Room With a Clue (Pennyfoot Hotel Mystery) (18 page)

She turned and leveled a look at Cecily across the room. “Do not place the blame on the spirits for the failures of human beings. The spirits can only create the frame of mind; it is the body that commits the deed. There has to be an earthly reason for everything, and if things are not what they at first appear to be, it is simply because we have not looked deep enough for the truth.”

She paused, then laid a finger on her cheek. “Are you satisfied, Cecily Sinclair, that you have looked deep enough?” She opened the door, then added softly, “I think not.”

She closed the door gently, leaving Cecily frowning at the spot where she had stood.

CHAPTER

18

Cecily sat for a long time at the table, her gaze on James’s portrait. All that talk about spirits and such was pure nonsense, of course. And yet Madeline had an uncanny way of discerning one’s thoughts.

It was true, somewhere in the back of her mind Cecily had a strong inkling that she was overlooking something important. Some piece of information that she was aware of, and was not making full use of it.

Yet she had told the inspector everything she knew. If there was something there that could prove useful, surely he would have recognized it.

Perhaps he had. That could be the reason he had felt secure enough in his judgment to arrest Robert Danbury. Because she would certainly not have done so had she been in his place.

Cecily sighed. But then she was relying on instinct as much as solid information. And no matter what evidence had been
presented so far, she still couldn’t ignore the feeling in her bones that told her something was very wrong.

The timing was so impossible. That was the problem. If she could just work out that particular point, she might be able to feel easier about the situation.

Alone in the quietness of the library, she felt very close to James at that moment. If only he could help her see what it was her mind hid from her. But her thoughts remained as stubbornly unfruitful as ever.

Her gaze fell on the bright red flowers and the glow of them reflected in the polished table. The blurred image reminded her of spilt blood, and she suppressed a tiny shudder.

The inspector had been most annoyed with John for cleaning up the courtyard. She wondered if the groundskeeper had mentioned the torn-up plants. Strange thing, that …

Cecily sat up straight, her mind racing. That was it. It was certainly part of it. Her fingers curled into her palm as she thought about it. And the more she thought about it, the more certain she became.

Once more she lifted her gaze to James’s likeness on the wall. “Thank you, my love,” she whispered. “I should have known you would find a way to help me.”

Pushing her chair back, she stood. She had to find Baxter right away. She wanted him to be there when she put her theory to the test. And if she was right, she would know, at last, how Robert Danbury had killed his wife.

Baxter was in the kitchen, speaking heatedly with Michel when she found him. The slender, dark-eyed chef danced up and down in the middle of the stone floor, arms flapping, looking a little like a disjointed marionette at the mercy of his master’s strings.

His tall hat bobbed back and forth as his eyes flashed at Baxter. “You want I leave, yes?” Michel’s black mustache positively bristled. “I leave now.
Toute suite
.”

Gertie, her arms covered in soap suds, stood at the sink watching with great enjoyment.

At least the chef wasn’t drunk, Cecily thought with relief. Michel’s French accent tended to disintegrate into London
cockney when he’d been at the brandy. It was Baxter’s contention that the upredictable chef assumed the pretense of a Frenchman in order to hide his identity, most likely to escape from an irate husband. Michel made no secret of his prowess with women.

Cecily, being more charitable, maintained that the guise was in order to enhance his reputation, either for cooking or enchanting the ladies.

“No, I do not wish you to leave,” Baxter said stiffly. “I merely want you to pay attention to what you are doing. I had several complaints this morning about the scrambled eggs not being salted.”

“I salt the eggs this morning. I distinctly remember.” Spinning on one foot, the chef plucked the wooden condiment shakers from the shelf above the fireplace. “I shake them, so!” He demonstrated, sending a spray of salt and pepper over the grate.

“Blimey,” Gertie muttered, “it’ll be me who has to clean up that blinking mess.”

“What I believe you did,” Baxter said in his brittle voice, “is that you took hold of the pepper pot a second time in mistake for the salt.”

Michel was momentarily taken aback. Recovering quickly, he fixed Baxter with a lethal stare that dared him to contradict. “So, I try a new recipe,” he said with an expansive shrug. “So it not work.”

