Mulled Murder (Pennyfoot Holiday Mysteries) (11 page)

BOOK: Mulled Murder (Pennyfoot Holiday Mysteries)
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“Crikey, that will come out of your wages,” Pansy said, eyeing the mess in dismay.

Lilly’s voice was high-pitched with pain when she answered. “Never mind the blinking wine. I think I broke my ankle.”

“Oh no!” Pansy dropped to her side, mindless of her apron dipping into the red wine. “You can’t do that! You’re supposed to take over for me when I leave.”

“Well, I can’t take over if I broke my ankle, can I.”

Pansy stared at her, visions of a cancelled wedding torturing her mind. “See if you can stand on it. Maybe it’s just bruised. How did you fall down, anyway?”

“I tripped over that.” Lilly pointed at a brick lying next to her.

Pansy frowned. “Where on earth did that come from?” She got up and moved closer to the wall, swinging the lamp higher so she could see. Her eyes widened when she saw a gaping hole in the brickwork.

Behind her, Lilly gasped. “Blimey,” she said, “they must be bloody great big rats to do all that.”

• • •

“I don’t know what to make of that new plumber,” Cecily said, as she joined her husband in front of the fireplace.

Baxter looked up in surprise from the ledger he was studying. “I thought you had some work to do in the office.”

“I did.” She sat down. “I do. I got distracted and decided to come up here instead.”

Baxter peered at her over the top of his glasses. He had only recently taken to wearing reading glasses, and spent more time looking over them than through them. “Is there something bothering you?”

“Well, now that you mention it, yes, there is.” She settled herself more comfortably. “It’s Jacob.” She told him what the plumber had told her. “I knew there was something fishy about him,” she added, when she was done. “I’d like to get rid of him now, but it’s too late to hire anyone else and we can’t manage without a janitor.” She shook her head. “That reminds me. I should see if Jacob put up the set for Phoebe and I have to talk to Madeline about the floral arrangements for the wedding and—”

“Whoa, there!” Baxter held up his hand, a smile playing around his lips. “You’re making me tired just listening to you. Why don’t you let me do something to help out?”

She nodded at the ledger on his lap. “You’re working.”

“No, I’m simply passing time with work until my wife can join me. From what you’re saying, it doesn’t sound as if that will happen until the New Year.”

She gave him a tired smile. “You could be right.”

“Then let me help.”

“I don’t think you want to talk to Madeline about floral arrangements, and I’m quite sure you don’t want to tackle Phoebe and all her problems.”

He winced. “You’re right. I’d rather not. There must be something else I can do.”

She leaned back in her chair, her smile widening. “Well, this is a new Baxter. I must say I quite like it.”

He shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. “It occurred to me some time ago that I’ve been far too wrapped up in my own affairs for much too long. It’s time I pulled my weight around here.”

“But we agreed when we took over the Pennyfoot again that I would take care of the country club while you took care of your business.”

“That was before I knew you would go back to your old sleuthing ways.”

She sighed. “I never intended to do so.”

“I know. Nevertheless, here we are, faced with yet another murder, and a hotel full of guests expecting to be fed and entertained for Christmas, not to mention a wedding.”

“Well, I don’t seem to be progressing too well with the murder investigation.” She stretched out her feet and studied her shoes. “I have to admit, the news that Jacob was involved in a man’s stabbing death is a little too close for comfort. I’m wondering if it was Jacob whom Mr. Evans was investigating, and he killed the detective.”

Baxter pursed his lips. “It certainly doesn’t make me comfortable knowing he was involved in a man’s death. Then again, if he was at fault, wouldn’t he be in prison?”

“I would think so.” Cecily frowned. “Which makes me wonder how the new plumber knew about it.”

“Perhaps he made up the story about Jacob for some reason. Maybe he doesn’t like the chap and wanted him to lose his job.”

Cecily shook her head. “I don’t know. Mr. Bingham is irritating, but he seems a perfectly pleasant young man. Though I must say, he doesn’t know his place. He walked into the foyer through the front door instead of using the tradesman’s entrance. His manner is a bit too familiar for my liking. He was quite audacious.”

Baxter’s brows drew together. “In what way? He didn’t insult you, did he? If so, I’ll have a word with the rascal.”

