Birthdays Can Be Murder (8 page)

BOOK: Birthdays Can Be Murder
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The noise level was beginning to filter through to the kitchen now – a low, rumbling sound of conversation. Jenny glanced at her watch. It was 6.15 and everything was ready. The first course was simmering, ready to be served, and the meats were going to be ready at the optimum moment. Chase had reported that all the dining guests had arrived. Georges was primed, the wine had breathed, and the Greers had descended, resplendent in tuxedos, gowns and jewels. The band had been told to stop their noisy and tuneless ‘warming up’ in the ballroom, and were despatched to the marquee. The marquee itself was installed with food and wine and the party lights were twinkling away in the garden.

Everything was ready.

And Jenny, like a horse at the starting gate, was waiting for the flag to be raised. She should be happy. The food was perfect. The tables were beautiful. There had been no major mishaps. She should have been feeling a serene sense of satisfaction. Instead she was afraid. She simply couldn’t help feeling that there was something very wrong. She’d tried to shrug it off, reminding herself to simply take care of the food. That was what she was being paid for, after all – to cook.

‘I’m going to check on the guests,’ she said abruptly, and Georges, who had become convinced of her culinary sainthood, nearly fainted. Martha gaped at her, then hissed, ‘Are you mad? You’re not supposed to go out there until Mr Mark makes his speech and thanks the staff.’

Jenny knew that. She was flying in the face of etiquette, and nobody would like it. She didn’t like it herself. ‘I’m going to check the guests,’ she said again, and marched briskly out of the kitchen. She knew she was going to regret it, even as she did it.

She just didn’t know, then, how much.

D
ESPITE HER DETERMINATION
, Jenny stood in the hall for several moments, glancing nervously at the ballroom doors. The sounds of gaiety clearly emanating from within made her fears seem suddenly ridiculous. And yet there was the dead gardener’s boy. But what, really, did an accidental death have to do with a birthday party? Jenny shook her head.

Then a dull thud from across the hall made her turn and frown. A door stood slightly ajar. Giving the ballroom a final anxious glance, she sighed and crossed the hall, pushing the door open and glancing in. For a moment she thought the room was empty. Perhaps it was only the cat, exploring and knocking something over. Then a shadow moved, and Jenny felt the back of her neck prickle.

The room was Mark’s study. A large desk was covered in papers, and a comfortable-looking swivel leather armchair was positioned behind it. The room was gloomy, for the heavy velvet curtains had been drawn across the windows. Now who would do that? Not Chase, she was sure. It was his last job of the evening to close windows and draw curtains, and generally lock up, and she could see no reason why a member of the household would want the curtains closed on such a lovely and still-light May evening.

Then she realized that the window overlooked the large lawn with the marquee. And so anyone looking in from there would be able to see clearly what was going on inside the study.

The shadow moved again, and this time the sound of rustling papers carried clearly across the room. Jenny realized that whoever was inside must have drawn the curtains in an effort to conceal what he was doing. But what exactly was that? From the sound of it, he was rifling through the papers on the desk. Not a burglar then. Even if the timing had not been so wrong, the visitor was ignoring the other valuable objects in the room; even from the doorway, Jenny could see the gleam of silver candlesticks on the fireplace mantel, for instance.

Then the stranger did something that almost made Jenny change her mind. He picked up something that glinted even in the dimmed light of the room. Something jewel-like. She was just about to demand to be told what was going on, when the stranger lifted his hand and she saw the object clearly. It was a decorative paper knife, one of the dagger-like, jewelled objects people brought back from their holidays in places like Spain and India. The shadowy figure slipped the object, handle first, into his inside pocket.

Jenny opened her mouth to speak just as a blast of noise hit her from behind. The ballroom doors had been pushed open, and a stream of chatting guests began to file into the dining room opposite. Jenny automatically shot a glance at her watch.

Six-thirty. For the first time in her career, she was not present when the first course left the kitchen. She turned back to the stranger, who had stopped halfway across the room, and was staring at her in slack-jawed dismay. She could see now that he was an older man, much older than she had previously thought. He was sturdily built, with a bluff and, she was sure, normally friendly face. Now he looked only surprised and disconcerted. He walked to meet her with reluctance in every step.

‘Tom! There you are!’ From behind her, Mark Greer’s voice sounded wonderfully normal and unconcerned.

‘Hello, Mark. I was just taking a breather.’

‘I know what you mean!’ Mark said, with a surprising gentleness. ‘Don’t much care for parties myself. Hello, Jenny, is something wrong? Don’t tell me the soup has burned and we’re all going to have to start off with corned beef sandwiches!’

Jenny managed a tight smile. ‘Oh, I always check everything is ready just before the off,’ she lied with all the assured panache of a politician. ‘Make sure all the guests are seated, that the pathways are clear, that sort of thing,’ she elaborated, and glanced tellingly at the stranger. ‘Like this gentleman here,’ she said softly. ‘He didn’t seem to know his way to the dining room.’

