Room With a Clue (Pennyfoot Hotel Mystery) (19 page)

Cecily smiled. “I would tend to doubt that.”

Baxter took a delicate rock rose from her and turned to place it in the gap.

Watching him, she was startled when he uttered a sharp exclamation.

“What is it?” She leaned forward in an attempt to see what he had seen.

Baxter plucked something from the unearthed rocks and held out his hand to her.

Looking down at it, Cecily saw a small round white object lying in his palm.

“What is it?” She took it in her fingers and brushed off the soil clinging to it. “It’s a shoe button,” she said in surprise.

“Yes, madam. John must have missed it in the darkness when he replanted the plants.”

“I wonder where it could have come from?”

“It most likely could have been there for a long time.”

“I don’t think so, Baxter,” Cecily said slowly, turning the white button around in her fingers. “It looks too shiny and new. And certainly a coincidence that it was lying under that very rock, is it not?”

“Perhaps, madam.” He held out his hand for the rest of the plants.

She watched him replace them and carefully lay the rock back in place, her mind struggling with this new discovery.

“It might not be the precise job that John would have managed,” Baxter said, brushing his hands together, “but it is the best I can do.”

“Don’t worry,” Cecily murmured, “I’m sure they will be just fine.”

“Yes, madam.” Baxter rose to his feet, slapping at his knees. He glanced at her face as he stepped down from the rockery. “Is something wrong, madam?”

She sighed. “Yes, something is very wrong. I have to think about this, Baxter, but I have a very strong feeling that the pieces don’t fall into place after all. I think perhaps my first instincts were true, and Inspector Cranshaw might very well have the wrong man.”

CHAPTER

19

Cecily spent the next hour in her suite, going over all the possibilities raised by the discovery of the shoe button. Nothing seemed to fit, and again she had the nagging feeling that she had missed something. But try as she might, she could not bring it to the surface.

Finally she decided to go down to the kitchen and get a cup of tea. That would perhaps help to clear the cobwebs from her mind.

Nearing the foot of the stairs, she saw Colonel Fortescue hovering nearby, and was tempted to turn back in order to avoid him. Then she chided herself. He was a paying guest and deserved the same consideration she would afford anyone else. Reluctantly squaring her shoulders, she marched down the stairs to greet him.

“I say, old bean,” he said in an exaggerated whisper, “jolly exciting about our visitor, what?”

Cecily shook her head. “I’m sorry, Colonel, I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

He poked out an elbow to nudge her, thought better of it, and withdrew it again. “You know, the chappie in suite three.”

Not again
, Cecily thought wearily. She hadn’t had time to again corner Baxter over it, but she certainly would at the very first opportunity.

“I’m afraid I don’t know who is in suite three,” she said firmly. “Now if you’ll excuse me … ?”

“Ah, but I do. Couldn’t believe my eyes at first. I mean, you don’t expect to see him in a place like this, what?”

Cecily stiffened. “In a place like what, Colonel?”

“Oh, no offense, m’dear, no offense. Just meant that a big cheese like him is more at home on the continent. Must make you dashed proud, that’s all I can say.”

“Colonel, I have no idea what you are talking about.” To her intense relief, he decided to change the subject.

“Topping show last night, what?” he said, his face lighting up with excitement. “Never saw such a spectacle. Dashed amusing, I thought. Wonderful how they managed all that. Marvelous spot of directing. That Mrs. Carter-Hobbs does a bang-up job, I must say.”

She didn’t have the heart to explain that the unfortunate episode was totally unrehearsed and quite unexpected. “Thank you, Colonel,” she said, smiling graciously. “I’m so glad you enjoyed it.”

“Enjoyed it? I haven’t had a laugh like that since my adjutant’s saddle slipped and left him hanging upside down under the horse’s belly. Traveled half a mile before anyone could stop him. Always was dashed incompetent.”

Cecily nodded, still smiling. “Well, if you’ll excuse me—”

“Couldn’t get my breath for laughing when that young woman dashed off the stage. Could’ve sworn it was a man. Just goes to show, one can never tell nowadays …”

He went on talking and blinking, but Cecily wasn’t listening. Something he’d said had struck a chord. A very loud chord. She saw again Phoebe’s sultan, springing from the sedan chair and shedding her robes in a frantic attempt to escape from poor Henry’s benign presence.

So that was how it was done. Of course. How could she possibly have missed it? Nodding and smiling at the colonel, without the slightest idea of what he said, she turned the situation over in her mind.

Again, it was pure conjecture. And yet now she felt certain she had hit on the true answer. But would the inspector listen to her? Most unlikely. He would simply be annoyed with her for meddling, and certainly wouldn’t thank her for suggesting he had made a mistake. Even if she showed him the button, she doubted very much if he’d listen to her.

