No Clue at the Inn (Pennyfoot Hotel Mystery Book 13) (24 page)

Doris assured Cecily that her cast would be ready for the big night, and that they could manage quite well without Mrs. Chubb and Gertie. Though she did warn Cecily not to expect a professional performance.

Having watched Phoebe struggling to control her unruly band of dancers, Cecily had already resigned herself to the usual comedy of errors. With any luck, the audience would be in a jovial mood and willing to accept a few mishaps.

Leaving Doris to cope with what seemed a dubious task, Cecily went in search of the Benchers. She spotted Lionel Fitzhammer in the smoking room, in deep conversation with Percy Chatsworth. Since this was yet another room where she was not allowed, she waited for some time before the two men emerged and she could talk to them.

"I wanted to offer my condolences for the loss of your colleague," she said after the two men greeted her with a polite nod. "It must have been a terrible shock to you all."

"Dreadful," Percy Chatsworth muttered. "I still can't believe Roger's gone. He should never have been driving while besotted with brandy."

Cecily stared at him. "Are you saying that Mr. Peebles was intoxicated when he left here in that motor car?"

"Of course he wasn't," Fitzhammer said curtly. "We'd had a couple of shots of brandy after lunch, but Roger could hold his damn liquor, that's for sure. Careless, that's what he was. Never did know how to take care of his automobile. I'll take a wager he didn't have his brakes examined before he left London. Some people shouldn't be allowed in the driver's seat, that's what I say."

"I still say he'd had one too many," Chatsworth insisted. "A little too fond of his brandy, was our Roger, if you ask me. And that French cognac they serve in the bar creeps up on you. Before you know it, it's hit you." He shot an apologetic glance at Cecily. "Not that I'm complaining, of course. Jolly good brandy, that is."

Cecily accepted this compliment with a smile. "Did either of you happen to know where Mr. Peebles was going when he left here yesterday?"

"Haven't the foggiest," Chatsworth muttered. "Bit of a dark horse, actually. Never did have much to say. Except in court, of course. Jolly good barrister, he was."

"He was, indeed," Fitzhammer agreed gloomily.

Cecily turned to him. "What about you, Mr. Fitzhammer? You were drinking with him before he left. Did he happen to mention anything to you about where he planned to go?"

Fitzhammer's beady eyes narrowed. "Not to me, he didn't. May I ask why you are so interested in Roger's appointment?"

"Just curious." Cecily gave him her most discerning smile. "He appeared to be in an enormous hurry. I was wondering if perhaps there was some emergency that needed to be taken care of, that's all. Mrs. Peebles didn't seem to know, so I simply wondered if you could shed some light on the subject. I mean, if he had an appointment, then someone must be wondering why he didn't keep it."

"As far as I know," Fitzhammer said carefully, "Roger wasn't planning on going anywhere in particular when he left here. He was in rather a snit, and I got the impression he needed a breath of fresh air. That's all."

"I see." Cecily smiled at both men. "Well, thank you for your time, gentlemen. I'd like to remind you that the pantomime will take place immediately after supper tonight, in the Grand Ballroom. I trust you and your wives will be there? It might help to alleviate some of the heartache for all of you."

"My wife and I will most certainly be there," Fitzhammer said heartily. "The show must go on, and all that rot."

"My wife and I plan to accompany Gretchen to the train station this afternoon," Chatsworth said, sending Fitzhammer a sour look. "She will be returning to London with her husband's body. But we should return here in time for supper, though whether or not Amelia will be in any mood for a pantomime, I can't say for sure. I had the devil of a time persuading her to stay for Christmas as it was."

"Make her go, old boy," Fitzhammer said, slapping Chatsworth on the back. "It will do you both good."

"I hope Sir John and Lady Lucille will attend," Cecily put in.

Chatsworth sighed. "I imagine they will. Lucille twisted her ankle the other day coming down the stairs, but she seems to be managing to get around on it."

A vision flashed into Cecily's mind of Lady Lucille leaning heavily on her husband's arm yesterday. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," she said quickly. "Please tell her to let me know if there is anything I can do. The village doctor will be having lunch here today. I'm sure he will be happy to take a look at Lady Lucille's ankle if needs be."