‘What! Tom not know the way to food?’ Mark took his friend by the shoulders. ‘We can’t have you missing the best meal of your life, eh, Jenny? Especially since it’s partly a celebration of your own retirement as well.’

Jenny glanced sharply at the man she now knew must be Tom Banks, the recently sacked executive, and wondered exactly what he wanted with a sharply bladed paper knife. She began to open her mouth to warn Mark, and then closed it again as the two men entered the dining room. After all, what could she say? ‘Oh, excuse me, Mr Greer, but did you know your friend is a thief?’ Or, even better, ‘Excuse me, Mark, but I think your old friend is about to stick someone with your paper knife?’

‘And what are you doing here, pray tell?’ a voice asked from just an inch behind her left ear and Jenny spun around. The kitchen cat would have recognized the hiss she gave. But Justin merely grinned at her mockingly. His blond hair and blue eyes set off the black and white of his evening dress in a manner that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Hollywood movie.

‘I thought you were supposed to be panicking in the kitchen, making sure every morsel is perfect. What happens if a waiter leaves the kitchen with a splash of soup on the soup-bowl rim? Won’t the world come crashing to an end?’

‘I never panic,’ Jenny corrected him sharply, ‘and if Georges lets a waiter out of that kitchen with the soup anything more than the regulation two inches below the tureen rim, I’ll boil and eat Martha’s cat.’

‘Now that I’d like to see.’ Justin guffawed with laughter. ‘I can’t see
that
animal standing for being plucked and seasoned.’

‘Why aren’t you in the dining room?’ Jenny counter-attacked sharply, exasperated and angry with him. He was making her like him again, and that was just too much.

‘Family has to take care of guests, you know. Mother went in with the early birds. Father took care of his cronies. Alicia and I have to round up the stragglers and get them seated before the soup.’

‘As if you’d care,’ Jenny growled.

Justin grinned. ‘How well you know me, darling Starling.’

Jenny stared back stonily, and Justin laughed. ‘All right, if you must know, I’m waiting for my date. I want to make sure she behaves herself.’

‘And why wouldn’t she?’ Jenny asked archly. ‘I’m sure Miss Walker wants only to impress.’

Justin laughed. ‘How well you know us all, darling Starling. Actually, Babs
would
have wanted to impress the daylights out of everyone, reassuring them all that she knew which fork to use, and demonstrating that she would never,
ever
put her peas on her knife. But that was when she actually thought she might become one of the family,’ he added, his voice now both grim and vicious.

Jenny stiffened. ‘You’ve broken off your engagement?’ she asked quietly. ‘
Now
?’ And again that sense of impending doom washed over her.

‘Engagement? Hah, we were never engaged, except in Babs’s own mind. And I told her so, in no uncertain terms, not an hour ago. Now I’m not so sure that she hasn’t planned a little revenge of her own. She can be a trifle wild, can Babs,’ Justin acknowledged, with such cheerful disregard that Jenny felt like throttling him.

‘You should be more damned careful!’ she said instead, and with such a note of genuine fear that Justin gaped at her, all amusement draining from his face. ‘I mean, women don’t like to be used,’ Jenny felt compelled to justify herself. ‘And Alicia’s gone to so much trouble to make this party a success for you both. It would be a shame to have it ruined because of your awful timing. Not to mention lack of basic human compassion,’ she added drolly.

‘Darling Starling, are you telling me off?’ he half-laughed. But his eyes were narrowed, and he was clearly unhappy with her lecture.

‘Yes. I am.’ Jenny looked at him levelly.

Justin laughed then. Whether or not it was genuine, Jenny couldn’t tell. ‘Darling Starling! Oh-oh, here she comes. Doesn’t she remind you of a tigress?’

Babs Walker, a vision in flaming red silk, slunk across the hall, very much reminding Jenny of a tigress. Her dark eyes were blazing with black fire.

‘Does Arbie know about this?’ Jenny suddenly asked, surprising herself almost as much as Justin.

He stared at her, the amusement definitely genuine now. ‘I doubt it. Although I daresay Babs will get around to telling him eventually. Oh, not the truthful version, of course. She’ll tell him
she
dropped
me
, and he, like a fool, will believe her. Or pretend to. Not that she’ll stay with him long, of course. Arbie makes a good safety net, but she’ll be on the lookout for another meal ticket soon. Won’t you, darling?’ he added in a slightly raised voice as Babs finally reached them.

She glanced sharply at the cook, although Jenny knew she hadn’t overheard their conversation. Then she smiled at Justin, showing her lovely white fangs, and looped her hand under his elbow. Her nails, long and red, curled around the black satin of his sleeve. Her smile was indeed animalistic, and Jenny wondered just how well Babs had taken her dismissal by Justin Greer – how she had reacted to having the dream of the good life taken away, and of being made to look a fool in front of her ex-lover.