No, she needed proof before she talked to the inspector. And a witness. She hoped Baxter would be willing to go along with whatever scheme she could invent.

The clock struck four times, and the colonel broke off whatever he was saying. “Great Scott! Is that the time? I’m late for my afternoon snifter. Got to stay alert, you know. Never know when the little devils are going to attack.”

He threw her a smart salute, somehow managing to poke himself in the eye. Muttering a watery-eyed farewell, he took off at a rapid pace in the direction of the bar.

Cecily watched him go, her brow creased in concentration. There had to be a way, if she could just think of it. Deep in thought, she paid no attention to the voice behind her, until it repeated, “Madam?”

Turning, Cecily smiled down at the housekeeper. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Chubb. I’m afraid I was woolgathering.”

“That’s all right, madam. You’ve had a lot on your mind lately, indeed you have. I sent Gertie up to your suite, but she must have just missed you. Got a letter for you, from abroad. She said she pushed it under your door.”

“Oh, how nice. It’s most likely from one of the boys. I’ll look forward to reading it. I was just on my way for a cup of tea. Do you happen to know where Baxter is?”

“I saw him leave a short while ago, mum. I believe he went to fetch the mason to get the wall mended. Said as how it was too dangerous to leave, so he took the trap to get him.”

“Never mind. I’ll talk to him when I get back.” Cecily started toward the steps to the kitchen.

She paused as Mrs. Chubb said, “I hear they arrested Mr. Danbury this morning, mum?”

“They took him in for questioning. I don’t think they’ve arrested him as yet.”

“Could’ve knocked me down with a feather when I heard that. Such a nice, polite man. Doesn’t seem possible, does it? I mean, you never know, do you?”

“No,” Cecily said slowly, “you never know.”

“I mean, you can’t tell from looks anymore, can you? Handsome devil. Gertie was right upset about it, I can tell you. Seeing as how it was her what did him in. Would never have known if it hadn’t been for that loose button, she wouldn’t. I think she wishes now she’d kept her mouth shut. Haunt her for weeks, it will. Be a long time before she can look at that button tin without thinking about it.”

Cecily gave the housekeeper a long, thoughtful stare.

“You all right, then, mum?” Mrs. Chubb asked, looking worried.

“Mrs. Chubb, last night when you found that broken jar of pickles—what time was that, do you remember?”

The housekeeper grabbed her chin and frowned. “Well, let me see, it was after Phoebe left in the trap. I’d gone out to see her off. I was a bit worried about her. When I came back, there was the jar on the larder floor. What a mess! Took me ages to clean it up, it did—”

“Yes, I’m sure it did. But what time was that?”

“Must have been near on half-past eight, I suppose.” Mrs. Chubb lowered her hand and peered at Cecily. “What’s wrong, then?”

“Nothing, Mrs. Chubb,” Cecily said brightly. “In fact, I think everything is going to work out just fine. I’ve changed my mind about that cup of tea. I have something to do. Would you lend me your keys for a little while?”

“Very well, mum.” The housekeeper unhooked the ring of keys from her belt and handed them over. “Is there something I can help with, mum?”

“No, thank you. I think I can manage this on my own.”

The other woman still looked concerned, and more than a little curious.

Cecily gave her a smile. “If you see Baxter, would you please tell him I’m looking for him?”

“I’ll tell him as soon as he gets back, mum.”

“Thank you.” Feeling quite excited, Cecily mounted the stairs.

Miss Morris was not in her room when she reached the second floor and tapped on the door. Apparently the companion was still packing the trunks in the Danburys’ suite. It took Cecily only a moment or two to sort through the keys, fit one in the lock, and slip inside the room.

A few minutes later, outside in the hall again, she quickly locked the door, a satisfied smile on her face. Now all she had to do was put her plan into action.

She quickly climbed the stairs to the third floor and stood in the shadow of the potted plant, prepared for a long wait. Much to her relief, no more than five minutes passed before the door to the Danburys’ suite opened. Daphne Morris stepped out, locked the door, and headed for the stairs.

Cecily waited until she was out of sight before choosing a key from the ring and fitting it into the lock. The door opened quietly, and she peeked into the room.

The trunks still sat in the middle of the sitting room, waiting for the footman to collect them in the morning. Cecily stepped inside the room and closed the door.

The lids of both trunks stood open, as if Daphne Morris had forgotten something in the midst of her packing. If so, she could return at any moment.

Hurrying across the thick carpet, Cecily hoped that Danbury’s uniform was still hanging in the wardrobe. She wasn’t happy about the idea of taking it, but she consoled herself with the thought that she was only “borrowing” it and would have it back before the police constable arrived the next morning.

Holding her breath, she opened the door of the wardrobe, then breathed a sigh of relief. The uniform hung in lonely splendor, looking a little forlorn without the benefit of its owner’s broad shoulders.

