Murder at the Dolphin Hotel

by Helena Dixon

  ‘Are you sure you can’t give me any more information?’ He knew the woman was holding something back from him. The details she’d provided before his arrival at the hotel had been fairly vague. Mrs Treadwell was an old acquaintance of his parents. It had only been his own father’s insistence that he accept the job that had brought him to the small Devon river resort. Since he had resigned his government employment a few months ago, he had been kicking about at a loose end and he suspected his father thought this might fill his time.

  The elderly woman sighed and rose from her seat to cross the room. She opened the lid of a small mahogany writing box standing on her bureau and withdrew a slim bundle of papers.

  ‘Here, this is all I have. My main concern is that Kitty is kept safe and the hotel protected. I’m not sure who this person is or what they hope to obtain.’ She proffered the papers to Matt.

  His gaze locked with hers. ‘You suspect you know who it is, though?’

  She broke eye contact first, confirming his suspicions that she knew far more than she had told him so far.

  ‘Yes.’ She turned away and crossed over to the tall bay window to gaze out at the river.

  Matt glanced at the papers in his hand; typed notes on cheap white paper, all with unsigned variations of the same message. No envelopes, no signature or clue to who could have written them.

  I’m coming back to claim what’s rightfully mine.

  ‘Who do you think it is?’ he asked.

  The older woman’s spine stiffened and there was a tremor in her hand as she moved to straighten the edge of the dark green velvet drape framing the window. ‘The person I thought it might be is dead.’

  A chill ran through Matt’s veins at the faint audible gasp that went around the circle of women.

  ‘And who was that?’ His thoughts automatically strayed to the petite ash-blonde girl with the shingled hair at the reception desk downstairs. This was connected to her, it had to be.

  ‘My daughter, Elowed, Kitty’s mother.’

  Chapter Two

  A chilly late spring breeze blowing from the river cut through the flimsy silk material of Kitty’s blouse when she stepped outside the hotel. Clouds scudded past in the bright blue sky and sunlight sparkled on the water as she hurried along the street. She paused at the corner and hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should return to get a heavier jacket. The melodic chimes of the town hall clock told her there wasn’t time if she wanted to get all her errands completed during her lunch break and before the post office closed.

  Ignoring the cold, she turned into the side street leading away from the river. The post office would probably be busy, and she had several pieces of mail which needed to go out today. The narrow street lined with tall eighteenth-century buildings was crowded with visitors making their way to the main shopping area. The upper ferry from Kingswear across the river had just unloaded, bringing locals and visitors, with a steady stream of vehicles; a mix of motors and carts all bumper to bumper, heading towards the centre of town.

  Kitty walked towards the post office. The closer she got to the town centre, the harder it became to get through the people surrounding her on the narrow, cobbled pavements. Jostled by the press of the crowd, the parcels in her arms slipped and she made a wild grab to save them from landing in the gutter.

  In the same instant, someone shoved hard into her side, knocking her off balance and out into the road. Her packages fell around her feet as she tried to save herself from falling. She hit the ground and there was a blare of car horns. She looked up and locked her gaze with that of the horrified male driver behind the wheel of the coal merchant’s dark green truck, mere inches from her face. She was frozen in place, unable to move, when a strong arm took hold of her and yanked her to safety on the pavement.

  Kitty’s heart thumped against the wall of her chest as she gazed into her rescuer’s dark blue eyes. ‘It’s not advisable to play with the traffic.’ Matthew Bryant looked down at her. He still had hold of her arm.

  ‘I… I don’t know what happened.’

  Matt released her and darted out into the road to retrieve her parcels before the coal truck moved on. ‘You’re in luck, nothing got squashed.’

  ‘Including me.’ Kitty attempted a laugh but to her horror it came out as more of a sob.

  He offered her the packages he’d retrieved from the road and studied her face. ‘You look pretty shaken up. Come on, let me buy you a cup of tea.’

