Mystery at the Regal Rose Hotel

by C Jane Reid

  She thought of Vera and tried not to chuckle.

  The young woman who greeted them was dressed in a lovely day dress of dark green with large cottage roses printed on it. Her brown hair was long but pulled up in a fashionable style and fixed with a silk rose. Lola wondered if that was the official uniform of the Tea Rose or the woman was simply devoted to her position.

  “Welcome, Mrs. Rose,” the young woman greeted. “Your guest has already arrived.”

  “Thank you, Marilyn.”

  Lola glanced at her mother with a raised eyebrow.

  “You haven’t met Marilyn yet?”

  “I haven’t had the pleasure.”

  “This is my daughter, Lola,” her mother said.

  “Good afternoon,” Marilyn’s expression chilled and she didn’t keep eye contact.

  Lola didn’t miss it. Neither did her mother. They exchanged glances.

  Marilyn led them to a room with cream and green decor. A gentleman not too much older than Lola stood as they entered. He was dressed in a suit, his hair cut short. He was a little on the plain side, Lola thought, but his smile was bright and the edges of his eyes crinkled with it, which gave him an appealing look.

  “Mrs. Rose.” He extended his hand, very American. Her mother, of course, was accustom to it and took his hand in hers.

  “Mr. Edgars. It is lovely to finally meet you.”

  “I can say the same. Wyatt always speaks well of you.”

  Lola’s mother smiled, pleased. “My daughter, Lola,” she introduced.

  “Miss Rose.” He extended his hand to her. She noticed that he kept his other hand tucked inside his pocket. He didn’t miss her notice, but he said nothing.

  “Thank you for the invitation,” Mr. Edgars said to her mother, pulling a chair out one after the other for them to sit.

  “I could hardly pass up the opportunity. And Wyatt would never have forgiven me. Are you in England long?”

  “Not too much longer. It looks like you’ll be staying awhile, though.”

  She smiled. “Yes. I will miss Texas, but I have missed England, too. It is good to be back.”

  “And you, Miss Rose? Will you be staying?”

  “Oh, yes. There’s much more going on in London than Amarillo.”

  He chuckled. “I can’t say I’d doubt that, but have you been to New York?”

  “Only to meet the ship for the crossing to England. The train was delayed so we didn’t have the chance to see anything of the city. I’d thought to make up for that during our return, but Mother ruined that plan.” She gave her mother a feigned look of disappointment.

  “You’re young, Lola,” her mother said. “You have plenty of time to explore other cities.”

  “I may just do that.”

  Mr. Edgars laughed. “Wyatt mentioned you were an independent sort, Miss Rose.”

  “Please, it’s Lola.” She leaned forward. “What else did my cousin have to say about me?”

  Marilyn arrived at that moment with the tea cart. She arranged the tea things on the clothed table, finishing with a tier of sandwiches, cakes, and biscuits. She left them, but not without casting Lola a dark look.

  Lola stared after her.

  “Lola?” her mother asked.

  “I swear, Mama, I’ve never seen her in my life.” At least, she didn’t believe she had.

  “She seems to know you,” Mr. Edgars said.

  “Yes, she does, doesn’t she? How odd.”

  They continued with their talk as her mother served tea. Lola, not having the fondness for tea that her mother did, added more sugar cubes with the small, iced rose on each than was perhaps healthy and enough cream to make the tea turn white. She couldn’t resist popping a few of the delicate cubes into her mouth. The sugar melted, leaving behind the taste of royal icing slightly flavored with roses.

  Her mother added a small amount of sugar as well. Jack, Lola noticed, drank his straight. He most likely did the same with his coffee, and was probably wishing it were coffee instead of tea in his cup.

  They learned that Mr. Edgars, “Jack, please,” he insisted, had returned from France, where he had spent the past few months with friends, both living and deceased. He spoke soberly about his travels, though not in much detail. “I’ve been staying with a friend,” he said, “while in London. It’s been good to see him.”

  “Another friend from the war?” Lola asked.

