6 Grounds for Murder (11 page)

The colonel shot up in his chair. “By Jove, that was a close one. Anyone hurt? Get behind the battlements, men, and keep your heads down! Dashed blighters come at you from nowhere—”

“Colonel,” Cecily said gently, “it’s only thunder.”

The colonel blinked at her for a moment, then looked at Cyril. “Oh, there you are. Saw you dashing by in the old bus yesterday, old chap. Nice-looking motorcar that, what? What?”

Cyril looked startled, as if he wasn’t sure how to answer the unpredictable man. “I’m afraid I didn’t notice you, Colonel. I tend to concentrate on the road. I had three business meetings yesterday, and I was in a hurry to arrive on time.”

“Think nothing of it, old chap. No harm done. Carry on.” Again the colonel’s chin lowered, and he uttered a loud snore.

“Well, it must be time to go to the dining room,” Lady Belleville said, getting up with a rustle of skirts. She tapped her shoulder, adding, “Come along, my darlings, it’s time for our little stroll. Perhaps we shall find your brother before the night is out.”

Looking at Cecily, she said in a plaintive voice, “You won’t forget to ask your manager to search for my little one, will you?”

“I promise you, I will see that he takes care of it,” Cecily said, praying they wouldn’t have to actually search all the rooms to please the eccentric dowager.

Apparently satisfied with that, Lady Belleville left the room, still cooing to her imaginary charges on her shoulder.

“Mrs. Sinclair,” Cyril Plunkett said, raising his soft voice
in order to be heard above the loud snores of the colonel. “What with this storm and all the talk about murder, I am feeling quite unnerved. I can’t help feeling that the isolation of this hotel and its close proximity to the woods can be quite dangerous.”

“I assure you, Mr. Plunkett,” Cecily said, “you are quite safe within the walls of the Pennyfoot.”

The salesman nodded, though he looked unconvinced. His pinched features looked pale and wan, and he kept shooting nervous little glances at the fireplace as the wind rattled down the chimney.

“That’s as may be, Mrs. Sinclair, but I have work to do in my room at the end of the day and I find it impossible to concentrate with so many distractions. I feel I would have more peace of mind if I moved to a hotel in Wellercombe for the remainder of the week, whereupon I shall be returning to London.”

Dismayed, Cecily could only say pleasantly, “I quite understand. I will have Baxter make up your bill for you in the morning.”

Cyril Plunkett nodded, wincing as another crack of thunder exploded outside. Bowing his head, he scuttled from the room, leaving Cecily to wonder how many more of her guests she would lose once they learned that a mad killer was on the loose in Badgers End.

CHAPTER
11

Cecily was not looking forward to the task of sending Baxter on a search for an imaginary bird. In the first place, he was at odds with her, and in the second place, any patience he might have had where Lady Belleville was concerned was inclined to evaporate rather quickly.

She waited to talk to him until after the evening meal, when she knew he would be relaxing in his quarters. He wouldn’t receive her there, of course. That wouldn’t be proper.

Cecily wrinkled her nose as she strolled down the corridor. Baxter and his proprieties could be most frustrating at the best of times, but when he was displeased with her, he could be positively stuffy.

Reaching the door of the office, she tried the handle first, then, finding it locked, smartly rapped on the oak paneling with her knuckles.

Baxter’s private quarters led off the office, and he would have to come through there to let her in. She hoped he wouldn’t be too exasperated at being disturbed during his off-duty hours. But then, she thought wryly, he should be used to being summoned at all odd hours by now.

The door opened suddenly, before she was fully prepared. Baxter looked as if he’d just woken up from a doze. His hair was ruffled, and he’d removed his wing collar and tie.

One hand quickly smoothed down the errant tuft of hair when he saw his visitor. His expression changed swiftly from embarrassed surprise, no doubt at being discovered out of uniform, to one of alarm. “Madam! Is something wrong?”

Relieved that he seemed to have forgotten their little spat, Cecily gave him a warm smile. “That depends on how you look at it. More of a nuisance, I would say. May I come in?”

He eyed her with suspicion. “Into the office?”

“Of course!” She pretended to look shocked. “You surely don’t think I would suggest visiting you in your rooms unescorted, do you?”

His mouth tightened as he gave her his steely look. “Someone has to maintain a sense of decorum, madam.” His tone clearly inferred that had he left it up to her, she would lead him into the depths of iniquity.

Sighing, she entered the darkened office and stood patiently while he lit the small oil lamp on his desk. The acrid smell quickly dissipated as the flame sputtered, then settled into a steady glow.

“I do hope you have not taken all this trouble merely to satisfy a craving for a cigar,” he said as she took a seat on the armchair.

She looked up at him, watching the lamplight cast shadows across his strong features. “I’m afraid it’s a little more bothersome than that, but I do think a cigar is an excellent idea. Perhaps you will join me, now that there is no one about to witness your depravity?”

Aware that she was goading him, though she wasn’t quite sure why, she added more softly, “I’m sorry, Baxter. I’m afraid I’m feeling a little testy this evening. I think it must be the storm. Nasty weather always seems to create tension, don’t you think?”