“No, no, it’s not that.” She thought about it. “It’s almost as if he doesn’t know how to behave in front of a superior.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. In spite of the great strides the women’s movement has managed to bring about, there are still a vast majority of men who will never consider a woman their superior, no matter what their station.”

“Maybe not,” Cecily said, folding her hands, “but they do know how to address a woman according to protocol. Mr. Bingham is sadly lacking in such matters.”

“So he’s merely rude then?”

“Yes, I suppose that’s it.” She leapt to her feet. “Goodness, look at the time. I have to find Madeline and ask her about the wedding arrangements.”

“And you’re sure there’s nothing I can do?”

She hesitated. “There are several invoices that need attention in my office.”

He rose at once, laying down his ledger on the seat behind him. “I will take care of them for you.” He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “When I proposed a toast to our new partnership, I fully intended that in every aspect of our lives. Not just a murder investigation.”

She looked up at him, tears prickling her eyelids. “Bax, my love, I don’t think I’ve ever loved you more.”

He dropped a swift kiss on her forehead. “Nor I, you. Now let’s go and take care of our duties. In the meantime, I’ll have a word with your Mr. Pinstone and see if I can find out the truth about his reason for leaving the navy.”

“Oh, would you? That would be such a load off my mind.”

“Of course!” He led her to the door, then stood back to allow her to step out into the hallway. “I meant what I said. Partners in every way.”

The warm feeling those words gave her promised to stay with her for the rest of the Christmas season.

CHAPTER
11

“Whatever happened to you!” Mrs. Chubb stared in dismay as Lilly limped into the kitchen, supported by Pansy.

“She tripped over a brick in the cellar,” Pansy said, struggling to get her breath back as Lilly plopped onto a chair. “She’s hurt her ankle.”

“I think it’s broken,” Lilly said, holding up her knee.

Pansy felt like crying. “I won’t be able to get married if she can’t take over for me.”

“Nonsense.” Mrs. Chubb bustled over to Lilly, her ring of keys clinking on her belt. Leaning over the young woman, she took the ankle in her hands. “You’re getting married, Pansy, even if everyone in this country club comes down with an ailment. Nothing is going to stop that wedding.”

Pansy swallowed hard. “I hope so,” she muttered. “So far things are not exactly going smoothly here. I’ve got the feeling that the fates are trying to stop me getting married.”

Mrs. Chubb looked up so sharply Lilly’s foot jerked in her hands, causing the girl to utter a yelp of pain. “Don’t say that, Pansy. Don’t ever say that. I tell you, your wedding will go on and you will be married on Christmas Eve, if I have to fight the devil to see it done.”

Tears spurted from Pansy’s eyes and she dashed at her cheeks with the back of her hand.

“Don’t say nothing else,” Lilly pleaded. “Not while she’s got hold of my foot.”

“Sorry.” The housekeeper carefully tilted Lilly’s foot up and down. Though the maid winced, she didn’t yell out again. “It’s not broken. Probably a sprain.” Mrs. Chubb lowered the foot and let go. “I’ll strap it up and you’ll have to stay off it for a day or so, but you should be able to get around on it by Christmas Day.” She folded her arms and looked from one girl to the other. “What were you two doing to get her in this state?” she demanded, staring at Pansy.

“Nothing, Mrs. Chubb. Honest!” Pansy drew a cross on her chest. “Lilly was getting a bottle of wine,” she said, swallowing, “which she dropped when she tripped over the brick.”

The housekeeper rolled her eyes. “Did you clean up the mess?”

“Not yet. I had to get Lilly back here. She was hurting really bad.”

“Then you’ll have to go back down and clean it up.”

“Yes, Mrs. Chubb.” Sighing, Pansy headed for the door.

“Where did that brick come from anyway?” Mrs. Chubb asked, as Pansy reached the door.

She paused and looked back at the housekeeper. “It looked like it fell out of the wall. There was more than one of them.”

Mrs. Chubb frowned. “Very well, run along. Don’t worry about Lilly. She’s going to be all right.”

“Yes, Mrs. Chubb.” Pansy let the door swing to behind her and headed down the hallway to the laundry room. She was not looking forward to going back down to the wine cellar. That place was creepy, just like Lilly said. Especially now there was a hole in the wall. She shuddered when she remembered what Lilly had said. She just hoped that the next time she went down there she wouldn’t come face-to-face with a giant rat.