  “Yes, but not a soldier. Not that it makes any difference,” he added quickly. “It was hell either way. I beg your pardon,” he said to her mother.

  Her mother waved it off. “After a few decades around ranch hands, I can handle a little swearing.”

  “Not that she lets me,” Lola pouted.

  “I should hope not,” her mother chastened.

  “Oh, never fear, Mama dear. I won’t ruin us for society with my West Texas manners.”

  “I think they could do with West Texas manners just fine,” Jack said. “There are few better.”

  “I do believe I agree,” Lola answered. She paused. “Have you seen the Portage Club yet?”

  “No, but I’ve heard of it.”

  “I’m meeting friends this evening. Perhaps you’d like to join us?”

  “I suppose I could do that. At least I wouldn’t feel so outnumbered with another Yank there.”

  “Half Yank,” Lola corrected.

  They both laughed.

  As they finished with tea, they spoke of little things, sharing stories from their travels. As Lola’s mother poured the last cup, Jack fell quiet, staring over Lola’s shoulder. The look in his eyes turned from friendly to hard.

  Lola twisted in her chair.

  And gasped.

  Miss Edie was in the next room, seated at the small, round table with the German, Eckhardt Prinz, as Marilyn stood by exchanging an overly warm smile with the German. Lola had a flash of recognition from the night before.

  “Lola? Is that Madame?” her mother asked.

  Lola nodded.

  “Who is that gentleman she’s with? Do you know him?”

  Lola faced the table again and glanced at Jack. He had schooled his features and was taking a final sip of his tea, but when his gaze met hers, she saw that same hardness.

  “I’ve seen him around the hotel,” Lola said blithely. She picked up one of the little cakes. “These are divine.”

  Lola was certain that her mother recognized how she’d sidestepped the question, but rather than call her on it, her mother began talking about a tea room she recalled in London, about the cakes it served and whether it was still in operation. Jack made noises in response, but he kept glancing past Lola. Lola made responses too, though a little more practiced, but she continued watching Jack and wondering if he was more interested in the German or Miss Edie.

  When they finished with tea and the conversation had slowed, Lola’s mother made their excuses. Jack seemed equally ready to leave. Whatever he’d seen in either the German or Miss Edie had served as a distraction enough that he had pretended interest in their conversation, a fact that was not lost on Lola or her mother.

  “I do hope you have a pleasant voyage home.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Rose. And thank you for the tea. I appreciate it.”

  “It goes without saying, naturally, that should you find yourself in London once more, do send word.”

  “I will.”

  “Lola.”

  “I’ll be up soon, Mother.”

  Her mother gave her a telling look, but she left the small tea room.

  “Will I see you tonight, then?” she asked Jack.

  He fixed his attention on her. “Tonight?”

  “The Portage Club.”

  He shifted. “I don’t think I’ll make it after all, but thanks for the offer.”

  “It was no trouble to do so. Any friend of Wyatt’s and all that.” She flicked her wrist with a grin. “If you change your mind, I’m usually there between eight and nine.”

  Jack nodded, distracted
again. Lola followed his gaze back to the German and Miss Edie.

  “It must be difficult,” she said quietly.

  “What’s that?” he asked without looking at her.

  “Running into a German.” It was a shot in the dark.

  His eyes were hard when they met hers. He didn’t ask her how she knew Herr Prinz was German or explain if he did, though she was certain now that he had known. Instead, all he said was, “You have no idea.” His tone was as hard as his gaze.

  “No,” she agreed. “I don’t.”

  He smiled weakly. “I apologize, Miss Rose—”

  “Lola,” she corrected.

  “Lola.” His smile widened. “I’m poor company.”

  “Nonsense. Besides, I’m used to morose men. At least in Wyatt. He takes life entirely too seriously.”

  Jack chuckled. “Yeah, I remember that about him. I can’t imagine the war improved his disposition.”

  “Good heavens, no. But I forgive him. As you say, I could never understand what he, and you, went through.”

  “I hope you never do.” With that, Jack tipped his head and held the door open for her. She stepped into the small hallway but paused.

