Decked with Folly (11 page)

Sidney Barrett was talking to Pansy, and judging from her expression, she wasn’t enjoying the conversation. Two bright spots of red glowed in her cheeks, and she gazed at him with fire in her eyes.

There were guests passing through the foyer, and wary of drawing unwanted attention, Cecily waited until she was close behind Sid before addressing him. Just as she reached him she heard him say, “Go on, you know you want to.”

Pansy didn’t answer him, and he put a hand on her shoulder, as Cecily spoke in her sharpest voice. “Is there a problem here?”

Sid swung around, his face wreathed in a smile. “Mrs. Baxter! I didn’t see you there.”

Cecily ignored him, searching the maid’s face. “Pansy? Is everything all right?”

Pansy nodded, sent a quick glance at Sid, then slid past him and scuttled off across the lobby toward the kitchen stairs.

“I’ve been meaning to have a word with you, m’m,” Sid said, taking Cecily’s attention away from the fleeing maid. “I wanted to offer my condolences.”

Instantly on guard, Cecily met his gaze. “I beg your pardon?”

“I heard about the dead bloke.” Sid waved a hand at the wall. “In the duck pond. Must have been a nasty shock, all right. Especially for them two little ones, losing their daddy right at Christmastime.”

It was inevitable that the staff would find out about it, but that didn’t mean she was prepared for this moment. Cecily drew a deep breath. “We are trying to keep the incident from the guests as much as possible. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t discuss it among yourselves, particularly wherever someone might overhear you.”

“Oh, right you are, m’m. Mum’s the word, as the great bard, William Shakespeare, once said. Must be hard for the new widow. Right on Christmastime and all.”

Cecily frowned. “Enough has been said on the subject,” she said sternly. “The matter is closed.”

Sid winked. “Gotcha, m’m. Not another word.”

Cecily met his grin with a stony expression. “It might also be as well if you refrained from harassing any of my maids. They have to work extremely hard and they do not have the time or the energy to fend off unwanted overtures from you.”

Sid’s grin wobbled, and for a moment resentment burned in his eyes. Then it was gone, and he looked contrite. “Sorry, m’m. It won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t.” Satisfied that she’d got her point across, Cecily turned her back on him and headed once more for the stairs.

Seated at her dressing table a few minutes later, she toyed with a string of pearls as she wondered how she was going to tell her husband she’d invited Ian’s widow to stay indefinitely at the Pennyfoot.

No doubt he would indulge in another fit of temper. Perhaps she should wait until after supper, so that he wouldn’t upset his digestion.

A vision of Archie Parker popped into her head. She could just imagine him offering Baxter a powder to settle his stomach. The image made her smile, just as her husband emerged from the boudoir, his bow tie strung about his neck and dangling on his chest.

“I can’t get this pesky tie to sit straight,” he grumbled. Seating himself on the davenport, he fiddled with it some more before asking irritably, “Would you please tie it for me?”

“Of course.” She dropped the pearls on the table and rose from her seat. “You know you always have trouble with it. Why don’t you simply let me tie it for you instead of trying to do it yourself and getting all in a dither about it?”

“Because I don’t like being dependent on people.”

“No, it’s more likely because you are stubborn.” She leaned over and took the ends of the tie. “Now, be still so I can tie it properly.”

He raised his chin to give her better access. “So how did Gertie take the news that she’s under house arrest?”

Cecily shrugged. “You know Gertie. She took it all in stride, though she’s concerned, of course.”

“Well, of course she is. Being accused of murder is a serious matter. She
should
be concerned.”

“She swears she didn’t kill Ian. I believe her.”

“I hope she’s telling the truth. If only she hadn’t gone around threatening the man loud enough for everyone to hear, Northcott might not have been in such a blasted hurry to arrest her.”

“There.” Cecily surveyed her handiwork with a nod of satisfaction. “Perfect, if I do say so myself.”

Baxter grunted and got up from the bed to peer at himself in her mirror. “Looks all right. Thank you.”

“Not at all.” Cecily sat down at the dressing table once more. “Actually, you know, that’s what puzzles me.”

Baxter frowned. “What? That I can’t tie a bow tie and you can?”

