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

by AG Barnett

  “So what’s the plan?” Dot said from behind her as she sprayed perfume and then adjusted her hair in the mirror.

  Mary turned and frowned at her. She had given Dot the perfume as a present some years ago, as a way of coaxing out her womanly charms for the world to see. She was sure they were in there somewhere—they were probably just hidden under all the bustle of efficiency and pastel cardigans. In any case, she had never known Dot to wear the scent apart from the last week or so. And now she was adjusting her hair as though she was about to be photographed for Stationary Monthly (which was the kind of magazine Mary assumed Dot would feature on). She was about to ask what had inspired this change of nature when there was a sharp rap at the door.

  Dot moved across to it and opened it to reveal Pea, who was standing with his ginger hair still slicked back from his morning shower. He was wearing a navy blue blazer over a light grey shirt and had a flower in his buttonhole.

  “Morning,” he said to Dot before double-taking at the sight of Mary behind her. “Blimey Mary, up already?”

  “Why is everyone so surprised!” Mary said, rather put out at the implied slur on her character. “And why are you both acting like you’re off to Ascot or something?” she said, eyeing his buttonhole.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Pea said quickly, “but we should get a move on and go downstairs. I’ve already seen the others going to the restaurant for breakfast.” He turned back into the hall and Dot and Mary followed.

  “Does the hotel normally do breakfast in the restaurant?” Mary asked as they moved down the stairs.

  “Apparently so,” Pea said. “I had a quick chat with Anna this morning. They don’t class it as restaurant work really though, they just do a basic English breakfast that Ruth and Thomas normally knock together.”

  “What do you make of Anna?” Dot said. “I haven’t had a chance to speak to her yet.”

  “Seems nice enough, quiet sort.”

  “That doesn’t exactly fit in with the image of a chef, does it?” Mary asked.

  “I guess they’re not all like the shouty, sweaty ones on TV,” Dot answered as they reached the lobby.

  The large front doors were closed, and there was an almost eerie quiet in the large room.

  “Looks like they’ve closed the hotel up,” Mary said.

  “Yes, we thought it was best,” Edward said suddenly, appearing from behind the staircase and the corridor which led to the restaurant. The hotel manager had the same faint smile his fish lips always seemed to sport and seemed quite unaffected by the events of the previous evening.

  “What about the guests?” Dot asked.

  “There were only three rooms occupied as of yesterday, and they all decided to leave last night after the events that transpired.”

  “You mean when Thomas was poisoned?” Mary said bluntly.

  Those large, puffy lips twitched. “Spencer told me you had some strange idea that foul play was involved,” he said slowly. “I assume it was you who persuaded the police to take samples of the food we ate last night?”

  “I think the police were just following their own suspicions,” Mary lied. If Edward had anything to do with Thomas’s death, then she didn’t want him to think the idea of murder was just her crackpot theory. That could prove dangerous.

  “Well, I’m sure they are mistaken. We all know Thomas had a heart condition, it was nothing more than a terrible tragedy. Now, if you’d like to follow me?” He turned and moved back down the corridor.

  Mary exchanged glances with Dot and Pea, all of them with eyebrows raised at the flippant manner of the hotel manager, and gave pursuit.

  As expected, the restaurant was a quiet and sombre place. The small group that sat at the table looked up at them as they approached with listless expressions. There was a low chorus of good mornings as the three of them took their place at the end of the table.

  “I’m afraid there’s not much on offer,” Ruth said, her bright eyes ringed with dark lines. “Things were a bit difficult in the kitchen this morning.” Her eyes flickered across the table to Anna who was staring at her plate, pushing scrambled egg around it with a fork.

  “We’ve decided to cancel tonight’s bash,” Roderick said from a seat next to Spencer, who was tucking into a sausage with gusto. “It’s a shame, but we don’t think it would be right to go on.”

  “Of course,” Mary said, pouring herself coffee from a large insulated pot which stood on the table in front of her. “What about Thomas’s family, have any of you spoken to them?”

