Mulled Murder (Pennyfoot Holiday Mysteries) (2 page)

She allowed him to lead her along the hallway to the stairs. Her mind seemed incapable of functioning. Phoebe had been one of her two closest friends for a good many years. The other, Madeline Pengrath Prestwick, would be just as devastated if something dreadful were to happen to dear Phoebe. The two of them invariably bickered with each other when they met, but underneath the feuding, Cecily knew, was a bond that would never be broken.

Her eyes misted as she hurried down the stairs, with Baxter close behind. Life without Phoebe was just unthinkable.

She couldn’t control a cry of dismay when she reached the lobby and saw her longtime friend seated on the floor, her back propped up by the wall. Phoebe’s chin rested on her chest, and her hat had tilted forward, obscuring her face. Its wide brim held a trio of white doves nestled among swirling blue chiffon and velvet ribbons. It looked a little pathetic perched on its owner’s slumped head.

Standing at her side, Colonel Fortescue seemed bewildered, staring helplessly down at his wife.

Cecily hurried forward, calling out to Baxter, “Could you give Kevin Prestwick a ring, please? Ask him to come here as soon as possible.”

She didn’t hear his answer. At the sound of her voice, the colonel switched his gaze to her face. “She fainted dead away, old bean. One minute she was standing there, the next she was on the sand.”

Cecily blinked. “The sand? You were on the beach in this weather?” She dropped to the floor and gently tilted Phoebe’s hat up. Her friend’s face was as gray as parchment and her eyes were tightly closed. She appeared to be breathing, however, which eased Cecily’s mind somewhat.

“We went down there to see what was in the castoffs, old girl.” The colonel seemed to suddenly remember he was wearing a hat, and pulled it from his head.

Cecily frowned. “Castoffs?”

“Well, that’s what we thought they were. Never expected to find what we did.” The colonel rocked back on his heels and stared up at the ceiling. “Reminds me of when I was in—”

Cecily surged upright. “Enough, Colonel! I need you to tell me exactly what happened.”

The colonel’s mouth snapped shut. Obviously he wasn’t used to being so rudely interrupted.

Cecily felt a moment’s regret then quickly suppressed it. Colonel Fortescue was notorious for launching into one of his war stories at the slightest opportunity, and once he was in full stride nothing short of a shotgun to the head would stop him. “I’m sorry, Colonel,” she added, “but it’s imperative you tell me exactly what happened on that beach.”

The colonel shook his head, as if trying to clear his mind. “What happened? Dashed if I know, old bean. She took one look at the body and dropped to the ground.”

Cecily swallowed. “Body?”

“Yes, old girl. That’s what was in the castoffs. Though I suppose they’re not really castoffs if the chap is still wearing them. Even if he is deader than a doornail, what what?”

Cecily felt like sinking to the floor herself. She spoke carefully, making sure to enunciate every word. “Are you telling me, Colonel, that there’s a dead body on the beach?”

“Well, of course I am.” A look of uncertainty crossed his face. “I mean, I suppose he’s still there. I just picked up the old girl and carried her up here.” He looked down at his wife. “She might not look all that heavy but it felt like I was carrying a blasted elephant.”

“I heard that.”

At the sound of the weak voice, Cecily looked down at her friend. To her immense relief, Phoebe’s eyes were not only open, they were glaring up at her husband, reassuring Cecily that Phoebe was not at death’s door after all.

“Phoebe!” Cecily squatted down again. “Are you all right?”

“I will be when I can get up off this dratted floor.” She scowled at the lobby, which, fortunately for everyone, was deserted. “Get me up this instant, before someone comes in and sees me in this ridiculous position.”

Cecily grabbed her under an arm, and signaled to the colonel to take hold of the other. Between them they hauled Phoebe to her feet. She immediately tugged at her hat to straighten it, then slapped at her skirts to get rid of the sand that still clung to the folds.

Just then Baxter strode into the lobby. “I rang Prestwick—oh!” He raised his eyebrows at Phoebe. “The lady seems to have recovered.”

Before Phoebe could answer, Cecily cut in. “You’ll have to ring him again, I’m afraid. As well as P.C. Northcott.”

