6 Grounds for Murder (8 page)

“She should darn well be dismissed, madam. No woman should be seen in public looking like that. Certainly not in a place of business catering to members of Society. Utterly
disgusting, I call it. Really, madam, the entire atmosphere of the place is becoming tawdry. I think I shall have to find alternative accommodations.”

“If that is your wish,” Cecily murmured, hoping fervently that he meant it. “Now, if you will please excuse me, I have important matters that demand my attention.”
Far more important than your petty complaints
, her tone implied.

For a moment Galloway looked at her as if he would argue the point, then with a grunt he stood aside and allowed her to pass.

As she hurried down the hallway to Baxter’s office, Cecily couldn’t help agreeing with Madeline’s assessment of Ellsworth Galloway. The man was positively ignorant. If not evil.

“Where is that bleeding Doris?” Gertie demanded, glaring at Michel as if it were his fault the housemaid had disappeared.

“How in the world should I know?” Michel said, cracking eggs expertly with one hand on the side of the bowl.

Gertie watched the yellow yolks slide into the bowl, leaving the whites behind in the shell. She could never figure out how Michel did that. Every time she tried, she either got the whole mess dumped in the bowl together, or worse, on the floor.

“I sent her up to start laying the fires,” Mrs. Chubb said, appearing in the doorway of the scullery. A slab of bacon swung from her hand as she crossed the kitchen to the stove.

“I thought we didn’t have enough sticks,” Gertie said, wishing Mrs. Chubb would tell her when she sent Doris on an errand. It was hard enough getting the jobs done without having to guess where her helper was supposed to be.

“We had enough to start with.” The housekeeper threw the bacon into a pot of boiling water and clamped a lid down
on it. “There you are, Michel, that should be enough for the midday meal.”

“Well, I suppose I’d better get on and lay them bloody tables, then,” Gertie said, moving to the door. “They won’t get blinking done by themselves, that’s for sure.”

She stopped short as the door flew open, almost catching her in the belly. “Strewth! Bleeding watch it, will you? You almost hit the baby then.”

“Sorry,” Doris muttered, brushing past her with her head down. “I didn’t know you was there, did I.”

“What’s that you’ve got in your hand, Doris?” Mrs. Chubb asked, reaching for the heavy sack the housemaid carried.

“It’s more sticks for the fireplace.” Doris dumped the sack on the floor. “I ran out of them so I’ve just been out there and chopped some more.”

Gertie swung around to stare at her. “What with?”

“With the axe, of course, what else?”

Blimey, Gertie thought, Miss Uppity was at it again. She’d never seen anyone change moods like that in all her born days.

“Where did you get it?” Mrs. Chubb opened the sack and peered inside as if she didn’t believe what the girl had told her. “Did you find the one that was missing? Or did Samuel get back already with a new one? If so, he was pretty darn sharp about it.”

Gertie watched Doris lift her face and stare at Mrs. Chubb as if she’d gone completely bonkers. “Whatcha talking about?”

Mrs. Chubb dropped the sack and folded her arms across her chest. “The axe, that’s what I was talking about. Didn’t you wash your ears out this morning, young lady? And I’ll thank you to use some proper respect when speaking to your elders, if you please.”

About bleeding time she got her comeuppance, Gertie thought with smug satisfaction. She was beginning to think the bloody girl could do no wrong. But being saucy to Mrs. Chubb was going to get her nowhere. Gertie knew that only too well.

“I used the axe I always use,” Doris said, her face turning a bright red. “The one what hangs on the nail in the shed. What other one would I use? I didn’t even know there was another one.”

“There isn’t. I mean there wasn’t.” Mrs. Chubb shook her head as if trying to clear it. “Any rate, it doesn’t matter as long as you have the sticks. Just get up them stairs and finish laying the fires. Gertie, you’ll have to fold the serviettes before you lay the tables. And polish the wineglasses. Doris can help you when she’s finished with the fires.”

“Bloody heck, how am I going to do all that and get me tables done?”

“Do the best you can.” Mrs. Chubb turned to Michel, who seemed engrossed in the gooseberry fool he was creating. “Funny that. I would have sworn Samuel wouldn’t have had time to bring back a new axe before midday. He must have left at the crack of dawn.”

“I can assure you, he did not.” Michel stuck a finger into the green mixture and tasted it. “I saw him leaving about an hour ago.” He closed his eyes and smacked his lips. “Perfect, even if I say so myself. I am a great chef, am I not?”

