Mulled Murder (Pennyfoot Holiday Mysteries) (13 page)

As Baxter’s flare of light fell across the wall, she gasped. A sizable hole had appeared in the middle of the wall, and what seemed to be the missing bricks were neatly stacked at one end.

With a muttered exclamation, Baxter strode past her, his lamp held high. “What the—” He looked back at her. “What’s going on here?”

Cecily pursed her lips. “I’d say that someone is methodically taking down the wall. I have no doubt it is Mr. Granson. I saw dirt all over his fingers yesterday, and then there’s the brick dust you found in his wardrobe.”

“It certainly does seem like it.” Baxter looked back at the wall. “But why on earth would he want to do that?”

Cecily stared at the wall. In her mind’s eye she saw again the cryptic words of a telegram. “I think I might have an idea,” she murmured. “There’s something else, however, that interests me. Jacob told me there was only one brick missing, which he replaced. Either he lied, or Mr. Granson has been remarkably industrious in such a short time.”

Baxter frowned. “You think our new maintenance man is working with Granson?”

“I think there are a few questions I’d like to ask both of them.” Cecily started walking toward the stairs. “Come along, Bax. I think we’ve spent entirely too much time down here already. I have to get ready for the carol-singing ceremony shortly.”

“Suspects,” Baxter mumbled, as he led the way up the stairs. “Now I remember why I worried about you chasing after criminals.”

“It’s all right, dear.” Cecily stepped out into daylight and drew in a deep breath of the damp sea air. “Now that I have you to protect me, I’m quite sure I shall be perfectly safe.” She trotted off across the courtyard, well aware of her husband’s suspicious gaze on her back.

Poor Bax. He never quite knew when she was being facetious. Her smile faded as she thought about the hole in the wall. Jacob had some explaining to do. As for Fred Granson, she would have to tread a great deal more carefully with him. But first, she needed a visit to the library, which she would do this very afternoon. There were certain things she wanted to research. If she was right, then some of the answers she sought would fall neatly into place.

• • •

Pansy stood at the sink, up to her elbows in hot, soapy water. Searching around in the suds, she found a meat platter and swished it back and forth before lifting it up to inspect it. A few spots of gravy remained stubbornly on the rim, and she rubbed at them with a dishcloth until they disappeared.

Alice stood at her side, waiting to be handed the dish. “It’s heavy,” Pansy told her as she held it out. “So don’t drop it.”

Alice took the platter and laid it carefully on the draining board. “It’s big enough to hold a cow.” She started wiping it with a tea towel. “It must be so heavy when it’s loaded with meat.”

“It is.” Pansy pulled a face. “Good job we’ve all got muscles.” She glanced at Alice. “Except you and Lilly. You’re both as skinny as straws. Just wait until you’ve worked here a few months. You’ll have muscles as big as a dustman’s.”

“I won’t be here that long,” Alice muttered, giving the platter a fierce swipe, making it spin around.

“Here, watch it!” Pansy shot out a hand to steady the dish. “If you break this, Mrs. Chubb will dock your pay.”

Alice shrugged. “So what?”

Pansy heaved a sigh. “Alice, if you do a good job and work hard, Madam might keep you on after Lilly comes back. Mrs. Chubb is always saying as how she needs an extra hand. Especially in the summer when all the toffs are down here.”

Alice didn’t answer, but kept her head down as she finished drying the platter.

Pansy stared at her, confused. One minute the girl was begging for a job, the next she acted as if she couldn’t care less about working at the Pennyfoot. What happened, Pansy wondered, to change Alice’s mind so suddenly?

At that moment the back door opened, and a familiar voice rang out from the doorway. “Happy Christmas, everybody!”

“Samuel!” Abandoning the soapy dishes, Pansy rushed over to the young man and threw her arms around his neck. “I’m so happy to see you! What are you doing here?”

“Came to see you, didn’t I.” Samuel looked around the kitchen. “Where is everybody?”

“Mrs. Chubb is taking a short rest in her room, and Michel went into town to buy some more spices. Gertie and the rest of the maids are upstairs, getting the dining room ready for supper.” Pansy drew back, laughing as Samuel wiped wet suds from his cheek. “Sorry, luv. I forgot my arms were wet.”

“That’s all right.” Samuel let out a big sigh. “Much as I love being my own boss, I really miss this place. I miss everyone.”

“We miss you, too.” His sad expression worried Pansy, and she laid a hand on his arm. “You don’t regret leaving, do you?”

“No, of course not.” He glanced around again. “It’s just that the memories keep coming back. After all, this is where I met you.”

“Yeah.” Her sigh matched his. “I still remember the first day I set eyes on you.”

