Mulled Murder (Pennyfoot Holiday Mysteries) (7 page)

Pansy had to smile at the thought. There was a small yard at the back of the shop, big enough for Tess to play in, and since she’d be a housewife, she’d have the extra time to take the dog walking up on Putney Downs, where she’d have plenty of room to run.

Meanwhile, Tess was living in the stables, and not too happy about it, according to Charlie Muggins. The dog missed her master, and Pansy couldn’t blame her. She’d missed Samuel herself since he’d been gone. What with her hours at the country club and him being so busy starting up his business, they’d hardly seen each other these past few weeks.

She jumped when Mrs. Chubb’s voice penetrated her thoughts. “Are you going to stand there all day dreaming or are you going to find Lilly for me?”

“Oh, sorry.” Pansy grinned at the housekeeper. “What did you want me to tell Lilly?”

Mrs. Chubb rolled her eyes. “I want her to go to the stables and tell Charlie I need a carriage at the front door in five minutes.”

“Oh, I’ll go to the stables!” Before the housekeeper could snatch away her chance to see Tess, Pansy darted across the kitchen and out the door. She took off at a run across the yard, expecting any minute to hear Mrs. Chubb screaming after her.

She arrived at the stables out of breath and thanking her lucky stars the housekeeper hadn’t yelled at her after all.

Just as she reached the door, Henry appeared in front of her, his thin face creased in a frown.

Pansy gasped out her message. “Mrs. Chubb wants a carriage at the front door in five minutes.” She took a closer look at Henry’s face. He looked as if he was in pain. “What’s the matter with you?”

“I have to go to the lavatory,” Henry muttered, edging past her.

“You can’t use the lavatory. There’s no water in there.”

Henry stared at her as if she’d slapped him. “No water? Why?”

Pansy shrugged. “How do I know? The whole plumbing system’s gone off. We haven’t got no water in the kitchen, neither.”

Henry looked around, his face drawn with panic. “What am I going to do?”

His voice went really high on a whine and Pansy punched him on the arm. “Shhh! If Charlie hears you making a noise like that he’ll think you’ve gone barmy.”

“But I have to go!”

“Then go behind the coal shed. That’s where all the lads go when they’re in a hurry.”

Henry stared at her for a long moment, his eyes wide. Then, with a sound like he was choking, he rushed off toward the coal shed.

Pansy shook her head. No wonder Charlie got annoyed with Henry. He really was a bit of a baby. She soon forgot about Henry, however, when Tess came bounding toward her. Dropping to her knees, she wrapped her arms around the dog’s neck. “It won’t be long now, Tess,” she whispered.

The dog licked her nose as if she understood. Pansy hugged her tighter. Soon she’d be Mrs. Samuel Whitfield, sharing her home with the man she loved and the dog she adored. There couldn’t be anyone in the world as happy as she felt right now.

• • •

“No water?” Baxter’s face grew red. “In the entire building? What in blazes are we going to do now?”

“Don’t worry, dear.” Cecily crossed the room to the window. “I’ve sent an urgent message to George Rutter. He should be here any minute.”

“George who?”

“Rutter.” She turned to smile at her bewildered husband. “He’s the plumber, remember?”

“Oh, the red-headed chap. Whatever happened to Tom Blakely?”

“He died, darling. He had a heart attack. George bought the business from his widow.”

Baxter shook his head. “So, is this George going to get the water running again?”

“I sincerely hope so.” She looked out the window. The woods looked so stark and bare and the bowling greens were covered with dead leaves. Frowning, she made a mental note to talk to the new maintenance man about that. Clive would have had the lawns cleaned up weeks ago.

How she missed the big, jovial man, with his quiet voice and competent hands. She’d rarely had to give him a task. He’d kept everything in order and had dealt with problems before she’d even been aware there were any.

Jacob Pinstone seemed adequate enough for the job, but he didn’t have the initiative or enthusiasm that Clive had, and she couldn’t get past the thought that Jacob was hiding a troubling past. He’d been evasive about his time in the merchant navy, and his reason for leaving. She had been in too much need of help to probe too deeply, but she often wondered lately if she’d made a mistake in hiring him.

