Mystery by the Sea: An utterly addictive English cozy mystery (A Lady Eleanor Swift Mystery Book 5)

by Verity Bright

  The porter shook his head with a grim expression. ‘I’m pretty sure it was something else. He fair shot up the stairs and that was the last I sees of him. Didn’t clap eyes on him on Sunday night, but then I had a spot of trouble filling me Thermos for the night so I might have missed him if he came in before eleven. And then come Monday morning, well…’ He shrugged.

  Clifford refilled their glasses. ‘Painshill aside, you must be privy to a few odd things in your job.’ He lowered his voice. ‘I always imagined in every hotel that any guest trying to sneak in a little worse for wear, or perhaps with an… extra companion, would try to befriend the night porter. You know, as a much-needed ally.’

  The porter shook his head again, but failed to cover up the smile that sprang to his face. ‘This is the Grand, Mr Clifford. I think the cost of the rooms is designed to keep out those who don’t know how to behave.’

  ‘What about the night Mr Painshill died in 204?’

  ‘Never saw a soul.’ His face clouded as his hand went to his inside pocket. ‘Honest.’

  Seventeen

  Thankful that the wild weather of the previous night had been replaced by another day of bright sunshine and relatively clear blue sky, Eleanor slipped off Gladstone’s lead to let him scamper down the beach, which was dotted with driftwood and empty indigo razor clam shells caught in the long brown fingers of patches of waxy kelp. He lolloped along until a scent pulled him to a jerky stop, upon which he started digging frantically.

  Stooping to pick up an irresistibly bright pebble of fine-grained red sandstone, she chuckled at his exuberance. ‘If he’s daft enough to chase another seagull into the waves, Clifford, it’ll be my turn to wade in and rescue him. No arguments. You definitely earned your lifeguard badge the other day.’

  ‘Fortunately for all his woolly-headed foibles, my lady, Master Gladstone has proven on occasions he is not entirely without sense. I believe the shock was a sufficiently sharp lesson not to repeat the folly of trying to outwit a creature designed to be at sea.’

  Eleanor pointed to the bulldog’s half-buried body, arcs of sand showering into a ridge along his back as he created a crater around him. ‘Are you sure?’

  At that moment Gladstone pulled his head out of the hole, triumphantly swinging a leather sports shoe by the soggy laces.

  Clifford tutted. ‘It appears I was indeed significantly over generous in my estimation, my lady.’

  As they continued along the almost deserted beach, Eleanor shoved her hands in the pockets of her olive-green wool jacket and fell into deep thought. Too many muddled questions were running round her head for her to even begin to articulate. Snatches of the various conversations over the last few days jumbled in and out, raucously vying for her focus.

  Surely something should have leapt out at you by now, Ellie? This is Hilary we’re talking about. Your Hilary. You must be able to work this out. But what on earth was he doing here? More to the point, what was he mixed up in that was so bad it got him killed? Oh, Ellie, you’ll never learn, you’re still clinging to that vain hope he loved you. Yes, but might he have… once?

  ‘You are already eating one, my lady?’ Clifford’s voice cut into her inner argument.

  ‘What?’ She looked down and took her hand from the paper bag of sweets he held. ‘Oh sorry, I might have disappeared into my head for a moment.’

  He nodded towards the esplanade. ‘I suggest that we avail ourselves of one of those beach huts and make use of this.’ He pulled her notebook from his inside coat pocket. ‘If that meets with your approval, of course?’

  Not surprisingly, given the still low temperature and dearth of tourists, the row of twenty wooden huts were as deserted as the beach itself. Eleanor climbed up the five short steps of the dark-blue hut, holding the smart white-painted rail.

  ‘Aren’t we supposed to pay someone to use these?’

  He joined her. ‘No doubt an attendant will appear in due course.’

  ‘Ooh look, it’s perfect, there’s two deckchairs here against the wall.’ She grabbed the nearest one and yanked on the wooden arms. ‘Dash it, why are these things so complicated?’

  Having helped Gladstone up the steps, Clifford took the chair and with a deft twist of his wrist, snapped it open. He pulled out a large white handkerchief and dusted it down before presenting the chair to Eleanor. She sat, well aware from the look on his face that whatever liberties he might be forced to take elsewhere, he would not sit with her in such public view.