Cecily smiled. “No. It was Northcott saying someone told him that Gertie had threatened Ian with a knife. Yet Gertie insists she and Ian were alone in the kitchen when she did that. So how could anyone have known about it?”

“Well, someone must have seen or heard her.”

“But who? Gertie was quite sure they were alone. Until Clive came along, that is.”

“Clive?” Baxter gave her a sharp look. “Where does he fit into all this?”

“He came to the back door when Gertie was arguing with Ian. Apparently he ran Ian off the premises.”

“Well, good for him.” Baxter paused, an odd look on his face. “You don’t think Clive could have killed him?”

Cecily swallowed, afraid to admit the thought had crossed her mind. “No, of course not. Clive wouldn’t step on a spider, much less kill a man.”

“I don’t know. He’s quite protective of Gertie and the twins.”

“Whoever hit Ian took the candlestick from the hallstand. Clive was in the kitchen. I think Gertie would have seen a candlestick in his hand, and I hardly think he dragged Ian into the hotel to get the candlestick to hit him, do you?”

Baxter’s frown cleared. “Does seem a bit far-fetched. Then again, who else would want to kill Rossiter? He hasn’t lived here in years. He doesn’t know anyone here.”

“He knows just about everyone who works here. Or . . .” She paused, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

“Or what?”

Cecily looked up, meeting her husband’s concerned gaze. “Perhaps he fell into bad company when he moved down here. His wife did say she didn’t like the company he kept.”

Baxter stared at her. “His
wife
? Where did you see his wife?”

Cecily took a deep breath, then spoke in a rush to get the words out. “Right here in the hotel. She came looking for Ian. I had to tell her he’d died. She was so upset, she had nowhere to go and I felt so sorry for her, I offered her a room here until she can get settled somewhere else.” Running out of breath, she braced herself, waiting for her husband’s wrath to explode once more.

To her surprise, after a moment’s tense silence, Baxter said quietly, “That might have been a mistake.”

“Yes,” Cecily said slowly, “I realize that now. I just hope she doesn’t cause Gertie any trouble.”

“She has no cause to be angry with Gertie. After all, Gertie had no idea Ian was already married to someone else when she married him.”

“Maybe not, but I do think that Gloria blames her all the same.”

Baxter grunted. “Well, Ian’s gone. The problem is, now that you’ve offered his widow free room and board, she is likely to take advantage of it and you might never be rid of her.”

“In that case, I shall ask her politely to leave.”

Baxter smiled. “That, my dear, would be quite remarkable indeed.”

“Piffle.” She returned his smile, but couldn’t quite banish the uneasy feeling under her ribs. She didn’t feel comfortable with Ian’s widow in the hotel, and she wished now she hadn’t been quite so accommodating with her. But she wasn’t sure exactly why it bothered her. It could be because of Ian’s attempted kidnaping of his daughter, though it didn’t seem likely that Gloria would want to steal either of the twins away, now that Ian was no longer alive.

Whatever the reason for her apprehension, she would have to make sure to keep an eye on Gloria Johnson. With any luck, the woman would soon find other accommodations and leave them in peace. For until she did so, the memory of Ian Rossiter would hang over their heads and be a constant reminder that another murder had been committed, and that his killer was still on the loose.

CHAPTER 9

“I do love riding in this motorcar.” Gertie snuggled back in the soft leather seat and drew the collar of her wool coat closer around her neck. “It makes me feel like royalty. I want to wave at everyone as we go by.”

Seated next to her behind the huge steering wheel, Dan chuckled. “Go ahead and wave. I’m sure they’ll all wave back.”

“Nah. They’ll just think I’m showing off.” She ran a finger along the walnut dashboard. “It’s a real pretty motorcar, though. I see lots of people looking at it as we drive down the street.”

“These Austins are well built.” Dan patted the steering wheel. “It can go sixteen miles an hour downhill. Maybe even faster on a long slope.”

Gertie gasped. “That sounds really fast.”

Dan nodded. “They are building bigger and better motors all the time. I wouldn’t be at all surprised to see a motorcar going twenty-five, thirty miles an hour in a year or two.”

