After enjoying a tasty meal with her husband, Cecily left him to enjoy a quiet afternoon in their suite while she returned to her office.
When she reached the foyer, however, she was once more waylaid by Archie Parker, who gave every indication of having lain in wait for her. He practically pounced on her as she reached the last step, obviously determined to speak with her no matter how much she might attempt to avoid him.
“There you are, Mrs. B!” He beamed at her, nose twitching furiously. “I’ve been wanting to have a private word with you, if you can spare the time.”
She was tempted to tell him she didn’t have a moment to spare, but knowing that would simply delay the inevitable, she nodded. Glancing around the foyer, she saw a group of guests chatting together by the reception desk, and a couple deep in conversation wandering to the front doors.
Wondering just how “private” Archie’s intended discussion could be, she said with some reluctance, “Perhaps we should go along to my office. It will be more quiet there.”
“Excellent!” Archie rubbed his hands together. “And warmer, I trust.”
Since the constant opening and closing of the front doors allowed all warmth to escape from the foyer, Cecily could at least agree on that point.
She led the way, with Archie scuffling along close behind her, and made a mental note to send for Gertie as soon as she got rid of Mr. Parker. Which, she hoped fervently, would be in short order.
Settling herself behind her desk in her office, she offered him a chair. “I trust you enjoyed the midday meal?”
“Excellent! Excellent meal.” Nodding and twitching, Archie waved a hand in the air. “Every meal here is excellent. You are fortunate to have such a masterful chef.”
“I am indeed.” She straightened the papers on her desk then sat back in her chair. “Now then, what is it you wish to discuss with me?”
Archie’s eyes gleamed as he sat forward. “I happened to overhear it mentioned that the young man found in the duck pond was, indeed, the victim of murder.”
Since by now the news was apparently all over the Pennyfoot, Cecily saw no reason to hedge any further. “Unfortunately, yes. It appears that way.”
“And… do you have any idea who might have perpetrated the crime?”
She looked him straight in the eye. “I’m afraid I don’t. None at all.”
“Ah!” He sat back, hands folded across his chest. “I suppose anyone could have done it. A prowler, perhaps. After all, anyone could have walked in off the street into the foyer. It would have taken only a moment to snatch the candlestick off the hallstand to carry out the dirty deed.” He nodded, as if pleased with his own cleverness.
Cecily stared at him for a long moment before answering. “Yes, I suppose someone could have done that.”
“Did he have many enemies? The deceased, I mean.” Archie’s gaze probed her face. “Someone who had good reason to want him dead, perhaps?”
“Mr. Parker.” Cecily controlled her annoyance with difficulty. “I’m not at liberty to discuss the matter, and even if I were, I know nothing that could possibly help determine who was responsible for what happened. Furthermore, I dislike discussing it, so I’d appreciate it if you would not bring up the subject again.”
Archie nodded, though he seemed quite unaffected by her reprimand. “I imagine all this turmoil would be upsetting, yes. I simply wanted to offer my help. After all, you must want to discover the identity of the perpetrator. It can’t be a comfortable feeling knowing there is a killer loose on the premises.”
“There is no indication that the killer is still on the premises.” Cecily met his gaze, determined not to be unnerved by the man’s persistence. “As you yourself pointed out, it could have been a prowler, a complete stranger having wandered in off the street and possibly long gone from the town now.”
Archie nodded. “Quite, quite.”
Cecily slowly let out her breath. “Was there something else you wanted to tell me?”
Archie twitched his nose and frowned. “What? Oh, right, Mrs. B. Actually I came to ask you if I could have a bed warmer at night. The fireplace helps to keep the room warm but my bed is always cold. I can’t sleep when my feet are cold. That’s the curse of sleeping alone, what?”
Confused by the abrupt change of subject, Cecily struggled to make sense of the words. “A bed warmer?”
Archie nodded with enthusiasm. “Yes. You know, one of those pans you fill with hot coals from the fire and rub it all over the bed.”
“I know what a bed warmer is, Mr. Parker.” She squared her shoulders. “I’ll see that your request is taken care of this evening.”
