A Merry Murder Read online

  Charlotte, on the other hand, seemed more curious than disturbed by the sight of the motionless body on the floor. Sturdier in build than her companion, she was also made of sterner stuff. More like Gertie’s indomitable spirit. Cecily had often thought that Gertie and Charlotte made an excellent pair together.

  “We heard you had a dead body in here, m’m,” Charlotte said as she bent her knees in a quick curtsey.

  Lilly shuddered, and edged sideways behind the other maid.

  “Do either of you two recognize the bloke?” Northcott demanded.

  Lilly muttered, “Do I have to look at him?”

  Charlotte moved closer to the victim and stared down at his face. “Yeah, I’ve seen him in the card rooms. I heard the other players calling him Percy, but I don’t know his other name. He’s not staying here at the Pennyfoot. I do know that.”

  “What?” Baxter’s eyebrows had furrowed in annoyance. “Then how the blazes did he get into the card rooms? They are off-limits to everyone except our guests.”

  Cecily sighed. Since they had changed the Pennyfoot from a country club back into a hotel, they were once more governed by the rules that forbade organized gambling of any sort on the premises. The games, however, were an integral feature of the hotel, and were one of the main reasons the Pennyfoot’s guest rooms were filled practically all year round—unlike many of the other hotels that chose to obey the laws and therefore avoid risking closure of the premises.

  The card rooms had long been a bone of contention between Cecily and her husband. An extension of the wine cellars beneath the floors of the hotel, the rooms had originally been accessed by a trapdoor in the hallway outside the ballroom.

  When the hotel had become a country club, gambling was allowed on the premises, and the secret rooms were no longer necessary and were boarded up, until the Pennyfoot had once more been reestablished as a hotel.

  Baxter had reluctantly agreed to allow the original rooms to be reopened as long as they were kept a strict secret to the outside world, and as long as they were not at risk of being discovered by the constabulary.

  Unfortunately, P.C. Northcott had accidentally learned of their existence. He’d been sworn to secrecy, bribed by a constant flow of pastries and other such treats from Mrs. Chubb. It did not bode well to keep reminding him of the presence of the card rooms, however, since Northcott could not be trusted to avoid inadvertently blurting out mention of them in front of Detective Inspector Cranshaw.

  The peevish inspector would be overjoyed to find an excuse to shut down the Pennyfoot, since he had long suspected that there were nefarious goings-on in the hotel, but so far had been unable to prove it.

  Baxter seemed to realize his error, as he glared at Charlotte. The maid, however, was not looking at him. She seemed mesmerized by the body lying in front of her and blithely announced, “It must have been Mazie that got him into the games. I saw her in the ballroom with him when no one was there. They were having a bit of fun.” She looked at Baxter and winked. “If you know what I mean.”

  Baxter looked horrified, and, clearly embarrassed, Northcott cleared his throat.

  Deciding it was time to intervene, Cecily said hastily, “I think we should have a talk with Mazie. Charlotte, please find her and send her here at once. Lilly, you can return to your duties, and please, both of you, do not mention anything that you have seen or heard here to anyone. I’d like to keep this from the guests for as long as possible. At least until we have identified the man. We don’t want to have a family member learn the tragic news in the form of gossip.”

  “Yes, m’m.” Lilly lunged for the door, obviously desperate to get away from the ghastly scene, while Charlotte followed more slowly.

  Cecily waited until the door closed behind them before turning to Northcott. “Sam, I would like to talk to Mazie in private before you question her, if that’s acceptable to you?”

  The constable folded his arms and rocked back on his heels. “Well, now, Mrs. Baxter, I don’t think as how I can allow that. There are laws, you know.”

  “Oh, come now,” Baxter said, his voice harsh with irritation. “I’m sure there’s a law forbidding the acceptance of free refreshments from the kitchen, but you don’t appear to have any misgivings about breaking that one.”

  Northcott visibly bristled. “It’s not polite to refuse something that’s offered in kindness. Then again, you probably wouldn’t know about that.”