“The best.” Mrs. Chubb shook her head, obviously struggling with her thoughts. “Doesn’t make sense, that it don’t. Unless he met a gypsy on the road and bought an axe from him.”

Michel threw back his head and groaned. “The axe is more important than my gooseberry pudding,
oui
? Who
cares where Doris get the axe? As long as she still has her head it really does not matter,
n’est-ce pas
?”

Mrs. Chubb shuddered. “For God’s sake, Michel, don’t even joke about it. It’s no laughing matter.”

Something about the way she said it gave Gertie the shivers.

She tried not to think about it as she tramped to the dining room. She tried not to think about anyone losing their head. Not even that blinking Doris.

CHAPTER
8

“I do wish, madam, that you would send a message for me to come to you, instead of coming all the way to my office like an inferior subordinate.”

Cecily smiled at Baxter as she settled herself in the large leather armchair. “In the first place, I prefer your furniture. This chair is so comfortable.”

“Thank you, madam.” Baxter finished buttoning his coat before he looked at her. “It was a present from your late husband.”

“Yes, I know. You almost didn’t get it. I tried my utmost to persuade James that I needed it more than you did.”

“If you would like it, madam, I’ll be happy to—”

“No, no, I wouldn’t dream of it.” Cecily laid the envelope
on his desk. “These are the costs for the flower arrangements for the ball next Thursday. Perhaps you should look them over.”

“I take it you have already given Miss Pengrath permission to purchase?” Baxter said, as he drew the pages out of the envelope and scanned them.

“Well, yes, I did say I thought you would approve, but if you have an objection, it will be a simple matter to change the order.”

He sighed, slipping the pages back inside the envelope. “I have no objection, as I am quite sure you anticipated. I would, however, prefer to be consulted before these decisions are made. It would allow me to feel more useful to the running of this establishment.”

Cecily pulled a face. “I’m sorry, Baxter. Things were becoming somewhat heated between Madeline and Phoebe, and I wanted the matter settled as soon as possible.”

“Very well, madam. But in future, perhaps?”

“Next time, Baxter, I promise. After all, no one knows better than I how lost I would be without you.” Cecily frowned, remembering her confrontation with the belligerent baritone.

“I really do wish that Ellsworth Galloway would make good on his threat and find somewhere else to stay. The man makes me feel most uncomfortable.”

“He has said something else to upset you?” Baxter looked down at her, a quizzical expression on his face.

“Yes, he did. He complained about Gertie’s condition. As if expecting the birth of a child was obscene, for heaven’s sake. How in the world does he suppose he arrived on this earth, I’d like to know?”

Baxter cleared his throat. “Yes, madam. I trust Miss Brown is keeping well?”

“Very well, thank you, Baxter. The baby is due just about any day now.”

“No doubt the arrival will cause quite a stir in the Pennyfoot. This must be the first time a baby has been born here.”

Cecily smiled. “At least since it has been a hotel. I’m quite sure babies must have been born here when it belonged to the Earl of Saltchester. After all, it was his ancestral home.”

“I do wonder what became of the family. It must be so distressing to lose one’s home because of an ill-advised investment.”

“It must indeed.” She paused, remembering the early days when she and James had worked so hard to transform the decaying mansion. “I do hope the earl would be pleased with the renovations.”

“Undoubtedly, madam. How could he not? The place was deteriorating rapidly until James took it in hand.” Baxter stared up at the ceiling, apparently lost in thought.

Cecily waited for several moments before saying, “Is anything wrong?”

He dropped his chin, looking a little abashed. “I was thinking about the day the Pennyfoot opened for the first time. If I remember, the day was quite a nerve-racking experience.”

“Ah, yes.” Cecily threw back her head and laughed. “Poor Mrs. Chubb was so nervous she dropped everything she touched. As I recall, Michel was so angry with her he waved his hands about and managed to sweep an entire cauldron of soup onto the floor. Luckily it was no longer hot so no one was hurt, but oh, my, the mess it made.”

“And Gertie had forgotten to open the dampers on the fireplaces, causing smoke to pour into the rooms.”

“And we were up all night cleaning the rooms in time for
the guests the next day.” She looked up to find him watching her, a strange expression on his face. “What is it, Baxter?”

He continued to stare at her, as if making up his mind about something, then he gave a slight shake of his head. “No matter, madam. Just memories.”

She wished very much that he had spoken the words he found so hard to say. Whatever they might be. “Well, I’m happy to say that things have improved tremendously since those uncertain beginnings. I’m sure James would be most happy that we have been able to carry on in the tradition that he set for us.”