“Good, good.” Archie rubbed his hands together. “Perhaps that maid, McBride, could come up at bedtime and see to it for me?”
Cecily narrowed her eyes. “I’ll send one of the footmen,” she said shortly.
Once more Archie seemed unfazed by her disapproval. “Well, all right. As you wish.” He got up from his chair. “I hope you soon find out who clubbed Mr. Rossiter to death. Nasty business that. I suppose you’ll be calling in the inspector?”
Cecily rose, leaning her hands on the desk. “I can assure you, Mr. Parker, that everything is being done to apprehend the criminal.”
“Ah, yes. Right. Right. Thank you, Mrs. B.” Nodding and backing away, he came up hard against the door. “Oops! Didn’t see that there.” He grabbed the handle, opened the door, nodded at her once more, then disappeared.
Cecily stood where she was for a long moment, staring at the closed door. Then she shook her head, sat down, and pulled the bell rope. While she waited for one of the maids, she opened the ledger and began writing down the bills that had been paid that morning.
After having to erase a figure twice, she gave up and closed the ledger again. There was too much occupying her mind. Too many questions. It was time she started getting some of the answers.
She was hoping that Gertie would respond to her summons, but it was Mabel who stood hesitating in the doorway.
“Will you please ask Clive to come to my office right away, and tell Gertie I would like a word with her just as soon as she is free.”
Mabel ducked a curtsey. “Yes, m’m.” She turned to go, then paused as Cecily asked, “How are you settling in here, Mabel? Are Gertie and Mrs. Chubb taking care of you? I know this is a busy time, but I hope they are finding time to show you what you need to know.”
Mabel avoided her gaze, staring at the carpet instead. She was a rather plump young lady, with pale cheeks and gray eyes that for the most part seemed devoid of expression. Her fair hair was scraped back from her face, and her short stature made her look like a young schoolchild.
There was an air of deep sadness about her that for some reason made Cecily feel protective. Mabel had told her that her mother had died when she was a baby and she’d been brought up in London by her grandmother. Judging from her demeanor when she’d divulged this piece of information, Cecily gathered that the relationship was not a happy one.
Since Mabel seemed disinclined to answer, Cecily tried again. “Is anything wrong, Mabel? Is there something we can do for you?”
Mabel shook her head and muttered, “No thank you, m’m. Mrs. McBride is being really helpful and so is Mrs. Chubb.”
“Well, that’s good to hear.” Cecily smiled back. “Run along then, and don’t forget to tell Gertie I need a word with her.”
“Yes, m’m. I mean no, m’m. I won’t forget.” Looking as if she were desperate to escape, Mabel slipped from the room.
Cecily frowned, disturbed by the young woman’s obvious melancholy. She would have to talk to Mrs. Chubb about her, and see if there was something they could do to cheer up the new maid. She didn’t like to think that a member of her staff was unhappy with her job.
A few minutes later a thump on the door warned Cecily that Clive was about to enter. The big man seemed to fill the doorway as he stood waiting for her to speak.
“Come in, Clive, and close the door behind you.” She smiled, but her words must have struck a warning note, as he seemed wary when he sat down opposite her.
She wasted no time in coming to the point. “Michel tells me he bumped into you the night before last. I understand it was quite late.”
“Yes, m’m.” Clive looked down at the cap he held in his hands. “I was late leaving.”
“Very late. After nine o’clock, Michel said.”
“Yes, m’m.”
“Would you mind telling me what you were doing in the yard at that hour?”
“I was on my way home, m’m.”
Cecily frowned. “But your day ended at six. I don’t remember asking you to stay after that.”
“No, m’m. You didn’t. I… had a job to do and it took a lot longer than I thought it would.”
“I see.” She rested her hands in her lap. “What kind of job?”
He glanced up at her, then back down at his feet. “I… ah… was down in the wine cellar working on the water pipes.”
Worried now, she leaned forward. “Do we have a problem with the pipes?”
“Not anymore, m’m.”
She pressed her lips together. He gave her the distinct impression that he was avoiding the truth. She had to ask herself why, and she didn’t like any of the answers that presented themselves. “Gertie tells me you came to her aid that night, when Ian was pestering her.”