  ‘Right, let’s begin with our chat with the night porter. Did you believe him when he said Hilary looked shaken in the lobby?’

  ‘Absolutely. Perhaps it is not surprising that he observed some perturbation in Mr Eden’s demeanour given—’

  ‘He was then murdered?’

  ‘Yes, my lady. But you would receive a different reply were you to ask me if I believed Mr Johnson when he told me no one else had come or gone that night.’

  Eleanor looked up sharply from her notebook. ‘Really? I didn’t pick up on that. She tapped the pen on her chin. ‘Interesting. Well, we’ll have to find out more as soon as we can. As to who among our suspects might be the “ghost” that spooked poor Hilary? If the night porter didn’t see who it was, I doubt we’ll be able to discover more. My money’s on Longley. As I said, I’m pretty sure he was the rogue who forced us into the car at gunpoint as well.’

  ‘Despite the man’s denial, I have also come to the same conclusion, my lady. The bruising on his nose seems to clinch it, although when we have the opportunity to see if his cousin’s nose is also bruised, we can be more conclusive.’

  ‘Good point.’ She scribbled in her notebook. ‘Longley certainly has a bad enough attitude.’

  ‘I agree, my lady. To my mind, Mr Longley was also most unconvincing about why he and his companion are here in Brighton.’

  ‘I know, all that rubbish about holidays and card playing. And equally so about them being cousins. I know family members can differ, but really such a height variation? Longley is easily a foot taller.’

  ‘Malnutrition as a child. A congenital condition of the growth plates in the long bones. One parent of significantly reduced stature. All potential explanations.’

  ‘We’ll see. But if his nose is black and blue, I shan’t care who he is. We should go to Grimsdale and tell him they tried to kidnap us.’

  ‘And how shall we explain that we did not report the attempt at the time?’ He scanned her face as he continued. ‘And how shall we avoid further scrutiny which might result in your half of the photograph being taken away from you?’

  She caught her breath. ‘No, Clifford! That’s all I have from Hilary. And it’s not much of a memento as it is. My own wedding photograph sliced in two.’

  ‘I wish I could say otherwise, my lady.’ He ran his finger around his collar.

  ‘Alright, Clifford, what is it?’

  He coughed gently, and she groaned.

  ‘I know, I know. Thank you for your discretion. However, we do indeed need to discuss Longley’s assertion that Miss Summers was in Hilary’s room the night he was murdered, which was a very unseemly time for her to be there.’

  ‘Perhaps the lady knew Mr Eden in a perfectly innocent capacity, such as a business one?’

  ‘Well, she certainly looks like she means business, don’t you think?’ Eleanor muttered uncharitably.

  What Clifford thought she never discovered as his reply was interrupted by a piercing scream.

  Eighteen

  Clifford stepped outside, and then hurriedly stepped back in.

  Eleanor stared at her butler. ‘Clifford, don’t just stand there. Someone might need our help!’

  Uncharacteristically, he stayed where he was. ‘I am sorry, my lady, but I fear they are beyond help.’

  Eleanor gasped. ‘Whatever do you mean? Who is it?’

  He pursed his lips. ‘Regrettably, it is… the ladies.’

  She gaped at him, then understanding dawned and her face broke int
o a smile. ‘Oh, I see. Well let’s go and say hello.’ At his look of horror, she hissed, ‘What?’

  He swallowed hard. ‘The three of them appear to be dressed only in… bathing suits.’

  Eleanor leaned past him and peeped round the side of the hut. ‘Oh, Clifford, they are having such fun!’ She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight of the three of them decked out in what was clearly the work of her housekeeper, who was an adept seamstress. In blue, green and pink gingham, their swimsuits sported sweetheart neck lines running down to a bibbed front and frilled shorts that finished mid thigh. She could see why Clifford refused to join them, as the ladies daringly also sported bare arms as well as legs.

  Clifford winced as more ear-piercing screams rang out. He hung firmly on to Gladstone’s collar, the bulldog straining to join the ladies on the beach. Mrs Butters’ voice could be heard clearly above the screams of the other two.