"I'll convey your message to her." Chatsworth took out his pocket watch and flipped open the lid. "Now I have some business to take care of, so if you'll excuse me?"

"Of course." Cecily watched both men leave, then headed for the foyer. Just as she reached it, the front door opened to admit Dr. Prestwick.

He spotted her at once, and gave her an expansive grin, which she returned. He then doffed his trilby hat and offered her a low sweep of his arm. "Mrs. Baxter. You look as exquisite as always."

He was dressed in a dark gray lounge suit under a black topcoat and looked both debonaire and handsome. Cecily responded to his greeting by fluttering her eyelashes at him in mock adoration. "And you, my dear Kevin, are every bit as utterly engaging."

Moira, who was crossing the foyer at that moment, shot a curious stare at each of them before scurrying for the steps to the kitchen.

Cecily pulled a face. "Oh, dear, I'm afraid we might have generated some unwelcome gossip below stairs."

Prestwick chuckled. "That will teach you to trifle with
my affections. How is that handsome husband of yours?"

"Hale and hearty the last time I saw him." She glanced at the grandfather clock, just as the Westminster chimes began to strike. "Your timing is perfect, Kevin. Lunch will be served shortly. Let us retire to the dining room, where I can offer you an aperitif while we wait to be served."

"My pleasure, madam." He offered her his arm and accompanied her down the hallway to the dining room. "Baxter won't be joining us?" he exclaimed in surprise when they were seated at Cecily's favorite table set for two.

"He's taking his meal in the office," Cecily said a little guiltily. She hadn't had a chance to tell Baxter she was dining with the good doctor. Then again, she hadn't exactly made the effort to do so. Sometimes it was easier to explain after the fact than before.

"So tell me," Prestwick said after the aperitifs had been served, "What is the reason for this delightful rendezvous?"

She pretended not to understand. "There has to be a reason?"

"Isn't there always?" He smiled at her blank expression. "Come now, Cecily, we both know that this isn't a purely social visit. You want something from me, and hazarding a wild guess, I'd say it has something to do with either the accident that killed one of your guests, or more likely the death of your maid, does it not?"

She kept her expression of pure innocence. "Why, Kevin, I'm surprised at you. Surely you know me better than that?"

"Indeed, I do." He took a sip of his gin and put down
the glass. "Which is why I presume you have an ulterior motive. I'm certainly not vain enough to assume you have invited me here to bask in my considerable charm."

She had to laugh at that. "Oh, very well. What can you tell me about the deaths?"

"Not much that you probably don't already know. Your guest died from injuries received when his motor car went off the cliff. As for the maid, she bled to death from the wound in her throat. Someone slashed her with a kitchen knife, apparently from your kitchen."

"Which would seem to rule out the theory that it's someone from the village, as most people seem to think."

Prestwick's expression sobered. "Well, there is one thing that isn't common knowledge, though I'm not sure I should mention it."

"Well, now that you already have," Cecily said firmly, "you are duty bound to tell me what it is, unless you want me to hound you constantly until you give in."

"Well, if you phrase it in that manner, I suppose I have no choice." His tone had been light, but now he leaned forward and lowered his voice. "I found a pearl lodged in the girl's underclothing. The string must have been broken in the struggle. The constables believe she stole the pearls from your housekeeper and met with someone, most likely from London, in order to sell them."

"Then why was she killed?"

"Perhaps she wanted too much money, or refused to give them up. Thieves fall out all the time, for a number of reasons."

Cecily frowned. "But the kitchen knife?"

"She could have taken it along to defend herself, perhaps anticipating some form of violence from her client.
Mind you, he didn't get away unscathed. There was blood under her fingernails. She fought hard."

Cecily shook her head, remembering Jeanette's vehement protests of innocence when the pearls were first discovered missing. "I still can't believe that young lady was capable of such a deliberate crime."

"Ah, Cecily, you would not do well at Scotland Yard. You are much too reluctant to see the ugly truth about some people."

"I haven't done so badly in the past," she reminded him. "I have solved more than one murder behind these walls."

"More by luck than judgment, I'd venture."

