A Death at Dinner: An amateur sleuth murder mystery (A Mary Blake Mystery Book 2)

by AG Barnett

  “It’s very nice,” Mary said, “lovely ambience.” She wasn’t entirely sure this made sense in a room with no people, but she thought it sounded like something you should say when complimenting a restaurant.

  “We’ve given the waiting staff the night off today so we’ll all be chipping in to look after you. I’ll bring out some more champagne to start, I think?” Without waiting for an answer, he turned and bustled off towards a door on the far wall which Mary assumed led to the kitchen.

  “If you’d like to sit here,” Daisy said, gesturing at three seats on one end of a long table before hurrying off back towards the main hotel.

  “I don’t like champagne,” Dot said grumpily when she’d gone and they’d taken their seats, “never have done.”

  Pea looked at her with a frown. “How can you not like champagne?”

  “Oh, don’t get her started,” Mary said, rolling her eyes. “She’ll just go on a rant about bubbles and how they make her burp.”

  “Well, they do,” Dot said haughtily.

  “They do that to everyone,” Pea laughed. “Doesn’t stop it being bloody delicious.”

  “If he didn’t offer us a choice of drinks,” Mary pondered, “I wonder if we’ll get any say over our dinner.”

  The door opened again and Edward reappeared with a large bottle of bubbly and three glasses. He was followed by the two young people who worked in the kitchen with the head chef, Anna, Thomas and Ruth.

  “Here we are!” Edward said, placing glasses in front of them and pouring a liberal helping in each.

  “So, what do you think of Parchester so far?” Ruth said, taking a seat at the table to the right of Mary.

  “To be honest, we’ve only seen the street from the station to here,” she answered, laughing.

  “So you’ve seen it all then,” Thomas said in a deadpan voice.

  Ruth gave a short, nervous laugh as she glanced at Thomas, who sat on the opposite side of the table. “Don’t mind him,” Ruth said, rolling her eyes. “He’s just got a grump on today.”

  “One of those days is it?” Pea said cheerfully.

  “It’s always one of those days here,” Thomas said, taking a large swig of champagne.

  “Maybe you should go back to the kitchen, Thomas?” Edward said. His lips were curled in a smile that hadn’t reached his eyes, which were staring at Thomas rather pointedly.

  “Actually, I think I’ll stay here a bit longer,” Thomas said in a defiant voice, leaning back in his chair.

  “I think Anna might need you,” Edward continued, his tone insistent.

  “So what’s new?” Thomas answered, smiling back at him as though challenging him over something.

  Edward looked around the table and, seemingly lost for words, turned and headed back to the kitchen.

  Mary stared at the strong, stubbled jaw of Thomas, his blond hair pushed back over his head into a messy quiff. He looked as though he had stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine rather than like someone who worked in a hotel restaurant. Mary’s thoughts turned to the blackmailer. Here was someone who clearly seemed less enchanted with life at the hotel than the rest of the staff. She decided to poke this particular hornet's nest and see what flew out.

  “How long have you worked here, Thomas?” she said in what she hoped was a conversational tone.

  “I came in when Spencer and Roderick bought the place. The same time as Anna and Ruth.”

  “Ah, so it’s actually the three of you that make up the dream team that won Michelin star then?” Mary smiled.

  For the first time since she had met the young man, she saw him smile. “I guess you could say that.” He looked at Ruth, who was returning his gaze with a worried expression. “What do you say, Ruth? Are the three of us some kind of dream team?”

  She opened her mouth to reply, closed it again as she looked around at her audience and then finally replied with a firm, “We each bring different skills to the table.”

  “Some of us just bring one to the table though, eh?” Thomas countered.

  There was the briefest moment of tense silence before the door to the hotel opened and Spencer burst through it laughing with Daisy and Roderick in tow.

  “And here they all are!” he cried as he saw the group around the table. “No Edward or Anna though, I see? No doubt she’s in the kitchen working her magic and Edward is fussing around about something.”

