.” She shrugged. “It was so easy. I knew you’d leave. I knew you’d been offered that post as a governess. I didn’t tell Stephen that part; he just wanted you to be his mistress. It didn’t even cost much money, he did it for twenty pounds. I had to make sure you disappeared. Father had promised that if I went to Europe for six months, he’d let me marry James.”

  “What did Bremmer do?” James demanded.

  “Don’t concern yourself with him. He’s dead and it’s all in the past. Now come along, let’s get on with it.”

  Witherspoon reached the bottom as they heard the movement of footsteps coming their way. The three policemen hastened into the warehouse. The inspector blinked to get his eyes to adjust to the light and surveyed the huge space, hoping to see a spot that might give them an advantage.

  But he realized they were running out of time. The warehouse was full but there was no place big enough to conceal all three of them. He pointed to a stack of tea chests on the outbound side of the aisle. “Get behind them and be at the ready,” he whispered to Constable Evans.

  Evans moved fast and ducked behind the wooden boxes. He dropped to his knees, trying to make himself as small as possible.

  Witherspoon looked at Barnes, who nodded in understanding. The two men moved to the bottom of the staircase and flattened themselves against the warehouse wall. If they were lucky, Louise Mannion would be so focused on her captives, they might have a chance to disarm her.

  Outside, Wiggins had met up with Smythe and Hatchet. The three of them were crammed into a narrow passageway across the road from the open bay doors.

  “I got here just in time to see Mrs. Cory go inside,” Wiggins said. “A few minutes later, Pierce’s secretary came out but I’ve not seen ’ide nor ’air of Pierce. The staff has been gone since this afternoon.”

  “Did you see Louise Mannion go in?” Smythe turned and saw a wagon come around the corner.

  “No, but I’ve got a feelin’ she’s in there. I saw the inspector, Constable Barnes, and another constable go inside, but I’ve not heard a peep.”

  “Why is the electric lighting still on if everyone’s gone?” Hatchet murmured.

  “We’ve got to get closer. We’ve got to see what’s goin’ on in there. That woman has a gun.” Smythe shoved away from the brick wall he’d been leaning against. Just then the wagon pulled into the spot in front of the open bay door. The driver and another man jumped down, walked around to the back of the vehicle, and started untying the ropes holding their cargo.

  “Cor blimey, this is getting worse and worse. Now those blokes are goin’ to be in danger,” Wiggins hissed.

  Inside the warehouse, James and Elise had reached the warehouse floor. Louise, still holding the gun pointed at Elise’s heart, stood on the bottom step. Elise stumbled backward, eyes widening as she spotted the two policemen, but she quickly shifted her gaze back to the gun.

  Louise sighed. “It’s too bad this place isn’t right on the water, that would have been very convenient. Well, we’ll just have to go for a little stroll.” She stepped onto the floor. “Walk in front of me,” she ordered. But just then she caught sight of the inspector and Constable Barnes. “What are you two doing here?”

 
“We’re here to stop you from committing another murder.” Witherspoon hoped to keep her talking long enough to think of a way to get that wretched firearm out of her hand. She was still standing with her back to the staircase. James Pierce and Elise Cory were in front of her, both of them mere inches away from the muzzle. Even if Constable Griffiths arrived with a whole horde of police, it might not stop a bloodbath. “Mrs. Mannion, why are you doing this?”

  “Why?” She looked at him as if he were a half-wit. “I don’t need to explain myself to you. You’re no one important.”

  “Was Stephen Bremmer not important? I thought he was your friend.” He’d come up with a plan. If he could focus her attention on him she might lower her guard long enough for them to stop her from pulling the trigger. As plans went, it wasn’t particularly good, but it was the best he could do.

  “He wasn’t anyone’s friend.” She laughed again. “The idiot thought he could blackmail me. Me, can you believe it? He said he was going to tell James that I’d murdered Osgood. He was there that day and he said he had proof.”

  “Did he?” Witherspoon asked.

  “Possibly, but that wasn’t the point. I couldn’t have him telling James I murdered my husband.”

