3 Service for Two (14 page)

Gertie’s stomach gave a little jump, the way it always did when she thought about the wedding. Then she narrowed her eyes, noticing something for the first time. “Blimey, look at you, all done up like a bleeding Christmas tree. Thought you was going to wear your pink cotton frock?”

Ethel tossed her head, the light catching the white ribbon rose in her hair. She wore her usual navy blue wool coat, but underneath it Gertie could see the embroidered hem and Gibson collar of Ethel’s best white lawn visiting dress.

“I felt like dressing up a bit, that’s all. It isn’t every day a girl gets to dance with a hero.”

Gertie grinned and dug her elbow into Ethel’s side. “Well,
luv, you’d better bleeding watch out. Seein’ you done up like that, he’s likely to do a lot more than dance.”

For once she didn’t get the reaction she expected. Instead, Ethel lifted her face with a look Gertie had never seen there before and said, all hoity-toity like, “Well, if he does, Gertie Brown, I’ll never tell, so there.”

With that, she turned and pranced across the lobby to the door, with Gertie staring open-mouthed after her.

“I think,” Cecily said, leaning back in her chair to watch the smoke from her cigar drift up to the ceiling, “that we can assume the jewels are brought down from London and hidden in the card room, then transported later through the tunnel to a boat waiting near the beach. Since the beach is hidden from the road, it is an ideal setup. It would be a simple matter to ship the jewels to the Continent, where it would be so much easier to dispose of them.”

Standing by the door, Baxter looked quite unhappy. “It is most distressing to think of the Pennyfoot being used in this manner.”

“I most certainly agree. It is even more distressing to think someone was murdered in the course of events. We can only be thankful he was killed in the woods and not right here in the hotel.”

She frowned, tapping her fingernails on the table. “Baxter, doesn’t that seem rather odd to you?”

“Odd, madam?”

“That the man was murdered so far from the hotel? If he was one of the jewel thieves, what was he doing out by Deep Willow Pond? It would seem to me that if the purpose of his being in Badgers End was to deliver the jewels, and possibly receive payment for them, he would need to go no farther than this hotel. In fact, to do so, it seems to me, would be to take a greater risk of being seen.”

“Perhaps the murder has nothing to do with the jewel robberies after all.”

“Then why was a copy of the hotel menu found on the floor of the vestry, the night the bodies were exchanged?” Cecily puffed at her cigar, her eyes narrowed in concentration. “No,
I feel it is all connected somewhere. It’s just a matter of fitting all the pieces together. And it would be a lot easier to do that if we knew who was organizing this entire escapade.”

“That, I fear, would be difficult to do.”

“I don’t agree. After all, we can narrow it down to three persons. All of whom had a key to the card rooms on Sunday night.”

She looked up at Baxter, who was watching her with a wary expression on his square features. “Three men, Baxter. All of whom I have known for years. Though I don’t particularly care for any of them, nevertheless I would have vouched for their integrity. Three men I have trusted implicitly, as James did before me.”

She tapped the ash from her cigar and watched it fall into the ashtray. “Jeremy Kent, the son of Michel’s landlady. Lord Chickering, a regular guest at this hotel. And my own bank manager, Martin Campbell.”

She looked back at Baxter. “One of those three men has to be the ringleader behind this organization. But which one, Baxter? And how do we find out who he is?”

CHAPTER
14

Ethel was quite sure she’d never heard anything so beautiful as the music played in the church hall that night. Which was very strange, since Lydia Willoughby was quite the most dreadful pianist she’d ever heard. And Sally Plunkett kept getting her fingers caught in the strings of the harp, and old Bridie Halloway’s violin sounded like someone had stepped on a cat’s tail.

But as Joe Salter waltzed her around the floor in a dizzying pattern of circles, the music blended together as sweet as an angel’s choir. She hated the music to end, but eventually Lydia struck the last discord, and the dancers came to a breathless halt.

It seemed to Ethel as if Joe released her gloved hand a little reluctantly, and the thought made her heart beat even faster. She followed him over to the refreshment table, hoping her
nose wasn’t too shiny from all the exertion. Fluttering her fan in front of her face, she accepted the glass of lemonade he offered her.

