Decked with Folly (15 page)
Authors: Kate Kingsbury
Phoebe looked intrigued. “Ian Rossiter? I wondered what had happened to him. Has he come back to work here?”
“He’d have a hard time doing that, old bean.” The colonel turned to her, his whiskers quivering with relish. “The poor blighter bought it, didn’t he. Someone bashed him over the noggin and killed him stone dead.”
Phoebe uttered a little shriek and slapped her gloved hand over her mouth. Above it her eyes were wide with shock.
Cursing herself for not telling her friend the truth earlier, Cecily got up from her chair and hurried around to her. “I’m sorry, Phoebe. I’d hoped you wouldn’t have to know. I know you always had a soft spot for Ian.”
“Who killed him?” Phoebe whispered behind her hand.
“We don’t know.” Cecily looked at the colonel. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t spread the news around the hotel. I would like to know who told you.”
The colonel looked sheepish. “Sorry, old girl. Shouldn’t have blurted it out like that. I just now overheard a chap talking about it. Short little bald-headed chappie with a rather twitchy mustache.”
Cecily knew immediately to whom he referred. Archie Parker. “Did you happen to notice to whom he was speaking?”
“Oh, yes, indeed, old girl. Young woman, she was, red hair, green eyes, and a face full of freckles. Spoke in a soft voice, as if she were running out of breath.”
He’d described Gloria Johnson perfectly. Cecily frowned. Had Archie Parker somehow discovered that Gloria was Ian’s widow? If so, then no doubt he was eagerly satisfying his curiosity with all the gory details. Not that Gloria could tell him much.
Still, it unsettled her to know that Ian’s death was now a topic of conversation among the guests. Especially since she had made Archie Parker promise not to mention it. Obviously the man was not to be trusted.
In fact, right at that moment, she had difficulty knowing just whom she could trust. It was not a comfortable feeling.
“So did you have a good time last night down the pub?” Pansy picked up a fork from one of the dining room tables, examined it with a critical eye, then took a corner of her apron and briskly rubbed at the prongs.
Gertie finished dusting the back of a chair and looked up at her. “It was smashing. We had hot cider and rum, and sausage rolls and cheese and pickled onions, and trifle in brandy glasses.” She grinned. “We sang lots of songs and Christmas carols and Dan even taught me to dance. A little bit, anyway. It was a lovely evening.”
Pansy clasped her hands together and rolled her eyes at the ceiling. “Dancing. Oh, that sounds lovely. I’ve never been dancing.”
“Do you know how?”
“Well, no, but I bet Samuel does. He could teach me how to do it.”
“Well, I can teach you a step or two.” Gertie dropped her duster on the table. “Come here, and I’ll show you.”
Pansy hurried over to her. “Is it hard?”
“Nah, not if you concentrate. Look, I’ll show you how to do the two-step.” She started humming, sliding her foot to one side and then bringing the other one back to meet it. After gliding between the tables for a few steps, she nudged her chin at Pansy. “Now you do it.”
Pansy hummed and sidestepped around the floor. “I like it! It’s easy!”
“See? I told you.”
Together the two of them hummed and glided around, until Pansy burst out laughing. “I bet we look silly dancing without a partner.”
Gertie opened her mouth to answer her but just then a loud clapping of hands interrupted her. Both she and Pansy swung around just as Sid Barrett sauntered into the room.
“Very nice,” he said, in his smarmy voice. “I wouldn’t mind being your partner.” He held out his hands to Gertie. “How about it?”
Gertie sniffed and tossed her head. “I wouldn’t dance with you if my blinking life depended on it.”
Sid dropped his hands. “It wouldn’t hurt you to be polite for a change, now would it.”
“I’m polite to them what are respectful.”
For an instant he looked annoyed, then his face relaxed in a smile again. “Well, me darlin’, I have the greatest respect for you. How about joining me in the bar for a drink tonight? Not seeing the boyfriend, are you?”
“What if I am?”
He shook his head. “I’m surprised you feel like going out, seeing as how your husband was murdered.”
“I told you he wasn’t my husband. And how’d you know he was murdered, anyhow?”
Sid smiled. “You’d be surprised what I know.”
