Mrs. Jeffries Rocks the Boat Read Online Free PDF Page A

welcoming smile as she opened the front door. “Constable Griffiths, how nice to see you. What brings you here? Inspector Witherspoon was up and out hours ago.” She could tell by the pleased expression on his face that he hadn’t come bearing bad news about their inspector.
    “I’ve brought a message for the household, miss.” He smiled bashfully. “Inspector Witherspoon’s been called out on a murder case. He won’t be home till quite late.”
    “A murder. Really?” Betsy threw the door open wide. “Come in, then.”
    “I’d love to, Miss Betsy,” he explained, “but I’ve got to get over to Constable Barnes’s house and tell his missus he won’t be home in time for supper.”
    Betsy wasn’t about to let the details of a murder slip through her fingers so easily. “Oh, but you must have a cup of tea,” she implored him with a pouting smile. She hated using such tactics to get her own way, but she simply couldn’t risk his going without telling them the details. “You simply must. It’s so warm out today, I’m sure you’re tired from coming all the way over here. Come down to the kitchen with me.”
    Constable Griffiths hesitated. He was quite sweet on Miss Betsy. She was ever such a pretty girl. But he didn’t wish to be derelict in his duty. “I really shouldn’t, miss.”
    “Nonsense, if you’re worried about getting the message to Mrs. Barnes, don’t be.” She reached out, snagged his arm and tugged him into the house. Surprised by her aggressiveness, he found himself inside before he could stop her.
    “It’s still quite early, you’ll have plenty of time to get to the Barnes house.” Betsy slammed the door shut on her victim and gave him another dazzling smile. “Inspector Witherspoon would be most upset if he knew we’d let you leave without giving you refreshment.” Still holding his arm, she tugged him towards her, whirled about and ran smack into Smythe.
    He glared at the dainty hand on the constable’s sleeve.
    Betsy glared right back at him. “Constable Griffiths’s come to give us a message,” she blurted before Smythe could run the poor lad off. “There’s been a murder, and the inspector won’t be home till late. We’re just on our way to the kitchen to have tea.”
    With the men in tow, Betsy led the way downstairs.
    When the three of them trooped into the kitchen, Mrs. Jeffries and Mrs. Goodge, who were sitting at the table, making up menus for the week, looked up in surprise.
    “There’s been a murder,” Betsy blurted, “and Constable Griffiths’s come all this way just to let us know the inspector’ll be home late. I insisted he have a cup of tea before he goes on to the Barnes house.”
    “But of course he’ll have tea.” Mrs. Goodge snatched up the menus and stuffed them in her apron. “And something to eat as well.”
    Within moments, Wiggins had appeared and the entire household gathered around the table to have tea with the constable.They looked expectantly at the housekeeper. No one wanted to be the first to speak. They’d leave that up to Mrs. Jeffries. The wrong question, the wrong attitude could have terrible consequences. Constable Griffiths wasn’t stupid. If they didn’t handle this just right, he could easily guess it was the household helping to investigate the inspector’s cases that gave the man such success. None of them were prepared to do anything that would injure their employer. He’d been far too good to all of them.
    With a barely perceptible nod of her head, Mrs. Jeffries acknowledged that she understood. Then she smiled at the constable, leaned back and fired her first salvo. “I must say, Constable, I do so admire you policemen. I don’t think I could start my day by doing something as dreadful as investigating a murder. I think it’s terribly, terribly brave of you.” Flattery always worked.
    “Oh, there’s nothing to it, really. It’s all part of the job,” Griffiths replied modestly. “Mind you, a murder