  “You didn’t want Mr. Pierce thinking you were a criminal?”

  She snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous, petty laws don’t apply to people like me. We’re above them. I just didn’t want Stephen saying such horrible things about me. It makes me look common.”

  “So you poisoned Stephen Bremmer to keep him quiet.”

  “Yes. As I said, he wasn’t important.”

  “I take it you think you are?” Witherspoon shot back. “You’re not, you know.”

  Surprised, she gaped at him. “How dare you speak to me like that.”

  “You’ve just admitted you committed murder, Mrs. Mannion.” Witherspoon noticed that Pierce was moving back an inch at a time and pulling Elise Cory with him. “That means you’re nothing more than a common criminal and I shall speak to you accordingly. It’s no wonder that Mr. Pierce has gone to great lengths to avoid you.”

  “I’m Louise Lyndhurst Mannion and this man”—she jerked her chin toward Pierce—“is lucky that someone such as myself would even consider him for a husband.”

  “But he doesn’t wish to be your husband,” the inspector pressed. She was now looking at him, their gazes locked on each other. “If he wanted you, you wouldn’t have had to come here with a gun to try and force him to love you.”

  “He does love me.” She took a step forward, waving the weapon as she moved. Pierce moved back farther, yanking Elise away from the madwoman, but not far enough for safety.

  “Does he?” Barnes interjected. He’d realized what the inspector was up to, and though it was risky, there wasn’t much choice in the matter. “If he loves you, why was he going off to marry someone else?”

  She turned her fury on the constable, stepping close and shoving the barrel into his stomach. “He wasn’t going to marry her. He was only pretending so he could have his way with her. Tell him, James, tell him you weren’t really going to marry that little nobody.”

  James pulled Elise back another step. “I don’t love you, Louise. I never did.”

  “That’s a lie, a lie I tell you. You do love me, you’re mine. I’m entitled to have you. I’ve waited long enough.”

  The driver of the wagon backed into the warehouse pulling a handcart stacked with two tea chests. “Oy, where do you want these?” he called. His back was to them so he couldn’t see what was happening, but he had heard voices.

  Just then, Constable Evans jumped up from his hiding place and hurled his nightstick, which crashed into the wall with a loud bang.

  Startled, Louise gasped and turned first one way and then another, taking the gun with her and away from the constable’s belly. Pierce shoved Elise to one side. “Run, Elise, run,” he shouted as he leapt upon Louise, his hand grabbing for the gun. Barnes jumped into the fray as well, pulling on her arm as hard as he could. Witherspoon seized Louise’s other arm, yanking her to the ground.

  But she wasn’t giving up without a fight. Screaming obscenities, she kicked and tried to get her teeth into Barnes’ shoulder. The driver let go of the handcart and the tea chests crashed to the ground. One of them burst open, spilling its cargo of kitchen utensils onto the concrete floor. Constable Evans blew his police whistle and half a dozen policemen suddenly appeared. Barnes got his fingers around the gun barrel and, using all his strength, he wrestled it out of her hand but it slipped onto the floor.

  Elise Cory kicked it to one side out of harm’s way. She reached down and pulled James away from the thrashing woman. He stumbled backward but regained his feet. Two other constables rushed in and helped wrestle Louise Mannion away from the inspector and Barnes.

  She sat on the floor breathing hard. Her mantle was torn, her elegant hat was flattened, and there was a huge smudge of dirt on her nose. But she wasn’t in the least subdued. She turned and glared at Elise Cory. “This isn’t over. He’s mine.”

  Witherspoon got up and then extended a hand to Barnes, who was on his knees and struggling to stand. “Are you alright, Constable?”

  “I am, sir. You?”

  He nodded and said to the two constables holding her arms, “Get her on her feet, please.”

  They pulled her up and stood her in front of the inspector. “Louise Mannion, you’re under arrest for the murder of Stephen Bremmer and the attempted murder of James Pierce and Elise Cory.”

  She started laughing. “You can arrest me, little man, but I assure you, people like me don’t go to prison. I’ve got too much money and too many friends in high places.”

