No Clue at the Inn (Pennyfoot Hotel Mystery Book 13) (23 page)

Her next stop was the kitchen, where she found a very different atmosphere than the last time she'd been there. Mrs. Chubb was bustling around, barking orders while maids scurried back and forth. Gertie stood at the table loading up a tray with crystal salt and pepper shakers.

She looked quite different in her black afternoon frock and a frilly white apron. Even her cap sat firmly on top of her head. In the old days it was always slipping sideways over her ear, while she constantly tucked stray strands of hair back under the pins.

She looked up as Cecily entered and gave her a lopsided grin. "I haven't forgotten nothing, m'm," she announced cheerfully. "It's all there in me head, just like I was here yesterday."

"I can't thank you enough, Gertie." Cecily picked up a fork and examined it critically. "Things have been a little slack in the kitchen. Miss Bunkle was always complaining about the lack of discipline but I don't think she had the gumption to enforce it."

"Not like the old battle-ax, anyway." Gertie jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "She'll soon whip 'em into bleeding shape. In her bloody element, she is."

Cecily managed a smile. "Well, it's a relief to know that things are under control in here again. After everything that's happened today, I need something to go right."

Gertie lowered her head toward her and whispered, "Terrible what happened to that toff, m'm. Raymond said he were crushed under that flipping motor car. Just goes to
show what happens when you get careless in them things. What with that poor girl this morning and now this. Bloody terrible it is. Right before Christmas and all. Put a proper gloom around this place, it has." She jerked her chin at the rest of the staff, most of whom seemed to be tumbling over each other in their haste to follow Mrs. Chubb's orders.

The housekeeper caught sight of Cecily at that moment and came hurrying over. "There's nothing else gone wrong, I hope, madam?"

Before Cecily could answer, Gertie uttered a harsh laugh. "Gawd, I bleeding hope not. Two blinking deaths in one day is enough for anyone, if you ask me."

"That's enough, Gertie. Remember your place." Mrs. Chubb sent Cecily a look of apology. "Some things never change, I'm afraid."

"It's all right, Mrs. Chubb. It's a pleasure to have you both back at the helm."

"Yes, madam. We were sorry to hear of the motor car accident this afternoon. Though I can't say I'm surprised. The way some people go speeding around the bends in those things, I'm surprised there aren't more people dying in them."

"Yeah," Gertie said gloomily. "You'd think he'd know better. His poor widow won't have much of a Christmas this year, that's for sure. Though, mind you, it's no great loss in my opinion."

Cecily looked at her in surprise. "I wasn't aware you'd met Roger Peebles."

Gertie shrugged. "Bumped into him in the hallway. I don't like to speak ill of the dead, m'm, but he wasn't exactly the faithful husband, if you know what I mean."

"Gertie," Mrs. Chubb said sharply. "It's none of our business. I'm quite sure madam has better things to do than listen to idle gossip. I know I do."

"Don't let me keep you, Mrs. Chubb," Cecily said smoothly. "I'm sure you have plenty to do."

"Indeed I do, madam. And so does Gertie." She sent a meaningful look in Gertie's direction, then rushed over to the sinks, where two of the maids were arguing with each other in strident voices.

"I'd better get these bloody shakers into the dining room, m'm," Gertie said, lifting the tray. "Or the old girl will be getting her bleeding knickers in a twist."

Cecily followed her out into the corridor, holding the door open for her as she passed through with the heavy tray.

"Tell me, Gertie," she said as she followed her up the steps. "What did you mean when you said that Roger Peebles wasn't the faithful husband?"

Gertie paused, looking over her shoulder. "Well, m'm, don't tell Mrs. Chubb I told you, but I saw Roger Peebles taking a lady into his room. Yesterday it were. And it weren't his bloody wife."

"Did you happen to notice who it was?"

"Yes, m'm. It were that French toff, Lady Lucille."

Cecily stopped short, taken by surprise. "Are you quite sure?"

"Yes, m'm. Saw her plain as day, I did. Can't mistake her anyhow. All done up like a dog's dinner, she was."

At the top of the steps Cecily parted company with Gertie and walked across the foyer in deep thought. In her mind's eye she could see Raymond, arms waving in agitation as he informed a stern-faced Sir John Gilroy of
Peebles's accident, while Lady Lucille wept profusely into her handkerchief.

