Mrs. Jeffries Pinches the Post Read Online Free PDF Page A

the inspector. The lad’s face was pasty white, and the expression in his hazel eyes haunted.
    “Is this your first body?” the inspector asked softly.
    Peters nodded. “Yes, sir. And to tell you the truth, I hope it’ll be my last. It weren’t pleasant, sir. Not pleasant at all.” In truth, Constable Peters had almost lost his stomach, but he wasn’t about to share that with the legendary Inspector Gerald Witherspoon. Mind you, Peters thought, the inspector didn’t look much like a legend. His face was long and kind of bony. Wisps of thin brown hair fluttered from underneath his bowler, and his spectacles had slipped halfway down his nose. No, Peters decided, he didn’t look like a legend at all. More like a mustached little mouse of a man. Except for the spectacles, of course. Mice didn’t wear spectacles …
    “Constable Peters, are you all right?” Witherspoon asked sharply.
    “Sorry, sir.” Peters realized the inspector had asked him a question. “What did you say?”
    “Who found the body?” Witherspoon repeated for the second time. Goodness, the poor lad really was rattled.
    “A Mrs. Moff. She lives next door.”
    A police van trundled around the corner, and there was a flurry of activity as the constables holding the crowd back shooed people out of the way so the van could draw up close to the house.
    “The wagon’s here, sir,” Barnes said. “Did you want to have another look at the body before they take it off, sir?”

    “No. Let’s go have a word with this Mrs. Moff, then,” the inspector said.
    “Are you finished with me, sir?” Peters asked.
    “Not quite, Constable,” Witherspoon replied. “There’s a cafe up the road a bit. Go and have a cup of tea, a nice strong one with lots of sugar. As soon as Constable Barnes and I are finished here, we’ll be along to get a few more details from you.”
    Constable Peters hesitated. He was suddenly ashamed of himself for thinking Inspector Witherspoon looked like a mouse. Blooming Ada, the man must be able to read minds, he’d just been thinking he’d give a week’s pay for a cuppa. But he didn’t want the others to think him a ninny. “I’m all right, sir…”
    “Go along, lad,” Barnes said brusquely. He understood the young man didn’t want to appear weak. “Do as the inspector says and have a cup of tea. No one will think any the less of you for it.” They moved to one side as two police constables, a stretcher slung between them, hurried up the short walkway to the victim.
    Peters, with one last terrified glance over his shoulder at the dead man, muttered a quick thanks to his superiors and took off down the road like a shot. Apparently, watching the victim get hauled away was more than he could stomach.
    Barnes watched the police constables in their grim task long enough to ascertain that they knew what they were doing. Then he and the inspector made their way next door.
    Witherspoon raised his hand to knock just as the door flew open. A middle-aged woman with a long nose and a flat, disapproving slash of a mouth stuck her head out and glared at them. “It took you long enough. That fellow’s been dead for hours.”
    “I’m sorry, madam.” Witherspoon was a bit taken aback. “We got here as quickly as possible.”
    “Humph,” she snorted, and motioned them inside. “Come in, then, and let’s get this over with. This whole business has upset my day enough already and I need to get to the shops before they close.”
    They stepped into a dim, narrow hallway. The walls were painted a pale yellow that hadn’t aged particularly well and the air was heavy with the scent of wet wool and stale beer.
    The inspector waited until the lady of the house had closed the door. She gave them a disgruntled look as she brushed past them. “Get a move on, then, I’ve told you, I’ve not got all day.”
    “I’m Inspector Witherspoon, and this is Constable Barnes,” the inspector said as they trailed behind her. She grunted in