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

by AG Barnett

  There had been only the smallest moment of hesitation before he answered, “I’m on my way.”

  Now, forty minutes later, she saw him as he came through the doors of the hotel and into the lobby where they were all gathered. His dark eyes seeking her out as a uniformed officer filled him in on what had happened. As soon as his eyes met hers, he moved towards her, the young police officer having to jog behind to continue his update.

  He slowed as he reached Mary, his brown eyes searching hers. His hand rose up and touched her arm.

  “Are you OK?”

  Mary nodded, blinking away the tears which had begun to build in her eyes. “He was murdered, Joe, I’m sure of it.”

  He nodded back at her. “I’ll look into it,” he said, and she believed him. He turned away from her and moved towards the door of the bar area, which had been cleared by all except the police.

  “Are you sure you should be saying that?” Pea said from her side. Mary suddenly felt more like her old self and turned on him with a thunderous expression.

  “I’ve told you, there is no way that man died of a heart attack,” she said in a quiet but firm voice.

  “But come on, Mary,” Pea said warily. He had seen enough of Mary’s temper over the years to know that now was a time to tread carefully. “He had a dodgy heart, everyone here at the hotel knew it.”

  “All that means is that whoever did it knew that he would be an easy target to be poisoned.”

  Pea sighed and looked to Dot for support.

  “I think she might have a point,” Dot said in a level voice.

  “Seriously?!” Pea whined, putting his hand on his head.

  “I saw a man having a heart attack once,” Dot said thoughtfully. “I was queueing at the fish and chip shop, and the chap in front of me just keeled over. I can tell you now, it wasn’t anything like what happened here. It might have been his heart that gave out in the end, but there was something else going on before it, I’m sure.”

  “Thank you,” Mary said, squeezing her shoulder. Dot wasn’t someone who would side with someone just because they needed to hear it. She would always say what she really thought. It was one of the qualities that endeared her to Mary, who considered herself as someone who needed the harsh reality of truth spoken to her occasionally in order to keep her on the straight and narrow.

  “OK,” Pea said, sighing. “Let’s say you’re right. How on earth could it even have happened?! I mean, we all ate the same food. Thomas even helped make it! It seems pretty unlikely that he could have been poisoned without anyone else getting sick.”

  Mary looked over his shoulder at the small group of people they had shared a meal with that night, her eyes focusing on Spencer Harley. “This has to be something to do with the blackmail letter,” she said thoughtfully. “It can’t be a coincidence.”

  “You think whoever is blackmailing Spencer was also blackmailing Thomas over something?”

  Mary shrugged. “Who knows, but I guess if you’ve taken the step to blackmail someone once, you might well do it again. We need to talk to Spencer, he’s got to tell us more after this, surely?”

  “Why hasn’t he told us more already?” Dot said, “I mean, he invited you here to look into it all, and yet he doesn’t seem to want to talk about it much or show us these letters he’s received.”

  “What are you saying?” Pea asked, frowning. It was Dot’s turn to shrug.

  “Maybe he was making it up?” Mary said quietly. All three of them turned to stare at the large figure of Spencer Harley.

  “But why on earth would he do that?” Pea asked.

  Spencer looked up from the conversation he was having with the group and saw the three of them looking at him. He extricated himself from his group and made his way across to them.

  “How are you all doing?” he said, appearing far soberer than he did earlier, but Mary noted he still had a drink in hand. “I’m terribly sorry you have had to go through this, terrible business.”

  “What was this heart condition he had?” Mary asked.

  “Oh, no idea. Just knew he had a dodgy ticker. I think Ruth and Anna know more about it, but it doesn’t matter much now, eh?” He looked at Mary, his brow furrowed in concern. “There was nothing you or anyone else could have done, I’m sure.”

  “How is Edward taking it?”

  “Edward?” Spencer looked back towards the group of hotel staff. “Seems OK, why do you ask?”