“What about the other problem?” Baxter asked, interrupting her thoughts.

She swung around. “Which problem is that, dear?”

“The woman without a memory. What are you going to do about her?”

“Goodness.” Cecily moved closer to the fire and held out her hands to the blaze. “With everything else going on I’d completely forgotten about her. I suppose we shall have to come to some decision sooner or later. I can’t just turn her out into the street. I don’t think Mrs. Chubb can take on any more staff. We turned down an application just the other day.”

“Well, she can’t stay here as a free guest indefinitely. Besides, she must have a family looking for her.”

“Yes, you’re quite right.” Cecily stared at the glowing coals. “I think the best thing is for her to stay at the orphanage. They are always looking for help there. She can help them out until we can find out who she is and where her family might be. Right after Christmas I’ll talk to Sam Northcott. Maybe he can help.”

Baxter grunted with more than a hint of derision. “I suppose the lavatories are out-of-bounds until we get the water running again.”

“I’m sorry, dear. I hope it won’t be for too long.”

“So do I,” her husband said grimly, “or else we’ll be facing far more serious problems than a woman who’s lost her memory.”

“I’d better go down and talk to Miss Memory, I suppose, and tell her what we’ve decided.”

“Don’t expect her to jump with joy.”

“I know. I hate to do this right before Christmas, but I honestly don’t know what else to do with the girl.”

On her way down the stairs, Cecily tried to think of a good way to break the news to Miss Memory. She didn’t want to seem heartless, but a busy hotel at Christmastime wasn’t the best place for a young woman struggling with a lost memory. The orphanage had a medical staff who could do a much better job of helping her than anyone at the Pennyfoot.

Having assured herself she was doing the right thing, Cecily headed for the kitchen stairs. Just as she reached them, a short, stocky man with fading red hair and a droopy mustache appeared in front of her.

“Oh, there you are, Jacob!” Cecily stepped aside to allow the new maintenance man to enter the foyer. “I was hoping to have a word with you.”

Jacob’s gaze darted everywhere but at her face. “Is something wrong, m’m?”

“Not exactly. I was just wondering when you were going to clean up the lawns. Those dead leaves make the bowling greens look most bedraggled.”

Jacob hunched his shoulders. “I didn’t think I needed to do much out there, m’m, seeing as how nobody plays bowls in the middle of winter.”

Cecily took a minute before answering. It had been on the tip of her tongue to give the man a piece of her mind. The last thing she needed, however, was for her maintenance man to walk out now. “Our guests may not be playing bowls,” she said carefully, “but many of the windows overlook the greens, and grubby lawns give the impression that we are not taking care of the premises the way that we should. I’d greatly appreciate it if you would clean them up for me.”

Jacob shrugged with a trace of insolence that set Cecily’s teeth on edge. “Very well.”

“There’s one more thing,” she said, striving to calm her voice. “Mrs. Fortescue should be in the ballroom by now, holding a rehearsal for the pantomime. This might be a good time to talk to her about the stage set. Have you finished it yet?”

Jacob swung his gaze up at the ceiling. “Not quite, m’m.”

Cecily felt like hitting him. Then again, Phoebe would very likely do it for her when she found out her precious stage set hadn’t been completed yet. “When can you have it finished, then? The pantomime is in two days. We need that set on the stage by tomorrow morning at the very latest.”

Jacob nodded with remarkable indifference. “Not a worry, Mrs. Baxter. I’ll have it there first thing in the morning.”

“Well, do make sure you talk to Mrs. Fortescue before she leaves.”

Jacob touched his forehead with his fingers for an answer and trudged across the foyer to the hallway.

Shaking her head, Cecily hurried down the steps and along the hallway to the maids’ quarters. Reaching Pansy’s door, she knocked and then opened it.

Miss Memory was lying on the bed reading a magazine. She dropped it when she saw Cecily, and with a look of guilt, swung her feet to the floor. “I was just resting, m’m,” she said, getting up to bend her knees in a curtsey.

“That’s quite all right.” Cecily closed the door and crossed the room to her. “Sit down, Miss Memory. I’d like to talk to you about something.”

Looking nervous now, the girl sat on the bed. “They’re calling me Alice, m’m,” she said, staring at the floor.