“Me, too.” He was grinning now, his melancholy apparently banished. “I saw Charlie’s new assistant when I came in. How’s he coming along?”

Pansy shrugged. “I dunno. Charlie gets impatient with him. Says he’s afraid of horses.”

Samuel let out a shout of laughter. “Afraid? How can anyone be afraid of a horse?”

Pansy felt uncomfortable. She liked Henry, in spite of his shyness and lack of confidence. Or maybe because of it. In any case, she didn’t like Samuel making fun of him. “Maybe he got hurt by one once.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll tell you something. It doesn’t surprise me that he’s a cry baby. He walks like a girl.”

Pansy frowned. It was time to change the subject. The last thing she wanted was to argue with Samuel right before the wedding. “I can’t believe we’re getting married the day after tomorrow.”

Samuel put his arm around her and drew her close. “Looking forward to it, are you?”

“’Course I am.” Her annoyance forgotten, she beamed up at him. Excitement bubbled up inside her at the thought of marrying this man. “My wedding dress should arrive this afternoon. Madam’s dressmaker is bringing it for me to try on.”

“Well, then, I’d better not stick around too long.” He let her go. “It’s supposed to be bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her wedding dress before the wedding.”

Her excitement dwindled a little bit. “You’re not leaving again so soon?”

“Have to, luv. I was just passing by. That’s why I dropped in, just to say hello. I’m on me way back to the shop. I want to get all the orders caught up before I walk down that aisle with my lovely bride.”

Blushing, she dropped her gaze. “Go on with you. Well, at least you can meet Alice before you go.” She turned around and stared at the empty space in front of the sink. “Where’d she go?”

“I saw someone slipping out the door as I came in,” Samuel said. “Was that her?”

Pansy shook her head. “She’s a strange one.”

“I don’t remember seeing her here before.”

Pansy filled him in on Alice’s story. “I can’t make her out. She begged Madam for a job here, yet she acts as if she can’t wait to get out of here.”

Samuel dug his hands in his pockets. “Well, I suppose it’s hard on her, not remembering anything about her past and all.”

“Yeah, I suppose so. I think she’s afraid of all men. That’s probably why she left when you came in. She doesn’t want nothing to do with any of them. Not even when they’re as nice as you.”

“That’s sad.” He reached her and drew her close. “I’m really glad you’re not afraid of me.”

Pansy giggled. “I’d be a sorry sort of wife if I was.”

Samuel grinned. “My wife. It sounds strange. I suppose I’ll get used to it.”

“You’d better.” Pansy pulled away from him as the door opened.

“Samuel!” Mrs. Chubb bustled in, hands outstretched. “Let me look at you.” She took him by the shoulders and looked into his face. “Are you taking care of yourself properly?”

“’Course I am, Mrs. Chubb. I gotta look good for the wedding, don’t I.”

“You do, indeed.” She glanced up at the clock. “What are you doing here? You’ve not closed the shop this early?”

“Nah. I had to go fetch some spare parts.” Samuel blew a kiss at Pansy. “I’d best be off. See you at the church!”

Pansy’s stomach seemed to flip over. “I’ll be there!”
With bells on
, she silently added, hugging herself.

CHAPTER
13

Alone in the library, Cecily searched along the shelves for the book she needed. One of these days, she told herself, she’d have someone come in and organize the books. Once upon a time the shelves had been neatly arranged, with fiction at eye level, history and classics above, and the rest below. Now there were Dickens and Sherlock Holmes mixed in with
The History of the British Empire
and
The Ladies’ Compendium of Good Manners
.

Shaking her head, Cecily ran her gaze along a row of history books, finally pouncing on the title she’d been seeking. Taking the book over to the fireplace, she sank onto the green brocade chair and flipped open the pages.

Before long she found exactly what she needed to know. With a satisfied sigh, she slapped the book closed. At least she had an idea what Gerald Evans was investigating, and why it concerned the Pennyfoot. The next step was to find out exactly who was involved. Once she was certain of that, she could ring the authorities in Wellercombe to take care of things.

Feeling pleased with herself, she left the library and headed down the hallway to the ballroom. She could no longer put off talking to Phoebe. The pantomime was to be presented tomorrow night, and Phoebe was at that moment conducting the final dress rehearsal. There wasn’t much Cecily could do to prevent at the best a slip-up, or at the worst, utter chaos, as was more often the case, but at least she could perhaps ward off a tragedy by overseeing the rehearsal.

She pushed open the doors and as usual, pandemonium reigned on the stage. Standing front and center, Phoebe and Jacob faced off, both red in the face, both shouting above the din going on behind them.

