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

grocer’s so you can prepare to feed your sources. The larders are empty.”
    “I suppose so,” Mrs. Goodge agreed grudgingly. But she was still annoyed that Smythe had got the jump on them. There was just the teeniest bit of natural competition between the males and the females in the household.
    “The larders really are empty,” Mrs. Jeffries said again. “If we manage to identify that woman quickly, you’re going to be in a bit of a pickle if you haven’t anything on hand to feed people.”
    The cook decided to give in gracefully. “You’re right. I’d best be ready. Let me see, where did I put that list? Ah yes, here it is, in my pocket with the menus.”
    Mrs. Goodge did her investigating in her own way. She baked enough to feed an army and then opened her kitchen to dozens of London’s working people. Costermongers, servants, delivery boys, rag-and-bones men, flower girls, andshoeblacks; one and all traversed through Mrs. Goodge’s kitchen. While they were there, she pumped them for every morsel of gossip about the suspects in a particular case. But she didn’t stop there. She also had her own network of servants from other households feeding her information. She’d cooked for a number of England’s finest families, and she still had connections all over the country. She was quite ruthless about using them as well.
    Betsy frowned. “It’s all well and good that Mrs. Goodge has something to do, but what about Wiggins and me? Are we just supposed to sit about twiddling our thumbs?”
    “Of course not,” Mrs. Jeffries replied. She quite understood Betsy’s complaint. “There’s plenty we must do. I’d like you to nip over to Luty and Hatchet’s and tell them what’s happened. They’ll need to be here this afternoon for our meeting.”
    Luty Belle Crookshank and her butler, Hatchet, were friends of the household. They frequently helped on the inspector’s cases. Luty Belle, in particular, threw a fit if she was left out.
    Mollified, Betsy nodded. “Right. Do you want me to get on over to Sheridan Square afterward and see what I can suss out?”
    “Absolutely,” Mrs. Jeffries agreed, “but do be careful. You mustn’t let the inspector or anyone who might recognize you catch even so much as a glimpse of you.”
    “I’ll be careful,” Betsy promised.
    “What am I goin’ to do, men?” Wiggins asked eagerly.
    “You’re going to get over to Sheridan Square as well,” she replied. “But unlike Betsy, you’re to make yourself known as a member of the inspector’s household.”
    “What?” Wiggins jaw dropped. “Are you ’aving me on, Mrs. Jeffries?”
    “No,” Mrs. Jeffries said bluntly. A plan was rapidly forming in her mind. “I’m not having you on, so to speak. But I do have an idea. We need to know the identity of our victim as soon as possible. I’m going to have Mrs. Goodge make upa parcel of food for you to take to our inspector. But you’re not to give it to him. You’re to hang on to it and use it as your excuse to poke about and see what’s going on.”
    By the puzzled frown on the lad’s face, she could see he didn’t quite get what she was trying to tell him. “What I mean is that you’re to make sure you don’t make contact with our inspector until the last possible moment…but having the food with you will give you an excuse to be hanging about listening and, if you’re very clever, asking a few questions. If anyone asks what you’re doing there, you can say you’re bringing the inspector something to eat.”
    “Now I get it,” he bobbed his head eagerly. “I’m to hang about and learn what I can and use the food parcel as my reason for bein’ there.”
    “Correct.”
    “Give me a minute and I’ll have the food ready,” Mrs. Goodge said as she bustled toward the pantry. “There’s some buns and cheese I can put in as well as a few plums.”
    “What are you going to be doing?” Betsy asked as she slipped her hat off the coat tree. “Will you