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

by Verity Bright

  ‘Hilarious!’ she snapped back, trying to blink away the instant hot tears that pricked her eyelids. ‘And you knew he was here, how?’

  ‘Because we spent the last five and a half years tracking him down, night and day. Thought he was just trying to get away from us, and the others, when we found out he was sailing for England. But when we followed him and he ended up in Brighton, well,’ – he nodded slowly – ‘it all made sense.’

  She stared at him, needing to take control of the conversation, but a part of her brain was telling her she was missing something. Randomly, she asked, ‘So, why did you kill Blunt?’

  Longley’s fists clenched. ‘I didn’t kill Bert. He was my business partner for over ten years. You think in my game you can afford to do in someone who’s had your back and never double-crossed you in that long? I was with him only half an hour before he died. We’d gone over our plans for tomorrow and he said he’d a couple of things to do. He promised to meet me in the bar once he’d had a shave and changed. I went downstairs and ordered a drink. Next thing, he was lying all mangled on the ground.’

  He sounded genuine this time, but she knew from bitter experience how convincing liars could be. ‘Did you take the lift, or the stairs?’

  His eyes looked at her mockingly. ‘The stairs.’

  ‘Strange that someone you worked with for ten years you only thought of as your partner, not your friend.’

  He laughed grimly. ‘It don’t do to have friends in my line of work. Look, lady, I ain’t taken in by your posh frock, fancy title and this suited monkey you tow with you everywhere you go. You’re here to collect on the deal that I should be collecting on. I saw you on the pier the other night, talking with that other snake. I’m beginning to think that maybe you killed your husband. And Bert.’ He opened the door a crack and glanced up and down the corridor, before turning back to her. ‘Make no mistake, I’ll be seeing you soon.’ The door closed silently behind him.

  Thirty-One

  ‘Ah, there you are, Thomas,’ Eleanor heard Clifford say as she leaned against the wall further down the corridor. ‘The lady is eternally grateful. She has, however, as you so shrewdly predicted, exhausted herself.’

  The sound of the key turning in the lock was followed by a ‘Delighted to have been of service to the lady. Oh, most generous, Mr Clifford.’ Muffled footsteps followed, running down the carpeted stairs.

  Clifford caught up with Eleanor as she waited by the lift.

  ‘Dash it, Clifford. Now with Blunt’s death, this case is galloping away from us at a horrifying rate.’ She let out a frustrated huff. ‘How can anyone imagine Blunt accidentally fell from a balcony guarded by a rail that was too high for him to have toppled over without standing on something?’

  ‘On account of the powerful smell of alcohol on Mr Blunt’s breath leading the manager, and police, to believe Mr Blunt was intoxicated?’

  ‘Well, if he was, I don’t think it was self-inflicted. We have to find out what is in that bottle you’ve got secreted in your jacket.’

  ‘There is a further reason that Mr Blunt’s death is being dealt with in such a swift manner.’

  ‘The owners of the hotel want it hushed up again, I suppose?’

  ‘The edict has come from higher up this time, my lady. The Mayor of Brighton himself has made it abundantly clear that there shall be no scandal surrounding recent events at the Grand.’

  ‘Hmm. Protecting his precious tourist season.’

  ‘But even more so, the rare visit of a most important dignitary. A royal one, to be precise. Thomas informed me that the manager told the staff that the visit will be cancelled if so much as a whiff of embarrassment for Brighton gets to the newspapers.’

  ‘And yet two men have been killed.’ She rubbed her hands over her cheeks. ‘If we can find who murdered Blunt, maybe it will lead to Hilary’s killer. It still seems most likely it was the same person, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘I would, my lady. As the clues in the case of Mr Blunt’s murder are fresh in our minds, perhaps we should quickly review those. And, then, Mr Eden’s in the hope that something that has eluded us to this point leaps out?’

  ‘Good plan, Clifford.’

  He nodded. ‘I noted from Mr Blunt’s balcony that the conservatory was vacant.’

  In the conservatory Eleanor pulled out her notebook. ‘Right. A new timeline is needed.’ She took the pen Clifford held out to her and turned to a clean page. The nib flew across the paper.