  “Do go on ahead. I think I need a quick word with our hostess.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  “Luck?” She laughed. “I’d claim that I prefer to make my own luck, but luck is just another type of coincidence, and it wouldn’t be coincidence if we made it ourselves.”

  “Lola,” Jack said with respect, “you are an interesting young woman.”

  She held out her hand, and he shook it. “It was a pleasure, Mr. Edgars.”

  “Same here, Miss Rose.”

  He left her, looking less morose. He didn’t even glance back at the German. Lola consider that a victory.

  Now to make her own ambush.

  She smoothed down her dress and knocked on the tea room door.

  Miss Edie wasn’t at all surprised to see her, and Eckhardt Prinz looked at her with annoyance that he quickly hid. Lola didn’t wait for an invitation. She opened the door and flew into the room with a broad grin.

  “Miss Edie! What a lovely surprise.”

  “It could hardly be a surprise,” Miss Edie said dryly, “considering that you have been seated across the hall since we arrived.”

  “Oh, saw that, did you?” Lola tittered a foolish giggle. Miss Edie narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Mr. Prinz . . . Oh, I beg your pardon, Herr Prinz is more proper, isn’t it?”

  Herr Prinz stood and made a short, precise bow. “Fräulein Rose.”

  “You remembered! How very sweet.”

  “You would be difficult for me to forget.”

  Lola chose not to take offense.

  “Would you join us?” Herr Prinz asked, but his tone suggested he wanted nothing more than for her to leave. “The tea is too sweet but no doubt you would favor it.”

  Lola ignored that. “I am absolutely sloshing with tea,” she told him, her hand on her stomach. “I couldn’t possibly . . . except for one of these little cakes. Divine, are they not?” She took one from the table and popped it in her mouth. “I simply had to step in to say hello. And to ask if you’ve seen Marilyn. I simply must compliment her on her service.”

  Herr Prinz’s gaze turned indulgent. “Ja, she is to be complimented.”

  Lola had to fight not to make a face at the inference, but Miss Edie let her disgust show. “The girl is half your age,” she snapped.

  It was obvious that Lola’s presence was prolonging the business between Miss Edie and the odious man. “I’ll leave you to whatever it is you were discussing with such enthusiasm. Ta!” She snatched another cake from the tiered dish, covering her glance at Miss Edie that said she had no intentions of letting this matter drop without a ridiculous amount of questions, and left the room.

  She paused long enough to pop the cake in her mouth, though she was a tad full and had to force herself to swallow, and then smooth down her dress again, though it was in perfect order. It gave her the chance to cast a sidelong glance into the room.

  Miss Edie was looking at Herr Prinz as though she wanted him to disappear on the spot, preferably with great agony. Herr Prinz, however, was watching Lola, his tea cup poised partway to his thin mouth.

  She cast him a bright smile and walked away, dropping the smile at once. She simply did not like him, and yet she wanted to know more about him, such as what he and Miss Edie were speaking about.

  It shouldn’t matter. He wasn’t likely to spend much more time at the hotel, but she was curious and she preferred to have her curiosity satisfied. She knew how to learn more. She’d talk to him again when their paths cross.

  Lola stopped at the hostess stand and waited. She had another curiosity to satisfy. What was it that bothered Marilyn about her? She was certain it had something to do with last night.

  She waited, tapping her toe. Waiting was not her strong point. If her mother were there, she’d nudge Lola, subtly of course, to remind her to stop tapping her toe. Unfortunately, when a woman appeared, she wasn’t Marilyn.

  Lola sighed. She could ask for her, but she thought it would be better to ambush the woman instead, so she gave the new girl a smile, complimented the service and the tea, and left the Tea Rose.

  Chapter Four

  Lola twirled the strand of pearls around one hand while she held a cocktail in the other. She’s already drank half of the Portage Club’s specialty drink, The Rose, and was trying to savor the rest. She arranged herself in a picturesque pose in the round, low-back chair, crossing her legs at the ankles as she leaned back and then smoothing the clean lines of her pearly drop-waist dress.