Was she weeping for a lost lover, perhaps?

Still engrossed in her thoughts, Cecily paused by the Christmas tree, pretending to be interested in the delicate ornaments nestled among its branches. Did Lady Lucille tell her that story about Barry Wrotham being her lover in order to cover up the identity of her true lover, Roger Peebles?

What if her original theory were correct after all, and Wrotham had discovered the two meeting at the farmhouse, perhaps threatening to inform Sir John unless they paid him to keep quiet. If Peebles were already deep in debt, he would have no choice but to silence him.

Then again, where did Jeanette fit in all this? Did Peebles's philandering include her as well? That simply didn't make sense.

She heard her name spoken in a low voice and swung around to confront Samuel, who had crept up behind her.

"Sorry, m'm," he said softly. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"That's all right, Samuel." She drew him closer into the corner, where they had less chance of being observed. "Did you manage to examine Peebles's motor car?"

"Yes, m'm, I did. I told the bobbies that Mrs. Peebles sent me to see if it could be repaired." He sent a furtive glance around, then added in a loud whisper, "It were the brake shoes, m'm. Both of 'em, snapped right off."

"I see," Cecily said, not seeing at all. "Was the damage done in the accident, do you think?"

Samuel shrugged. "Hard to say for certain, m'm, but if I had to guess, I'd say someone helped them along a bit.
Not likely they'd both go at the same time without a bit of nudging, if you get my meaning."

Cecily let out her breath. "Yes, I do. Thank you, Samuel. I'd had a feeling something like that might have happened."

Samuel glanced over his shoulder. "Who'd want to hurt that toff, anyway?"

"That's something we'll have to find out. I must ask you not to say a word to anyone about this. No one at all, you understand? If we are going to catch this person, we mustn't let him know what we know."

"Do you think it's the same person what did Jeanette in?" Samuel asked fearfully. "What if he's still lurking about, looking for his next victim?"

Cecily sighed. "This is exactly why we have to keep quiet about this. We don't need our guests to fly into a panic. After all, we're not absolutely certain that someone did tamper with the motor car. Just keep your eyes open, and if you see anything at all that strikes you as unusual or out of place, come and tell me at once."

Samuel nodded. "Don't worry, m'm. You know you can count on me."

Cecily left him in the foyer and headed down the hallway to Baxter's office. She had promised to keep him informed, but she wasn't certain at this point how much she wanted to tell him. So much of it was still conjecture.

He looked up when she entered the room. "Ah, there you are. I was just about to send one of the maids to look for you. How are things in the kitchen?"

"Better." She sank onto her chair. "Mrs. Chubb and Gertie have pretty much taken over everything for the time being, and even Michel seems in a better mood. I don't know what we would have done without them."

"Well, we might have to rely on them for longer than we thought." Baxter closed his ledger with a loud snap. "Miss Bunkle has given in her notice."

Cecily gaped at him in dismay. "No! Why? Did she say?"

"Apparently three deaths in less than a month have totally unnerved her. She is packing her bags and expects to be on the train to London early tomorrow morning."

Cecily sank back in her chair. "She might at least have worked out her notice. What are we going to do now? I can't ask Mrs. Chubb and Gertie to work through the Christmas holidays and it will be impossible to find another housekeeper at this late date." She covered her face with her hands. "Edward will never forgive us."

Baxter cleared his throat. "Perhaps we can persuade Mrs. Chubb and Gertie to help us out awhile longer if we give them generous compensation for their efforts."

Cecily lowered her hands. "Can we afford to do that?"

"Yes, I think we can." He opened the ledger, studied it for a moment. "We can certainly add another guinea each to the salaries."

"Well, that is generous. In that case, I shall have a word with them right away. I'll tell them about your offer and see if they are interested." She started to rise.

"Did you have a reason for this visit?"

Having momentarily forgotten why she was there, she sat down again. "Samuel thinks that someone tampered with Peebles's car," she said without preamble.

As she'd expected, a frown appeared on his face. "How did he manage to arrive at that conclusion?"

"He examined the motor car."

"Why did he do that?"

"Because I asked him to examine it."

"I might have known." He pressed the fingers of one hand against his forehead. "I was under the impression you had given up chasing after murderers and were concentrating your concerns on our Christmas Season."

