Mistletoe and Mayhem (7 page)

She would have liked nothing more, but the fate of Ellie lay heavily on her mind. She couldn’t rest until she had at least spoken to the maid’s mother in the hopes of uncovering a clue as to where the young girl may have gone.

“I’m sorry, Bax, really I am, but I have to prepare the envelope for the roofers, and then I have an errand to run in town. I’m afraid it will have to be a very late lunch, unless you would prefer to dine alone?”

For an anxious moment she thought he might protest, but then he sighed, and headed for the door. “One of these fine days we really do have to reexamine our lives. When you have free time in the spring, that’s when I’m at the peak of my business. Then, when I have time to spare, you are always busy here. We never seem to have any time when we can enjoy some relaxation together.”

“Perhaps tomorrow my time will be a little less in demand.” She smiled at him, hoping to soften his scowl. “You know I would much rather spend it with you.”

He opened the door, his words almost lost as he stepped outside. “Would you? I’m beginning to wonder.” The door closed behind him, leaving her staring after him.

She didn’t have much time to ponder his words. She had barely finished stuffing pound notes into an envelope when Pansy arrived to announce that Mick Docker was waiting for an audience with her.

Inviting him in, she waited for him to seat himself. He was a stout man, almost as tall and broad shouldered as Clive, but carried a great deal more flesh on his belly. His cheeks glowed, more from a penchant for ale than from the biting wind, and his graying dark hair had thinned considerably above his brow.

He sat with an expectant look on his face, and she indulged him by passing the envelope across the desk. “I think, Mr. Docker, that you will find this pays for all the repairs in full.”

“Thank you, m’m.” He reached for it, and without opening it, stuffed it into the breast pocket of his coat. “I trust you found everything satisfactory?”

The roofer’s thick Irish accent confused her, and it took her a moment to realize what he’d said. “Well, I haven’t observed the repairs myself, but I’m sure everything is in order. We shall soon find out with the next fall of rain, no doubt.”

He uttered an irked laugh. “I can assure you, m’m, there will be no more leaks from that part of the roof, at least.”

She felt a pang of dismay. “Oh? Are you saying the rest of the roof is in need of repair?”

“Not at this very moment, no.” He leaned back with a smug expression that did not sit well with her. “But if I were you, I’d look into replacing a few more tiles before too long, or you’re likely to have some damp patches in your ceilings.”

Cecily made a mental note to send Samuel up to examine the roof before she ordered any more repairs from this man. There was something about his attitude that she didn’t quite trust. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t mentioned the death of her footman. She found that callous in the extreme.

He was about to rise when she stopped him with a quick raise of her hand. “Just a moment, Mr. Docker. I’d like to ask you about the gargoyle that struck and killed one of my trusted employees this morning.”

The roofer’s face was instantly devoid of expression. He sat down again as if lowering himself on a prickly bed of nettles. “Yes, m’m. Please accept my sincere regrets. A very unfortunate accident, indeed.”

“Indeed.” She folded her hands in front of her and leaned forward. “I don’t suppose you have any idea how that gargoyle happened to slip off the roof just as my footman was passing below?”

A muscle started twitching at the roofer’s cheekbone, and his blue eyes grew wary. “I haven’t the slightest idea, m’m. I secured it myself, I did. I just can’t understand how it got loose.”

“How did you secure it?”

“I tied it down with rope around the chimney stack, and wedged bricks on either side of it. Then we covered it with a tarpaulin.” He shook his head, as if in bewilderment. “Can’t understand that, at all.”

She stared at him for a moment. “Tell me, did you happen to see the spot where the young man was killed?”

“No, m’m, I didn’t. First I heard about it was when the constable asked me about the gargoyle this morning. I never did see the body.”

“Well, thank you, Mr. Docker. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again.”

He looked worried about that for a moment, then his brow cleared. “Oh, right. For the rest of the repairs. Just let me know when you need me, Mrs. Baxter. I’ll do a good job for you. That’s a promise.”

She simply nodded, and didn’t bother to get up as he let himself out the door. Her mind was focused on what he’d told her. The roofer said he’d tied down the gargoyle to the chimney stack, which was several feet farther along the roof than the spot where Charlie had died.