  “Gentlemen!” Cecily held up her hand, about to utter a rebuke, but at that moment another tap on the door heralded the arrival of the footmen.

  Dr. Prestwick, who had remained a silent, if not exactly disinterested, observer for the past several minutes, now spoke up. “I must remove the body to my offices, where I shall conduct an autopsy.” He looked at the constable. “You, sir, will have my report in the morning.” He turned to Cecily. “I am sorry you have another unfortunate incident on your hands. I sincerely hope it will not disrupt your Christmas festivities.”

  “You should all be flipping used to it by now,” Northcott muttered.

  Baxter looked about ready to explode, and once more, Cecily had to step in.

  After a warning glance at her husband, she turned to the doctor. “Thank you, Kevin. I shall see that you are informed of the identity of the deceased.”

  “Once your maid has told us who he is and what happened.” Northcott fumbled in his chest pocket and finally withdrew a notebook.

  Dr. Prestwick nodded his thanks, then directed the footmen to lift the body from the floor and carry it outside.

  “I should like to accompany you,” Cecily said as the doctor opened the door for the footmen and their burden. “I don’t want our guests to see the body. If you don’t mind, I would rather you leave by the back door, which means passing through the kitchen. I need to prepare the staff, however, before you do so.”

  The doctor appeared taken aback, while the footmen exchanged skeptical glances.

  Baxter looked as if he were about to have heart failure. “Through the kitchen?” He apparently struggled to keep his voice down. “With all that food lying around?”

  “He doesn’t have the plague,” Cecily said crisply. “It’s preferable to upsetting our guests. She looked at the constable. “Please, allow me to speak with my maid before you arrest her. Perhaps you would like to accompany us to the kitchen. I’m sure Mrs. Chubb will have something sweet and delectable to offer you.”

  Northcott licked his lips. “In that case, Mrs. B, I will be happy to escort you to the kitchen. I s’pose I can spare you a minute or two to talk to your servant.”

  “Thank you, Sam. I appreciate that.” She looked at Baxter. “Please keep Mazie here until I return. I shan’t be but a moment.”

  Baxter sighed. “Very well.”

  Cecily stepped into the hallway ahead of the footmen and led the way down the hall to the kitchen. Pausing at the door, she said quietly, “Wait here until I alert the staff. I shall only be a moment.”

  As she walked into the spacious room, the steamy warmth seemed to fold around her like a blanket. The spicy fragrance of plum puddings baking in the oven made her mouth water. A large platter of freshly baked mince pies sat cooling on the side dresser, and she had a strong urge to trot over there and help herself.

  Mrs. Chubb stood at the heavy scrubbed wood table, one hand brandishing a rolling pin, the other brushing flour from her ample bosom. She stared at Cecily, obviously taken aback to see madam appear unannounced. Gertie and Lilly swung around from the sinks when Cecily made her announcement.

  “I’m sure you know by now that an unfortunate incident has occurred.”

  Gertie’s cheeks turned pink, but she managed to hold on to an air of innocence as Mrs. Chubb murmured something unintelligible.

  Cecily had no illusions about her chief housemaid’s ability to refrain from blurting out the news to the kitc
hen staff. They, on the other hand, would not betray their friend, and indeed, everyone in the room gaped at Cecily as if they had not the slightest idea what she was talking about.

  Michel had lifted a wooden spoon from the pot of soup he’d been stirring, and brown drops of liquid fell to the floor as he waved it at her. “What has happened, madam? It eez not good news, oui?”

  “I’m afraid the news is not good,” Cecily confirmed. “A gentleman has died, and we need to remove him from the premises with as much discretion as possible. Therefore, I have asked the footmen to carry him through here to the back door. Please open it for them, Gertie.”

  “Yes, m’m.” Gertie rushed over to the door and flung it wide open, letting in a blast of cold, damp air from outside.

  Michel quickly turned and slapped a lid on his pot of soup, while Mrs. Chubb shielded her pastry from anything that might blow in from the yard.

  Lilly had turned her back on everyone, apparently determined not to set eyes on the horrible sight again.