Gertie was getting a nasty feeling in her stomach. “Well, I don’t have time to talk to you no more. I’ve got work to do.” She made to move forward, but Sid blocked her way, placing a hand on either side of the door.
“Well, then, you and I will have to have a cozy little chat when you do have more time.”
For several long moments Gertie stared into Sid’s eyes. She didn’t like the way he looked at her. Neither did she like the feeling of being trapped, even though she knew a knee in the right place would move him fast enough. “Get the bloody hell out of our way,” she muttered, “or you’ll be walking funny for a week.”
For a second or two mischief gleamed in his eyes. Then he laughed, dropped his hands, and stood back. “All right. Until later then, luv.”
She itched to slap his face, but there were some things madam would never allow. Shoving her way past him, Gertie stomped toward the door with Pansy scrambling along close behind her.
She was still frowning when she reached the kitchen. She hadn’t spoken one word all the way downstairs, but the minute they entered the kitchen words burst out of her mouth.
“That bloody Sid Barrett.” Gertie dug her fists into her hips. “He blocked the door of the dining room and wouldn’t let me pass.”
“Oh, dear.” Mrs. Chubb wiped her hands on her apron. “I shall have to have a word with that young man. I can’t have him aggravating the staff like that. I’m sure he means no harm, though. He just likes to play pranks. No doubt he thinks it’s funny.”
Gertie snorted. “I don’t think it’s very funny when he keeps asking me to go out with him and won’t take no for an answer.” She shuddered. “I’d rather eat worms than go out with the likes of him.”
Standing at the stove, Michel rapped a wooden spoon against a steaming pot of stew. “Worms are all ze guests will have to eat if someone does not start preparing the vegetables,
oui
?”
oui
?”
“All right. Keep your bleeding hair on.” Gertie started for the sink. “I just hope that bugger stays out of my way or I might be tempted to sock him one. He gives me the creeps, he does.”
“If he’s really being a nuisance,” Mrs. Chubb said, “perhaps you should have a word with madam about it.”
“I will.” Gertie grabbed a carrot from the bowl on the counter and picked up the peeling knife. “Just as soon as dinner is over with.” And she wasn’t going to mince words, neither. No one treated Gertie McBride like that and got away with it. Nobody.
CHAPTER 12
After enjoying a tasty meal with her husband, Cecily left him to enjoy a quiet afternoon in their suite while she returned to her office.
When she reached the foyer, however, she was once more waylaid by Archie Parker, who gave every indication of having lain in wait for her. He practically pounced on her as she reached the last step, obviously determined to speak with her no matter how much she might attempt to avoid him.
“There you are, Mrs. B!” He beamed at her, nose twitching furiously. “I’ve been wanting to have a private word with you, if you can spare the time.”
She was tempted to tell him she didn’t have a moment to spare, but knowing that would simply delay the inevitable, she nodded. Glancing around the foyer, she saw a group of guests chatting together by the reception desk, and a couple deep in conversation wandering to the front doors.
Wondering just how “private” Archie’s intended discussion could be, she said with some reluctance, “Perhaps we should go along to my office. It will be more quiet there.”
“Excellent!” Archie rubbed his hands together. “And warmer, I trust.”
Since the constant opening and closing of the front doors allowed all warmth to escape from the foyer, Cecily could at least agree on that point.
She led the way, with Archie scuffling along close behind her, and made a mental note to send for Gertie as soon as she got rid of Mr. Parker. Which, she hoped fervently, would be in short order.
Settling herself behind her desk in her office, she offered him a chair. “I trust you enjoyed the midday meal?”
“Excellent! Excellent meal.” Nodding and twitching, Archie waved a hand in the air. “Every meal here is excellent. You are fortunate to have such a masterful chef.”
“I am indeed.” She straightened the papers on her desk then sat back in her chair. “Now then, what is it you wish to discuss with me?”
Archie’s eyes gleamed as he sat forward. “I happened to overhear it mentioned that the young man found in the duck pond was, indeed, the victim of murder.”
Since by now the news was apparently all over the Pennyfoot, Cecily saw no reason to hedge any further. “Unfortunately, yes. It appears that way.”
“And . . . do you have any idea who might have perpetrated the crime?”
She looked him straight in the eye. “I’m afraid I don’t. None at all.”