As diplomatic as ever, Baxter accepted this bald-faced lie. “I would suggest that you adhere to the original recipe. It has always been extremely well received up until now. I see no reason to change it.”

Appeased, the chef nodded vigorously. “I stick to what is good, no?”

“Precisely.” Having settled the matter, Baxter turned to Cecily. “I beg your pardon, madam. Is there something I can do for you?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact there is.” She gave him a meaningful look. “I wonder if you can spare me a few minutes?”

“Certainly, madam.” Baxter opened the door with a flourish and allowed her to pass through ahead of him.

Out in the hall, she smiled up at him. “Well done, Bax, you handled that admirably.”

He tried not to look pleased. “The man is most aggravating, but he is an excellent chef. Sometimes it is necessary to bite one’s tongue rather than risk losing such a valuable asset to the hotel.”

“My sentiments exactly.” Hitching up her skirt, she led the way up the stairs to the foyer.

Once there she was drawn into exchanging greetings with several guests, and more than one asked her about the rumors circulating the hotel about Robert Danbury. Much to her relief, Baxter tactfully fielded the inquiries.

After only a few moments, they were able to make their escape through the main doors.

“Might I ask what you have in mind?” Baxter asked, sounding a little anxious as he followed Cecily down the crazy paving path to the rose garden.

“I want to show you something,” she told him. “I think I’ve discovered how Robert Danbury killed his wife.”

“Ah, then you now believe he is guilty?”

“I suppose he must be, if my theory is correct.” Even so, she admitted silently, she still retained a niggling doubt that refused to go away.

“And the answer is in the courtyard?”

“Yes, I believe so. I just hope John isn’t there, for I’m afraid he will be most unhappy with me for what I’m about to do.”

Baxter looked a little alarmed. “I trust you are not planning anything dangerous, madam?”

“No, Baxter, I’m not. But you’ll have to keep your patience until we reach there.” From across the lawn, laughter mingled with the crack of a croquet mallet against a ball, and in the holly trees the beautiful clear song of a blackbird rang out across the gardens.

The fragrance from the sun-warmed roses filled her with bittersweet longing. James had always loved this time of year. So had she, once. Now it was so hard to look upon the sweet
sounds and smells of summer with anything but an ache for all that she had lost.

To her relief John was not in the courtyard when they entered it. Nor were any of the guests, which left her free to carry out her demonstration.

Moving over to the rockery, she pointed at the spot where Lady Eleanor’s shattered head had rested. “This is where we assumed milady landed, after her fall from the roof, I believe?”

Baxter nodded slowly. “As clearly as I can remember.”

“It must have been a very strong wind, to blow her off course.” Cecily looked up at the gap in the broken wall. “At least a good twenty-four inches, wouldn’t you say?”

Baxter tilted his head back to take a look. “It is possible she bumped into the wall on the way down, sending her over to the side.”

“True. But I don’t think so.” Hitching her skirt above her ankles, Cecily stepped up onto the rocks.

“Madam, please be careful,” Baxter protested, stepping forward as if to detain her.

“Oh, don’t worry, Bax, I know what I’m doing.”

“Yes, madam. But I would not want to face John’s displeasure if you should disturb his plants again.”

“I’m afraid I shall have to risk that.” Stooping down, Cecily grasped the heavy rock with both hands and tugged. It came up easily, bringing with it the newly planted edelweiss and rock roses.

They clung to the damp surface for a moment, then gravity won, and as she hauled the rock high in the air the fragile plants flew off, and scattered across the smooth brick floor.

Baxter stared at them for a long moment, then as Cecily lowered the rock again he muttered, “Good God in heaven.”

Still holding the heavy object she said breathlessly, “Well, Baxter, what do you make of that?”

He looked back up at the wall, then down at her again. “It would appear that Lady Eleanor did not fall from the roof garden after all.”

“No,” Cecily said, well satisfied with his answer. “She didn’t fall. I couldn’t imagine how the plants came to be scattered about when the rockery itself hadn’t been disturbed.
I started wondering if the rocks had been moved when milady fell, and someone had replaced them before John came on the scene. I wondered if perhaps that’s what Robert Danbury had been doing when I saw him return from the gardens.”

“And why would he bother to do that?” Baxter said, jumping ahead of her as usual.

