Mrs. Jeffries Wins the Prize by Emily Brightwell Page A

cuttings.”
    The inspector swallowed the last bite of the tiny cake. “While you were having luncheon, did you see or hear anything that was unusual?”
    â€œNot really, it was a very boring luncheon. Isabelle Martell was playing coy and trying to find out how many items Helena and Thea were entering into the upcoming competition. But that was all.” She frowned and put her tea on the table next to the love seat. “Come to think of it, Helena was very quiet, uncharacteristically so.”
    â€œMistress, would you like more tea?” Kareema asked.
    â€œNo, I’m fine, but thank you.”
    â€œDo you know if Mr. Filmore had any enemies?” Barnes asked.
    â€œI’m afraid I don’t.” She shrugged. “I’d only seen him the two times since coming back to London. Frankly, Constable, I never liked the man and I don’t think my friends did, either.”
    â€œDid any of them ever tell you that specifically?” Witherspoon asked.
    â€œNo, it was simply an impression I received whenever his name would be mentioned, that’s all. Helena used to make rude comments about his dress and his manners.”
    â€œBut they used him to acquire their specimens,” the inspector pointed out.
    She laughed. “Helena likes to win so badly she’d use the devil himself if he could find her an orchid that would win first prize at their annual show.”
    â€œDon’t you want to win?” Witherspoon asked.
    â€œIt would be nice, but I’m not obsessed with it.”
    â€œI take it you didn’t get your plants from Mr. Filmore?” Barnes finished his tea and put the cup down.
    â€œNo, I buy my plants from local merchants, and I use an old friend from San Francisco for the exotic blooms and the orchids. As I said, I’m not obsessed the way the other three ladies are. I joined their club for social reasons and to renew my acquaintance with them.”
    â€œForgive me, Mrs. Attwater, but why would you renew your acquaintance with these ladies? From what you’ve said, it doesn’t sound as if you liked them all that much,” Barnes blurted out.
    She grinned. “You do get right to the heart of the matter, don’t you, Constable.”
    â€œSorry, ma’am, I didn’t mean to be offensive.”
    â€œYou’re not, you’re doing your job, and you’re absolutely correct. I don’t particularly have fond feelings for any of those women. My reasons were entirely pragmatic. I was new in town and old acquaintances can be very useful in establishing oneself socially. London can be a very lonely place for a woman on her own.”
    The inspector didn’t think a woman as lovely as Mrs. Attwater would be on her own for long, but he kept his opinion to himself. “Is there anything else about yesterday that you can tell us? Anything you saw or heard that struck you as out of the ordinary or unusual?” he pressed.
    â€œI’m afraid not. It was just an ordinary lunch.”
    Witherspoon couldn’t understand how in a house full of people, a human being could be murdered but no one saw or heard anything. So he tried another tactic. “I’m sure this whole episode has been very upsetting for you, Mrs. Attwater. Sudden death can be very shocking, so perhaps later you’ll be able to remember something about yesterday’s events once you’ve had some time to think.”
    â€œSudden death?” She snorted delicately. “Really, Inspector, what do you think I was trying to tell you when I said I’d heard some nasty rumors about Isabelle Martell’s late husband? But she isn’t the only one to know something about sudden death. Helena Rayburn is a bit of an expert on the subject as well.”

CHAPTER 4
    Amanda was sitting up in her pram as Betsy pushed it into the little park tucked away on a side road off the Kensington High Street. It was the closest public space to the