Mrs. Jeffries Aims to Win (A Victorian Mystery, Band 41) - Softcover

Buch 41 von 41: Mrs.Jeffries Mysteries

Brightwell, Emily

 
9780593101117: Mrs. Jeffries Aims to Win (A Victorian Mystery, Band 41)
Softcover
ISBN 10: 0593101111 ISBN 13: 9780593101117
Verlag: Penguin Publishing Group, 2023

Inhaltsangabe

Mrs. Jeffries must help Inspector Witherspoon crack a new case and catch a killer in this next installment of the beloved Victorian Mystery series.

Successful businessman Jeremy Marks wasn’t highly regarded by any of the members of the West London Archery Club.  Most of them considered him a buffoon and a bore.  But everyone was stunned when the fellow was murdered during a lull in the club’s annual archery competition.  He’d been shot with arrows from a longbow during a raging thunderstorm.

But those who knew Marks well understood that the unkempt "court jester" persona adopted by the late, unlamented man was as fake as the smile he wore.  As Inspector Witherspoon investigates the murder, he discovers the victim had real enemies among the assembled archery contestants.  Marks was notorious for not paying his bills, cheating vendors, bad-mouthing business rivals, and worst of all, betraying his business partners.  The dead man had built a whole career and amassed quite a substantial fortune by harming those who trusted him. It will take Mrs. Jeffries and the inspector’s household as well as their friends to sort out fact from fiction and target a killer.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Emily Brightwell is the New York Times bestselling author of forty-one Inspector Witherspoon and Mrs. Jeffries books.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Chapter 1

"What's wrong now?" Luty Belle Crookshank put her champagne glass on the table and frowned at the tall, white-haired man sitting opposite her. "You've been starin' out that window for the last ten minutes. Glarin' at the storm ain't goin' to make it let up any quicker."

"That's easy for you to say, madam," Hatchet replied. "You're not the one who didn't get to compete. I've been practicing for weeks now and most of the Ladies' Division had finished. I was the first in my category to shoot, and if they'd let us stay out for five more minutes, I would have had my chance." He flicked a piece of lint off the sleeve of his jacket, picked up his tea, and took a sip.

Luty, a tiny, elderly American with snow-white hair, blue eyes, and a love of flashy clothes, shook her head. "If you'd stayed out for five more minutes, ya coulda been struck by lightning, and your outfit would have been ruined." She was dressed in a bright red cotton skirt with a wide blue cummerbund waist and a lacy white blouse with a high collar and puffy sleeves. Gold-and-pearl earrings dangled from her ears, and a gold broach in the shape of a frog playing a harmonica was pinned over her heart.

Hatchet glanced down at the blazer he wore over his starched white shirt. It was a deep green so dark that it almost looked black. His flat wide-brimmed matching cap was on the table next to Luty's gloves. "I'm not certain that would have been so bad."

He wasn't used to the garments they were required to wear for the competition. They were undignified, but when he'd mentioned the matter to Luty, she'd merely scoffed and said that wearing something other than his usual attire of black stovepipe trousers, white shirt, cravat, and old-fashioned black frockcoat was good for him. He'd decided it was pointless to argue with the woman, since her love of fashion made it impossible for her to understand that wearing different clothing made him uncomfortable.

The two of them were sitting by the window table in the common room of the West London Archery Club. Hatchet, who was supposedly Luty's butler, was drinking tea while Luty had opted for a glass of champagne. They'd come here so that Hatchet could compete in the annual archery contest, but owing to the sudden, vicious storm, everyone was now inside waiting and hoping for the bad weather to pass.

"I know you're disappointed and it don't seem fair that you had to miss your turn, but the contest ain't over." She glanced at the well-dressed men and women crowding around tables and milling about the huge room. She recognized a large number of people, most of whom were acquaintances rather than friends. "Archery ain't my cup of tea, but it's a better sport than horse racing. You can lose your shirt bettin' on the ponies."

"I'm not doing it just for the sport," Hatchet pointed out. "You know my doctor insisted I get more exercise, and archery is perfect. It provides the right amount of physical activity without making one desperately hot and miserable. You know how hard I've practiced, madam, and it isn't fair that my category was suddenly shoved to the end of the competition instead of at the beginning as is the normal custom." He jerked his chin toward the rain-streaked window. "If it had gone the way it was supposed to, I'd already be finished . . ."