“He would indeed, madam. You have every reason to be proud of your achievements. He couldn’t have left the hotel in better hands.”

Cecily looked up at him and said sincerely, “Your hands, too, Baxter. As I have said many times, I couldn’t have managed all this without you.”

“Nor I without you, madam.”

The silence grew between them, while neither seemed to know quite what to say next. Finally Cecily said with reluctance, “I had better go down to the kitchen. I want to make sure those fires are laid as soon as possible. The rooms felt quite damp when I last visited them.”

“Let us hope that Gertie remembers dampers this time.”

“I think Doris will be the one to lay the fires.” Cecily rose from her chair with a frown. “I must have Mrs. Chubb inspect them before they are lit. By all accounts Doris is no better than Gertie when she first started. Of course, she is very young.”

Baxter grunted. “I’m afraid it is more difficult to find competent help nowadays. The young people are leaving the countryside for the cities, where they can earn bigger
salaries for less work. The future of farming looks very bleak.”

“We can hardly blame the youngsters. They want something better out of life than the long hours and harsh conditions of working the land.”

“But if they all leave the countryside, what will become of the farms and the villages? They will gradually disappear, as they are beginning to do already.”

Cecily leaned across the desk and patted his arm. “It’s called progress, Baxter. That word you hate so much.”

He looked at her with such a serious expression she felt a pang of apprehension. “My greatest fear, madam, is that the Pennyfoot will no longer be able to offer the services to which our guests have become accustomed. I should hate to see the hotel forced to close down.”

Cecily straightened, looking him directly in the eye. “As long as I am on my two feet, Baxter, this hotel will not close down—even if I had to do the entire work myself.”

He matched her stare for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, madam.”

She left him standing at his desk, and the concerned look on his face stayed with her all the way to the kitchen.

She found Mrs. Chubb and Gertie engaged in one of their wordy battles when she pushed the kitchen door open. The smell of pork roasting in the oven made her mouth water, and she sniffed appreciatively as she entered the warm room.

“I told you not to put that milk jug on the windowsill,” Mrs. Chubb said, glaring at Gertie, who stood with her arms defiantly crossed in front of her. “You know the cats jump into that window. That’s the second jug of milk to go over today.”

“I didn’t bleeding put it up there. Doris must have gone
and done it. Flipping heck, why do you always go and blame me for every bloody thing?”

Neither of them had noticed Cecily standing there, and she coughed loudly.

Mrs. Chubb swung around, her eyes sparkling with anger in her flushed face. “Oh, pardon me, mum, I didn’t hear you come in. Gertie was making such a racket—”

“
I
was? It was you what was making all the blinking noise.”

“Gertie!” Mrs. Chubb silenced the girl with a glare. Turning back to Cecily, she said more quietly, “What can I do for you, mum? Is there something wrong? Doris hasn’t done something, has she?”

Gertie growled in the back of her throat, then stomped over to the pantry when Mrs. Chubb gave her another sharp look. “Not as far as I know,” Cecily said, “but I do think it might be wise to inspect the fireplaces when she is finished. Just to make sure the dampers are open and the fires are laid properly.”

“Yes, mum. I’ve already planned to do that. We don’t want another fiasco with smoke in the rooms.”

Cecily smiled. “Baxter and I were just talking about that this morning. It doesn’t seem possible it was so long ago.”

“That it doesn’t, mum.” The housekeeper looked over her shoulder to see if Gertie had left the room. “I don’t want you to think I’m complaining, mum, but I’m a little worried about Doris.”

“She has been giving you trouble?”

“Not exactly, mum. More like she has the trouble. She seems to have a problem with her memory. Can’t remember things, so to speak. I don’t know if it’s just because she’s confused with all the jobs she has, or if she’s ill in some way. In her mind, I mean.”

Shocked, Cecily shook her head. “Oh, I don’t think so,
Mrs. Chubb. After all, the child is very young, and she has come from a very unfortunate background. I’m sure she will settle down after a few weeks. Just try to be patient with her, would you, please?”

Mrs. Chubb vigorously nodded her head. “Oh, of course, mum, you know I will. I wouldn’t have said nothing, only that business with the axe—” She broke off, then added quickly, “I’m sure it’s just my imagination. All that gossip about the murder and then the axe missing.” She drew in her breath sharply. “Oh, that reminds me, mum, I wanted to thank you for getting the axe replaced so promptly. Samuel must have flown on wings to get back with it so quickly.”