• • •

The first place that Cecily intended to look for Madeline was the library. Since the carol-singing ceremony was to be held in there, Cecily was hoping she’d find her friend putting finishing touches to the decorations. Madeline always managed to come up with something spectacular, both in the library and the ballroom.

Since Phoebe was at this very minute holding a dress rehearsal in the ballroom, Cecily was reasonably confident that Madeline would not be in there.

Opening the door to the library, she was pleased to see her friend in front of the fireplace, laying garlands of spruce and holly along the mantelpiece.

“White candles,” Madeline said, as Cecily approached. “I think they will look very nice in their brass candlesticks.

Cecily shivered. Every time someone mentioned candles in the library, she was reminded of the time the candles on the Christmas tree caught fire. The library was partially destroyed, and it was only the quick thinking of her husband that had saved her life.

Madeline must have caught the reflex, as she turned at once. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Cecily. So thoughtless of me. I won’t light them, of course.”

Cecily shook her head. “It’s quite all right, Madeline. It’s not as if they are on the tree, and you are quite right. White candles are just what that display needs.”

Madeline studied her with a critical eye. “Something is worrying you. Is it Baxter?”

Cecily looked at her in surprise. “Baxter? No, he’s the least of my worries. Why would you think I was concerned about him?”

“Oh, nothing. Please forget I said anything.”

Madeline turned back to the mantelpiece, but something in the way she held herself made Cecily uneasy. “Are you not telling me something I should know?”

The other woman seemed to hesitate for a long time before answering. “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. It’s just that I had a . . . premonition.”

A cold stab of apprehension caught Cecily under the ribs. “Premonition? About Baxter?”

“Yes, but it was so very vague. You know how sometimes these things mean nothing at all.”

“I know that when you have a premonition about something there’s usually some truth in it.” Cecily moved closer to her friend. “Tell me, Madeline. What was it?”

“I don’t really know.” Madeline laid a hand on Cecily’s arm. “It was just a faint warning that Baxter needs to tread carefully. I’m not sure why.”

“But if you were you would tell me, wouldn’t you?”

Madeline smiled. “Of course. It’s probably no more than him catching a cold, or losing something he values, something simple like that. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

Not entirely convinced, Cecily decided to change the subject. “Well, I was wondering how the church floral arrangements were coming along for the wedding.”

Madeline brightened at once. “Oh, the wedding! I’m so looking forward to it. I’ve ordered the flowers. They will arrive from Covent Garden around eight o’clock in the morning. That will give me all day to have everything ready by the five o’clock ceremony.”

“Well, if you need any help, let me know and I’ll send along a maid. I’d send two but one of our maids has broken her arm, so that will leave us a little understaffed for the Christmas rush.”

Madeline gave her a sharp look. “An accident?”

Cecily raised her eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’m sorry. Take no notice of me. Christmastime always plays havoc with my senses.”

Cecily was about to answer when a polite tap on the door interrupted her and Mrs. Chubb appeared in the doorway.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, m’m. May I have a word with you?”

“Of course.” Cecily beckoned to her housekeeper to come closer.

“I’ll leave you alone,” Madeline said, reaching down to retrieve the basket at her feet. “I need to add some more greenery to the staircase anyway.”

“There’s no need . . .” Cecily began, but Madeline had already vanished out the door.

Mrs. Chubb stood rubbing her hands together—a sign that she was agitated.

The cold feeling Madeline’s words had given Cecily spread across her back. “Is something wrong, Mrs. Chubb?”

“Yes, Madam. Well, not really. It’s just that Lilly has sprained her ankle. I’m afraid she won’t be on it for a day or two.”

“Oh dear. Is she all right?”

“Yes m’m. I sent her to her room to rest it. I’m hoping she’ll be better in time for the Christmas festivities.”

“I hope so, too, Mrs. Chubb. Not only for our sake but hers, too. It’s so painful to be hobbling around on a sprained ankle. How did it happen?”

Mrs. Chubb fidgeted her feet. “Well, that’s what I wanted to tell you, m’m. She tripped over a brick in the wine cellar.”

“A brick?”

“Yes, m’m. Pansy said it had fallen out of the wall. It wasn’t the only one, neither.”