  Before she could protest, he’d led her inside one of the many tearooms along the street. A small table for two was vacant right at the back next to the doors leading to the kitchen.

  ‘Thank you. I don’t know what happened out there.’ Kitty took a seat at the polished table and stared disbelievingly at the hole in the knee of her stockings. She must have grazed her leg when she’d stumbled. Blood oozed stickily through the fine, flesh-coloured silk, making her nauseous at the realisation of her narrow escape.

  ‘Here, take a sip of water; you look as if you’re about to pass out.’

  She hadn’t noticed him collecting a glass of water from one of the uniformed waitresses. The water splashed against the glass as she raised it to her lips. ‘My hands are shaking.’

  The corners of his mouth lifted in a faint mockery of a smile. ‘I’m not surprised. You had a pretty close call there. How did you end up in the road?’

  Kitty shook her head and tried to gather her thoughts. ‘I don’t know. I was on my way to post my parcels and as you saw, it’s really terribly busy out with visitors. The one o’clock upper ferry must have unloaded. Someone bumped into me and I almost dropped everything.’ She paused and took another sip of water. ‘It’s strange, it felt like someone shoved me hard from the side and I overbalanced and fell out into the road.’

  ‘It’s a good thing I was passing.’ He sounded concerned.

  She nodded slowly. ‘Yes, or it would have been a pretty nasty accident.’ She started to feel better now she was safely seated inside the comfortable tearoom. It was certainly a happy coincidence that Mr Bryant had been there to rescue her. She shivered when she thought of what could have happened if he hadn’t saved her.

  Matt flagged down the waitress once more and ordered a pot of tea and some sandwiches, ignoring Kitty’s protests and offer to pay.

  ‘You’re sure it was an accident?’ he asked as the waitress returned with their lunch.

  Kitty frowned. ‘Why wouldn’t it be?’ It was a strange question to ask. No one would deliberately try to push her under a truck – except she had definitely felt someone shove hard into her side.

  He shrugged. ‘Ignore me. Security is my business, so I suppose I simply have a suspicious mind.’

  ‘Is that why you were meeting my grandmother, Mr Bryant? To discuss security?’ She was relieved to see her hand had stopped shaking as she poured tea from the pot into the dainty floral-patterned china cups that the waitress had set out in front of them.

  She thought she detected a flash of something in his expression before he answered her. Annoyance? Irritation? She wasn’t sure.

  ‘Please, call me Matt, and amongst other things, yes. Your grandmother has hired me to look after security at the hotel. As she is leaving for Scotland soon to go to your aunt, she was worried about leaving you to look after the Dolphin alone.’

  Her indignation must have shown on her face as he held up a hand to stem the protests and outrage that threatened to spill from her lips.

  ‘It isn’t that she doesn’t think you capable of managing the hotel, but she’s heard from other hoteliers of several incidents lately that have worried her, and with the summer visitors’ season just getting underway, she wanted a visible deterrent to protect the hotel. I think the recent murder has added to her concerns.’

  ‘The deterrent being you, presumably.’

  He nodded and grinned at her. A small dimple flashed briefly in his cheek, making him appear quite boyish for a moment.

  Kitty took a bite of her s
andwich. ‘Grams hasn’t mentioned any incidents to me.’ She may not have mentioned anything but there had been a strange undercurrent lately, even before the body in the river had been discovered.

  He shrugged again and picked up his cup. The delicate china nestled, incongruously fragile, in his large hand. ‘She probably didn’t want to worry you.’

  Kitty wasn’t convinced. It was probably the tale her grandmother had given him, but that didn’t mean it was the truth.

  Matt finished his tea. He wasn’t sure Kitty had believed his explanation of why her grandmother had hired him. It had been pure chance that he’d been only a couple of paces behind her when she’d stumbled out into the road. There had been a crowd of people on the pavement at the time. He’d been close enough to save her but too far away to determine if she had been deliberately pushed, and if so, who had done it.