“Blimey, that’s dangerous. What happens when you cross the road and one’s coming at you? Like what happened to you yesterday. You wouldn’t have time to get out the bloody way, would you.”

“You’d have to keep a sharp lookout for them, that’s all. Just like you do horses.”

Gertie thought about that. “I dunno. I think I’d rather dodge horses than motorcars. I don’t know what the world’s coming to, what with all this new stuff going on. I heard some blokes talking the other day about someone in America making a machine that can fly off the ground.” She shook her head. “Can you imagine that?”

“The Wright brothers.” Dan did something with a stick near his knees and the car jerked, sending Gertie lurching forward. “They say one day they will build a machine that will fly them all the way across the country.”

Gertie found that hard to believe, but not wanting to seem ignorant, she refrained from saying so. “Well, I’d rather go out in this motorcar than in a flying machine any day. I like to feel the ground under me.”

Dan grinned. “I can’t say I blame you.”

Remembering something, Gertie sat upright. “I thought you said you got hit by another motorcar last night.”

“No, I said I swerved to avoid getting hit.”

“But I thought you said you got bumped and that’s how you hurt your face.”

Dan sighed. “Maybe I did.”

“So where is the dent in the motorcar? Is it a bad one? I didn’t see it when I got in. Will it cost a lot to mend it? How—”

“Gertie!” He sounded irritable and she snapped her mouth shut. “It was just a light scratch. I rubbed it out with some polish so you can’t see it.”

“Sorry.”

She’d mumbled the word and he was quick to make amends. Reaching for her hand he gave it a light squeeze. “Never mind, luv. It was nothing, honest. Tell me about the carol singing at the hotel. Will you be able to go?”

“I hope so.” She stole a quick glance at him and was relieved to see his jaw relaxed again. “Will you come if I can go?”

“Will it be all right with Mrs. Baxter?”

“Course it would. You haven’t seen the decorations yet, have you. Miss Pengrath does a lovely job with them. Oh, I mean Mrs. Prestwick. I keep forgetting she’s married now.”

If she’d hoped the subject of marriage might start a conversation about their own relationship she was soon disappointed.

“If she did half as well as she did last year with the decorations,” Dan said, bringing the motorcar to a halt, “it’s bound to look fantastic. She really does make it look good. In fact, the windows were lit up so bright last night I thought the hotel was on fire, until I realized it was candles on a Christmas tree. Must have been dozens of them.” He shut off the engine and the motor shuddered into silence.

Glancing out the window, Gertie saw that they were in the courtyard of the George and Dragon. On either side carriages were lined up one behind the other, while the horses were gathered in a pen in the field beyond.

Light flowed from the lattice windows of the pub, and the sound of laughter echoed into the night. The tinkling notes of an out of tune piano could be heard above the chatter, and someone was singing with great gusto and painfully off-key.

It all sounded so festive, and she felt a stir of excitement. Thank goodness she’d told Dan earlier about Ian. He’d been shocked, as she’d expected, but he’d got over it really fast, and now they could put it behind them, at least for tonight.

She waited for Dan to open the door for her, then stepped out onto the pavement. This was the moment she loved, stepping down from the beautiful motorcar with Dan holding her hand like a prince escorting a princess.

That’s how he always made her feel. Like a princess. No one had ever made her feel that way before. No one had ever treated her the way Dan treated her. She could be really, really happy, if only he would say something about their future together. Even if she had to wait a year or two to get married. It was the not knowing that bothered her.

“Don’t look so worried,” Dan said, as he tucked her hand into his elbow. “The private lounge will be just as much fun as the public bar. From what I hear they have a nice supper laid out and there’ll be singing and dancing.”

Gertie began to feel nervous. What if someone saw her and told madam? She’d be in hot water all right. “I can’t sing or dance.”

“Then we’ll watch.” He laughed, and pulled her to the door. “I’ll teach you to dance, Gertie McBride, and if you come out of here tonight without saying you had the best night out ever, I’ll walk all the way to the motorcar on my hands.”

“Now that’s something I’ve got to see.” Putting her qualms behind her, Gertie stepped through the door into the warm, smoky chaos of the Christmas party.