  “I have,” Ruth said in a hoarse voice, “it was awful, they were just so…” She shook her head and blew her nose loudly on a napkin.

  Mary felt a pang of sympathy for the young woman who had seemed so full of life and enthusiasm yesterday and now looked the opposite.

  “We’ve sent them condolences from everyone at the hotel of course,” Spencer said, still with a mouthful of sausage. “Just wish we could do more.”

  Mary noticed Roderick give Spencer a sharp look.

  “What do you think’s going to happen to the restaurant now?” Daisy said. She looked pale and small, like a field mouse that had emerged, blinking from the hedgerow. James reached out a hand and placed it on hers, but she pulled it away.

  “Oh, you know how these things are,” Spencer said, looking at Anna on the far side of the table. “It’s all very sad, but the show must go on. I expect you’ll want to be hiring someone new at some point, Anna?”

  She looked up suddenly, as though noticing them all in the room for the first time. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I said I’m sure, after a respectable period, you’ll be wanting to get someone else in to give you a hand in the kitchen, eh?” Spencer repeated.

  Her eyes widened in shock and she bolted upright, knocking her chair over behind her. “No! You don’t understand! I can’t just replace him! The whole thing’s over now!” She turned and ran from the table towards the kitchen.

  “She’s just upset I’m sure,” Ruth said unconvincingly to the rest of the table as she dashed after her.

  “Everyone’s clearly been under a great deal of strain,” Edward said to the three guests in a voice designed to reassure. “Perhaps you’d prefer to eat in peace? I’m sure everyone has things they need to get on with?” He looked pointedly at James and Daisy, who took the hint and rose from the table and headed for the door.

  “Yes, and you and I have a meeting, don’t we, Spencer?” Roderick said, standing. Spencer’s face sagged more than it already did naturally.

  “Oh, all bloody right man, don’t you ever give it a rest?” He stood up and moved around the table until he was next to Mary, Dot and Pea. “Sorry about all this. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want at the hotel, of course, go and see what there is of the town and things.” He nodded and gave a small, forced smile before following Roderick out the door with Edward behind.

  “Well,” Pea said, taking a piece of toast from a rack. “Nothing’s ever dull around here, is it?”

  “It’s hard to believe that the same person cooked this as the meal last night,” Dot said as she cut into an overdone sausage that bounced across her plate.

  “You saw the state of Anna though,” Mary said, sipping at her coffee. “She doesn’t exactly look like someone in the right frame of mind.”

  “True,” Dot answered. “To be honest, this whole place seems bloody strange if you ask me.”

  “How do you mean?” Mary asked, head tilting as she tried to ignore Pea, who was cramming a large mouthful of egg and sausage into his mouth.

  “This hotel, I mean, it’s clearly a disaster. There are hardly any guests, hardly any staff. Didn’t Spencer say that he and Roderick bought it two years ago? What on earth have they been doing? It’s obviously not making them any money.”

  “I guess that’s what they’ve been bickering about since we’ve been here,” Mary said. “Roderick wants to sell up because the place is a disaster and
Spencer doesn’t want to.”

  Dot eyed her suspiciously. “You said that as though you know why he doesn’t want to sell. What is it?”

  “I just noticed the way Spencer talks about Anna—I think there’s something there.”

  “Spencer has a thing for Anna?!” Pea said as he bit into a piece of toast. “Well, that would explain things. He doesn’t want to sell up and turf her out of the place just when it’s going well for her, does he?”

  “It does look like Roderick was the one sending the letters,” Dot said. “I don’t know why Spencer didn’t just accuse him and get it over and done with.”

  “There must have been something in those letters that he didn’t want to risk telling Roderick if he’d got it wrong and he wasn’t the blackmailer,” Mary said, sitting up excitedly. “That’s why he wanted me to come to try to find some evidence for who was sending them!”

  “Makes sense.” Pea nodded. “I still don’t see why anyone would kill Thomas, though. What’s he got to do with any of this?”