“Indubitably, madam. It can make one quite cantankerous at times.”

“Well, you didn’t have to agree quite so readily.” She watched his face, hoping to see some change in his stony expression. Why was it, she wondered unhappily, that they seemed to bicker more often now than at any time since she’d known him?

“I would like that cigar, if you please?” she said demurely. “That’s if you have no objection?”

Silently he withdrew the package from his breast pocket and tapped one out for her. He took his time striking the match, then cupped the flame in his hand as he leaned forward to light the cigar.

She drew on it until the end of it glowed, then puffed out the smoke in a little cloud. “It’s quite windy tonight,” she remarked, settling back on the chair with a long sigh. “It’s an east wind, blowing straight in from the ocean. I saw the fire smoking in the drawing room before dinner.”

“I will have Samuel adjust the windscreens.” Baxter replaced the package in his pocket. “They might have become dislodged.”

Cecily nodded, contemplating the tip of her cigar. A narrow band of white ash was beginning to form on the end
of it. She wondered how long she could let it grow before gravity had its way and the ash fell to her lap.

Deciding not to wait to find out, she leaned forward and tapped the edge of the cigar on the crystal ashtray on Baxter’s neat desk. When she sat back again, she found him watching her, an odd look on his face.

The expression vanished as she met his gaze. “I presume you did not disturb me tonight to discuss the weather?” he said carefully.

“No, I did not.” She lifted a hand, then dropped it back in her lap. “I’m sorry, Baxter, but I’m afraid Lady Belleville is being particularly difficult. She insists on a search of her room being made in order to discover the whereabouts of a bird. She believes one is missing.”

Baxter’s eyes opened wider. “You surely don’t expect me to humor her? At this time of night? Heaven knows what she could fabricate if I were to enter her boudoir unchaperoned.”

“You won’t be unchaperoned, Baxter. I shall be with you. She merely wants you to search the top of the canopy above her bed. I believe she has looked everywhere else.”

“And when we don’t find it?”

“I think that if we pretend to find one, she might accept it in her imagination as well.”

Baxter shook his head, his expression rueful. “I have done many things in the interests of this hotel and the guests, but I have to admit, madam, pretending to hold an imaginary bird in my hand may well test my capabilities.”

“If you are not convincing, Baxter, she might very well demand that you search the entire hotel.”

“Then I shall politely but firmly refuse.”

“And alienate a very important guest? Lady Belleville might be eccentric, but she is well-known in social circles.
I would not want her to embellish her complaints and damage the reputation of the Pennyfoot.”

Baxter’s mouth twitched, as if he longed to say something, but refrained only with a great effort. “I would suggest that the lady is not merely eccentric. She is downright demented.”

“Nevertheless,” Cecily said evenly, “she is influential. I’m afraid we must humor her, Baxter.”

“Tonight?”

“Tonight.” Cecily nodded at the small clock on top of the bureau. “It is not yet ten o’clock. It isn’t too late. And I gave her my promise.”

Baxter gave a stiff nod. “Very well, madam. If you will wait here until I am properly attired?”

“I will wait here, Baxter. Take your time.”

He hesitated, as if not certain what to say next, then with a slight nod disappeared through the door to his rooms and closed it behind him.

Samuel had gone to a great deal of trouble to look his best. His hair was slicked down with a dab of grease, and he’d even used his precious bar of soap to wash himself. He wore his one and only tweed suit, which he usually saved for church, and the bowler that his father had given him, after complaining that it kept slipping down over his bald head.

Samuel intended to make a big impression, and his excitement had him trembling as he carefully opened the kitchen door and peered inside. He’d found out from Gertie that Doris was working late that night, and he intended to steal a few moments alone with her, if at all possible.

To his intense delight, he saw her standing at the kitchen sink, steam wreathing around her head as she clattered dishes around in the soapy water.

Moving silently on the toes of his boots, he hoped they
wouldn’t creak as he crept across the floor toward the busy housemaid. Engrossed in her task, she seemed not to hear him, and his heart thudded as he drew closer.

All he could think about was sliding his arms around that tiny waist and giving her a quick hug before she could object. He felt sure she wouldn’t chastise him for it; he had recognized that glow on her face and the sparkle in her eye when she’d looked at him the night before.

She liked him. He was as sure of that as he was that cats had kittens. He liked her, too, and he wanted her to know it. He wanted to stake his claim before one of the stable lads fell for her shy smile and big brown eyes. Or were they green? He couldn’t remember for sure.

Closer and closer he crept, until he was within reach of her body. Closing his eyes in warm anticipation, he reached out and grasped her about the waist, pulling her back against him for a second or two before letting her go.

He had expected her to squeal. He had even expected her to pretend to be cross with him at first; that was, until he coaxed a smile from those sweet lips.

What he hadn’t expected was the loud yelp that sounded like a cry of pain, and the rain of blows that fell about his head, knocking his bowler to the floor.