“Yes, m’m.”
“What happened exactly?”
Clive took his time thinking about that. After a long pause, he said slowly, “I was walking past the door and he was in the kitchen and I heard her yelling at him. I opened the door and she had a knife in his face. She was quite angry, and I was worried she might use the knife on him, so I hustled him out of there and out of the gate.”
“Just like that?”
Clive shuffled his feet. “He took a bit of persuading, m’m.”
“I imagine he did.”
“He came back later, though.”
Cecily straightened her back. “Ian came back after you threw him out?”
“Yes, m’m.” Clive hunched his shoulders and twisted his cap in his hands. After a significant pause, he blurted out “Gertie told me later that night that he’d come back. He wanted to see the twins, she said.”
“Did you escort him off the premises again?”
Again the odd pause before he muttered, “No, m’m. He wasn’t there when she told me that so he must have gone home.”
“I see.” Cecily leaned back in her chair. It seemed that Gertie had left out quite a lot of what had happened that evening. “Did Gertie happen to mention what time Ian left the second time?”
Clive thought about it. “Must have been about nine o’clock, or thereabouts.”
Nine o’clock. So Sam Northcott could have been right. Gertie might well have been the last person to see Ian alive. But then, how did the constable know that? Who was giving him all this information?
She gave Clive a stern look. “Have you been talking to P.C. Northcott about this?”
The maintenance man looked offended. “I have not, m’m. I haven’t spoken to the constable in quite some time.”
Remembering Northcott’s cryptic comment the day before, Cecily was tempted to ask Clive about his former association with the constable. Before she could do so, however, he supplied the answer.
“I haven’t spoken to him since he tried to arrest me for trespassing.”
“Trespassing?”
“Yes, m’m.” Clive shifted his feet. “It happened before I came to work here. I was doing odd jobs around town and I’d been hired to repair the roof of one of the cottages down by the harbor. The owners were visiting relatives while I worked on it and the constable came by to call on them. He saw me in the backyard and arrested me for trespassing.” He pursed his lips. “It took quite a while to sort everything out. He never did apologize for arresting me and hauling me off to the station. I haven’t spoken to him since. Except for when I bumped into him yesterday, that is.”
Cecily really hadn’t believed Clive to be the informant, but had felt compelled to ask. Someone had been very forthcoming with the constable, however, and she was becoming convinced that finding that person would lead her to the killer. “Thank you, Clive. That will be all.”
“Yes, m’m.” He stood, hesitating in front of her desk until she looked up at him. “Gertie didn’t kill Mr. Rossiter, m’m. I’d stake my life on it.”
With a heavy sigh, she nodded. “I hope you’re right, Clive. Right now, I don’t know what to think.”
“We’ll soon find out who did it, m’m. I can promise you that.”
She looked at him in alarm, worried that he’d start investigating on his own. She knew from experience how much trouble that could cause. “We should leave that to the police. Apart from the fact that it’s dangerous to meddle with murder, the constabulary won’t thank us for interfering in their business. Let them handle it, Clive.”
His expression portrayed clearly what he thought of the constabulary, and considering his false arrest, she could hardly blame him. She was relieved, however, when he gave her a brief nod. “I’ll get back to my work then, m’m.”
She watched him leave, feeling a deep sense of sympathy. Clive was an educated man, once a respected teacher in a London school. Unfortunately he’d taken to drinking and it had eventually cost him his career and his marriage. He’d taken steps to control his addiction, but he would never again be trusted to teach children.
Maintenance work was the only occupation he could find, and when she’d interviewed him, Cecily had sensed how very much he missed his vocation. She had appreciated the fact that he’d been honest about his past and had never regretted giving him the job. Though she often wondered how he could be happy doing menial work when he was capable of so much more.
Sighing, she opened her ledger again. She was no closer to finding out who killed Ian, or who had given the constable so much information. Time was ticking away, and unless she found out something soon, Sam Northcott would be back ready to arrest Gertie and take her into custody.