  “We saw him arguing with Thomas just before it happened. I’d imagine he was feeling a little guilty if that’s what caused Thomas to… have his problem.”

  “Oh, well, he never said anything. Still, we’ve all had arguments from time to time—you certainly don’t expect the other chap to drop dead.”

  “You don’t think this could have anything to do with the letters you received?”

  Spencer’s eyes widened as he looked around them frantically. “Please, I don’t think we need to bring that up to the police. This is just one of those tragic things that happen, nothing to do with my letters.”

  Mary stared back at him. She could feel the eyes of her brother and friend on her as well; they were letting her take the lead. Dot, because that was what she did, Pea because he doubted her version of events. Either way, she wasn’t going to back down.

  “I think Thomas was poisoned,” she said bluntly.

  Spencer gaped at her. “You can’t be serious.” He looked at Pea and Dot, but the blank expressions on their faces offered him no comfort. “The young chap had a heart condition, and why on earth would anyone poison him?! I must say, Mary, when I invited you here I thought you might be able to help in what is a very delicate manner, now I see that all this detective stuff in the press has gone to your head! Seeing poisoners and murderers everywhere!”

  In his shock at the suggestion, his voice had risen and now everyone in the lobby was looking at them. It was Ruth Faulkner who broke away from the hotel group first, hurrying over to them with a wild look in her already red eyes.

  “You think Thomas was poisoned?!” she said, grasping Mary’s arm and bringing her face close to hers.

  “Yes,” Mary said, aware that the rest of the hotel staff were making their way over, all eyes on her. “There was something strange going on before his heart gave out, you all saw it.” She looked around the group, who stood in stunned silence. “I think Thomas Mosley was murdered.”

  Chapter Nine

  “You’re not one to keep your head down, are you?” Inspector Joe Corrigan said to Mary when they were seated at a table in the corner of the bar. “You’ve got half of uniform talking about how the TV detective has been in too many shows and now is seeing murder everywhere.”

  “What did the pathologist say?” Mary said sharply. She was in no mood for small talk.

  “Well, she didn’t say anything about poisoning if that’s what you’re asking. She looked him over, but she won’t know anything until she gets him back and looks properly.”

  ‘You are treating this as suspicious, though?”

  “I am because for some reason I believe you have good instincts for this sort of thing, but I can’t launch a full murder investigation without more evidence. Thomas Mosley had an erratic heartbeat. You were all present at the meal he ate, and he even cooked his own food. I’d have a hard time persuading anyone to give me the resources to pursue it.”

  He watched as Mary visibly sagged in front of him, her eyes scanning the surface of the small table between them. She looked up at him sharply. “What if we looked into it? Could you help us unofficially?”

  His brow furrowed, but at the same time, his mouth rose at one corner. “You’ve got a taste for it, haven’t you?”

  Mary folded her arms. “This isn’t a game.”

  “No,” he said, his expression hardening, “It isn’t. If you’re right, then it could be a very dangerous situation. If someone killed this young man, they won’t hesitate to do so again in order to cover it up, and if you start asking que
stions and poking around, who knows what will happen.”

  “I understand the risks,” Mary said, her chin lifted defiantly, “but what’s the alternative here? If I’m right, and we don’t do anything, we could be letting someone get away with murder.”

  Corrigan took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. His penetrating, deep brown eyes held Mary in their gaze until she began to feel uncomfortable before he spoke.

  “I can get the food tested,” he said in a low voice. “It will be off the books, but I can call in a favour at the lab. There will be a post-mortem in any case, and I’ll have a word with the pathologist to look for signs of poisoning. That’s about all I can do, though. You’ll pretty much be on your own.”

  “I have Dot and Pea,” Mary said confidently.

  She saw Corrigan’s gaze turn to his left and followed his line of sight. Dot and Pea sat at the bar, Dot stirring her drink thoughtfully and Pea throwing peanuts into the air to catch them in his mouth. One landed in his eye and he gave a squeal of pain.