“Alice? That’s a nice name.” Cecily studied her for a moment. “You still remember nothing about your past? Not even your real name?”

“No, m’m. Nothing.” Alice kept her gaze glued to the floor.

Cecily sat down on the edge of the bed next to her. “Look . . . ah . . . Alice, we’ve been trying to think about what is best for you. This is a very busy hotel—I mean, country club—this time of year and we really don’t have the time to look after you properly, so—”

Alice shot up her chin. “You don’t have to, m’m. I can take care of myself.”

“Yes, I know, but you have a medical problem that needs proper supervision and—”

“No, I don’t! I just can’t remember who I am or where I came from. It doesn’t make me an invalid. I’m perfectly well, otherwise.”

Cecily took a deep breath. “I’m making arrangements for you to go to the orphanage. They have people who can take care of you, and while you are there you can help them in return. They’ll be most happy to have you and—”

“But I don’t want to go to the orphanage. I want to stay here.” Alice turned her big blue eyes on Cecily’s face. “Please don’t make me leave!”

Feeling like an ogre, Cecily got to her feet. “I’m sorry, Alice. I have to do what I think is best for you, and although you might not want to believe it now, eventually you’ll find out I was right. I hope you soon recover your memory and then you can return to your own home. You can stay tonight and I’ll have Charlie take you to the orphanage tomorrow morning.”

She left the girl sitting miserably on the side of the bed, and tried her best to convince herself she’d done the right thing as she made her way up the stairs again. It might be best for the girl, she thought, as she entered the foyer once more, but right then all she could think about was the misery in that young woman’s face. This was not the way to spread the Christmas spirit.

CHAPTER
7

Pansy arrived back in the kitchen to find Mrs. Chubb waiting for her. The housekeeper wore her coat and hat, and the minute she laid eyes on Pansy she headed for the door. “Where have you been? I’ve been waiting here almost half an hour.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Chubb.” Pansy glanced at the clock. “I saw Tess out there and I had to get her back in the stables so she didn’t wander off.”

“Well, I hope someone’s got my carriage ready. I’ve only got an hour and a half to do my shopping and get back here in time for the supper. I hope—”

She broke off as the door opened behind Pansy and a strange man with fair hair and twinkling blue eyes poked his head around it. “Is this where you need a plumber?”

Mrs. Chubb stared at the stranger. “Yes, it is. Who are you? Where’s George Rutter?”

The man walked into the kitchen, a big grin plastered across his face. “I’m Bernard Bingham, the plumber. Just call me Bernie. George twisted his ankle and he’s laid up. He sent me instead.”

Mrs. Chubb sniffed and peered down her nose at the young man. “Well, I hope you can fix the water pipes. This is a busy place and we need the water back on right away. I have to go, but Pansy will show you where everything is.” She stared hard at Pansy, then swept through the door and disappeared.

Pansy gave the plumber a weak smile. “The sink’s over there.” She nodded her head at it. “We haven’t got no water anywhere. Not even in the lavs.”

Bernie’s eyebrows shot up and he opened his mouth in a round O, making him look a little like the picture of a clown she’d seen in one of the magazines. “Blimey, luv, we can’t have that, now, can we. Let’s see what we can do, then.”

He walked over to the sink and dumped the large leather bag he was carrying on the ground. After turning on both taps, he shook his head, muttered something to himself, and opened the door to the cupboard beneath the sink.

Pansy hesitated, then said quickly, “I’ve got to go, so I’ll leave you to it. All right?”

Bernie looked over his shoulder at her. “Oh, I thought you were going to stay and keep me company.”

There was something in the bold way he looked at her that made her uncomfortable. Pansy edged toward the door. “I have to get the dining room ready for the evening meal.”

“Well, it can wait awhile, can’t it? It isn’t every day I get the chance to talk to such a pretty girl. Come over here and tell me all about yourself.”

Pansy crossed her arms. “The only thing I’ll tell you about meself is that I’m getting married Christmas Eve, so I’m going now.”

“Well, you tell your bloke from me he’s a lucky lad.” Bernie gave her an audacious wink that made her blush.