“Would you care to sit down?” he asked her, and when she gave him a shy nod, he smiled in a way that sent tiny little shivers down her back.

He chose two chairs on the opposite wall from the musicians, which meant she didn’t have to raise her voice too loudly to speak to him. She was determined to act like a proper lady.

There were some who would say that Joe was only a farmer and wouldn’t know the difference. But she knew better. Joe Salter might be only a farmer, but he was a hero and a gentleman. She was fairly bursting with pride to be seen associating with him. Even soppy Sally was giving her envious looks across the room.

Ethel looked up at Joe, who was watching the dancers perform a vigorous polka around the floor. Some of the girls were pretty, though she felt sure she had the loveliest frock.

Determined to draw Joe’s attention away from the other females, Ethel said loudly, “Have they found out who dumped Dr. McDuff in the pond yet?”

He seemed startled as he looked down at her. “I don’t know. I don’t reckon the police would tell me if they did. They like to keep those things secret till they make an arrest.”

“I suppose it was the same man what murdered that poor bloke in the coffin. Wonder if they’ll ever find him.”

Joe shrugged. “Depends on what clues they find, I reckon. Perhaps the keys will help.”

Ethel’s ears pricked up. Rumors about the murdered man and his possible executioner had been a hot topic for the past couple of days around the Pennyfoot. But no one had mentioned any keys. Hoping to be the first with this latest tidbit, Ethel asked casually, “What keys would those be, then?”

Joe looked extremely uncomfortable. “Don’t say anything about it to anyone, lass. I wasn’t supposed to mention it to anyone. It slipped out just now when I wasn’t thinking.”

“I won’t breathe a word,” Ethel said earnestly, flattered to think Joe was divulging such an important secret.

“Well, the lads found some keys lying by the pond. Strange-looking they were. I saw them before Constable Northcott took them away. Wouldn’t have known they were keys if he hadn’t said. They didn’t look like any keys I’ve ever seen before.”

Fascinated more by the way his lips moved than the words he was saying, Ethel tried to concentrate. “What did they look like, then?”

“Looked like the wide part at the end had been filed down. They were all hanging on a thin brass ring, and there was a penny with a hole punched through it threaded on there with them.”

Ethel sat up straight, her eyes widening. She’d seen keys like that before. Hanging on Mrs. Chubb’s belt. The master keys to the rooms. But they couldn’t be them. She’d seen Mrs. Chubb that night, and she’d still had her keys. Ethel remembered them jangling as she walked. Mrs. Chubb always jangled when she walked. Ethel was sure she would have noticed if she hadn’t.

“You say the police have got the keys now?” she said, wondering if she should tell him.

“I suppose so. More’n likely, once they find out who they belong to, they’ll find the murderer.”

Ethel swallowed. No, she’d better not say nothing. Better wait until she got back to the hotel and tell Mrs. Chubb. After all, she hadn’t exactly
promised
Joe she wouldn’t tell, and this seemed important. If the housekeeper had lost her keys, or given them to somebody, she was going to be very surprised to find out where they were found.

“Is something the matter?” Joe asked, looking concerned.

Ethel shook her head, hiding her face for a moment behind her fan. She couldn’t do much about it now, and she wasn’t going to waste this precious evening worrying about it neither.

She lowered the fan and smiled up at Joe. “I would like another dance, though,” she told him, amazed at her boldness. Gertie would be right proud of her, she would.

* * *

Gertie was engaged in another violent argument with Ian as they stood in the cold outside the kitchen door.

“What are people going to think?” Ian demanded, the stubborn set to his face making him look ferocious in the light from the kitchen windows. “They’ll think I can’t afford to take care of my wife proper, that’s what.”

“I don’t bleeding care what they think,” Gertie said, jutting out her chin. “I ain’t going to give up my job at the Pennyfoot, so there. You can either like it, Ian Rossiter, or you can bleeding well lump it.”