  Cecily beckoned to the footmen and they carried the body across the floor, past the shuddering housekeeper and a stone-faced Michel, while Gertie couldn’t resist casting a glance at the victim before he was swept into the yard.

  Northcott had followed the procession into the kitchen with his helmet tucked under his arm, and was now waiting with his tongue practically hanging out of his mouth in anticipation of his promised treat.

  Cecily watched Gertie close the door again before saying, “I want to remind all of you how crucial it is that we do not spread the word about what has happened. Until we know the identity of the gentleman and have informed his family, this incident must remain a tightly held secret. Do I have your word, everyone?”

  She looked directly at Gertie, who gave her a lopsided grin. “Yes, m’m.” The housemaid drew her fingers across her mouth. “Mum’s the word.”

  The rest of the staff murmured their assent, and only slightly reassured, Cecily glanced at the constable.

  He nodded at her, then smiled at Mrs. Chubb. “Mrs. B said as how you might have a tasty morsel or two for me.”

  His bulging eyes stared at the plate of mince pies, and the housekeeper briefly glanced at Cecily for confirmation, then headed over to the dresser.

  Knowing that Northcott would not dawdle for long in the kitchen, Cecily hurried back down the hallway. She needed to talk to Mazie. The sooner they discovered the name of the dead man and informed his family, the better.

  Opening the door to the laundry room, she stepped inside. Baxter stood by the window, his face a mask of gloom. One look at him and Cecily’s spirits sank even further. All was not well.

  Charlotte stood close by, biting her lip—a sure sign that she was about to deliver bad news.

  Cecily looked at her husband. “What’s happened?”

  Baxter turned to Charlotte. “You might as well tell madam the news.”

  Cecily took a deep breath. “All right, Charlotte. What is it?”

  Charlotte dipped a curtsey, muttering, “I’m sorry, m’m. I couldn’t find Mazie anywhere so I went to her room. She wasn’t there. Nor were her clothes. She’s gone, m’m. Packed up everything and left.”

  Cecily puffed the breath out of her lungs. “I see. Then we shall have to find her. I’ll send someone to her family’s home. Perhaps she went there.”

  “Yes, m’m.”

  “You can go, Charlotte. Please do not say anything to anybody until we have found out exactly what happened here.”

  “No, m’m. I mean, yes, m’m.” Looking flustered, Charlotte charged out the door, slamming it shut behind her.

  The minute it closed, Baxter burst out, “What in blazes was Mazie thinking of when she got involved with that man? He had to be old enough to be her father.”

  Cecily sighed. “Judging from his clothes, he was obviously a man of means. When you’re young, impressionable, and poor, a man like that paying attention to you is hard to resist.”

  Baxter fixed her with one of his looks. “I sincerely hope you are not speaking from experience.”

  Cecily smiled. “I was young and impressionable once, but I assure you, when I met my first husband, it wasn’t his money I was interested in.”

  “Ah, yes.” Baxter nodded. “I remember.” His expression softened. “James Sinclair was a good man.”

  “He was indeed.” She crossed the room and tucked her hand under his elbow. “My present husband is also a good man whom I dearly love and respect and whom, as I recall, had no great fortune when I agreed to marry him.”

  A patch of red spread across Baxter’s cheeks. “I was well established in a profitable business when I proposed to you.”

  Cecily laughed. “You were, my love. But I would have married you if you had been as poor as a church mouse. There are more important things than money to make a marriage as joyful and fulfilling as ours. Now, do you think you could check on today’s reservations with Philip while I talk to Sam and find out what he intends to do about Mazie?”

  Baxter dropped a swift kiss on her cheek. “As you wish, my dear. Though must I talk to Philip? The man is a doddering old fool who can’t find his nose to put on his glasses. I don’t know why you keep him behind that reception desk. Our new guests must wonder what kind of establishment they’ve wandered into when they arrive.”

  Cecily withdrew her hand to pat his shoulder. “Philip might be old and somewhat confused at times, but despite what you think, he’s quite wonderful when he’s greeting the guests and he does keep a good hand on the reservations. The guests like him and so do I.”