Cecily had trouble digesting this latest calamity. “Bricks are falling out of the wall in the wine cellar?”

“Yes, m’m. Lilly said as how it must be rats. I told Jacob about it and he . . .” She paused, then added quickly, “He didn’t seem too concerned about it, m’m. I thought maybe you should have a word with him about it.”

“Oh, I will, Mrs. Chubb. Thank you.”

The housekeeper looked relieved. “Thank you, m’m. We don’t want rats running around the wine cellar again, like they were in the summer.”

“No, indeed. Don’t worry. I’ll have Jacob seal up the wall again.”

“Yes, m’m.”

The housekeeper started for the door, pausing when Cecily asked, “How is the new girl, Alice, getting along?”

“She seems eager to please. I think she’ll work out just fine. We’re lucky to have her, now that Lilly won’t be able to work.”

“We are, indeed.” Cecily followed the housekeeper to the door. “Please let me know how Lilly is doing and make sure she has everything she needs.”

“I will, m’m. Thank you.”

Mrs. Chubb toddled off down the hallway, while Cecily headed in the other direction. She wasn’t looking forward to her meeting with Phoebe. Much as she loved her friend, Phoebe could be quite impossible when conducting the final rehearsal for her pantomime.

She could hear the commotion from the ballroom as she drew close to the doors. Phoebe’s shrill tones were raised above what sounded like a squabble going on amongst the dance troupe, which was nothing new. Phoebe’s dancers seemed to find it impossible to get along in rehearsals—one of the reasons Cecily did her best to avoid them.

She pushed open the doors to the ballroom, wincing as the volume of voices threatened to shatter her eardrums.

The pianist Phoebe had hired sat slumped behind the grand piano. Another fellow leaned against his double bass, staring into space, while two saxophone players sat close together apparently exchanging a joke, since they were both laughing uproariously. Only the drummer seemed concerned with what was going on onstage. In fact, judging from the worried look on his face, he was aghast at the whole fiasco.

Phoebe stood on the stage, gesturing and shouting at someone wearing a furry cat costume and whiskers painted on her face. Another dancer in tights and a leather tunic was also shouting at the cat, who seemed to be ignoring both of them.

Deciding that perhaps this wasn’t the best time to talk to Phoebe, Cecily hastily retreated from the ballroom. Just as she turned the corner of the hallway, Jacob appeared at the end of the corridor, walking toward her.

As he drew closer, she called out, “Jacob! I’d like a word with you, please.”

He halted at once, waiting for her to reach him. He seemed ill at ease, fidgeting with his cap as she approached.

“Mrs. Chubb told me there’s a problem with the wall in the wine cellar. I’d like you to inspect it and let me know what’s happening down there.”

He stared at her as if she were speaking a foreign language. “What’s happening?”

“We put up a new wall down there this past summer, and the maids tell me the bricks are falling out of it. We need to repair it.”

His frown cleared. “Oh, that’s all right, m’m. I went down and looked at the wall. It’s just a little dust down there, that’s all.”

Surprised, she stared at him. “Dust? Then why did the maids tell me the bricks were falling out?”

“It were just one brick, m’m. You know how these young girls exaggerate. I put it right back in.” He frowned. “But you’re right. Perhaps it does need a thorough inspection. It might be better if the maids don’t go down there until I’ve had a chance to look at it properly.”

“They have to go down there to fetch the wine. So please see to it as quickly as possible.”

“Yes, m’m. I just have to take care of something in the ballroom first.” Jacob touched his forehead with his fingers and continued on his way toward the ballroom.

Cecily headed for the foyer, hoping that Jacob’s task didn’t involve Phoebe. If so, he was in for a difficult time. Now she needed to look in on Lilly and make sure the girl was not in need of Kevin Prestwick’s ministrations.

On her way down the kitchen stairs, heavenly spicy aromas floated toward her. Michel must be boiling the Christmas puddings. She would have to find an excuse to stop in there on the way back.

She reached Pansy’s room, tapped on the door, and opened it.

Lilly sat up on the bed, a magazine spread over her knees. She seemed startled, and made a move to slide off the bed, but Cecily stopped her with a raised hand.

BOOK: Mulled Murder (Pennyfoot Holiday Mysteries)
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