Cecily carefully lifted it off the bar and rolled it up into a tight bundle. Then she quietly shut the wardrobe door, praying
that Miss Morris wouldn’t look in there again. It was a chance she’d have to take.

Tucking the uniform beneath her arm, she moved quickly to the door and eased it open. The hall was empty, at least for the moment.

She stepped outside and locked the door behind her. Reaching the landing, she looked over the rails and to her dismay saw Daphne Morris hurrying up the second flight of stairs. There was only one place to hide, and that was the door to the roof garden.

Cecily tucked the bundle she carried under her arm and rushed for the door. Thrusting the curtain aside she grasped the handle and turned it. The door was locked. Baxter must have locked it last night.

Her hand shook as she sorted through the ring of keys. It was too late. She heard Daphne Morris say in a puzzled voice, “Mrs. Sinclair?”

Cecily dropped the bundle to the floor, and pushed it behind the curtain with her foot. Praying the companion hadn’t detected the movement, she turned and smiled at her.

“Oh, Miss Morris. I was just about to go up and inspect the damage to the wall. We are hoping to get it repaired shortly, if Baxter can reach the mason.”

Daphne Morris’s frown faded slowly. “I am sure it must be a great worry for you, to have a gap like that in the wall. So very dangerous.”

“Yes, indeed.” Cecily drew a breath. “How are you managing with the task of packing? Are you finished with it?”

“More or less. I had left the keys in my room, and had to go back and fetch them. I was just on my way back to lock the trunks. I hope it will not be inconvenient to you if I leave them there until the morning?”

“Not at all. We won’t be using the suite until next weekend. Ian will bring the trunks down for you in the morning. You will be catching the midday train?”

Cecily froze as Daphne Morris’s gaze dropped to her feet. “Oh, while I think of it,” she said quickly, hoping to catch the other woman’s attention again, “I plan to be in the dining room
at eight o’clock this evening. I do hope you will be able to join me?”

Miss Morris looked up again. “I would be most pleased to accept. I do not care to eat dinner alone in public.”

“Yes, I feel the same way. Eight o’clock then?”

Miss Morris nodded. “I will be there.”

Cecily let out her breath. “Good. Now, is there anything else I can help you with?”

To her immense relief, the companion fitted her key in the lock. “Thank you, no. It is all done.”

Afraid to move away from the curtain, unless the bundle rolled out, Cecily was forced to wait until Daphne Morris had entered the suite and closed the door behind her.

Without wasting another moment, Cecily grabbed up the bundle and sprinted for the stairs. She didn’t breathe again until she was safely inside her suite.

On her way back to return the keys to Mrs. Chubb later, Cecily found Baxter in the foyer, talking to an earnest young man with unruly red hair and a mass of freckles covering his face.

Ben Parkinson’s father, Alf, was the local brick mason and apparently had been called away to repair the seawall in Wellercombe, which had been damaged by the recent storm.

Ben, Cecily discovered, had finished his apprenticeship with his father and was now anxious to prove his mettle. “This is my first job, Mrs. Sinclair,” he told her with an air of importance she found utterly disarming. “You can rest assured by the time I’m finished with that there wall, you won’t be able to tell it were ever damaged, that’s my promise.”

“Well, thank you Ben. I am sure we can count on you.”

Behind him Baxter’s expression said he sincerely doubted it. “Come with me, then, young man,” he commanded in a tone that put a look of apprehension on the young man’s face. “Let us see if your work is as inspiring as your promise.”

“I need to speak with you when you come down,” Cecily said. “I will wait for you in the rose garden.”

He looked surprised but gave her a brief nod before leading the impatient young man up the stairs to the roof.

Outside the hotel, the air had cooled considerably. A stiff evening breeze rustled the leaves in the row of plane trees bordering the croquet lawn.

Cecily glanced up at the white clouds scurrying across the sky and hoped it wasn’t blowing up for yet another storm. She particularly hoped that it would not rain that night. Her plan depended on moonlight to a certain degree.

She stood watching a lively croquet game between several of the guests until the game was finally won, and the players departed in order to get dressed for dinner.

Wandering into the rose garden, she hoped that Ben would make short work of the repairs on the wall. She had missed her daily excursion to her retreat that day. It was like missing a rendezvous with James.

She sat down on a garden bench, alone with her thoughts. The perfume of the lush blooms once more brought the familiar ache to her heart. Leaning forward, she snapped off a tender rosebud and held it under her nose.

Every evening throughout the summer she had broken off a rosebud and tucked it in James’s lapel. She smiled and drew in the sweet, nostalgic fragrance. It had been six months. Six interminably long months. Yet she had survived. Perhaps it was time, at last, to let go.