“Get your filthy hands off me,” Doris yelled, bringing the wooden spoon down even harder on his hands, which he’d raised to protect his noggin.

“Strewth, Doris, it’s only me. I didn’t mean to startle you—”

“Startle me?” Green eyes blazed in her flushed face as she screamed at him. “If you ever touch me again, I’ll run a carving knife right through you, so help me I will. Get out of here, you filthy animal. I’m not one of your horses for you to manhandle. I’ll tell madam what you did, I swear I will.”

“Doris—”

“Don’t Doris me! I’ll—”

“Mercy! Whatever is this racket going on here?” The sound of Mrs. Chubb’s voice cut off Doris’s yelling, and Samuel could hear his breath coming hard in the silence.

“I didn’t mean no harm, Mrs. Chubb,” he said breathlessly, “I just wanted to say hello, that’s all.”

“He put his filthy hands on me, that he did,” Doris said, glaring at him with the spoon raised in her hand. “Crept up behind me when I wasn’t looking. I don’t want him near me. Tell him to stay out of my way or I’ll cut him in half.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” Samuel stopped to pick up his hat, then backed to the door.

“I think you’d better make yourself scarce, young man,” Mrs. Chubb said, casting a wary look at Doris. “And next time you want to come calling, make yourself known first instead of creeping up on a young lady like that.”

“I don’t want him calling on me ever,” Doris said, turning her back on him. “I hate the sight of him, I do.”

“Don’t you worry, Doris Hoggins,” Samuel said stiffly. “I’ll not bother you again. Should have known better than to try to be nice to the likes of you.”

Slamming the kitchen door, he took a long breath of the chill night air. His face felt hot, and there was a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He could have sworn Doris liked him. He knew that women were unpredictable creatures, wont to change their minds in an instant, his father had told him so. But in all his born days he had never met a woman like Doris Hoggins.

Of course, he reminded himself as he trudged down to the gate, Doris wasn’t exactly a woman yet. Though she looked like a woman, and she smiled like a woman. And in that brief moment when he’d held her around the waist, she had certainly felt like a woman.

He reached the gate and pulled it open. It was too bad she couldn’t act like a woman instead of a frightened child. There weren’t too many women left in the village around his age. Certainly none with such a pretty face and beautiful big brown eyes like Doris.

But that temper of hers was as fierce as it was unwarranted, and he just couldn’t understand what set her off like that.

Giving up on the puzzle, he jammed his hands into his pockets and set off for the George and Dragon. No sense in wasting his best togs. As long as he was wearing them, he might as well see what was going on down at the pub.

Still, he couldn’t feel his usual enthusiasm as he marched briskly down the road, whistling to keep himself company. Somehow he couldn’t get the image of Doris’s furious face out of his mind. Didn’t seem like the same girl, that it didn’t. Not the same girl at all.

“Lady Belleville,” Cecily called out as she tapped gently on the door. “It’s Mrs. Sinclair and Baxter. We’ve come to search for your bird.”

The door opened with a rush, revealing the dowager who wore a tea gown of brown lace embossed with cream velvet roses. A diamond tiara glittered in her hair, matching the drop necklace at her neck. Lady Belleville had obviously dressed for the occasion.

If she was disappointed to see Cecily accompanying Baxter, she made no sign of it as she invited them both into her boudoir. “I think the little rascal may be hiding up there,” she said, directing her fluttering gaze on Baxter. “Would you be so terribly kind as to climb up and take a look?”

Baxter gave her one of his stiffest smiles. “I will be happy
to, madam. I shall have to stand on one of the chairs, of course, but I am sure I shall be able to see.”

“Oh, thank you. So terribly kind of you.” Lady Belleville flittered around the room looking like an oversized bird herself. “The others have been so lonely since he left. I keep thinking I can hear him singing, but it could be my ears. I have a ringing sound in them all the time, you see.”

“How unfortunate,” Baxter said, shooting a desperate glance at Cecily.

“How many birds do you have?” Cecily inquired, in an effort to take the elderly woman’s attention away from Baxter.

“Oh, my dear, I lose count. Why, in my day I have had several hundred, I should imagine. Wonderful friends, they are, you know. Such good company, chirping all day long in my ear. I really don’t know what I’d do without them.”

Baxter grunted something as he hauled a chair across the carpet and stood it by the side of the bed.

“Of course, I have to be careful of the cats, you know—” Cecily’s blood froze when Lady Belleville uttered a loud shriek.

Baxter, balanced on the chair, swung around, almost toppling over. “What the—?”

“The cats!” Lady Belleville cried, clutching at Cecily’s arm. “Oh, my dear Mrs. Sinclair, what if the cats have eaten my little one? Whatever will I do?”

“I’m sure your little bird is much too fast to be caught by any of our strays,” Cecily said soothingly. “They all eat so much of Michel’s marvelous cooking, they’ve grown quite fat and lazy. Isn’t that so, Baxter?”

“Indubitably, madam.” Baxter peered over the top of the canopy, hanging on with one hand to a corner post. “As a matter of fact, I do believe I see the little fellow right here. If I can just reach …”