Had the gargoyle simply slipped down from its moorings, it would have easily missed him. There seemed no doubt now that either Mick Docker had lied or someone had untied the masonry, carried it over to the edge of the roof, and waited for Charlie to pass by below.

If so, all she had to do was find out who had wanted her footman dead, and why.

Pansy hummed to herself as she carried the vase of fresh flowers along the hallway to the ballroom. Madeline Prestwick had ordered them especially, to stand on the grand piano at the ball that evening. Beautiful they were, all different colors and shapes and sizes.

Pansy didn’t know the names of half of them, but it didn’t stop her enjoying the fragrance right under her nose. She took another sniff as she reached the doors, then paused, one hand frozen in the act of pushing them open.

The doors were already ajar and she could see inside the ballroom. The kissing bough hung just a few feet away. Someone must have moved it from the foyer. She squinted at it. Unless it was another one.

It wasn’t the bough of greenery that held her attention, however. It was the couple standing beneath it. The young man had his arms around the lady, and he was kissing her as if he was never going to let go again.

Pansy felt a warm feeling trickling all over her. She recognized the honeymoon couple, and it made her feel all squishy inside to watch them.

The new Mrs. Danville must have caught sight of her, since she drew back with a gasp.

Pansy quickly pushed the doors open. “I’m so sorry to disturb you, m’m,” she said, her voice breathless with embarrassment. “I have to put these flowers on the piano. I won’t be but a moment or two.”

The bride blushed, but her husband swung around with a laugh. “You must catch quite a few couples taking advantage of this.” He pointed at the kissing bough above his head. “After all, that’s what it’s for, right?”

Aware that he was trying to alleviate his wife’s discomfort, Pansy lied. “Oh, yes, sir, all the time. People do like to kiss each other under it. It’s tradition, sir, isn’t it.” She hurried over to the stage and ran lightly up the steps. Some of the water in the vase slopped over her arm, but she pretended not to notice.

“There you are, my dear.” The young man’s voice carried across the room. “Didn’t I tell you no one would think anything of it?”

Pansy put the vase down on the polished surface of the piano. It looked really nice with its colorful sprays of blossoms. She turned back to the Danvilles.

The gentleman stood smiling at her, while his bride hid her face behind his shoulder. Pansy thought the young girl was really silly. If she, Pansy, was being kissed by her husband she wouldn’t care who saw her.

She skipped down the steps and past the couple, her heart giving a little jump when Mr. Danville gave her a knowing wink. She grinned in answer, and darted from the room, practicing how she would tell Gertie about her encounter.

She found her friend in the dining room, setting new candles in the candlesticks. “Where have you been?” Gertie demanded, the moment she set eyes on her. “I’ve been waiting for you to help me in here.”

“Mrs. Chubb asked me to take the flowers into the ballroom.” She let out a giggle. “You’ll never guess what I saw.”

“Madam was dancing with Clive.”

Pansy stared at her. “What?”

Gertie shook her head. “I was teasing, that’s all. What did you see, then?”

Still confused, Pansy told her about the honeymoon couple. “Mr. Danville winked at me when I came out of there,” she said, smiling at the memory. “I do wish Samuel had been there to see it.”

Gertie laughed. “You don’t really think that would make him jealous?”

Pansy tossed her head. “Maybe not, but I know what would. Lenny asked me out and I’m going, too.”

Now it was Gertie’s turn to stare. “Who the hell is Lenny, then?”

“He’s the lad that works on the roof with that big Irishman.”

“Mick Docker? Saucy blighter he is and all. Mrs. Chubb said he was whistling at the maids all day.”

Pansy thought it better not to mention that Lenny had whistled at her. “Well, anyway, Lenny asked when my afternoon off was and I told him it was tomorrow so I’m meeting him by the gate and we’re going for a walk.”

Gertie pursed her lips. “So what if he gets fresh with you?”

“Fresh?”

“You know, what if he tries to take advantage of you. What’re you going to do then?”

Pansy laughed. “I’m only going for a walk with him, that’s all.”

“Yeah, well, don’t let him lure you into the woods. There’s all sorts of horrible things he could do if he got you in the woods.”