  “For some reason,” Corrigan continued, turning back towards her, “that doesn’t fill me with confidence.”

  “I can call you if I need a knight in shining armour,” she said sarcastically.

  “Well, my armour’s a bit rusty, but I’ll be there if you need me.”

  Mary felt herself blush and quickly stood up. “Right, well I’ll be in touch,” she said quickly.

  “See you soon, Mary,” he said, also rising. “And be careful.”

  “I’m not completely helpless, you know,” she snapped before turning away and heading for the bar.

  Why did he drive her so crazy?

  She quickly buried the thought for fear of the answer and instead took her annoyance out on Pea.

  “Can you stop throwing peanuts around?” she snapped. “You look like a bloody idiot.”

  “I take it your chat with the lovely detective went well then?” Dot said in what Mary considered a rather malevolent tone.

  “Fine actually,” she retorted, hopping onto a stool next to her old friend. “He’s agreed that we can look into the poisoning.”

  “And why would he do that?” Pea asked, smarting somewhat from the idiot comment.

  “Because he believes me,” Mary said simply. “And because he can’t investigate himself as there isn’t enough to go on.”

  “Right,” Dot said with a deep breath. “Where do we start?”

  “We start by getting Spencer to show us those blackmail letters,” Mary said, hopping to her feet again. “Come on.”

  She marched out of the bar and up the stairs towards the highest floor of the hotel where she knew Spencer’s rooms to be. He had retired for the evening along with the other staff who were at dinner, all of whom were staying at the hotel for their big event the next day. It hadn’t yet been cancelled, but Spencer had insisted it would be in the morning.

  She rapped on the door and was surprised to hear an immediately barked answer from the other side.

  “I’ve told you I’m not speaking about it anymore tonight!” Spencer’s voice boomed.

  “Spencer? It’s me, Mary.”

  There was a moment of silence before the door gently opened to reveal a red-faced Spencer.

  “Mary? Sorry, my dear, thought you were someone else.”

  “Who exactly?”

  He looked at her and then Dot and Pea, who stood behind her.

  “Can I help you with something? If there’s a problem with your rooms, it’s really Edward you need to speak to…”

  “No,” Mary said, pushing past him and entering the room, “we just wanted a little chat with you.”

  “Oh, right,” Spencer burbled as Dot and Pea marched past him as well. He closed the door with a resigned look on his face. “It’s not still this silly poisoning idea, is it?” he said as he slumped into an armchair that sat by a dressing table.

  The room was larger than Mary’s and had the feel of being someone’s personal space rather than a hotel room. Various newspapers and books were strewn across the dressing table and a bookcase, which Mary was sure wasn’t regulation hotel issue, had been transformed into an open drinks cabinet.

  “I’m afraid it is the ‘silly’ poisoning thing,” Mary said harshly.

  “I’d have thought you would be a little more interested in the idea, bearing in mind the letters you’ve been receiving,” Pea added.

  “I told you all before! This has nothing to do with those letters!”

  “Then why don’t you show them to us and we won’t keep bothering you about them,” Dot said.

  “I can’t,” Spencer blustered, “I threw the things out as soon as they arrived.”

  “You threw them out?!” Pea asked, incredulous. “Why on earth would you do that?! They were evidence!”

  There was a moment’s pause before Mary spoke quietly. “Maybe that’s just it, maybe they revealed some evidence that whoever wrote them thought you’d be willing to pay to keep quiet.”

  Spencer visibly sagged. “You’re right, of course.” He sighed. “I didn’t want to show them to the police, or you. I knew questions would be asked. And everything would be ruined.”

  “Did Thomas write the letters?” Mary continued.

  Spencer looked up at her. “What do you mean, Thomas? Why do you say that?” His face clouded in anger. “You don’t mean you think I’ve killed the poor chap because of these blasted letters, do you?! I’d have sooner given in to their demands! I’d never kill anyone!”