Her knees felt stiff as she opened the door, conscious of the plumber’s eyes on her back. Safely outside in the hallway, she made a face at the kitchen door.
Cheeky bugger.
She should set Gertie on him. That’d soon take that saucy look out of his eyes. Thinking of Gertie, her frown disappeared. Right now her friend was visiting Clive in his toy shop. It had taken months of effort on Pansy’s part to get those two together. Gertie had fought hard against falling in love with the big man. Pansy smiled at the memory. Now that her friend had finally listened to her heart instead of her head, Pansy couldn’t be happier for her. All she hoped now was that Clive would ask Gertie to marry him and that would make this Christmas perfect for everyone.

• • •

Down at the toy shop, Gertie was having a hard time keeping her twins’ hands off the merchandise. “Look at them,” she said to Clive, as they stood behind the counter, which was piled high with smiling china dolls and stern-faced toy soldiers. “I told them not to bloody touch anything and they still can’t keep their blinking hands off the toys.”

Clive grinned at her. “They’re children, Gertie. Of course they want to play with the toys.”

“Well, they’re not going to play with things that don’t belong to them.” She pulled in a long breath and let it out again in a bellow. “James! Lillian! Put that down and come here at once, or I’ll tell Father Christmas to put flipping stones in your pillowcase instead of toys.”

An elegant customer in a green fur-trimmed coat and enormous hat decorated with red ribbons turned to look at her.

Gertie resisted the urge to thumb her nose at her. Instead she concentrated on the twins, who were slinking up to her with mutiny on their faces. “Now, what did I tell you about touching things that don’t belong to you?”

James stared down at his boots while Lillian said meekly, “Sorry, Mama, but the dolls are so lovely.”

“I know they are.” Gertie sent a wistful look at the fashionably dressed dolls lining the shelves. “But you know what I told you about Father Christmas not being able to bring everything you want. There are lots of children who don’t get anything from him, so you have to be thankful for what he does bring.”

“Why don’t they get anything?” James demanded. “I thought Father Christmas came to every boy and girl.”

“Not if they’re naughty. Then all they get is stones.”

Clive cleared his throat. “Perhaps it’s time to change the subject,” he said, reaching for the jar of lollipops on the counter. “Is it all right if they have one of these?”

Gertie rolled her eyes, but the twins were eagerly holding out their hands. “Oh, all right, but you’d better eat your supper tonight or—”

“We know,” James said, and dropped his voice to a dreary moan. “Father Christmas will bring you stones instead of toys.”

Clive burst out laughing, and covered Gertie’s hand with his. “How are things at the Pennyfoot?”

“We miss you.” She looked up at him. “
I
miss you. That bloody twerp Madam hired to take your place is no blinking good at all. He doesn’t take care of the gardens, and he’s never around when we need him.”

Clive frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that. Perhaps Mrs. Baxter should find someone else.”

“I think she only took him on because she couldn’t find no one else.” Gertie picked up the wrapper Lillian had dropped on the floor and crushed it in her hand.

“Here. I’ll take that.” Clive took the wrapper from her and dropped it in a basket.

She smiled up at him. It wasn’t many men that were taller than her. Then again, Clive wasn’t just tall, he was bulky, too. A big man in both size and heart, with the softest brown eyes that seemed to smile all the time he was looking at her. Like right now. “Are you coming to the carol singing tomorrow night?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” He nodded at the twins. “Are they coming, too?”

“Nah. They need their sleep.”

“Good. There’s something we need to talk about.”

Something in the way he said it started a niggling worry in the back of her mind. She tried to dismiss it, lowering her voice as the twins wandered off again. “Did you hear about the bloke that was found dead on the beach?”

Clive looked worried. “I did. I hope it wasn’t anyone you know.”

“He was a guest at the Pennyfoot.”

Clive’s frown intensified. “Do the police know who killed him?”

Gertie shook her head. “Daffy old P.C. Northcott wouldn’t recognize a killer if one came up and introduced himself. I told Madam I thought it might be Lord Bentley. I heard him threatening the dead bloke. When he was still alive, I mean.”

“What did she say to that?”

“She said she didn’t think it could be him.”

Clive nodded. “That’s probably right. I’m sure there isn’t anything to worry about.”