The dance troupe had apparently been ordered to rehearse one of the musical numbers. A determined-looking pianist pounded away on the piano, while a discord of wind instruments and an enthusiastic drummer accompanied him. The women onstage gamely sang along, mostly off-key, which was nothing new, and with complete disregard for timing or rhythm.

Wincing, Cecily closed the door behind her and advanced into the room. Spotting Madeline at the other end, she headed over to her friend, putting off the inevitable for just a few moments longer.

Working on a display of holly and pine, Madeline lifted her head as Cecily approached. Instead of her usual smile, however, her face looked drawn, her eyes heavy lidded with dark circles beneath them.

“Madeline!” Cecily halted by her side. “Are you ill? It’s not Angelina, I hope?”

Madeline worked at a smile. “No, the little one is just fine, thank you.”

“Then what’s wrong? I can tell something is bothering you.”

Madeline looked back at the display. “It’s nothing. I haven’t been sleeping well, that’s all.”

Seriously concerned now, Cecily leaned closer. “Tell me, Madeline. What is it?”

Her friend seemed to be fighting with indecision, then shuddered. “I feel death in the air. Very close.”

Cold fingers clutched at Cecily’s heart. She couldn’t forget Madeline’s ominous words earlier.
It was just a faint warning that Baxter needs to tread carefully.
She couldn’t bring herself to ask her friend if the death omen was for her husband. No matter what Madeline answered, it wouldn’t be enough to soothe her fears.

“Don’t mind me,” Madeline said, grasping Cecily’s hand. “It could mean anything. It doesn’t necessarily mean someone is going to die. It could just be the end of something.”

That didn’t help at all. Cecily tried to look unconcerned. “I know. I have to go and sort out whatever is going on with Phoebe now, so I’ll leave you to your task.”

Madeline looked worried. “Please try not to concern yourself too much. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“It’s all right,” Cecily assured her, knowing it was anything but all right. She would worry now, every moment she was apart from her husband. She felt as if a heavy weight sat on her shoulders as she walked back to the stage.

Mercifully, the song had ended, and the musicians were busy sorting through their music. Phoebe still stood on the stage, shouting and gesturing at her dancers, but there was no sign of Jacob. Cecily was thankful, however, to see the backdrop and set were in place. At least the man had done something right.

She headed for the door that led to the wings. She would join Phoebe onstage and find out how the rehearsal was going, though judging from what she’d seen so far, it didn’t look too promising.

Just as she reached the door, Jacob rushed through it, seemingly in a great hurry. “Sorry, m’m,” he muttered, as he brushed past her.

She called out to his hastily retreating back. “Just a moment, Jacob!”

It seemed as if he would ignore her and keep going, but after a few steps he halted, turned, and trudged slowly back to her. “Yes, m’m?”

“My husband and I went down to inspect the wall in the wine cellar,” she said, watching his face closely.

Alarm flashed in his eyes, and his voice rose a notch. “Yes, m’m?”

“There were a good many more bricks out of that wall than you led me to believe,” Cecily said quietly.

Jacob stretched his neck as if his collar was too tight. “Yes, m’m.”

“Would you care to tell me why you lied?”

He cleared his throat. “I didn’t want to worry you, m’m. You being so busy with Christmas and the wedding and all. I thought I’d just take care of it and put all the bricks back where they belong.”

“So it was you who stacked the bricks up like that?”

“Yes, m’m. They were all over the place, so I tidied them up until I could get down there to replace them.”

“What I’d like to know is how they fell out in the first place.”

Jacob looked a little strained. “I imagine it were rats, m’m. Some of those things can be as big as a cat. Saw plenty of them in the navy, I did. They could put a hole in a wall big enough to fit an elephant.”

Cecily stared at him. “Rats.”

“Yes, m’m.”

“Mrs. Chubb gives you the key to the cellar when you go down there?”

“Yes, m’m.”

“And you give it straight back to her?”

Jacob looked confused. “Yes, m’m. I put it in her hand the minute I get back to the kitchen.”

“Every time?”

“Yes, m’m. Every time.”

There were three keys to the wine cellar. Mrs. Chubb kept one hanging on the key ring on her belt. Cecily had another on her key ring. The third was in the safe with the extra set of master keys. It seemed unlikely anyone else could have found his way into the wine cellar. Deciding there wasn’t much else she could ask him right then, Cecily gave him a brief nod. “Thank you, Jacob.”

“Yes, m’m.” Looking relieved, Jacob touched his forehead, spun around, and charged across the floor as if the rats he’d mentioned were chasing after him.

Cecily stared for a long time at the doors after they’d closed behind him. Did Jacob truly believe the bricks had been pushed out by rats, or was he involved in something a lot shadier than hungry rodents?