There was one question hovering around in her mind to which she would like an answer. She would very much like to know how Archie Parker knew that the murder weapon was taken from the hallstand in the foyer.
All in all, there was a great deal of information being passed around the Pennyfoot, and she would give anything to know who was doing the talking.
Gertie finished polishing the last wineglass and stuck it on the shelf in the cabinet. Mabel had given her the message earlier that madam wanted to see her, and Gertie was anxious to get it over with. Any time someone wanted to talk to her she got nervous now. She couldn’t forget that the constable thought she’d killed Ian, and she was really hoping madam was going to tell her that the killer had been found and arrested and that she had nothing more to worry about. But it was almost three o’clock, and she wanted to spend a little time with the twins before getting the ballroom ready for the pantomime that evening. The way things were going, it looked as if she’d get no more than five minutes with them.
Pansy had already disappeared, probably gone looking for Samuel. Mrs. Chubb was in her room and Michel was out somewhere for a walk. This was the quietest time of day for the staff, and Gertie always tried to make the most of it.
Hurrying along the corridor to her room, she thought about how she’d get the twins to make paper chains so they could hang them on the walls. It would keep their minds off Father Christmas and how soon he was coming.
She could hear their voices as she reached the room, arguing again. Pulling a face, she opened the door and looked in.
Daisy sat on the bed, reading as usual. The twins were playing tug-of-war with a toy boat, Lillian insisting it was her turn to play with it and James loudly arguing that it was his boat.
Gertie rolled her eyes. “James! Let Lilly play with that for a while. I have to go and talk to madam but I’ll be back in a little while and we’ll make paper chains, all right?”
The twins went on wrestling with the boat.
Daisy looked up. “Will you be long? I wanted to go into town to get some knitting wool.”
Gertie blinked as James raised his voice even higher. “I’ll only be a minute or two,” she said, raising her own voice above her child’s. “Try and keep those two quiet until I get back.” She shut the door on the noise and fled back down the corridor to the stairs.
She reached the main hallway and was halfway across the foyer when someone called her name. Turning, her stomach dropped when she saw Ian’s wife, Gloria Johnson, walking toward her. The last thing she needed was a fight with her. Clenching her fists, she waited for the other woman to reach her.
Gloria stopped a few feet from her, her face full of hostility. “I wanted to talk to you,” she said, her voice low and angry.
“What about?”
“About my husband, of course.”
Gertie glanced around the empty foyer. Everyone was taking a little time off or a nap in their rooms. Though it wouldn’t be long before someone would come in and disturb them. “What about Ian?”
“I want to know why he came to see you the night he was killed.”
“He didn’t come to see me. He came to see the twins.”
“That’s what he said.”
Gertie sighed. “That’s what he meant. There was no love lost between me and Ian. We hated each other.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
“Well, then you heard wrong.” Gertie made a move to leave, but Gloria’s next words stopped her.
“Do you know who killed him?”
Taking a deep breath, Gertie turned around. “I haven’t got the faintest idea who killed your husband. The last time I saw Ian Rossiter he was alive and kicking. You can bloody believe that or not, I don’t care.”
“I think your boyfriend killed him.”
Gertie blinked. “What? Who? Are you talking about Dan Perkins?”
“If that’s his name.” Gloria kept looking over her shoulder as if she were afraid of being overheard. “All I know is that he was punching the daylights out of my husband down at the pub the night he died.”
Gertie felt her jaw drop. “My Dan was fighting with Ian? What for?”
The front door opened suddenly, making Gloria jump. She sent a scared glance at the door then seemed to relax as an elderly couple strolled in. Moving closer to Gertie, she lowered her voice even more. “I don’t know what it was about, but yes, he was fighting with Robert. Where do you think my husband got that black eye? If you don’t believe me, ask them down at the pub. They’ll tell you. Lots of people must have seen them going at it.”
Gertie stared at her for a long moment, then said quietly, “I never pay any attention to gossipmongers. I have to go now.” This time she didn’t wait for Gloria to answer. Turning her back on her, she strode purposefully toward the hallway and didn’t stop until she reached madam’s office.