  Hilary’s Death (between 10.30 p.m. – 2.30 a.m. according to coroner)

  9.30 p.m. – Summers seen by Longley going into Hilary’s room

  10.45 p.m. – Thomas wishes Hilary good night

  11.00 p.m. – Main hotel door locked – night porter on duty*

  11.25 p.m. – Longley and Blunt go to Hilary’s room – find Hilary dead, search room – find nothing

  11.35 p.m. – Franklin goes to Hilary’s room – finds Hilary dead – searches room – finds nothing

  11.50 p.m. – de Meyer goes to Hilary’s room – finds Hilary dead – doesn’t search the room as can see no point as room obviously already searched several times – so item either never there or already found

  *To follow up – Clifford thinks night porter lying about no one else coming in after door locked on night of Hilary’s murder.

  Bert Blunt’s Death

  8.15 p.m. – Blunt pushed to his death

  Eleanor looked up. ‘It looks tragically blunt when written like that.’

  ‘No pun intended?’

  ‘Of course not.’ She turned back to the page and wrote out a list.

  Suspects

  Rex Franklin

  Noel Longley

  Bert Blunt

  Grace Summers

  Willem de Meyer

  She sighed. ‘It’s a small step forward but I think we can eliminate Blunt as we agree whoever killed Hilary probably also killed him.’ She crossed his name through. ‘Right. Let’s start in reverse order with the remaining suspects for a change.’

  ‘Mr de Meyer first then, my lady.’

  Eleanor gathered her thoughts. ‘Right. First off, he openly told us his employers give no quarter when someone wrongs them.’

  ‘Clemency certainly did not seem to be included in Mr de Meyer’s job description.’

  ‘Precisely! Which means they probably blamed de Meyer for Longley’s gang getting away with the stolen item as he was in charge of security. So de Meyer was tasked with returning it and “punishing” whoever stole it. So we can assume he would have been only too happy to kill Hilary.’

  ‘I recall he said as much, my lady.’

  ‘Yes, and after Hilary, his next step would naturally be to kill Blunt since the two of them were in the gang that committed the theft. Allegedly,’ she added pointedly.

  ‘So, Mr de Meyer has a motive for both murders. But why has he therefore not killed Mr Longley who was also in the gang? Allegedly.’

  Eleanor tapped the pen against her chin as she pondered this. ‘Maybe he just hasn’t found the right time. Longley would be a harder proposition than Blunt to kill.’

  ‘Because, my lady?’

  She held his gaze. ‘Because of that thing you chide me as being unladylike for mentioning. Blunt was a tiny chap. Longley’s height alone would make him much more of a match as an adversary.’

  ‘Agreed. Shall we then move on to Miss Summers?’

  Eleanor frowned. ‘Maybe she was Hilary’s sidekick. Or lover.’ She felt the now familiar knot in her stomach tighten. ‘Maybe Hilary double-crossed her too. Or deserted her’ – she bit her lip – ‘like he did me.’

  Clifford cleared his throat gently. ‘Perhaps she was in Mr Eden’s room purely for the same reason as the other suspects, to obtain the stolen item.’

  She smiled at him. ‘I do appreciate your delicacy, Clifford.’

  ‘Thank you, my lady. We do, however, know of a piece of evidence that might put her in the clear if our supposition about how Mr
Blunt died is correct.’

  She looked up sharply. ‘What?’

  ‘The footprint on Mr Blunt’s bath. The print was from the sole of a heavy man’s boot and was too big for a woman. I have in fact noted she has rather dainty feet.’ He coughed. ‘If you will forgive the observation.’

  ‘Clifford, I am well aware that every male in this building will have appraised her physical characteristics from head to toe.’ She held up a hand as he went to speak. ‘But there’s something else that also discounts her.’

  ‘Which is, my lady?’

  ‘If the bottle we took from Blunt’s bathroom was planted by the murderer, it can’t have been Summers because she’s a good few inches shorter than me. Like Blunt, she would never have been able to reach.’

  ‘Even with the inelegant gymnastics you performed,’ he replied drily. ‘Ah! A moment.’ He glanced out the door of the conservatory. Convinced no one else was around, he closed it again before sliding the bottle they’d found in Blunt’s room from his jacket.