“Cecily! Thank goodness you are here!” Phoebe’s shrill voice penetrated the sound of the orchestra, which had started up again with another strident number.

Cecily acknowledged her greeting with a wave of her hand, then hurried through the door to the backstage area. As she turned the corner, she heard a scuffling of feet and muffled giggling. One of the dancers was just disappearing around the corner, with a footman in hot pursuit. Shaking her head, Cecily followed them out into the wings.

Phoebe caught sight of her and furiously beckoned to her to come out onstage. Obeying the signal, Cecily joined the dancers, resisting the urge to cover her ears at their robust bellowing.

Phoebe said something that was immediately lost in the blast of tuneless noise.

Cecily cupped her ear and Phoebe screamed louder. “Jacob Pinstone is an idiot!”

Cecily shook her head and lifted her hands in a gesture of defeat.

Phoebe turned to the dancers and flapped her hands at them. “Enough!” She had to shout it three times before the awful cacophony gradually subsided. Apparently the orchestra hadn’t noticed Phoebe’s commands, and it played on, blissfully unaware of the show’s producer practically leaping up and down in an attempt to silence them.

Finally, one by one, the instruments trailed off, leaving only the drummer pounding away until the conductor hit him on the arm with his baton.

Phoebe clutched her hat with both hands and yelled, “Thank you!”

Cecily sighed. This was the first time in many years that she’d agreed to hire an orchestra for one of Phoebe’s presentations. Until now they’d made do with only a pianist, due to the fact that Phoebe alienated every musician she came across with her misguided stage directions. It was far simpler, and considerably less expensive, to replace one pianist than an entire orchestra.

This year, however, since Pansy’s wedding reception was to be held at the Pennyfoot, the orchestra Cecily had hired for the wedding had offered to also play for the pantomime at a greatly reduced price. Cecily had made the grave mistake of mentioning that fact to Phoebe, who assumed Cecily had agreed to the offer and spread the word around the village.

By the time Cecily found out about her friend’s loose tongue, it would have seemed churlish to back out, and so here they were, all thirty-two musicians, under Phoebe’s baleful eye.

Taking advantage of the sudden and blessed peace, Phoebe grasped Cecily’s arm. “Look at that!”

Cecily followed her friend’s shaking hand pointed at the rear of the stage.

“That backdrop is supposed to be the grand hall of a palace. It looks more like the inside of a prison. The only thing missing are the convicts.”

Cecily studied the backdrop. She had to admit, the dreary colors and strange black stripes didn’t exactly portray a palace’s grand hall. “Perhaps if we added a few splashes of color?” she ventured.

Phoebe leaned toward her, her voice a low hiss. “The show goes on tomorrow night.”

Cecily resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Let me talk to Jacob. I’ll see what we can do before then.”

“No!” Phoebe straightened her back and settled her hat more firmly on her head. “I do not trust that man to touch any more of the set. Perhaps the footmen can do what is necessary to brighten things up.”

Cecily took another good look at the offending backdrop. In front of it sat an armchair on a low platform. “Is that supposed to be a throne?”

“Yes.” Phoebe’s voice dripped with disgust. “That’s the best that Jacob could do. Does that man have any idea what he’s doing? Oh, how I wish Clive were here. He created magic for me. This Jacob person creates nothing but . . .” She sought for a word, then apparently giving up on finding a fitting description, finished lamely, ”. . . rubbish.”

“Well,” Cecily said, “we happen to have a pile of gold velvet curtains that we took down from the library when it was renovated after the fire. They are a little stained from the smoke and water, but that won’t be noticed from the audience. We could drape them over the armchair and hang some of them up behind it. I’ll see if Madeline has time to add a few of her touches. Don’t worry, Phoebe. I’m sure it will all look wonderful.”

Phoebe looked a little less frazzled. “Well, thank you, Cecily. I’m sure we’ll all be grateful for any help you can give us.” She smoothed the skirt of her green silk tea gown with her fingers. “If I were you, I’d give that man the sack.”

Cecily fully intended to do that, just as soon as the Christmas season was over, but in view of Phoebe’s penchant for gossiping, she would be the last person to know that. “I’ll tell one of the maids to bring the curtains up here, and I’ll tell two footmen to give you whatever help you need. You won’t have to deal with Jacob again.”

Now Phoebe was actually smiling. “Thank you. You are a good friend. I feel better already.” Her smile vanished as she turned back to her dancers, who were standing around talking together in whispers. “Why are you dawdling about? Take your places! We have work to do!” She signaled to the conductor, who picked up his baton. “Another chorus of ‘Turn again, Whittington,’ please.”

The conductor raised his baton, and Cecily left the ballroom to the strains of the tune now being belted out again by the enthusiastic dancers.