Baxter stared at her. “You want me to ring for a police constable?”

“Yes, Baxter. Tell them both there’s a dead body on the beach.” She turned to the colonel. “Whereabouts would you say it is, Colonel?”

The colonel waved his arm at the door. “Just a few yards down from the steps. Looked like it washed up from the ocean. Better tell them to hurry before the tide takes it out to sea again.”

Cecily felt sick as she watched her husband disappear back down the hallway leading to her office. She took a deep breath, telling herself that just because a body was on the beach didn’t mean that it had anything to do with the Pennyfoot. Even so, she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that there was a connection somewhere, and that sooner or later, she’d be in the thick of it.

She looked up as the front door opened and a slim woman with flowing black hair sailed in on a blast of wind, followed by two footmen carrying large boxes. Catching sight of the small group at the foot of the stairs, she floated toward them, bare toes peeking out of open mesh sandals beneath the hem of her billowing yellow skirt.

“Mercy, this is all we need,” Phoebe muttered, and tugged on her long gloves to cover her elbows.

Cecily greeted the newcomer with a wave of her hand. “Madeline! I forgot you were coming here today.”

“I brought the last of the decorations.” Madeline glanced at the bare branches of the tall Christmas tree standing in the corner. “I still have that tree and the one in the library to decorate.” She signaled with a wave of her hand, and the footmen placed the boxes at the foot of the tree, then disappeared out the door.

Cecily managed a wan smile. Madeline had been decorating the Pennyfoot for Christmas ever since it had originally opened as a hotel. Until she had married Dr. Kevin Prestwick, she had lived in a small cottage at the edge of the woods and handpicked the holly, mistletoe, and greenery that she used so abundantly.

An expert with herbs and flowers, she had often mixed potions to cure the local villagers of an array of ailments, and many a husband had benefited greatly from her passion potions, as she called them. Her skills went beyond the herbal remedies, however, and in many households, her unusual abilities had earned her a reputation of a witch.

Some feared her because of it, but those who made use of her talents were loath to question her methods. Since she had married Dr. Kevin Prestwick and become a mother, her standing in the village had improved dramatically. Most chose to ignore the mystery that surrounded the respected doctor’s wife, and that suited Madeline just fine.

Right now, she was gazing at Phoebe as if trying to read her mind. “You have had a nasty shock,” she said at last.

Phoebe raised her chin. “I had a small mishap, that’s all.” She peered up at the colonel, who was beaming at Madeline and paying no attention to his wife. “Frederick. I thought you were planning a visit to the bar.”

Hearing the magic word, the colonel shot a glance at Phoebe. “By Jove, old girl. You’re absolutely right. High time I toddled off. Cheerio!” Apparently happily dismissing everything that had happened earlier that afternoon, he headed for the hallway and vanished.

Phoebe fanned her face with her gloved hand. “I really would like to sit down. Preferably somewhere warm.”

“Of course.” Cecily glanced at Madeline. “We’ll go up to my suite. Would you care to join us?”

Madeline nodded at the Christmas tree. “I must get started on that tree. I promised little Angelina’s nanny I would be home for supper. Heaven knows when Kevin will be home.”

Cecily felt a little stab of guilt. “Goodness. I should have mentioned this before. Baxter is ringing Kevin right now. Phoebe and the colonel found a dead body on the beach. I imagine Kevin will be calling in here after he’s examined the body. No doubt Sam Northcott will be with him.”

Madeline had gone very still. Her dark eyes seemed to burn brightly in her face when she answered. “Oh dear. I’m afraid this means more trouble for you, Cecily.”

Cecily felt a tug of apprehension. “What do you mean?”

Phoebe clicked her tongue. “She’s off again. Pay no attention to her, Cecily. All that mumbo jumbo. She makes mountains out of molehills.”

Madeline turned her intense gaze on Phoebe. “I would hardly call a dead body a molehill.”

Phoebe had the grace to look uncomfortable. “Well, of course not. I merely meant that this couldn’t possibly have anything to do with Cecily. It’s a body that washed up on the beach. Heaven knows where it went in the ocean. It could have been way up north for all we know.” She shuddered. “It certainly looked as if it had been in the water awhile.”