  “Come on,” Ruth said to Thomas, rising from her chair. “Everyone’s here now, let’s go and finish up.”

  Thomas very deliberately refilled his glass before rising and heading back to the kitchen with it in hand. A worried-looking Ruth followed him, looking back over her shoulder at the group as she went.

  “Something I said, you think?” Spencer laughed as he sat down. He had clearly continued to enjoy the hotel bar in their absence. His cheeks flushed red and his nose had taken on a vaguely purple hue.

  “I think they just needed to get back to the kitchen,” Dot said diplomatically.

  “Yes, well. I’m bloody starving!” Spencer said as he landed heavily in the chair next to Dot. As if in answer to his prayers, Edward appeared from the kitchen door with a flourish and announced that dinner would soon be served. The delicious smells that wafted from the kitchen after him made Mary’s stomach growl in anticipation as she suddenly realised she was famished.

  Chapter Seven

  As one, the group around the table laid back, most of them with their hands upon their stomachs as though that would aid with the digestion of the meal they had just eaten.

  “That was fantastic,” Pea said, for what Mary was sure was at least the fourth time since placing the last forkful in his mouth. “Really good,” he muttered before burping quietly.

  The dinner had passed pleasantly enough, and the food had been excellent. Mary had struggled to find the time to eat in-between answering the many questions that had been fired at her from around the table, but mostly from the enthusiastic and smiling Ruth, who seemed to have no end of interest in the world of show business. Mary had eaten the delicious array of small, tapas-style dishes between relaying stories to her insatiable audience. Now she felt exhausted. Although the attention had been focused on her, she had been using the opportunity to watch the rest of the group.

  Firstly, there was Anna Crosby. Thomas’s previous comment about wine now made sense. She was clearly sloshed and had laid down the dishes she carried with a thump that had rattled the glassware. Once seated, she had only nibbled at the food while generously refilling her champagne glass at every opportunity. Thomas was sitting next to her, and Mary couldn’t help notice that the anger the young man so clearly had bubbling inside him appeared to be directed towards his boss. Every time Anna had spoken in answer to a question, he had rolled his eyes or angrily stabbed at the food on his plate. His entire demeanour was almost the opposite of his colleague Ruth, who chatted excitedly and beamed her engaging smile almost continuously.

  Spencer Harley was also enjoying the alcohol and had grown quiet as the meal had worn on. A consequence, Mary pondered, that might have been due to the whispered conversations he was still having with his business partner Roderick Sutton, who sat next to him. Roderick joined in the overall conversation, laughed at the right moments, made interesting and insightful remarks. All the time though, his attention would return to Spencer and those whispered conversations which had angered Spencer in the bar, but now seemed to have made him quiet and melancholy.

  The hotel manager Edward Landry used every opportunity to praise the hotel and enthuse about its future, even when the topic of conversation had not been even remotely related. Daisy had spent the meal gazing at Ruth with a look of almost wonder. It was clear the young girl looked up to her bright and personable colleague and hung off her every word. For the most part, Pea and Dot had remained quiet. Partly because it was clear that the focus was on Mary as the celebrity guest of honour, partly so they could get on with the enjoyable task of trying every dish.


  “I’ll just go and get coffees,” Ruth said, standing.

  “Oh, let me help you,” Mary said quickly as she rose too.

  “Oh no!” Edward cried, jumping up. “We can’t have our guest of honour making coffee!”

  “Nonsense,” Mary said, waving him to sit again. “After all, this is supposed to be a night for the staff as well—least I can do. Though I will need some help,” she said to Ruth as she moved around the table and took her arm. “I don’t have a clue how to use those fancy coffee machines with all the steam and things!”

  Ruth laughed and squeezed her arm as they headed through the kitchen door.

  They entered a space larger than Mary had expected. Every surface was made of gleaming metal and didn’t bear any signs that a meal had even been cooked there.

  “Wow, how did you make all that food and leave the kitchen looking like this?!” she said in astonishment.