  “Maybe he found out that Roderick wanted to sell and he decided to keep him quiet?” Mary said unconvincingly.

  “A bit weak.”

  “Yes, Pea, I’m well aware of that, thank you,” Mary answered before draining her coffee. “You two stay here. I’m going to go and check on whether Anna is all right, and I think she’s more likely to talk if it’s just me.” They both nodded in agreement. They had seen how shy and quiet the head chef was, just as Mary had.

  Mary walked towards the kitchen to the sounds of Dot complaining about Pea talking with his mouth full and smiled as a thought occurred to her.

  Chapter Eleven

  The kitchen was a startlingly bright space of white brick and metal sheeting. Spotlights covered the ceiling and were angled at various points on the metal workbenches which were littered with various bits of apparatus from this morning’s breakfast, in sharp contrast to the cleanliness after last night’s meal. For the first time, it occurred to Mary that if she really thought Thomas had been poisoned, having breakfast made in the same kitchen by the same people as prepared his last meal might not have been the wisest move. At least she had stuck to coffee in the face of the rather subpar spread. Pea, on the other hand, would be dead before lunch the way he had gone at it. She decided to put the matter from her mind as she approached Anna, who sat on a chair at a small wooden table to the back of the room with Ruth opposite her, holding her hands.

  “Everything all right?” she said, feeling as though she needed to announce herself in what looked like a personal moment between friends.

  They both turned towards her with glistening eyes.

  “We’ve all just had a bit of a shock,” Ruth said. “I think it’s only just hitting us, really.”

  “Of course,” Mary said, sitting in the remaining empty chair. “I can’t imagine how you must all be feeling, having worked so closely together.”

  “It’s very difficult,” Ruth said, looking at Anna.

  “Can I make you a cup of tea or anything?”

  “No, thank you,” Anna said, speaking for the first time in a small voice.

  “I always think, when we lose someone, that the best thing to do is remember all the good times you had with them. Tell me about Thomas.”

  “I’m not sure that now is the right time,” Ruth said uncertainly, but Anna began speaking, her eyes glazed over.

  “He was such a wonderful cook,” she said quietly. “It was like he had magic in his fingers that could turn any ingredients into something fabulous. Now he’ll never cook again.”

  Mary watched the woman’s face carefully. Her high forehead seemed even paler than normal against her dark hair. Her wide mouth was pinched with sadness.

  “Never mind though,” Ruth said, leaning across the table towards her boss. “We can make sure he lives on, can’t we?”

  “What do you mean?” Mary asked, making Ruth’s head snap back to her as though she had momentarily forgotten she was there.

  “I just mean through our cooking,” she said quickly. “I think you could do with a lie down upstairs, Anna.”

  “Yes,” Anna said meekly. “You’re probably right.”

  Ruth smiled at Mary as she walked back out of the kitchen, her arm around Anna’s shoulders.

  Mary looked around the kitchen but found nothing much of interest. She wasn’t sure exactly what she had been looking for. It was unlikely the police would have missed a large jar marked “poison,” but still, she was disappointed. There were three distinct work areas, that much was obvious. There was a large space that was meticulously arranged with hanging utensils above. She assumed that was where Anna worked. To either side were smaller areas. One had a picture of Ruth and Anna smiling outside the hotel above it, so she assumed that was Ruth’s. She moved to the other one, but it was devoid of anything personal. Just equipment in drawers and practical wipe clean surfaces to work on. She sighed and headed back into the restaurant.

  “What on earth did you say to those two?” Pea said as she returned to the table. “They both came through here as though they’d seen a ghost!”

  “I just asked about Thomas.” Mary shrugged. “They found it hard, obviously, but Anna is acting as though the whole restaurant is never going to run again.”

  “Well, we have some gossip for you as well!” Pea said, grinning from ear to ear.

  “Go on,” Mary said eagerly.

  “Well, Dot here, being the brainy type she is, suggested that someone could have come in from the street side and somehow got the poison into Thomas’s food that way.”