Madeline appeared to ignore that. She turned back to Cecily, murmuring, “Be on your guard, Cecily. I could be wrong, but I have a feeling the Pennyfoot is involved somehow.”

Fully aware that Madeline’s “feelings” often transpired to be facts, Cecily’s fears intensified. “I certainly hope you are wrong.” She turned to Phoebe. “Come. We’ll go up to my suite and I’ll order some brandy. You still look pinched from the cold.”

Phoebe rubbed her arms. “I am frozen stiff. I need to discuss the preparations for the pantomime before I get started, anyway.”

Madeline drifted off toward the tree, and Cecily began climbing the stairs with Phoebe puffing behind her. Madeline’s words kept coming back to her.
The Pennyfoot is involved somehow.
Surely not, she thought, as she rounded the landing on the first floor and began to climb the second set of stairs. Not again.

Just a dead body on the beach. Phoebe was right. It could well have been a nasty accident, and the poor man could have fallen into the ocean anywhere.

Still, she wouldn’t relax until she heard from Kevin Prestwick that the death had nothing to do with the country club. And that news couldn’t come soon enough.

CHAPTER
2

There was rarely a quiet moment in the Pennyfoot’s kitchen. One only had to pause in the hallway outside to hear the clatter of dishes, the crashing of pans, the chopping of knives, and the raised voices of the harried staff struggling to keep things running smoothly.

Most of the racket could be attributed to Michel, the country club’s chef, who often displayed his displeasure by slinging his kitchenware around with as much gusto as he could muster. When fully aggravated, or after imbibing a generous amount of brandy, he would at times lose the French accent he’d spent years polishing, thus revealing his less than desirable origins, which is why he perfected the accent in the first place.

Right now he was voicing his irritation with a mixture of French words and the occasional Cockney curse.

Pansy Watson rolled her eyes as she pushed open the kitchen door and plunged into the pandemonium that usually prevailed in the busy hours before the evening meal was served.

Michel was at the enormous black stove, where pans bubbled and spit their contents onto the shiny surface. The delicious aroma of spiced goose and garden herbs was marred by the smell of burning gravy. The chef’s tall white hat bobbed up and down as he darted back and forth, brandishing a large wooden spoon and yelling words no gentleman would ever use.

Mrs. Chubb, the efficient cook/housekeeper, spared a moment from the pie pastry she was using to cover a plate of sliced apples and glared at the chef. “Michel, watch your tongue. We have young ladies in here.”

Michel swung around, dark eyes blazing. “
Ladeez?
I see no ladies. Kitchen staff, that’s what I see.
Non?
Where are the ladies?”

Mrs. Chubb dropped the pastry and folded her arms across her buxom bosom. “They are young girls, Michel, and do not need to hear filthy words coming out of your mouth.”

Pansy hunched her shoulders, braced for the explosion.

There was a long pause, while Michel glared at the housekeeper, anger smoldering in his thin face. Then he flung down his spoon, dragged off his hat, and threw it on the floor. “You do not like what I say? Then I go. You do not hear me anymore.
Au revoir
and bloody good riddance
.
” With that he shoved past Pansy and stormed out.

Gertie stood at the sink, her back to the housekeeper, as if paying no attention to the mayhem going on behind her.

Pansy could see her friend’s shoulders shaking, however, and knew she was trying to control her laughter.

The next moment Gertie turned and looked at Mrs. Chubb. “Now you’ve bleeding gone and done it.”

The housekeeper scowled. “He’ll be back. Meanwhile, Gertie McBride, what I said to him goes for you, too. Enough of that bad language. I won’t tolerate it in my kitchen.”

Seemingly unperturbed, Gertie shrugged. “You should be used to it by now. Everyone else flipping is.”

Mrs. Chubb opened her mouth to answer, then apparently thought better of it. “Get over to the stove,” she muttered, “and stir that gravy before we lose any more of it.”

Gertie wiped her hands on her apron and walked over to the stove.

Pansy jumped as the housekeeper turned to her. “What on earth are you standing there gawking at? Why aren’t you upstairs in the dining room? Aren’t you supposed to be laying the tables?”