  “Oh, we always clear up as we go.” Ruth smiled as she began fiddling with the large coffee machine that was set on a table to their right. “It’s one of Thomas’s rules.”

  “Thomas’s?”

  Mary noticed Ruth’s hands hesitate for a moment before continuing. “Well, he’s a bit of a clean freak is Thomas. Anna goes along with it,” she said with a light laugh.

  Mary waited for a moment, but no more information seemed to be forthcoming, so she decided to probe further.

  “Anna seems like a nice woman.”

  “Oh, she’s great. Very sweet.”

  “And she’s obviously a fantastic chef, you must be learning a lot from her?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  Mary frowned as she watched her pouring ground coffee into the filter. For someone so enthusiastic about almost everything she spoke about, she was strangely noncommittal about her boss’s skills.

  “Is there something going on with Anna and Thomas? I notice he seems pretty ticked off with her.”

  Ruth turned from the machine to look at her. “We’ve just had a bit of tension in the kitchen recently, that’s all. You know how it is, leading up to a big event and all that.”

  “Of course,” Mary said, unconvinced.

  Ruth began an explanation of how the coffee machine worked, whether as a distraction or because making coffee was yet another thing that Ruth Faulkner enthused about, she couldn’t tell.

  They carried the coffee back into the restaurant where Pea was apparently relating the story of their treasure hunt and discovery of the lost Fabergé egg. Mary smiled as she listened to the wild and embellished version he gave and laughed as she saw Dot’s expression. With one raised eyebrow, she sat, arms folded, glaring at him disapprovingly.

  “And there it was,” Pea said proudly, enjoying the attention, “just sitting there in the wall for all those years.”

  Mary and Ruth passed out the coffees and jugs of cream as the table offered their congratulations and expressions of amazement at the story.

  She watched as Edward Landry passed the milk around until his arm bumped into Thomas Mosley’s, who was reaching for the sugar bowl, spilling a small trail of milk across the tablecloth.

  “For goodness sake!” Edward cried, dabbing at the spillage with a napkin.

  “Oh, pull that stick out of your arse for once, Edward, and relax,” Thomas retorted, laughing as he dropped a sugar cube into his coffee and began to stir. There was a series of hushed conversations from the staff’s end of the table before the conversation broke out into smaller groups, and for the first time since the meal had been brought out, Mary felt as though she had a chance to talk to her friends. Their position at one end of the table allowed them at least some privacy as the others chatted and bickered.

  “So, anything?”

  “Well the food was lovely,” Pea said earnestly.

  “She means about the case,” Dot snapped, digging him in the ribs with her elbow.

  “Ow!” Pea frowned, rubbing his chest.

  “I feel like there’s a lot going on around the table that isn’t being spoken about,” Dot answered Mary with a knowing look.

  “I get that impression as well, but I guess that’s partly to be expected. When people work with each other for a long time you can get on each other's nerves.”

  “Oh,” Dot said in surprise. “I had no idea you were aware of how annoying you are to work with.”

  “I was referring to you,” Mary said, smiling sweetly back at her.

  Spencer stood up, scraping his chair back on the floor noisily before clearing his throat. “Shall we all go through to the bar for a nightcap?” he asked in a hopeful voice.

  The group rose with murmurs of agreement.

  “Let’s not worry about all this,” Ruth said, gesturing to the table and at Anna and Thomas. “I’ll sort it all in the morning.”

  “Thanks, Ruth,” Thomas said quietly, even managing a smile. Mary noticed that he had a kind of waxy sheen to his skin, which she assumed was from alcohol. Anna said nothing but smiled as she tottered unsteadily towards the door which led back into the hotel, looking even more worse-for-wear than her employee.

  “She likes a drink, that one,” Dot said. Mary had heard that tone of disapproval in her voice before, but it was nice for it to be directed at someone else for a change.

  “Yes, I think there’s something going on with the kitchen staff,” Mary answered in a low whisper as they entered the short passageway which led back to the hotel. “I tried to get something out of Ruth when we were making the coffee, but for someone so chatty she went strangely quiet.”