“Precisely. The only reason he’d have to replace the rock was if he didn’t want anyone to know it had been moved in the first place.
Because it was the murder weapon
. As you can see, there are blood stains on it.”

“Yes, indeed,” Baxter said, frowning as she raised the rock again.

“She was killed right here in the courtyard,” Cecily said with a note of triumph. “That’s how Robert Danbury managed to get up and down the stairs so quickly. He didn’t go up them in the first place. The note told Lady Eleanor to meet him here, in the courtyard. He knew it would be deserted at that hour, with everyone preparing for the ball. He waited until she had her back turned on him, then lifted up this rock and brought it down on her head.”

“But the broken bricks from the wall—”

“Were pushed off after he’d killed her, to make it look like she’d fallen. And that’s when he hid the sign. I couldn’t think why he would hide the sign after she’d died. But he did it to make it look like an accident, of course. It wasn’t necessary to remove it beforehand.”

Baxter looked down at the rockery again. “Most ingenious.”

“Yes, indeed.” Cecily lowered the rock back into place. “There are, however, one or two questions still unanswered.”

“And that is?”

Arms outstretched for balance, Cecily stepped down onto the ground. “I would like to know how he arranged for the dog to escape from Daphne Morris, thereby giving him an alibi and an opportunity to commit the crime.”

Baxter’s eyebrows raised. “That is a good question. A very good question.”

“And what do you think might be the answer?”

“It appears that Miss Morris might have had a hand in that.”

“That’s the conclusion I came to.”

“But it makes no sense. Why would Miss Morris help a man murder his wife, then turn around and accuse him of the crime?”

“Because,” Cecily said slowly, “she was in love with him. With Lady Eleanor dead he’d be free to marry her. She said he’d never divorce his wife. He would be left with nothing and he couldn’t bear to be poor again. I thought it strange at first that she would know such a personal thing about her employer’s husband. But supposing that companion was also his lover?”

“But if she loves him enough to have taken such a terrible risk to help him, why would she then accuse him as the murderer?”

“Because she found out he already had a lover. It would seem that Mr. Robert Danbury used his charm to get Daphne Morris to help rid him of his wife because he was in love with someone else. Once the deed was done, he had no more use for his wife’s companion.”

“But wouldn’t he expect her to denounce him, once she found out?”

“Not if she were likely to be involved. If a man is willing to murder his wife for his own ends, I hardly think he would be gallant enough to keep her name out of it, particularly if she had accused him of the crime.”

“But that is precisely what she did.”

“Exactly. I think perhaps in the heat of the moment she was distressed enough to throw caution to the wind. I think it likely that she doesn’t care what happens to her now that she’s lost him, and she just wants revenge.”

“That could be. So Robert Danbury underestimated her.” Baxter shook his head. “I still find it difficult to believe.”

“So would I,” Cecily admitted, “if it were not for something else.”

“And what is that?”

“The second question. How did Daphne Morris know that the gentleman who handed Gertie the note wore a military uniform? I made no mention of it, yet she suggested to me that Danbury could have changed into his uniform just before he
gave the note to the maid. That puzzled me for some time, until I realized she must have been aware of Robert Danbury’s plans.”

“I see. That would be why she didn’t bring the uniform up with Lady Eleanor’s costume?”

“Of course. She left it there for Robert Danbury to change into. He had to have a way of hiding his face from Gertie, and the mask was the perfect answer. No one would think it odd for him to wear one with his costume for the ball.”

“It all falls neatly into place. I must say, madam, I am impressed with the way you have worked things out. So you will no doubt be contacting Inspector Cranshaw to tell him of your theory?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Cecily knelt to pick up the bedraggled plants. “I imagine Mr. Danbury will inform the inspector of Miss Morris’s involvement, and he will work things out for himself. I intend to do my best to put the matter out of my head. It is over and done with, and I would very much like to forget it as soon as possible.”

“I think that is an excellent idea.”

“I do think we should replant these poor flowers first. John would be horrified to find them in such a sorry state again.”

“I’ll do it right away.” Baxter stepped up onto the rockery and grasped the misplaced rock in his hands. Carefully balancing it upon another slab close by, he reached out to Cecily to take the plants from her.

“I’m not sure I shall be able to replace them as neatly as John would have it, but with luck they will settle themselves down before he notices.”