  Eleanor leaned in as he took off the stopper and sniffed the contents.

  ‘As I suspected. Chloroform,’ said Clifford.

  Eleanor nodded slowly. ‘So Blunt’s death was definitely murder. The alcohol would have disguised the chloroform.’

  ‘Exactly. The killer either rendered Mr Blunt unconscious with the chloroform, poured alcohol down his throat and then threw him off the balcony. Or fooled or forced him to drink chloroform and alcohol. Ingesting a small quantity of chloroform has much the same effect as dosing a rag and holding it over someone’s nose and mouth. You become dizzy and disorientated.’

  ‘Basically making it easy for the victim to fall off a balcony with a little help?’

  ‘Exactly, my lady. I assume that the killer thought it too risky to leave with the bottle of chloroform about his person, so he hid it, meaning to return later and take it when things had calmed down after Mr Blunt’s fall.’

  She nodded. ‘But we have beaten the killer to it.’

  ‘Indeed. So we are agreed to eliminate Miss Summers as a suspect at the moment given the oversized footprint and difficulty she would have had hiding the chloroform?’

  ‘Agreed.’ We’re still going to find out the truth about her and Hilary though, Ellie. You’ll never rest until you know for sure.

  Clifford coughed gently to bring her back to the present. ‘Mr Longley then, my lady.’

  ‘Ah, yes. He was part of the gang with Blunt, and briefly also with Hilary. Apparently Hilary double-crossed the pair of them and took the item they’d stolen from de Meyer’s employer, so they tracked Hilary here and Longley killed Hilary.’

  ‘Might I ask why you think it would have been Mr Longley acting on his own when he and Mr Blunt were partners?’

  ‘Just a hunch. Longley was obviously the leader. Blunt seemed to me to be too nervous to actually kill anyone.’

  ‘I agree again. I doubt Mr Longley’s assertion that kidnapping you and I was Mr Blunt’s idea. And moving on to Mr Blunt’s death?’

  ‘Longley’s alibi doesn’t hold water. They were apparently together in Blunt’s room. Then Longley went down to the bar alone. I hoped he’d slip up and say he took the lift—’

  ‘So the attendant could confirm this, or not?’

  ‘Exactly, but he was too wily and said he took the stairs, even though the lift is right outside Blunt’s door. Anyway, then he goes to the manager when Blunt’s body is discovered acting all upset that his cousin is dead.’

  ‘And whilst I cannot confirm it, I believe Mr Longley’s foot to be similar in size to the footprint on the bath. He is also certainly tall enough to have easily deposited the bottle in the cistern tank.’

  ‘Of course! So maybe we are right and he and Blunt did find the item, and he killed Blunt so he wouldn’t have to split the proceeds? He’s callous enough. Remember he said it doesn’t do to have friends in his business.’ She frowned. ‘But then, having killed Blunt, why is he still here?’

  ‘I can only conjecture because even though Mr Blunt’s demise is being treated as an accident, Mr Eden’s is not. Anyone who leaves until Inspector Grimsdale releases us all will automatically become the chief suspect, as we’ve said. Or Mr Longley and Mr Blunt never found the item and there was another reason he killed Blunt.’

  ‘True. So, we’re down to Franklin. Hilary promised him something for saving his life from the firing squad, but double-crossed him, apparently.’ She faltered at the image that always came to her mind at those words.

  Clifford cleared his throat gently. ‘I am heartily sorry your birthday evening ended this way, my lady.’

  His concern brought a smile of comfort to her face. ‘Thank you, Clifford. I’m fine and like you, despite the late hour, determined to finish our list. So back to Franklin. If he really did save Hilary from the firing squad, I can see he might have then killed Hilary out of revenge for double-crossing him. Franklin would have faced a court marshal and possibly the firing squad himself for what he did to help Hilary. But his motive for killing Blunt I don’t know. Unless, of course, he somehow learned that Longley and Blunt had found the item he was originally promised and confronted Blunt in his room?’

  ‘All very plausible, my lady, but again we find ourselves in the realms of speculation.’