  “Hey!” Pea called in a stage whisper from behind them. They turned to see him gesturing at them to move back to the restaurant. They hurried back as he put his finger to his lips and opened the door a crack. Edward Landry and Thomas Mosley stood facing each other, and despite their lowered voices, clearly arguing.

  “I know what you’re planning to do, Thomas,” Edward growled, “and I won’t stand for it!”

  “Don’t you think you’ve all drawn enough blood from me?” Thomas snapped back. “I know you all like to keep this little delusion that we’re all a happy family and that the hotel is going to turn around, but face it. This place is as dead as the town is and I deserve more than that.”

  “You ungrateful little sod!” Edward roared, clearly forgetting to keep his voice down now. “We gave you a chance when no one else would touch you!”

  “But that won’t be the case for long, will it? Soon everyone will see the truth, and I can’t wait to see what you do then!” Thomas turned towards them, and the three eavesdroppers stumbled over each other as they turned and dashed down the hall towards the lobby before he reached the door. As they emerged from the hallway, they began to walk slowly again, moving towards the bar in as natural a manner as they could muster.

  “What on earth was all that about?!” Pea said quietly.

  “I have no idea,” Mary answered, “but I think finding a blackmailer amongst this lot might be difficult. Half of them seem to be at each other's throats as it is!” She opened the door to the bar and held it as Thomas appeared from the restaurant behind them. He walked slowly towards her, the waxy look of his skin even more apparent than before, but the colour had also drained from his face.

  “Are you OK, Thomas?” Mary asked as she reached the door.

  He looked at her in what appeared to be a state of confusion. He tried to speak, but no words were discernible. Instead, his tongue seemed to flop around his mouth as though he had no control over it as his eyes widened in distress.

  “Someone get some water!” Mary shouted into the bar as she helped him through, putting his arm over her shoulder. He stumbled, and she was only just able to take his weight. Pea dashed from the bar and took the other side as they eased him into a seat.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Pea said in horror at the strange expression on the young man’s face.

  “I have no idea!” Mary said, staring at Thomas’s normally handsome features. They seemed to have droope
d somehow, as though his skin and muscle had become elastic. “Maybe it’s a stroke?” Mary said quietly to Pea, who shrugged helplessly.

  The others had gathered around now, and James the barman had arrived with a glass of water and a jug to refill it. Mary took it and moved to Thomas’s lips, but he just spluttered and sent it spraying over her. Behind her she could hear Roderick calling an ambulance as Thomas suddenly shook violently, his body spasming in jerks as he cried out in pain. She was vaguely aware of people shouting around her, screaming even, but everything was background. She was staring into the eyes of a man who was fighting for his life, and the world around her had all but vanished. She held his hand tightly.

  “Help is coming,” she said to him, leaning closer. “You’re going to be OK.”

  His eyes flickered as he shook with another jolt of pain and began to retch. She turned him over the side of the chair just in time for a small pool of yellow bile to spill from his slack lips to the floor before his entire body went rigid for a full three seconds, and then collapsed back into the seat. His eyes still open, but now, unseeing.

  Chapter Eight

  For Mary, the next couple of hours were a blur of chaos, confusion and sadness. People talked to her, or at least at her. Others shouted, others cried. Thomas Mosley was dead at the age of just twenty-four, and it had happened right in front of them. There was talk of an underlying heart condition, of medication, of the stress of tomorrow’s event and the long hours worked pushing his heart to the point of failure. Mary didn’t believe any of it.

  Almost as soon as the light had faded from the eyes of the young man she had cradled in her arms, she had lifted her phone and dialled a number. She had done it automatically, all her previous doubts about calling the number gone in the wake of this tragedy. Inspector Joe Corrigan had answered with a light and playful tone. If Mary had not been in a dazed state, she might have noted that he seemed pleased she had called. Instead, she said two simple sentences.

  “I need you to come to the Rudolph Hotel in Parchester. A man’s been murdered.”