“Ah!” He sat back, hands folded across his chest. “I suppose anyone could have done it. A prowler, perhaps. After all, anyone could have walked in off the street into the foyer. It would have taken only a moment to snatch the candlestick off the hallstand to carry out the dirty deed.” He nodded, as if pleased with his own cleverness.
Cecily stared at him for a long moment before answering. “Yes, I suppose someone could have done that.”
“Did he have many enemies? The deceased, I mean.” Archie’s gaze probed her face. “Someone who had good reason to want him dead, perhaps?”
“Mr. Parker.” Cecily controlled her annoyance with difficulty. “I’m not at liberty to discuss the matter, and even if I were, I know nothing that could possibly help determine who was responsible for what happened. Furthermore, I dislike discussing it, so I’d appreciate it if you would not bring up the subject again.”
Archie nodded, though he seemed quite unaffected by her reprimand. “I imagine all this turmoil would be upsetting, yes. I simply wanted to offer my help. After all, you must want to discover the identity of the perpetrator. It can’t be a comfortable feeling knowing there is a killer loose on the premises.”
“There is no indication that the killer is still on the premises.” Cecily met his gaze, determined not to be unnerved by the man’s persistence. “As you yourself pointed out, it could have been a prowler, a complete stranger having wandered in off the street and possibly long gone from the town now.”
Archie nodded. “Quite, quite.”
Cecily slowly let out her breath. “Was there something else you wanted to tell me?”
Archie twitched his nose and frowned. “What? Oh, right, Mrs. B. Actually I came to ask you if I could have a bed warmer at night. The fireplace helps to keep the room warm but my bed is always cold. I can’t sleep when my feet are cold. That’s the curse of sleeping alone, what?”
Confused by the abrupt change of subject, Cecily struggled to make sense of the words. “A bed warmer?”
Archie nodded with enthusiasm. “Yes. You know, one of those pans you fill with hot coals from the fire and rub it all over the bed.”
“I know what a bed warmer is, Mr. Parker.” She squared her shoulders. “I’ll see that your request is taken care of this evening.”
“Good, good.” Archie rubbed his hands together. “Perhaps that maid, McBride, could come up at bedtime and see to it for me?”
Cecily narrowed her eyes. “I’ll send one of the footmen,” she said shortly.
Once more Archie seemed unfazed by her disapproval. “Well, all right. As you wish.” He got up from his chair. “I hope you soon find out who clubbed Mr. Rossiter to death. Nasty business that. I suppose you’ll be calling in the inspector?”
Cecily rose, leaning her hands on the desk. “I can assure you, Mr. Parker, that everything is being done to apprehend the criminal.”
“Ah, yes. Right. Right. Thank you, Mrs. B.” Nodding and backing away, he came up hard against the door. “Oops! Didn’t see that there.” He grabbed the handle, opened the door, nodded at her once more, then disappeared.
Cecily stood where she was for a long moment, staring at the closed door. Then she shook her head, sat down, and pulled the bell rope. While she waited for one of the maids, she opened the ledger and began writing down the bills that had been paid that morning.
After having to erase a figure twice, she gave up and closed the ledger again. There was too much occupying her mind. Too many questions. It was time she started getting some of the answers.
She was hoping that Gertie would respond to her summons, but it was Mabel who stood hesitating in the doorway.
“Will you please ask Clive to come to my office right away, and tell Gertie I would like a word with her just as soon as she is free.”
Mabel ducked a curtsey. “Yes, m’m.” She turned to go, then paused as Cecily asked, “How are you settling in here, Mabel? Are Gertie and Mrs. Chubb taking care of you? I know this is a busy time, but I hope they are finding time to show you what you need to know.”
Mabel avoided her gaze, staring at the carpet instead. She was a rather plump young lady, with pale cheeks and gray eyes that for the most part seemed devoid of expression. Her fair hair was scraped back from her face, and her short stature made her look like a young schoolchild.
There was an air of deep sadness about her that for some reason made Cecily feel protective. Mabel had told her that her mother had died when she was a baby and she’d been brought up in London by her grandmother. Judging from her demeanor when she’d divulged this piece of information, Cecily gathered that the relationship was not a happy one.
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