  ‘Trotters! This is positively the last time I ever enter into a bet with you!’

  ‘I told you,’ Mrs Trotman shouted back as she grabbed Polly’s hand and gestured for her to do the same with Mrs Butters. ‘’Twas you who made us bathing suits when we were getting excited about coming here all those weeks ago! In truth, I think you just fancied parading your wares on the beach, Butters!’

  ‘I only made them to humour you into thinking I would take up your silly bet, Trotters!’ Mrs Butters yelled back as they reached the edge of the freezing March waves. Despite the sun, it would take many more months before the sea warmed up enough for any, except the foolhardy and brave, to risk its chilly waters.

  Clifford coughed. ‘My lady, I am exceedingly sorry but I am entirely unable to intervene given the state of… undress the ladies are in.’

  ‘Good!’ She snuck another peek at the ladies who were now knee-deep in the sea, their squeals louder than ever at the biting cold water. She turned back to him. ‘From this point forward, you are under strict instructions to allow them to be as mischievous as they wish whilst they are down here in Brighton. This is their one chance to let their hair down.’

  He sniffed. ‘And their standards, it would seem.’

  She tilted her head. ‘I suggest we discreetly leave the ladies to their fabulously disgraceful behaviour and continue our conversation back at the hotel.’

  As they stepped inside the lobby of the Grand, Eleanor nodded towards Miss Summers who was exiting the lift. ‘I think I’d better deal with her first. It’s eating me up to leave the question of what she was doing in Hilary’s room unanswered any longer, assuming Longley was telling the truth about seeing her.’ She lowered her voice. ‘You have been far too gallant to mention the thought that I know has struck you too. Namely that if she was a paramour of Hilary’s, she may have been carrying on with him before we married, and may be the very reason he left me.’

  He nodded. ‘If that proves to be the case, my lady, do not worry. I shall arrive at the police station with sufficient bail money.’

  With her heart pounding and her cheeks flushed, Eleanor made a poor job of being discreet in trailing Miss Summers through the lobby. And an even worse job down the long richly carpeted corridor towards the Regent Room. Watching Miss Summers’ rear view wiggle in pale-blue high heels, incongruous with the reserved black suit she wore, made Eleanor’s blood pressure rise. Keep it together, Ellie. You said it yourself, Hilary was free to do as he chose. But her heart countered this instantly. Not while you were married to him, he wasn’t!

  At the door into the Regent Room, Eleanor paused, watching the woman thread her way through the mostly empty tables to the far end of the room. Having chosen a rather over-decorative cocktail, she wandered to the nearest table and sat down. Eleanor nodded to herself and strode over, gesturing to the barman that she would have the same.

  ‘Well, fancy meeting you here, Miss Summers. Mind if I join you?’ She sat down without waiting for a reply.

  ‘Excuse me?’ The other woman frowned. ‘I don’t remember us meeting.’

  ‘Good memory, we haven’t.’

  ‘Then why did you say “fancy meeting you here”?’

  ‘Because you were staring at me so insistently at breakfast the other day, I assumed we must have met.’

  ‘I wasn’t staring. I was… reading my book.’

  For a moment, Eleanor was taken by surprise at the softness of the woman’s voice. And the baby blue of her eyes. There was none of the hard edge she had expected to see in her features up close. Rather, she gave off an air of vulnerability. Despite this, Eleanor continued to stare unblinkingly at her.

  ‘Ah, thank you.’ Eleanor took her drink from the waiter.

  After a minute, the woman shuffled in her seat. ‘Alright, I was staring. I was admiring your Titian red curls if you must know. They’re very striking,’ she ended grudgingly.

  Eleanor eyed her suspiciously, unsure how genuine the woman was. She mentally shook her head. Who knows, Ellie? All you can do is put it out there and see what she says. She leaned back in her chair. ‘You know, I didn’t have you down as the type of girl who dallied in gentleman’s rooms at unseemly hours.’

  The woman inhaled sharply. ‘How dare you!’ She glanced around the room. ‘Do you usually latch onto some poor unsuspecting stranger without an invitation and then proceed to insult them?’

  Eleanor looked up at the ceiling as if giving this deep consideration. ‘Only when it is warranted. But my apologies, Miss Summers. Of course I wasn’t trying to insult you. That was meant to be helpful advice.’