"As long as there is the possibility of a killer in our midst, you know very well that I cannot rest until he is apprehended."

Baxter sighed. "Very well. What did Samuel discover?"

"He said it had something to do with the brake shoes, whatever they are. Apparently they were damaged."

"The motor car went off a cliff, fell over a hundred feet, and landed upside down. I'm not surprised there was damage."

"Ah, but Samuel believes they were damaged before it went over the cliff."

Baxter's frown intensified. "What makes him think so?"

"Well, I really don't understand too much about motor cars, but I do know that if one cannot stop them, it's entirely likely they won't slow down to manipulate a bend in the road. Which is what appears to have happened to poor Mr. Peebles."

Baxter sighed and laid his pen down next to the inkwell. "That's not what I meant. Has he informed Northcott?"

"No, I told him to keep it to himself for the time being. You know how P.C. Northcott is, always bungling things. I think we should be more certain of our facts before we trust this investigation to him."

"Perhaps you're right. After all, Samuel could very well be mistaken." He gave her his piercing stare. "Just as long as you remember your promise. At the very first sign of danger, you will turn this over to the constables."

"Of course, darling." Cecily rose to her feet. This probably
wasn't a good time to tell him she'd been snooping around in Peebles's suite. It could wait until later. "Now I had better run down to the kitchen and pray that Mrs. Chubb and Gertie will take us up on our offer. If not, we could be in a real pickle."

"If not," Baxter said dryly, "we had better prepare ourselves for a disastrous Christmas."

CHAPTER

17

To Cecily's intense relief, Gertie was delighted to accept Baxter's offer. "This couldn't come at a better time, m'm," Gertie told her when Cecily presented the idea to her. She had just returned to the busy kitchen from the dining room, where the guests were already seating themselves in anticipation of another delicious meal.

"I didn't say nothing before," Gertie added as she piled tureens of soup onto her enormous tray. "But Ross sold the business, so right now he's out of work. I'll carry on here for as long as you need me."

"Goodness!" Cecily exclaimed. "I had no idea. It must have come as quite a shock to you."

Gertie shrugged. "Can't say I'm really surprised. Besides,
he needs a rest. He's been looking poorly lately. I think he should see a doctor."

"I'll ask Dr. Prestwick to stop by," Cecily promised. "Now I must ask Mrs. Chubb if she'll be willing to help out until we can get another housekeeper."

"I don't think you'll have any bleeding arguments with her," Gertie said, jerking her head in the housekeeper's direction. "Look at her. Having the time of her life, she is."

Gertie was right. Mrs. Chubb eagerly accepted the offer. "Though I don't think we'll be able to do the pantomime as well, madam," she said, looking anxiously around her bustling kitchen. "We'll have our hands full getting this lot in shape."

"Don't concern yourself about the pantomime." Cecily sighed. "I'm not at all sure there will be one, after all. No one has had a chance to rehearse that much, and the performance is scheduled for tomorrow night."

"I thought we were going to have it on Boxing Day."

"Doris and I decided to bring it forward. In any case, after what's happened, perhaps it would be considered in bad taste to continue with it."

"Well, if you ask me, madam," Mrs. Chubb said, raising a cloud of flour as she vigorously dusted her apron, "I think it will take everything off the minds of everyone. Do them good to have a laugh, that it will."

"Perhaps you're right," Cecily murmured. "After all, I have more or less promised some of the guests that we will carry on the Christmas Season as planned. I'll have a word with Doris and see what she can do."

"Very good, madam. And don't worry about the kitchen. Everything's in order now. You won't miss that sourpuss with the knitting needle one bit."

"
'Ark at her," Gertie muttered as she swung by carrying the loaded tray above her head as if it were holding feathers instead of filled tureens. "All she has to do is yell bleeding orders. It's us flipping slaves what does the blinking work."

The door swung to behind her, and Mrs. Chubb winked at Cecily. "Business as usual, madam. Just like old times."

The next morning Cecily rang Dr. Prestwick and invited him to lunch at the Pennyfoot, then went down to the ballroom, where Doris was holding the rehearsal for the pantomime. Madeline was flitting around helping everyone with their costumes and giving instructions to Samuel and Raymond, both of whom had volunteered to set up the backdrops.