  At least the colour had returned to her face now. She’d been ghostly pale when they’d first entered the tearoom.

  ‘I should get back to work, there’s a lot to do today. I still have to get these parcels into the post.’ Kitty touched a napkin to the corners of her mouth.

  ‘I’ll take the packages to the post for you if you like, I was heading that way.’ He wanted to see if there was anything in the parcels that Kitty’s attacker might have wanted to obtain.

  At first, he thought she was about to refuse but then she slid the stack of brown envelopes and packages across the table. ‘Thank you. I’ll reimburse you for the postage from petty cash later. I really need to get back and clean up before Grams spots the state of my stockings.’ She grimaced as she looked at the ugly graze on her knee.

  ‘Will you be all right walking back by yourself?’

  She gave him a look that he suspected she’d learned from her formidable grandmother. ‘I think I can manage.’

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow then.’ He watched her limp away as he paid the bill for their lunch. When his father had asked him to help Kitty’s grandmother, he’d thought the job would be simply babysitting a rather air-headed young woman whilst her grandmother was away. Something that would fill his time while he considered his next steps. Kitty, however, appeared far from irresponsible. He hadn’t thought there might be some substance to the older woman’s fears for both her granddaughter and her business.

  Mrs Treadwell had shaken him slightly with the story of Kitty’s mother, Elowed, and her mysterious disappearance in 1916, but he couldn’t see how that could be connected to the strange letters. Unless someone wanted to use that tale to their advantage somehow.

  He quickly sifted through the small bundle of parcels that Kitty had left on the table. From their size and shape they all appeared to be brochures, nothing that anyone would want to prevent from reaching the mail. That left only the possibilities of the incident being an accident after all, or that someone had wanted to harm Kitty. He quickly discounted the accident theory. Kitty had definitely felt someone push her. That meant he had to take Mrs Treadwell and her theories much more seriously. Even if that theory involved a woman who was probably dead.

  Matt gathered up the packages and took them to the post office. Afterwards, he wandered back through the narrow streets towards the river and the embankment. He hadn’t been sure about taking this job. Since leaving the army and his government post he’d been without a clear focus. After everything he’d been through during the war and afterwards, his father’s suggestion of a short-term position in a beautiful, peaceful location had sounded like a good idea.

  It would give him time to decide what he wanted to do next. Time to finally grieve and to move on with his life, away from places and people that kept reminding him of everything he’d lost. Whilst he’d been busy with work, distracting himself with other people’s problems, the passing of the years still hadn’t filled the empty space inside his chest. Matt stood on the embankment, lit a cigarette and stared out across the river. The trees on the far bank were bright with the promise of new foliage, and bluebells and primroses peeped out from the unruly clumps of grass beneath them. In the reeds, a small group of fluffy yellow-brown ducklings were barely visible as they paddled around their mother. Matt sucked in a breath and tried not to think how unfair it was that Edith and baby Betty weren’t there to see it.

  Kitty made it back to the hotel and hurried up to her room to bathe her leg and change her damaged stockings. Her room was at the top of the hotel, right in the eaves on the third floor. The ceiling was lumpy and uneven, with wooden beams running lengthways. Her furniture was a mishmash of older dark Victorian pieces left from when the hotel had been modernised. The dark pink satin eiderdown on her double bed added a cheerful feminine note to the room, matching the rose that stood on her dresser in a crystal vase. Grams had been disappointed when she’d refused the spare room attached to her own suite, but Kitty preferred the privacy and peace that living in the attics gave her. There were only storerooms and a couple of empty bedrooms used occasionally by staff on that level. Plus, she had a view right along the river of the open farmland and tree-covered hills down to where it opened into the estuary below the castle.

  She unlocked her door and dropped her handbag on her bed before rushing into her bathroom to clean her leg. It wasn’t until she came back out and opened her drawer to find fresh stockings that she had the feeling that something was wrong.