  ‘I don’t see how!’

  Eleanor leaned in. ‘Well, if the other guests are talking about your… indelicate behaviour, I just thought you’d like to know. It might help you be more discreet next time.’

  Miss Summers pulled back and fiddled with her skirt. ‘Well, it’s rubbish. I haven’t been anywhere near a man’s room.’

  Eleanor said nothing, letting the silence between them unnerve the woman even further.

  ‘Not that it is any of your business if I had,’ Miss Summers said snappily.

  ‘Ah, but you see, Miss Summers, I do need to disagree with you there. Because the man in question was…’ She paused and smiled sweetly at the woman. ‘My husband.’

  The other woman blinked several times as she stared down at the ivory linen tablecloth.

  ‘And,’ Eleanor continued, ‘somebody made me a widow only a few hours before I arrived here.’

  When she finally replied, the woman’s voice was quieter, weaker. ‘My condolences, of course. Losing someone special hurts more than you think you can bear, I know.’ She looked up and held Eleanor’s gaze. ‘But I hope it eases your distress a little if I assure you that I was not acquainted with your husband. At all.’

  Eleanor failed to keep the anger from her voice. ‘And yet, Miss Summers, you were seen entering his room on the night he died!’

  The woman looked shocked, but then regained her composure. She stared at Eleanor coldly. ‘Whoever you’ve been speaking to must have muddled me with another female guest.’

  Eleanor scoffed as she waved her arm around the room. ‘You and I are the only female guests here, apart from those elderly sisters. And no one is going to mistake your curves for my lack of them.’

  The woman shrugged her shoulders and rose to leave.

  Eleanor rose too and blocked her path. ‘Wait! Tell me, why are you here?’

  The woman glared at her. ‘If you must know, I am in Brighton to hawk myself round to prospective employers. I’m not one of the privileged ones. You see, no one left me a fortune and a country estate!’

  With that, the woman strode around Eleanor and out of the bar.

  As she left as well, Eleanor nodded to herself. That woman may, or may not, have known Hilary. But, Ellie, she certainly knows a lot about you!

  Nineteen

  ‘Well, I couldn’t find him anywhere all afternoon.’ Eleanor pulled her emerald-green beaded shawl around her shoulders. Clifford nodded to the doorman and stepped back
to let Eleanor pass through into the unseasonably warm lamp-lit evening.

  ‘He certainly hasn’t checked out, my lady. Thomas confirmed that when I made this evening’s arrangements for Master Gladstone. The staff haven’t seen the gentleman since he took an early lunch. Thomas also mentioned that Detective Inspector Grimsdale has given the manager strict instructions. If any of the guests who were here during Mr Eden’s stay try to check out, they are to restrain them from leaving and call him immediately.’

  ‘And yet we are all able to come and go around the town as we please, although I’ve noticed a number of policemen patrolling the promenade outside the hotel.’ She tipped her head. ‘Our murderer could easily have escaped by now.’

  ‘True, but until one of them is in possession of the item they seek, it seems unlikely they will. Unless, of course, one of them already has the item but is afraid that leaving would definitely draw the police upon them.’

  ‘Dash it, where have you gone, Mr de Meyer?’ she muttered, looking for his telltale Savile Row suit. He checked in after Hilary, Ellie, so he’s a suspect until proven otherwise! She gave up and shook her head. ‘Let’s forget Mr de Meyer for now, Clifford. Murder or no murder, this is still our holiday. The ladies will be waiting for us. And I can only imagine how excited they will be, so we keep to our promise – no hint that we’re in the middle of any ugly business, agreed?’

  ‘Agreed.’

  Even before they reached the first of the ornate scrollwork arches of the long ice-cream-pink Hippodrome Theatre, they heard the ladies’ voices trilling out along the pavement.

  ‘There they are!’ Mrs Butters waved, while Polly clapped her hands and Mrs Trotman beamed them a smile.

  ‘Good evening, ladies. Have you behaved yourselves today?’ Clifford asked, his deadpan face concealing the mischievousness of his question. Eleanor barely hid the grin that sprung up at the memory of them in their bathing suits.