"And you'd have first place," Luty teased.

"Possibly, madam, possibly," Hatchet replied.

The two of them had more than an employer-employee relationship. They had a strong bond, and it was because of this bond that Luty had used her considerable influence to get him accepted as a member. The archery club wasn't as class-ridden as most of London's athletic establishments, but they didn't encourage servants to join.

Luty knew every member of the Board and the Membership Committee, and as they wanted her to become a member, they agreed he could be one as well.

"Come on now, you know with the weather turnin' so fast that lettin' the young ladies shoot first was the right thing to do." Luty picked up her champagne flute and took a sip.

"Nonsense, madam, those young women all looked quite sturdy to me, as a matter of fact-"

"Look, look," she interrupted, "there he is." She nodded toward a portly, balding man in gold-rimmed pince-nez eyeglasses as he stepped through the main door and into the crowded room.

"There who is?" Hatchet frowned irritably.

"Jeremy Marks, the fella I told ya about," Luty said softly. "The one everyone hates. I told ya what I overheard in the cloakroom."

"Refresh my memory, madam."

"There ain't nothin' wrong with your memory, Hatchet. Just admit it, you weren't listening to me," Luty accused. "But that's alright, I don't listen to you half the time, either. Like I told ya earlier, I was in the cloakroom gettin' my handkerchief and Mrs. McElhaney and another lady showed up. They stood just inside the door, which was open, and they didn't see me. They was too busy watchin' Jeremy Marks."

"How do you know they were watching the man?"

"At first I didn't, but then Alice McElhaney started talking to the other lady and she was madder than a wet hen. She kept sayin' that Marks wasn't supposed to be here, that he'd been banned from the club."

"Why was he banned?"

"She didn't say and I couldn't exactly ask, now, could I? But she went on and on about him. Kept tellin' the other lady what a no-good pole cat he was . . ."

"No-good pole cat?" Hatchet stared at her skeptically. "Mrs. McElhaney, an upper-class Englishwoman, used that expression?"

"Not those exact words, she used English insults, but the meanin' was the same," Luty shot back. "Anyways, her friend wasn't much help to her. She told Mrs. McElhaney that since Marks and Hannah Lonsdale had announced their engagement, she was bringing him here as a guest and they couldn't keep him out. Then Mrs. McElhaney said that she'd heard he was back but she hadn't wanted to believe it. But just in case it was true, she had a way to fix him. Once she had a chat with Hannah Lonsdale, he'd get what he deserved."

Hatchet crossed his arms over his chest. "Are you telling me that these two women had that kind of conversation with you standing there? That's not very discreet."

"I already told ya, they wasn't lookin' my way. They was starin' out at the corridor and watchin' Jeremy Marks."

"They didn't so much as glance into the cloakroom?"

"Well, they might not have realized I was standing there," she muttered as she watched Jeremy Marks. He weaved his way among the tables until he reached the door at the far end of the room. "I sort of moved back behind the rack of coats and jackets. I mean, I didn't want to embarrass the two ladies; I didn't want them knowin' their unkind words had been overheard."

"Nonsense, madam, you were out-and-out eavesdropping, weren't you? Come now, admit it."

"What if I was?" She glared at him. "You do it whenever it suits you, and you gotta admit, my being able to blend in with the woodwork has come in right handy on a number of other occasions."

She was referring to the fact that both she and Hatchet often helped out their friend, Inspector Gerald Witherspoon. He'd solved more homicides than anyone in the history of the Metropolitan Police Department. Naturally, he had no idea he was the recipient of such generous assistance and they, along with all the members of his household, were determined to keep it that way.

"Yes, but that's when we've been out and about on our investigations." He gestured around the room. "We don't have a murder now. This is a social activity."

"All the better to pick up a few useful bits and pieces." Luty grinned. "Besides, you never know when somethin' is goin' to happen."

A crash of thunder boomed overhead. It was so loud, half the room jumped. Hatchet...

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Verlag
Penguin Publishing Group
Erscheinungsdatum
2023
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0593101111
ISBN 13 
9780593101117
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
320
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
gpsr@libri.de
gpsr@libri.de

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