Pansy didn’t like the sound of that but she wasn’t about to let Gertie know she was upsetting her. “You’re teasing again,” she said, without too much confidence. “It’s too cold to walk in the woods, anyhow.”

“You’d go walking in the woods with Samuel, though, wouldn’t you?”

“Samuel wouldn’t ask me.”

“Well, if he did.”

“I dunno.”

“You’d be daft not to go with him.” Gertie turned back to the table and set another candle in its stick. “If you want a man you have to grab every opportunity he gives you.”

Pansy shivered. She’d be only too happy to do anything Samuel asked, but she wasn’t so sure about Lenny. Maybe she’d made a mistake promising to meet him after all. Then again, she didn’t exactly promise. All she’d done was nod her head. That could have meant anything.

She had no time to dwell on the problem, however. Gertie thrust a bundle of candles into her hands. “Here, finish these for me. I have to get ready to meet Dan. We’re going for a walk on the pier this afternoon and I have to put more pins in my hair or it’ll blow all over the blinking place.”

“Isn’t it a bit cold to go walking on the pier?”

“Nah.” Gertie headed for the door, throwing words over her shoulder. “I’ll have Dan to keep me warm, won’t I.” Laughing, she disappeared into the hallway outside.

Sighing, Pansy stuck a candle into the silver candlestick. It would be so nice to have someone to keep her warm. Especially if it was Samuel. At least that giddy Ellie wasn’t there to get in the way.

Pansy felt a stab of guilt. Ellie was missing, possibly hurt or worse. She felt sorry for that, but part of her hoped that Ellie never came back. She had enough trouble keeping Samuel’s interest without some frivolous little twerp grabbing his attention. No, it would be a lot better for all of them if Ellie Tidwell never came back to the Pennyfoot ever again.

Samuel was waiting in the carriage right in front of the main entrance when Cecily hurried down the steps a while later.

Shivering as the wind nipped her nose, she waited for him to open the door, then clambered up onto the seat and sank back against the creaking leather.

The cold seeped through her thick woolen coat and every layer of clothing underneath. Wishing she’d brought her shawl for extra warmth, she glanced out of the window as the carriage jerked forward.

The gray ocean churned up white foam on the waves racing to shore. That meant an east wind, which could bring a cold snap to the southeast coast. Cecily tugged her collar closer to her throat. They would have to stoke up the fires in the bedrooms, as well as the library, dining room, and the bar. The ballroom had no fireplace, but usually there were enough people dancing to keep everyone warm enough.

Thank goodness they’d just had the coal shed filled up. They would need lots of it to keep all those fires going. Thinking about the coal shed reminded Cecily of her meeting with Stan Whittle, the coal man. He’d been in a dreadful hurry, and had become quite impatient with her while she was preparing his payment envelope. She never had liked the man, but his rudeness yesterday had been inexcusable.

The attitude of workmen lately was quite deplorable. It upset her no end to have to accommodate them. In the old days, when she owned the Pennyfoot, Baxter served as the manager and dealt with all the tradespeople that came to the hotel. Now she was forced into that unenviable position and it didn’t sit well with her at all.

The carriage jerked, sending her forward and jolting her out of her thoughts. She heard Samuel shout out something as the carriage lurched to a halt, then the horse’s hooves clicked on the pavement again and once more they sailed smoothly on their way.

Another of those dratted motorcars, Cecily thought, as she caught sight of the gleaming white machine trundling past her window. All that banging and smoking, and they were constantly breaking down. They caused more problems on the road than any skittish horse might. That was the price they paid for progress.

Ellie’s house lay just on the edge of town, for which Cecily was most thankful. Badgers End was little more than a village, but at this time of year the High Street resembled one of the busy shopping streets in nearby Wellercombe. It would take forever to get the carriage through a crowd of determined pedestrians, intent on getting their Christmas shopping done before the shops closed.

Cecily peered out the window as the carriage jerked to a stop. They had pulled up outside a small white gate and fenced front garden with neatly trimmed hedges and wellpruned fruit trees. The carriage door opened and Samuel offered her a hand as she prepared to climb down.