She made a face at him. "You never were able to credit a woman with any grain of intelligence. That could well be the reason that you and Madeline are at such odds lately. Madeline is an extremely intelligent woman, and in my opinion, you are a little afraid she will outsmart you, especially when it comes to medicine."

His smile faded. "If you want our friendship to continue, Cecily, I must ask you to refrain from interfering in matters that don't concern you."

"But they do concern me. Madeline is one of my dearest friends, and it disturbs me to see her in so much pain when I know very well that you both care a very great deal for each other. It is such a dreadful waste. You two could achieve so much together."

Prestwick tapped the white linen tablecloth with his fingertips. His voice sounded casual enough, but his blue eyes mirrored his interest. "Madeline is in pain?"

Cecily crossed her fingers under the table. "Very much so, though she does her best to hide it. She is pining for
you, Kevin. Isn't it time you swallowed some of that infernal pride and accepted the fact that Madeline Pengrath is exactly what you need to give your life purpose as well as pleasure?"

He gave her a long, thoughtful stare, then said slowly, "I'll take it under notice."

"Very well." Pleased with herself, she leaned back in her chair.

"Is
that
why you asked me here today?"

"Actually, I asked you here so that you might look in on Ross McBride, Gertie's husband. She's concerned about his health."

Prestwick stared at her a moment longer, then burst out laughing. "Cecily, you are priceless. Your husband is a lucky fellow."

She grinned happily at him. "Be sure to tell him that when you see him next."

For the rest of the meal she chatted with him about mundane matters, though never far from her mind were the questions she couldn't answer. Was Jeanette a thief, and was she killed by an accomplice? If so, where did Peebles's death fit in if, indeed, it was murder and not an accident? To whom did he owe such a large sum of money? Who or what was Cureagambler? And what about Wrotham's death? Was that an accident or yet another murder? There didn't seem any end to the questions, and none of them had answers. It would seem she still had a lot more digging to do.

The pantomime began promptly at eight o'clock that evening. Phoebe had persuaded the ballroom orchestra to provide the music, and the curtains opened to reveal Phoebe's dance troupe, clad in filmy trousers and quite
scandalous upper garments that revealed bare arms to the shoulders.

The fact that some of the young ladies had gained a few pounds since their last appearance and were revealing a little more than decorum dictated aroused some horrified responses from the audience as the dancers pranced around the stage.

They were soon forgotten, however, with the appearance of Aladdin. Doris's beautiful voice soaring to the rafters kept the audience entranced, so much so that they generously forgave Raymond, in the guise of the genie, when he tripped over the lamp and sprawled on the floor.

Phoebe's loud hissing from the wings could be heard quite clearly at times, especially when her girls stumbled over each other, threatening to bring down the entire temple that had been hastily and somewhat haphazardly erected by Samuel and his assistants earlier. It didn't help matters when the colonel, resplendent in his guard's uniform, bellowed at Phoebe to "stop that blasted interfering."

The final scene called for Doris and a young maid to mount the lower steps of the temple and sing the final song together with the genie hovering behind them.

Phoebe's dance troupe had built a tableau, balancing precariously on various body parts of their companions. Due to the aforementioned extra weight, the unfortunate girls on the lower end were not able to hold their positions, and the entire human pyramid collapsed, revealing even more human flesh than was proper.

Raymond leapt down from his perch, obviously eager not to miss this golden opportunity to assist half-clothed damsels. Phoebe ran screeching onto the stage, then backed hastily off again as Doris gamely launched into
her song, despite the mayhem going on behind her.

The audience, having recovered from their earlier shock, politely struggled to hold their mirth until Doris had finished her song and the curtains drew to a close. Then, as one, they surged to their feet, the men whistling and cheering while their wives demurely applauded.

Relieved that everyone had survived the ordeal without serious injury, Cecily went backstage with Baxter to congratulate everybody. She was intrigued to note that Kevin Prestwick had also wandered backstage and was engaged in an earnest conversation with Madeline. It would seem that her little chat with him had done some good.

Now she could only hope that the two of them could mend their differences and take this opportunity to work together, perhaps with an eye to a permanent relationship in the future. She couldn't ask for more for her friend.