Cecily stared at her in amazement. “He’s back already? But he didn’t leave until after breakfast, I’m quite sure. He must have found the original one after all.”

Mrs. Chubb nodded, looking skeptical. “That’s what I thought, mum. I didn’t think he—”

She was interrupted by the door flying open. Samuel stood in the doorway, an axe in his hand, his eyes alight with excitement. “You’ll never guess what—”

“Samuel,” Mrs. Chubb said sharply. “Where are your manners? Take off your cap when you’re in the house. And use some respect in front of madam, if you please, young man.”

With a sheepish expression, Samuel pulled off his cap and shoved it in his pocket. “Pardon me, mum. I wasn’t thinking. I heard—”

“That’s enough, Samuel. Whatever you have to say can be said later.”

“No,” Cecily said, her gaze shifting to the axe in Samuel’s hand. “I’d like to hear what Samuel has to say. Where did you get the axe, Samuel?”

He looked at her, his brow creasing. “I just bought it from
Harry Whites, like you said. I told him to put it on the hotel account and—”

“You just bought it?” Mrs. Chubb interrupted. “You just got back now?”

Samuel looked even more confused. “Yes, I did, Mrs. Chubb. I hurried as fast as I could, but I had to wait for him to sharpen it and I thought I’d better unharness the trap before I came in with the news.”

“What news is that?” Cecily said, beginning to feel a familiar chill up her arms.

“Another murder!” Samuel looked as if he would burst in his anxiety to get the words out. “Up in the woods again. Another gypsy, they say. Killed yesterday. Her head was missing, just like the last one. It was chopped off with an axe.”

The silence in the kitchen seemed to hang thick and still as both women lowered their gazes to the axe swinging in Samuel’s hand.

“Oh, my good Lord,” Mrs. Chubb whispered.

News traveled fast in an establishment as intimate as the Pennyfoot Hotel. By the time the midday meal was served, everyone, it seemed, had heard about the second murder.

When Cecily left the dining room to return to her suite, Lady Belleville was holding an earnest conversation with Ellsworth Galloway in the hallway.

“No doubt about it, my dear lady,” Galloway said as Cecily approached them with great reluctance, “the murderer is a gypsy. Just the sort of heathen thing one of them would do. I mean, all that business about taking the head. Downright satanic, I call it. The work of a devil. No Christian man would dream of doing such a thing.”

“No Christian man would kill another person, I should think,” Cecily said, unable to hold back the retort.

Lady Belleville uttered a twittering laugh. “Oh, my dear, how droll. Of course she is right, Mr. Galloway. But I must say I agree with you. Most likely a jealous lover, I would say. These gypsies are such passionate people, so I’ve heard.”

“Yes, that is most likely the case.” Galloway turned his beady eyes toward Cecily. “I understand Wilhelmina Freidrich will be singing at the ball on Thursday.”

Cecily nodded. “Mrs. Carter-Holmes, who arranges all our entertainment, assures me she is an excellent soprano.”

“Quite so, quite so.” Galloway stroked his beard, preening himself like a questing peacock. “I did wonder why I wasn’t approached. Not that I would have accepted, of course. A man does have to be most particular as to where he lends his presence. Reputations have to be protected, don’t you know.”

Cecily thinned her mouth. “Precisely,” she said, “which is why we hesitated to invite you.”

Galloway’s face turned dark as he eyed her suspiciously. “I was referring to
my
reputation.”

“Well, of course,” Cecily said sweetly. Without giving him a chance to answer, she turned to Lady Belleville. “I do hope your meal was satisfactory.”

The plumes on the dowager’s hat dipped and swayed. “Oh, absolutely divine, my dear. The boiled bacon was delicious, and the roast pork and applesauce simply melted in my mouth. Please give my compliments to the chef.”

“I’ll be happy to do that, Lady Belleville. I’m sure Michel will be most gratified by your compliment.”

“Not at all. He deserves the praise.” She looked over her shoulder, down the long hallway. “I don’t suppose you have seen a stray canary, have you? One of them is missing. I can’t seem to find it anywhere.”

Galloway pointedly cleared his throat. “I must be on my
way, if you will excuse me, ladies. I have another engagement.”

Cecily gave him a curt nod, while Lady Belleville appeared not to have heard him. “He was there,” she went on, fluttering a tiny fan in front of her face, “sitting on my shoulder this morning, listening to the other birds singing in the trees outside. I explained to him that it would be most dangerous for him to join the other birds in the gardens. I do hope he didn’t wander off.”