  The hairs at the nape of her neck prickled as she glanced around the room. Someone had been there, she knew it, and not simply the chambermaids. On the surface, everything looked exactly as she had left it. She frowned and looked back down into the open drawer. Her stockings were still neatly stacked but the packet on top was a pair that she always kept at the bottom of the pile. She’d been keeping them for a special evening occasion as they were too fine and expensive for every day.

  Unnerved, she opened some of her other drawers. The contents appeared neat and undisturbed, but they definitely weren’t in the order she’d left them in. Her favourite satin pyjamas were at the back of the drawer and the ones she’d singed with the iron were at the front. She checked her jewellery box. Not that she possessed anything valuable, but the few items she did own had huge personal meaning for her.

  The silver locket her mother had given her was still there along with her great aunt Livvy’s sapphire ring. Her mother’s picture was still there in its silver frame. Someone had searched through her room, though. But who? And why? Her grandmother wouldn’t snoop. She would interrogate Kitty to death if she wanted to know anything, but she would never search through her things.

  Her little Bavarian clock cuckooed the hour. Her mind whirring, Kitty changed her stockings and removed her hat before leaving her room, double-checking that she’d locked the door behind her. She would have to find out if anyone had borrowed her spare key from Mickey, the maintenance man. The idea that some unknown person had rifled through her personal possessions was scary.

  Perhaps her recent misadventure had affected her more than she thought but she had always felt safe and secure in her home before. Now with a death on her doorstep, a brush with the coal lorry and someone tampering with her possessions, she was suddenly afraid. Perhaps her grandmother had been right to hire Mr Bryant; extra security might be in order after all. Something terrifying was going on at the Dolphin.

  Chapter Three

  The discovery that someone had been in her room going through her possessions left Kitty feeling twitchy and uneasy. Her skin crawled at the idea that someone had casually managed to gain entry and touch all her personal belongings. Seeing her things so carefully replaced had left her feeling grubby and dirty. Why would someone have searched through her things? Theft, she could understand, but nothing was missing.

  Spare keys to all the rooms – including hers and the one for her grandmother’s suite – were all hung on a pegboard in Mickey’s office, along with spare keys to the various storerooms. Kitty stopped off on her way to her office. Mickey was in his small room, sitting at his desk with a newspaper and his san
dwiches in front of him. He was a small, wiry local man, getting on in years; he had lost both his sons in the war. During her childhood he had been very kind to her, allowing her to trail after him as he carried out his various maintenance jobs. A fug of cigarette smoke filled the air from the ashtray on the desk.

  He looked up and immediately rose to his feet as she tapped on the open door. ‘Did you want me for something, Miss Kitty?’

  ‘No, I just wondered if anyone had been in my room in the last couple of hours?’ She could see her key hanging from its hook on the pegboard on the far wall.

  Mickey scratched his head. ‘Don’t think so, miss, the maids were in yesterday to give it a turn out and early this morning to make the bed and leave the towels. I haven’t been out of here much this morning except to help Cora with a delivery for a couple of minutes. Why? Is something wrong?’

  Kitty forced herself to smile. ‘No, everything’s fine. I’ve heard there was a spate of burglaries at some of the local hotels and guest houses. Grams has hired a new security man, Mr Bryant. But even so, please make sure your office is locked whenever you leave it, to be on the safe side.’

  The elderly man raised his eyebrows. ‘Very good, miss, I’ll be on my guard.’

  ‘Thanks, Mickey.’

  She left him to finish his lunch. It was difficult to know what to do next. Should she raise her concerns with her grandmother? Or should she talk to Mr Bryant – Matt – about it, since he was now apparently in charge of security at the hotel?

  Kitty mulled it over as she seated herself at her desk in the small wood-panelled back office behind reception. Perhaps the solution would make itself plain while she worked out the staff rotas for the next six weeks. But despite her best efforts, by the time she closed the files, placed her pen back on the stand and finished her shift, her head ached and the problem continued to niggle,