  “You feel sorry for him.” Baxter walked with her to the door. “He’s all alone and would be lost without this job.”

  “That, too.” She waited for him to open the door. “But most of the Pennyfoot staff have been hired because they need us more than we need them. That’s why we have the most loyal, dedicated, and devoted people working for us.”

  Baxter followed her out into the hallway. “You are quite right, of course, my sweet. After all, that was the reason we hired Mazie. Now, I shall brace myself for my consultation with Philip and allow you time to speak with that idiot policeman.” He shook his head. “I still can’t believe that child is capable of taking a man’s life. It just goes to show one never truly knows another person, no matter how well they are acquainted.”

  “So true.” She waved him on, and he climbed the stairs ahead of her to the lobby. Poor Baxter, she thought as she pushed open the kitchen door. He usually took his time in learning to trust someone, but despite his caution, now and then someone he cared about betrayed him, and it cut him deeply.

  She was well aware that he’d had an instant vulnerability where Mazie was concerned. The girl had appeared downtrodden and defenseless, and although she had not admitted as much, Cecily was convinced Mazie had simply been kicked out of the family home because her parents could no longer support her and her five siblings.

  Normally Baxter left the hiring decisions to his wife, though at times he was not above offering his opinion. In Mazie’s case, the child had apparently touched a nerve. Having never had children of his own, Cecily suspected that Mazie had stirred Baxter’s paternal instincts.

  When she had demurred about hiring Mazie, hesitant that the young girl could handle the work, Baxter had sprung to Mazie’s defense. He’d reminded Cecily of Gertie’s inexperience and lack of decorum when she had first arrived on the hotel’s doorstep. He’d suggested they give Mazie a chance, and Cecily had agreed, having already assured herself that she could not turn way such a fragile human being.

  The aroma in the kitchen once more teased her appetite, momentarily banishing her concerns. The sight of P.C. Northcott munching on a delicious mince pie reminded her how long it had been since she and her husband had enjoyed breakfast.

  She raised a hand to get the constable’s attention, just
as Mrs. Chubb declared, “My goodness, m’m, it’s way past your mealtime. I’ll have something sent up to your suite right away. Unless you’d rather eat in the dining room? We’ll be starting to serve the midday meal in an hour.”

  “Baxter and I will take our meal in our suite, Mrs. Chubb. Thank you.” She looked at Northcott. “If you are ready, Sam? I need to speak with you.”

  “Yes, Mrs. B. Right away, m’m.” Northcott swallowed the last of his mince pie, smacked his lips, and gave Mrs. Chubb a hearty slap on the shoulder that made her wince. “Best mince pies in all of Merry Old England, luv.”

  Cecily held her breath, but it seemed that the compliment outweighed the heavy hand and the somewhat impertinent appellation. Mrs. Chubb gave the constable a stiff smile and moved out of harm’s way.

  “In my office, Sam.” Cecily glanced at the housekeeper. “I shall only be a moment, Mrs. Chubb. I will return to my suite shortly.”

  “Yes, m’m. I’ll have the meals sent up right away.” Mrs. Chubb turned to Gertie, who was loitering by the pantry, apparently waiting for her orders. “Take a tray up to madam’s suite, Gertie, and be quick about it.”

  Satisfied that her next meal was taken care of, Cecily led the constable to her office.

  No matter what problems were evolving in the hotel, she always felt a sense of peace when entering the room. This was her sanctuary, a place where she could spend a few minutes of her busy schedule alone, to reflect on the day’s activities. She made most of her important decisions seated behind her desk and, when the necessity arose, solved many a complicated conundrum.

  Here in this room, with its soft gray carpeting, the pale blue curtains at the lofty window, and the comfortable blue velvet armchair, she could free her mind of everyday distractions and concentrate on the matter at hand.

  Which, right now, was the disappearance of her newest employee and the child’s apparent hand in a brutal murder.

  Sam, as usual, barely waited for Cecily to seat herself at her desk before depositing his chubby body onto the armchair. Laying his helmet on the table beside him, he said gruffly, “So where’s the ’orrible maid what did that poor bugger in?”