He didn’t look sure, though, and Gertie couldn’t help feeling uneasy as she walked with the twins back to the country club. It gave her a nasty feeling to know that there could be a killer lurking about in the Pennyfoot. It wasn’t the first time that had happened, and when it did, the biggest thing she worried about was her children.

Looking down at them skipping along by her side, she tried to shake off her disquiet. There was something else worrying her, she realized. Clive wanted to talk to her about something and he’d looked really serious when he’d said it. Whatever it was, she had a feeling she wasn’t going to like it.

In the next instant, she decided she was imagining things. It was Christmas, and she wasn’t about to let anything spoil it for her twins. Clive wouldn’t say or do anything to hurt her. She had to believe that. As for Lord Bentley, well, he didn’t seem like a killer. The murder couldn’t have anything to do with the Pennyfoot. This year the Christmas curse would have to find somewhere else to go.

• • •

Having told Baxter she was visiting the library to exchange her book, Cecily ordered a carriage at the front door. It wasn’t totally a lie, she assured herself, as she rode along the Esplanade listening to the clattering of the horses’ hooves. She had planned to go to the library, just not today.

A chill wind found its way through a crack in the door, and she wrapped her fur tightly around her shoulders. Her toes felt numb, in spite of her warm boots, and she wriggled them to get the circulation back into them.

As the carriage entered the High Street, the horse slowed to a walk, hampered by shoppers crossing the road, people on bicycles, and the occasional motorcar. Cecily was not fond of the noisy machines that were fast taking over from the horse and carriage.

They were always popping and banging, startling the horses and causing more than one to rear up or even bolt down the street with a carriage bouncing behind it. She was quite thankful when the footman pulled up outside the library.

When he jumped down to help her down from her seat, she was surprised to recognize Henry, the new stable assistant. She’d been so wrapped up in her thoughts she hadn’t taken notice of him when she’d boarded the carriage.

He seemed nervous as he clutched her gloved hand, keeping his gaze firmly on the ground.

Feeling sorry for him, she gently withdrew her hand. “I didn’t expect to see you in the driver’s seat, Henry. The footmen must be busy.”

“Yes, m’m. Charlie asked me to take over.”

Something was bothering him, Cecily thought, as she studied the young man. He seemed determined not to look her in the face. “How are things in the stables? I hope you are happy working for the Pennyfoot Hotel.” Baxter’s voice corrected her in her mind.
Country Club.
She ignored it. “Is Charlie treating you well?”

“Very well, m’m. Thank you.”

“I’m pleased to hear it.” She gathered up her skirt. “I shan’t be long. You can wait inside the carriage if you like, out of this wind. It’s quite biting this afternoon.”

“Yes, m’m. Thank you, m’m.”

She glanced over her shoulder as she went inside the library. Henry still stood by the carriage as if turned to stone.

Shaking her head, she dropped her book into the return box and headed for the shelves. The library had been built just a year or so earlier, and she still found it overwhelming to be in the midst of so many books with so many choices. Normally she would have spent an hour or so browsing the shelves, but today time was precious and fleeting. She grabbed the first book that looked interesting and carried it to the front desk.

The librarian, a young woman with inquisitive blue eyes and red hair wound into a tight knot, greeted her. “Mrs. Baxter! What a pleasure to see you!”

“Likewise, Caroline.” Cecily smiled. “I don’t see many people in here today.”

“It’s the Christmas season. People don’t have time to read.” She peered at the title on the book. “You will enjoy this, I’m sure.” She opened the cover and took out the card. “Isn’t it dreadful about that poor man found dead on the beach?”

Cecily took a moment to compose her voice. “Yes, it is. Quite a shock to all of us.”

Caroline leaned across the counter. “He was in here, you know. Just a week ago. He spent hours poring over copies of old newspapers. I thought there was something strange about him. Then, when I heard he’d been killed, well, it just about made me ill. I kept thinking about him sitting there, never knowing he was going to die so soon.”

“How awful.” Cecily shuddered herself. She was glad when another customer approached the desk and she could make her escape.

Handing the book to Henry outside, she told him, “I have to run into the post office. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Henry nodded, mumbling, “Yes, m’m.”