  Her closest friend, Willa, sat next to her. Lola hadn’t known Willa for more than an evening over a week ago, but she had known at once that Willa would become her dearest companion. She was, after all, a wonderful judge of character.

  Except the Willa she recalled from that evening had been bright and vivacious and brimming with laughter. The Willa sitting next to her was serious and withdrawn.

  “We haven’t spoken at all about New Year’s Eve,” Lola said. They had talked fashion, where Willa had admired the square neckline of Lola’s silk dress and Lola had envied Willa’s empire waist, jade dress with its lace collar. They had shared opinions on the nightclub clientele, who were well into their cups, and the jazz quartet, who were taking a break at the moment, leaving the dancers to refresh their drinks. New Year’s Eve, however, had gone unmentioned.

  “I have to say it was the best New Year’s Eve of all,” Willa said, brightening. The gap between her front teeth was too cute not to notice.

  “Oh?” Lola sat forward, tucking her legs close to the chair. When last she’d seen Willa, the striking and dapper gentleman, Brandon Darring, had been with her.

  “Because I met you!” Willa laughed. “What were you expecting me to say?”

  “Perhaps something of a certain Mr. Darring.”

  Willa cast her gaze sideways as she shifted in her seat. “Oh, well, as a matter of fact, he is quite charming.”

  “And?”

  “Not in an annoying, fake way,” Willa continued. “His charm is a touch silly, really, though I doubt he knows it. I found it refreshing.”

  “And?” Lola urged.

  Willa flipped her hand, as much of a nervous gesture as a dismissive one. “There’s nothing else to tell.”

  Lola arched an eyebrow. “Nothing at all?”

  “Goodness, Lola, you are worse than a fox hound. Yes, there was a small to-do.” Willa wouldn’t quite look at her.

  “How small?”

  Willa winced, and Lola sat upright.

  “Willa Maitlyn, did you receive one final proposal of the year?”

  Her friend sighed and rubbed her temple, disturbing the green feather clipped lengthwise in her short, deep brown hair. “You recall how I told you about the three proposals I’d had last year?”

  “Of course I do. It isn’t a thing
I hear often. Or ever.” Lola laughed.

  “Yes, well, Brandon’s was the fourth.”

  “I don’t believe it. Hadn’t you only just met?”

  “We are familiar with one another, though only through family. Oh, Lola, what am I going to do?” Willa grabbed Lola’s hands. “I said yes. How could I have said yes? It was the evening, I’m sure. The excitement of a new year. The dancing. The cocktails. Why did I drink so many cocktails?”

  “And the bubbly.”

  “Exactly. But he was so darling and attentive, not at all like the others who’ve proposed to me. They looked at me and saw the Earl’s heiress. Do you know Brandon never once asked about my inheritance?”

  “He is sweet. And rich enough on his own, I’d wager.”

  “That mustache, though,” Willa went on. “He’d be better off without it.” Willa shook her head, blushing. “It tickled.”

  “Willa!”

  They both broke down into giggles, though Willa’s sounded a tad too high-pitched.

  “Have you told anyone else?” Lola asked.

  “How could I? I don’t want to imagine what the Earl would say, let alone my mother.”

  The Earl, being Lord Henry Maitlyn, Earl of Cornick, was better known to Lola as Willa’s father. Everyone she’d met referred to him as the Earl. As they hadn’t yet been formally introduced, she had no idea what he was like, but she had the impression that he was a serious and imposing man.

  “What am I going to do?” Willa sank into her chair.

  “Have you spoken to Brandon about it?”

  “We’ve barely spoken since that night.”

  “You were dancing together last night.”

  “Saw that, did you?” Willa shifted again in her seat. “I came looking for you but Brandon found me and asked me to dance. I could hardly decline.”

  “Considering you are engaged.” Lola could hardly contain her delight.

  “Shh.” Willa looked around, but no one was paying them any heed. “He wanted to sit for drinks afterwards and I made up an excuse to leave. Headache or something like that. I really don’t recall. I was too surprised to see him. I hadn’t since New Year’s Eve. How did I get myself into this?”