“Yes, Mrs. Chubb.” Pansy glanced around the kitchen. “I came down to look for Lilly. She’s supposed to be helping me.”

“Well, she’s not here.” Mrs. Chubb spun around to look over at the dumbwaiter, where two maids stood loading china and silverware. “Where the blazes is she, then?”

“Oo,” Gertie said softly, “what language!”

Ignoring her, Mrs. Chubb turned back to Pansy. “Get back to the dining room. I’ll send someone to look for Lilly.”

“Yes, Mrs. Chubb.” Pansy turned away, then hesitated. She didn’t like tattling on someone, especially another maid, but she felt compelled to say something. Looking back at the housekeeper, she took a deep breath. “There’s something I’ve got to say about Lilly.”

The housekeeper’s stern expression did nothing to soothe Pansy’s anxiety. Stumbling over her words she added, “There’s something strange about her.”

Mrs. Chubb folded her arms again. Never a good sign. “What do you mean, strange?”

Pansy swallowed. “I mean, she’s really nervous. She jumps out of her skin every time I call out her name.”

“She’s new. Of course she’s nervous. Give her time. She’ll settle down.” Mrs. Chubb leaned forward. “Just like you did.”

“Yes, Mrs. Chubb.” About to turn away, Pansy hesitated again. “It’s just that, well, she says she grew up in an orphanage, and I grew up in one, too, so I know what it’s like, but when I asked her about different things, she didn’t seem to know nothing about it.”

“Per’aps she don’t want to talk about it,” Gertie said. “You don’t like talking about it, neither.”

“I know but . . . she just seems . . .” Pansy lifted her hands and let them drop again. “I dunno. I just hope she’s ready to take over my job by next week.”

Mrs. Chubb’s face softened. “For heaven’s sake, child, stop worrying about that. You’ve done a fine job in training her to take your place. You just worry about being ready for your wedding. We’ll take care of things here.”

Pansy felt the dreaded tears pricking her eyes. Every time she thought about leaving the Pennyfoot, she started to cry. She loved Samuel with all of her heart, and had yearned to be his wife for so long, but she’d seen how upset he was when he left to open his own business. Much as she looked forward to getting married, she dreaded the day she’d walk out of the Pennyfoot for the last time.

Afraid if she tried to speak she’d bawl, she gave Mrs. Chubb a quick nod and fled from the kitchen.

The housekeeper was right, she told herself as she tore up the stairs. Mrs. Chubb and Gertie would take care of Lilly and see that she did a good job. Still, she wished she didn’t have the feeling that something wasn’t quite right about the new maid.

All she could hope was that it wasn’t something that could cause trouble in the kitchen. The last thing she wanted was to leave problems behind because of her departing to get married. Thinking about the wedding cheered her up, however, and she was actually smiling as she headed for the dining room.

• • •

“I’m so excited about this year’s pantomime,” Phoebe declared, as she waited for Cecily to open the doors to the ballroom. “It’s the first time we’ve done
Dick Whittington and His Cat
. I can’t wait to see what Clive builds for the setting.”

Cecily paused with one hand on the door. “Phoebe, did you forget? Clive is no longer with us. He opened a toy shop in Wellercombe two months ago.”

Phoebe’s mouth dropped open and her eyes mirrored her distress. “Oh my, I did forget. We had to employ that new janitor—what’s his name?”

“Jacob Pinstone. I’m sure he’ll be able to satisfy your requirements. He seems quite capable, and after all, we don’t really need anything elaborate.”

Phoebe’s chin shot up, sending her hat rocking back and forth. “
Elaborate?
My dear Cecily, how could you have forgotten the marvelous ship that Clive built for
Peter Pan
, or the wonderful little stable he put up for last year’s Nativity play?” She shook her head, and the doves trembled. “Elaborate? How can I possibly replace him? The man is a genius. That Pinstone fellow is not nearly as accommodating. He’s quite surly, in fact. Are you quite sure he understood what I need for this presentation? He didn’t seem too bright to me.”