  “You’re not the only one with rich, powerful friends,” James Pierce snapped. “And if I have to, I’ll spend every penny I have making sure you pay for your crimes.”

  She looked at him, her expression one of disbelief. “You can’t mean that. You love me. I know it. I’m entitled to your love, it’s mine.”

  “My God, you’re a monster.” He pulled Elise closer. “How the hell have you managed to hide it all these years? The only thing you’re entitled to, Louise, is the hangman’s noose.” He looked at her with contempt. “And I’m going to ensure that you get it.”

  * * *

  • • •

  Betsy came back to Upper Edmonton Gardens and slipped in the back door. “It’s only me,” she called as she hurried up the corridor and into the kitchen. “I couldn’t stand it, so I asked our neighbor to stay with Amanda.”

  “What if Smythe goes straight home instead of stopping here?” Phyllis asked.

  “He won’t and if he does, he’ll find out I’m here.” She sat down next to Ruth. “So, we’ve heard nothing then?”

  “Not yet,” Mrs. Jeffries said. “But it’s not too late. It’s just gone eight.” She looked at the window over the kitchen sink. “Luty, I think that’s your carriage that’s just pulled up outside.”

  Betsy got up and raced across the room. “It’s them, they’re back.”

  “Should I make tea?” Phyllis asked.

  “No, get out glasses instead,” Mrs. Jeffries ordered as she headed for the back stairs. “I’ve a feeling that tonight we could all use a drink.”

  A few minutes later, Smythe, Wiggins, and Hatchet had joined the ladies and Mrs. Jeffries had handed out sherry or brandy to those who preferred it.

  “Now that we’re settled”—Betsy looked at the three men—“tell us what happened.”

  “We’ll tell you what we know, but keep in mind, we don’t know too many of the details because we couldn’t see inside the warehouse,” Hatchet explained. “But after some sort of altercation inside, Inspector Witherspoon and Constable Barnes escorted Louise Mannion out of the warehouse. She appeared to be under arrest.”

  “Don’t be so stingy with the story,�
� Wiggins chided the older man. “You ’eard what them poor deliverymen said. There was a bit of fisticuffs goin’ on in the warehouse and the Mannion woman was fighting and shoutin’ like a fishwife. But they got the gun away from her and put ’er under arrest.”

  “Now, Wiggins, we can’t take anything that driver told us too seriously. He was only inside the place for a few seconds.”

  “Yeah, but we’ve got ears and we ’eard the commotion ourselves,” Smythe interjected.

  “What happened?” Luty demanded. “Give us the details.”

  “The details might need to wait till later,” Smythe said. “We only overheard part of what ’appened tonight.”

  “Tell us what you do know before the inspector gets home,” Luty warned.

  Smythe and Hatchet reported what they’d seen and heard outside the warehouse while Wiggins relayed what had happened at the Mannion house after Phyllis had left.

  When they’d finished, Wiggins looked at Mrs. Jeffries. “It’s your turn now. How’d you figure out it was Louise Mannion who poisoned Bremmer?”

  “She wasn’t a suspect at first; as a matter of fact, at one point in the investigation, she appeared to be Stephen Bremmer’s only real friend. But appearances can be deceptive.” Mrs. Jeffries took a sip of sherry. “What led me to consider her was the time. It was all wrong. I’m no expert on poisons, especially arsenic, but I have done some reading on the subject.”

  “What do you mean, the timing was wrong?” Phyllis asked. She needed to understand.

  “He shouldn’t have died so fast,” she explained. “Bremmer drank his champagne and within just a few minutes he was dead. Arsenic doesn’t work that quickly; according to Dr. Bosworth, the fastest death that has ever occurred with an arsenic victim is two hours. But the postmortem showed that Bremmer died of arsenic poisoning. The only logical conclusion was Bremmer must have been poisoned prior to the ball as well.” She took another sip of sherry. “Once we learned he was a blackmailer, the motive was obvious.”

  “Which means most of ’em at that table could ’ave done it,” Wiggins said.