As they headed to the dining room, Justin turned back and winked at Jenny over his shoulder. The cook shook her head at him angrily, her lips grimly tight. Torn between her intense desire to return to the safety of the kitchen, and her unremitting conscience, which demanded that she do something, she stood there wavering.

The dining room was now almost full, but she simply couldn’t go in there. A cook in the dining room was just asking for trouble. Instead she walked to the ballroom, where only a few guests remained, and she hastily stood to one side as they passed, glancing at her curiously. She was not dressed as a party guest, nor was she in a caterer’s uniform. All the guests were strangers to her, and Jenny ignored them, sure that the threat, whatever it was, did not come from their quarter.

Finally, only Alicia and an older couple remained, Alicia clearly trying to chivvy them towards the door. She glanced up and saw Jenny, and a peculiar expression crossed her face.

‘Everything’s all right in the kitchens, Miss Greer,’ the cook reassured her quickly, and Alicia laughed.

‘See, Moira? Even the cook has come up to try and hurry you along. Frank, you’re going to love this banquet. Miss Starling here is one of the best cooks in the country.’

‘As right?’ Frank leered at her, obviously already well away on the wine. No wonder Alicia was having trouble with them. ‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world’ – he burped – ‘in that case.’

Jenny stepped aside to let them pass, and Alicia paused beside her, watching the couple sway their way into the dining room. ‘Is there something wrong, Miss Starling?’ Alicia asked, turning to her. She looked spectacular in her blue dress and borrowed sapphires – young, vibrant, alive and beautiful.

Jenny sighed and shook her head. ‘No.’

‘Good. Well, then, I’ll go and join the others and announce dinner is served. Everything set?’

‘Everything’s set,’ Jenny echoed, and hoped she was right. It might be chaos down in the kitchen by now for all she knew. As she watched Alicia sail into the dining room, queen of the evening, Jenny had never felt more oddly depressed. Perhaps she should see a doctor. Perhaps her hormones were out of whack or something.

She was about to return to the kitchen where she belonged when a figure stepped through the French windows and into the ballroom. He was a tall man, lean and dark, and aimlessly began to wander around, looking at the paintings and ornaments, then pausing beside a buffet table to take a nibble. Then the man turned her way, spotted her, and his face became as still as rock. He looked almost unreal for a moment. She felt a purely instinctive desire to run, and quickly quashed it. She raised her chin and one eyebrow, stiffened her back and her resolve and waited.

‘Hello. Looks like I’m not the only late arrival around here. Oh, you can’t be a guest, can you?’ he added, as he ran his eyes over her in a thorough inspection, noting more her luscious curves and beautiful eyes then her plain summer dress. ‘I can’t see Alicia allowing the competition somehow.’

‘I’m the cook,’ Jenny said stiffly. ‘If you’re dining, you’re a little late. Miss Greer has just gone in.’

‘I’m not.’ His lips twisted in what, Jenny supposed, was meant to be a smile. ‘And I doubt, very much, if Alicia even knows I’m here.’ He dug his hands deep into his pockets and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a fancily engraved silver lighter. ‘Smoke?’

Jenny reared back. ‘Hell, no! They ruin the tastebuds.’ He might have been offering her opium, for all the shocked disdain her tone carried. The man looked at her in surprise, and twisted his lips again. Then his eyes seemed to narrow, although she could have sworn none of his facial muscles actually moved. ‘I’ve seen you somewhere before,’ the stranger said matter-of-factly, and Jenny felt her heart jump.

‘I don’t think so. I would have remembered you had we met.’

‘I didn’t say we’d met,’ the stranger corrected softly. ‘Only that I’d seen you before. I never forget a face.’ The man paused, considering, and Jenny began to have difficulty breathing. ‘Ever had your picture in the papers?’

‘Do you have an invitation?’ she asked coldly, neither denying nor confirming his question.

‘You mean a written one? One of those elegant square bits of paper with gold italics on it? My name, and everything?’

‘Yes.’

‘No.’

Jenny watched him light the cigarette. He was, she suddenly realized, very attractive, in a strange and dangerous sort of way.

‘I think you should leave,’ she said.

‘Do you?’

‘Yes.’

‘You could always chuck me out,’ the man agreed. ‘You’re a veritable Titan. Who knows, you might even manage it.’

‘Yes – I just might,’ she agreed pleasantly.

Behind her, a door opened and Georges appeared from the kitchen, carrying aloft a lovely Spode soup tureen. Behind him a line of waiters and waitresses marched past, several of the men carrying matching tureens. Georges spotted her but never even paused in his stride, and Jenny almost wilted in relief. She could trust the fake Frenchman to keep things on track.

BOOK: Birthdays Can Be Murder
5.24Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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