  “Right,” Mary said, slightly disappointed. This seemed about as unlikely as any theory she had thought of herself, but not yet shared.

  “Oh, I know it’s silly,” Dot said defensively, reading her look. “I just think it’s a good idea to look into every possibility.”

  ‘Quite right.” Pea nodded. “No stone unturned and all that.”

  “Can you just cut to the bit where you tell me something interesting?” Mary said.

  “Right, well, we popped outside to see if there were any CCTV cameras. Good thinking, eh?” Pea waggled his eyebrows at her.

  “Yes, good dog, have a biscuit.”

  “There’s no need to be like that,” Pea said, looking hurt. “Anyway, we wandered down the street a bit and then Dot here pulls me into the doorway of a fire exit.”

  “Did she now?” Mary looked at Dot, who steadfastly refused to return her gaze.

  “Yes, because the clever thing had spotted Edward Landry talking to James Donavon!”

  “OK,” Mary answered slowly, not seeing what was so strange about the hotel manager talking to one of his staff.

  “They had ducked around the corner from the hotel,” Pea carried on enthusiastically. “We just got out of sight in time and we heard what they were saying! Well, most of it.”

  “Which was?”

  “Edward was telling James that they all had to stick together no matter what and make sure the hotel kept going.”

  “Nothing unusual about that,” Mary said, frowning. “It sounds like he’s just trying to keep morale up or whatever.”

  “But then James said, ‘You don’t think she could have done it, do you?’ Just like that! And his face looked like someone had drained the blood from him.”

  Mary felt a rush of excitement. “So he obviously suspects someone!” She flopped back into the seat she had been hovering over. “What did Edward say to that?”

  “He said, ‘Don’t be silly, what would she have to gain?’ And then walked off, but James looked like he’d had his face slapped.”

  “He looked confused to me,” Dot chimed in for the first time in this tale, “like he suddenly didn’t know what Edward was talking about.”

  “Which might mean he thinks this woman did have something to gain from Thomas’s death.”

  “Any ideas?” Pea asked hopefully. “We can’t work it out. I mean, there’s only three to choose from: An
na, Ruth and Daisy. But we can’t see what getting Thomas out of the way would do for any of them.”

  “No, me either,” Mary answered, deep in thought, “but I've talked to the other two, I might as well go and find the third.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Mary approached the open cupboard and rapped on the door. There was a shout of surprise and the sound of a mop bucket skidding across the floor as she leaned her head around the door and saw Daisy White, whose name currently matched her skin colour.

  “Sorry,” Mary said quickly, holding her hands out. “I didn’t mean to make you jump!”

  “It’s OK,” Daisy said, looking flustered as she righted the mop and dusted herself down. “It’s just, with everything that’s happened I’m a bit on edge.”

  “Of course. How are you doing?”

  “Oh, OK, trying to keep myself busy you know.” She gestured to the large cupboard whose shelves were lined with cleaning products.

  “Surely you’re not cleaning today?”

  “Oh, no. Just checking how much of things we’ve got left, that kind of thing.” She looked at Mary, her plain, rounded face looking unsure. “Do you really think someone might have poisoned Thomas?”

  “Yes,” Mary said firmly. “Can you think of anyone that might have wanted to do that?”

  “No! He was so nice and everyone said he was excellent in the kitchen. I’m sure it was just that condition he had.”

  “So he got on with everyone at the hotel?”

  “Oh yes, everyone liked him.” She smiled coyly. “He was good-looking and he knew it, a bit full of himself, but charming with it.” She smiled, and then it faded as her eyes filled with tears.

  “I’m sorry, I know this must be hard for you. What about Anna and Ruth, did they all get on in the kitchen?”

  “Oh yeah, those three were as thick as thieves. They never let anyone else in the kitchen when they were working.”

  Mary sighed, feeling as though she wasn’t getting anywhere. “And what do you think will happen to the restaurant now?”