Ian folded his arms across his chest, and for a moment Gertie felt scared. She’d never seen him so angry. “I’m not going to allow no wife of mine to work, and that’s the end of it. So if you want to marry me, Gertie, you will have to bloody well get used to the idea.”

Tossing her head back, she faced him in defiance. “Ho, indeed? Well, if that’s the way you want it, you can bleeding well have it. ’Cos I’m not going to marry you, Ian Rossiter. Not now. Not never. So drop bleeding dead for all I care.”

She spun around so fast, her skirt twisted about her ankles. Cursing, she jerked the door open and flung herself into the kitchen.

Mrs. Chubb was standing by the stove, making some hot cocoa. The housekeeper opened her mouth to speak, but at that moment the door flew open again, and Ethel seemed to float into the room. Her coat was open, and her white dress billowed out in front of her as she moved across the tiled floor.

“Well,” Mrs. Chubb said, looking sternly at her, “you look like the cat that stole the cream.”

Ethel came to a stop and clasped both hands over her fan, bringing it to her bosom. “I had a wonderful time, Mrs. Chubb. Joe Salter is the most handsome man on this earth. And the bravest.”

“Shit,” Gertie said rudely.

Mrs. Chubb’s outraged face swiveled round to look at her. “There’s no call for that, young lady. Watch your mouth, if you don’t want it washed out with soap. Whatever next!”

Gertie felt a rush of resentment. It was bad enough that twit Ethel stood there all starry-eyed over some bloke when she and Ian had just broken up. But to have Mrs. Chubb give her what-for as well—that was too much.

“She’ll find out soon enough,” she said, glaring at Ethel. “They’re all the same. Tell you anything to ’ave their way with you, then they think they bleeding well own you.”

Mrs. Chubb uttered a sharp exclamation as the milk on the stovetop fizzed to a boil. Lifting the heavy saucepan off the grate, she said in a tired voice, “I suppose you had another row with Ian?”

“Too bloody right I had another row.” Kicking her skirt straight, Gertie stomped across the floor to the stove and held out her chilled hands to its warmth. “And it’s the last bleeding row,” she muttered. “I’ve told him I don’t want to marry him.”

In unison, Mrs. Chubb and Ethel gasped.

Feeling slightly appeased by their reaction, Gertie twisted around to face them. “That’s right. Me bleeding mind’s made up, so you might as well be the first ones to know. There ain’t going to be no wedding this Saturday after all.”

Cecily received word early the next morning that Dr. Prestwick was waiting in the lobby to call on her. She had just finished her breakfast when Mrs. Chubb brought the message.

Cecily thanked the housekeeper and asked her to show the visitor into the drawing room. She was turning away when Mrs. Chubb cleared her throat.

“If you have a moment, mum, there’s something I’d like to speak to you about.”

Surprised, Cecily turned back to look at the flustered woman. “Is it important, Mrs. Chubb? I don’t like to keep a gentleman waiting.”

“It won’t take a moment, mum, and it’s something I think you need to hear.”

Alerted by the troubled expression on the housekeeper’s round face, Cecily nodded. “Very well, Mrs. Chubb. What is it?”

“It’s Ethel, mum. Seems she was at the church hall last night and had occasion to speak with Joe Salter.”

Wondering where all this was leading, Cecily waited for the housekeeper to continue.

“Well, mum, seems as how Mr. Salter told our Ethel about some keys that were found at the pond, the morning he saved the boy.”

And the morning Dr. McDuff’s body was discovered, Cecily added inwardly, her senses sharpening. “Go on, Mrs. Chubb.”

“Well, mum, when Mr. Salter described the keys to Ethel, she thought she recognized them.”

Sensing what was coming, Cecily braced herself. “And?”

“Well, Ethel says as how they sound exactly like my keys.” Mrs. Chubb lifted the ring of keys dangling from her belt and fingered the large copper penny strung on it. “Even to the penny on them, mum.”

“How very strange.” Cecily smiled at the housekeeper. “But since you still have yours, she must have been mistaken.”