Fully aware of how much her former maintenance man was missed, Cecily pushed open the door with an impatient hand. “I explained to Jacob in great detail everything you told me you needed. I’m sure he’ll do his best. We’ll just have to manage somehow. We—” She broke off with a little gasp.

This was the first time she’d seen the ballroom since Madeline had worked her magic again. The spacious room had been turned into a Christmas wonderland. Madeline had hung huge boughs of holly and fragrant pine along the balcony. Wide swaths of red and green satin swooped along the walls, anchored in place by the cherubs that still clung to the pillars, having escaped the renovations when the hotel had been turned into a country club.

Long paper chains of red and gold crisscrossed below the ceiling, and garlands of holly framed every one of the tall, narrow windows. Glittering silver stars fell from the crystal chandeliers, slowly turning in the draft. Cecily couldn’t wait to see them reflecting the brilliance when the gaslights were lit that evening.

“Oh my goodness,” she murmured. “Madeline has outdone herself.”

Phoebe sent a cursory glance around and sniffed. “Yes, very nice. A little pretentious, though, don’t you think?”

Deciding it was time to change the subject, Cecily walked over to the stage. “Jacob has been working very hard and I’m quite certain you will be happy with the results.”

“Well, I hope he’s finished with everything by now. I’m holding a dress rehearsal here the day after tomorrow and we’ll need the settings onstage. Setting the pantomime a day earlier this year has upset my schedule. I just hope I can be ready on time.”

Cecily smiled. “I’m sure you will be. With Pansy’s wedding on Christmas Eve, we had to push everything else forward a day. It’s the only way we can fit everything in.”

“Well, if you ask me, I think Pansy could have picked a better time for her wedding. She must know how busy everyone is this time of year.”

Cecily secretly agreed with her friend, but wasn’t about to admit it. “Samuel made Pansy a promise that they would get married by this Christmas. It has taken him this long to get his business started, and he wanted that on solid ground before he took a wife.”

Phoebe shrugged. “Ah well, you always did treat your staff as though they were family. Personally I think you worry about them too much. You should be worrying about yourself, and how much extra work all this will put on you.”

“I’m happy to do it,” Cecily assured her, meaning every word. “We shall miss Pansy sorely, and we all want to give her the very best send-off we can manage. Holding her wedding reception here in the Pennyfoot has been a dream of hers since she first started working here, and we are all happy to give her that dream.”

“Well, I—” Phoebe broke off as Lilly appeared in the doorway, her eyes wide with apprehension.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, m’m.” She bent her knees in an awkward curtsey. “There’s two gentlemen to see you.” She slid her gaze sideways at Phoebe, then back again. “There’s a
constable
, m’m.”

She’d said it as if announcing the presence of the devil. Cecily felt a chill all the way down her back. Madeline’s words rang in her head.
I could be wrong, but I have a feeling the Pennyfoot is involved somehow.

“Thank you, Lilly,” she said, doing her best to sound unaffected by the news. “Please see the gentlemen into the library and tell them I’ll join them shortly.”

“Yes, m’m.” Looking worried, Lilly rushed off.

Phoebe sounded shaken when she spoke. “I suppose they’re here with regards to the dead body on the beach.”

Cecily nodded. “Sam Northcott will probably want to ask you and the colonel about what happened. Though, on second thought, it might be better if you talk to the constable alone. You know how confused the colonel can be at times. Especially after he’s visited the bar.”

Phoebe groaned. “I do, indeed. You’re quite right, Cecily. I shall speak to P.C. Northcott alone. Though I must confess, I’m rather dreading the idea.”

“I’ll be there with you,” Cecily said, leading her friend to the door. “Let us just hope that this whole tragic event can be dealt with quickly and quietly. The last thing we need is for our guests to hear of this.”

“Oh, I couldn’t agree more.” Phoebe shuddered. “I shall never forget the sight of that poor man all shriveled up and—”

“Phoebe!”

To Cecily’s relief Phoebe closed her mouth and didn’t speak again as they made their way to the library.

P.C. Northcott stood with his back to the fire when Cecily entered the room. His helmet lay on a chair close by. Kevin had seated himself, but jumped to his feet when the women appeared.