  “Their demands?” Mary frowned. “You mean they weren’t asking you for money?”

  Spencer sighed again as he poured himself another drink from the whiskey bottle that sat on the table next to him.

  “The truth is, I know who’s sending me the letters, and no, they weren’t asking for money. Look,” he said, leaning forward, “when I saw that you had been involved in solving a murder case, Mary, I just thought I could get you along here and get you to dig up the evidence on who was sending them somehow. Then I could deal with it discreetly, maybe.” He took another gulp and stared at the glass in his hand.

  “So,” Dot said after it became clear that he had finished talking, “if it wasn’t Thomas, who was it? And what did they want if they didn’t want money?”

  “They want me to sell the hotel,” he said in a bitter tone. “We’ve been approached by a development company that wants to turn the place into flats.”

  “And what does Roderick think of this?” Pea said. “He owns half, doesn’t he?”

  “Actually,” Mary said before Spencer could respond, “I think Spencer means that Roderick might well be the one sending the letters.”

  Spencer gave a small laugh. “See, I knew you were the right woman for the job, though it’s a bit late now I suppose.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “The hotel is a bit of a disaster to tell you the truth, costs more money to keep the thing standing upright than it brings in. I doubt someone dying here is going to bring the punters in, and on top of that we’ve lost one-third of the kitchen staff that made the only profitable part tick!”

  “The restaurant,” Mary said thoughtfully. “Surely Anna will be able to carry on eventually though, she’s the head chef.”

  Mary noticed a flicker of something pass across Spencer’s face at the mention of Anna Crosby. “Can I ask why you don’t want to sell?” she said.

  “Well, I couldn’t do it to Anna, not when everything’s going so well, and then there’s young Daisy of course. She would be devastated if the place became flats after her father worked here all those years.”

  Mary felt as though she had scored a hit, but tried not to let it show.

  “So Roderick has been pestering you to sell. That’s what you were arguing about earlier at the bar?”

  He nodded. “Bloody chap won’t stop going on about it, that’s how I know he sent the letters.”

  “Did you confront him about it?”

  “I… no, I didn�
�t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Look, it’s been a long night. Can we talk again in the morning? I’m sure the police will do a thorough job in any case.”

  Mary thought for a moment, then nodded. “OK, we’ll see you tomorrow, Spencer.”

  “I’m sure you will,” he answered glumly.

  Chapter Ten

  When Mary woke the next morning, there was a moment where she had no idea where she was. She looked around with bleary eyes at yet another hotel room—she had seen so many in her life—and lay back on the pillow. It was then that the events of the previous evening came flooding back to her. Thomas’s face etched in pain as he staggered towards her. The spark of life dying in his eyes before her own. She shuddered and turned her mind to what she now thought of as “the investigation.”

  After their talk with Spencer, they had all ventured back down to the lobby where the police presence was already thinning. Corrigan had been right when he said there was little he could do to turn this into a full investigation without evidence of poisoning. She knew that, but it didn't make it any less annoying. They had spoken briefly, he had once again warned her to be careful, and this time it had given her a warm glow to hear him say those words. Even if there was a potential killer on the loose, his first concern was about her. Then Mary, Pea and Dot had retired for bed, all of them drained from the day's events. Mary had slept as she always did, like the dead.

  She was showered and dressed in what, for her, might constitute record time. The look on Dot’s face when she knocked on her door certainly suggested so.

  “Well, I never thought I’d see the day when you were up and out before me.”

  “Ah!” Mary said dramatically as she moved past her into her room, “But these are different days! We have a murderer to catch!”

  “You’re not on Her Law now, you know, there’s no audience to play to here.”

  “Oh, don’t be such a killjoy,” Mary admonished as she leaned on the windowsill and looked down into the street. Figures dashed about below, scarves wrapped around them to keep out the cold.