“Yes, mum. In any case, the police have taken them now. But I was just wondering. … I know you keep a spare set, and I thought—”

Cecily firmly shook her head. At all costs, she had to convince Mrs. Chubb that Ethel had been imagining things—although her own rising apprehension told her that there could well be something to Ethel’s story. It would explain how an uninvited guest had entered an unoccupied room.

She would certainly have to confirm now that the spare set of keys was in Baxter’s office, and as soon as possible. If Inspector Cranshaw had the keys in his possession … it didn’t bear thinking about.

“No, Mrs. Chubb. Mr. Baxter has the second set safely in his keeping. In any case, I hardly think it possible that a set of Pennyfoot master keys would be lying out there by Deep Willow Pond in the middle of winter.”

Mrs. Chubb looked immensely relieved. “That’s exactly what I told Ethel, mum. When she told me that Joe … Mr. Salter said as how the police had the keys, I knew it couldn’t
be a set of ours. Fair turned her head that young man has, though not so young, is he? I just hope that girl knows what she’s up to, that’s all.”

Cecily patted the housekeeper’s broad shoulder. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Chubb. Ethel is a sensible girl. I’m quite sure she is well able to handle the situation. And I know Mr. Salter. He seems like a very nice man.”

“Don’t they all,” Mrs. Chubb said darkly, “until you find out what they’re really like.” She looked up at Cecily with an anxious frown. “I wasn’t going to mention it, mum, because I don’t know how serious it is, but perhaps you ought to know …”

Oh, heavens, Cecily thought. What now? Surely not more bad news?

“It’s Gertie, mum,” Mrs. Chubb said, massaging her plump hands. “She says she’s called off the wedding.”

Cecily sighed. “Wedding nerves, Mrs. Chubb, as I’m sure you know. I hope I can trust you to deal with it?”

“That’s what I think, too, mum. I’ll take care of it, never fear.”

She didn’t look too convinced as she hurried away, and Cecily felt a stab of misgiving. That’s all she needed. A canceled wedding on top of everything else.

But that was a mere irritation compared to the news about the keys. The last time she had seen the spare ring they were hanging from a hook on the end of Baxter’s bookshelf. She couldn’t remember if she’d seen them during the last few days, but surely he would have missed them had they not been there?

She didn’t have time to go and ask him now, with Dr. Prestwick most likely pacing impatiently back and forth in the drawing room. She could only hope that one of the guests hadn’t wandered in and cornered him. He wouldn’t be too pleased about that. People always had a tendency to relate their health problems to a doctor, no matter where they might meet him.

She patted her chignon to make sure she had no wayward strands before heading for the drawing room. As it was, she reflected, the good doctor was most likely disappointed she
hadn’t received him in her suite. Or in the library, where they would have more privacy.

But she could just imagine Baxter’s reaction had she consented to that. Though why she should worry one whit what Baxter thought was beyond her.

Dr. Prestwick was indeed pacing back and forth when she reached the drawing room, which was otherwise empty. His hat and gloves lay on one of the brocade armchairs, and he’d dropped his umbrella into the stand beside the fireplace.

His face broke into smiles when he saw her. “Mrs. Sinclair, how very nice to see you again.”

Since Cecily wasn’t wearing gloves, he didn’t offer to take her hand. She was rather relieved she wouldn’t have to deal with the warmth of his lips on her fingers. “Dr. Prestwick. It is most pleasant to see you, too. Would you care for some tea? Coffee?”

“No, thank you, madam. I cannot stay too long. I merely passed by to thank you again for your invitation to the ball, and to inquire if I shall need a card to attend.”

“I was intending to have one sent to you, Doctor, but since you are here, I will be happy to have you supplied with one now. If you will accompany me to the reception area?”

“Thank you, madam. After looking forward to the event with such anticipation, I should have been most disappointed had I been turned away at the door.”

“I can assure you, Doctor, I would not have allowed that to happen.” She smiled at him, once more disturbed by the intensity of his dark eyes.

“I trust you will have a dance card for the event, madam?”

“Most of my guests will, of course. As for myself, I haven’t danced since my husband died.”

“Then we must remedy that, madam. If you would honor me this next Saturday at the ball, I should be delighted to request a dance.”