  Eleanor sighed. With two people now dead in a matter of days, the killer was running rings around them and the police. They needed to act fast and find out who killed Blunt and why, and what the connection was with Hilary’s death before the trail went cold. She let out a quiet groan.

  ‘Please tell me you have something more tangible we can pursue.’

  He nodded. ‘I do, my lady. I believe in the next five minutes, with your assistance, I can prove if Mr Franklin killed Mr Blunt or not.’

  Thirty-Two

  As Eleanor and Clifford emerged from the lift, she looked around the lobby. All the other guests seemed to have gone to bed. Someone had switched the overhead chandelier lighting for the more subdued green and gold lamps dotted about the opulent space. Disappointed that the only sign of life was the night porter’s shoes sticking out from his canopied red leather chair, she glanced at the time: eleven twenty-seven.

  At the sound of a quiet rap on the front door, the night porter pulled himself from his chair and drew back the bolts. Eleanor instinctively tucked in behind one of the enormous Grecian urns, out of view. Clifford did the same. A portly man in his early sixties, dressed head to toe in green tweed, squeezed through the door. He ran a hand over his grey moustache and nodded awkwardly. ‘Game ran over terribly at the club, don’t you know.’ He slapped a note into the porter’s hand, which deftly disappeared into an inside pocket in a flash. The man then hurried over to the lift as fast as his stick would carry him and disappeared inside.

  Clifford motioned for Eleanor to stay where she was and strode over to the night porter, who jumped in surprise. Clifford exchanged a few words with the man and then strode to the bar.

  Eleanor joined him and cocked her head questioningly.

  Clifford kept his voice low. ‘It seems we have solved the mystery of why Johnson, the night porter, misled us, and the police, about letting in late guests on the night of Mr Eden’s murder. It is because he has received a generous tip for many months for allowing the man you just saw enter after hours without mentioning it to anyone. He is a retired colonel and apparently his “game” runs late at least once a week. A very elegant game she is too, according to Johnson.’

  Eleanor smiled at Clifford’s joke. ‘And how long has the colonel been staying here?’

  ‘It seems he is one of the Grand’s permanent residents. The two old ladies you have observed in the dining room, among other places, are permanent residents too. Interestingly, Johnson also told me the colonel invariably leaves for his “game” on the dot of nine.’

  Eleanor looked thoughtful. ‘It seems unlikely given the colonel’s gammy leg and advanced years that he could have killed Hilary and pushed Blunt o
ff the balcony. He certainly would have struggled to stand on the bath and hide the chloroform. And what possible motive could he have? I propose, until we learn any new information, that we don’t treat him as a suspect.’ She looked around the darkened bar. ‘It looks like the staff are trying to encourage the last of the guests to go to bed, however. I hope we are not the only ones left up?’

  A motion caught Clifford’s eye. ‘Ah, just the man!’ The clerk hurried over as Clifford gestured to him. ‘Two small things, Thomas.’

  The young man nodded to Clifford, his eyes willing themselves not to stare at Eleanor.

  ‘Were you on duty in the bar when Mr Blunt had his unfortunate fall?’

  ‘No, I was called to work in the dining room this evening and then to help Chef prepare for breakfast. We are short-staffed at the moment, as you know.’

  ‘At least you were spared the unpleasantness of witnessing Mr Blunt’s distressing fall in that case?’

  ‘Sadly not.’ Thomas shuddered. ‘The hotel manager, Mr Hargreaves, insisted I go to the terrace the minute he heard it had happened.’

  ‘That must have been rather gruesome for you,’ Eleanor said gently in as American an accent as she could manage.

  Thomas stared at his shoes, his voice quiet and tremulous. ‘It was a little too much like some of the horrors of the war. That poor gentleman. What a terrible way to go.’ He snapped to and peered round the lobby area. ‘But, erm, apologies, we’re not supposed to talk about it. Mr Hargreaves is in quite a temper this evening.’

  ‘I should say.’ Eleanor nodded. ‘He didn’t seem in the best of moods and that was before he went off to be grilled at the police station. Well, we have no wish to get you into trouble, Thomas. Perhaps you could help me with the second thing then?’

  The clerk straightened his shoulders. ‘Of course. Anything, Miss Swan— I mean Lady Swift.’