Murder at the Manor Hotel

by Betty Rowlands

  ‘Very good, Mr Mitchell.’ Vic’s voice was matter-of-fact but from his slightly bemused expression, Melissa guessed that he was still not quite accustomed to the eccentricities of his employer.

  Outside, the air was fresh, with a light breeze that set the trees whispering. A waning moon gave a spectral tinge to the old house and threw black shadows on the gravel. An owl hooted near by. Mitch shivered and turned to Dittany, who was standing beside him.

  ‘Bit parky, innit?’ he said.

  Dittany pulled her jacket more closely round her slight frame and looked up at him, her expression solemn. ‘Yes, but it’s a beautiful night, don’t you think so?’

  ‘Beautiful.’ Her head barely came up to his shoulder; as he looked down at her it seemed to Melissa that he held his breath for a moment before saying, ‘Where d’you work?’

  ‘In the public library at Stowbridge.’

  ‘Oh, do come on, darling. I’m getting frozen!’ said Penelope, tugging at his arm.

  Over his shoulder, Mitch called, ‘I’ll drop in and borrow a book from you some time!’

  Waiting for Chloe to unlock her car, Melissa stood and watched the dark red Jaguar back out and head for the exit with Mitch at the wheel. He tooted his horn and gave a cheery wave; behind him, Chris and Will each raised a hand in salute but Penelope, in the front passenger seat with her shoulder inclined towards him, stared straight ahead.

  ‘Well, that was the normal first rehearsal shambles,’ said Chloe cheerfully as she fastened her seat belt. ‘I just hope that friend of Mitch’s loosens up a bit.’

  ‘Will Foley? Yes, he is a bit wooden, isn’t he?’

  ‘Nerves, I expect. I don’t suppose he’s done anything like this before.’

  ‘Who’s the guy with the beard and the brooding eyes – the one playing the killer?’

  ‘Eric Pollard. He’s sweet on Dittany, as you may have noticed.’

  ‘I saw him trying to speak to her just now. She didn’t appear to have much time for him.’

  Chloe shrugged. ‘He’s been trying to date her for ages but he isn’t getting anywhere.’

  ‘She seems quite smitten with Mitch … and vice versa.’

  ‘The Hon. Pen wasn’t too pleased about that, either.’ Chloe gave a chuckle. ‘This could be a lively production!’

  Three

  Some three weeks later, Melissa spotted an interesting item in the business columns of The Times. Under the heading ‘Mitchell Enterprises Enters Fashion Market’ was a short paragraph announcing that the company had taken a substantial stake in the Dizzy Heights chain of up-market dress boutiques. She went next door to show the paper to Iris and found her in the kitchen, preparing coffee.

  ‘So, the Hon. Pen made it,’ commented Iris, reaching for a second mug. ‘Wedding bells next, d’you suppose?’

  ‘I thought you might know that – isn’t Lady Vowden keeping you up to date?’

  Iris put home-baked cookies on a plate and pushed it towards Melissa. ‘Haven’t seen her since I finished her picture. What about the other girl you were telling me about – the one with the flowery name? Has there been any bloodshed?’

  ‘You mean Dittany? Not that I know of. I suspect Penelope will have her hands full if she does marry him, though. He doesn’t strike me as being exactly the one-woman type and he’s an out-and-out charmer.’ Melissa smiled at the recollection of Mitch massaging her hand, but her smile faded as she remembered the look on his face at his first sight of Dittany. Instinctively, she had scented trouble. It was true that Chloe, whom she met every Thursday at the college where they were both part-time lecturers, had made no reference to any tension during subsequent rehearsals. Penelope, however, was nobody’s fool. With her immediate sights fixed on a substantial investment in her business, she would be very careful not to antagonise her potential backer.

  Iris appeared to misinterpret Melissa’s changing expression. ‘Haven’t fallen for this character yourself, have you?’ She studied her friend with a beady eye. ‘Know how susceptible you are.’

  ‘Of course I haven’t – what a cheek!’ Melissa forebore to mention occasions when Iris herself had loved unwisely. ‘By the way, what about those set designs you promised?’

  ‘Nearly finished. Could bring them along to the next rehearsal, if you like.’

  Melissa put down her empty mug and stood up to leave. ‘Nothing to do with me, I’m afraid. I’ll tell Chloe they’re ready but she did say something about getting some of the students in the art department to paint the flats.’ Seeing a look of disappointment flit across Iris’s face, she added with a twinkle, ‘If it’s an excuse to meet Rich Mitch you want, I’m sure I can wangle it for you, but if the Hon. Pen has her engagement ring by then, she’s the one you’ll have to get past if you want a commission.’

  Iris cocked her head on one side like a blackbird listening for worms in a lawn. ‘Think so?’ she said. ‘Sounds to me like a man who makes his own decisions.’

  It was almost a week later that Melissa sought out Chloe to hand over the portfolio containing Iris’s set designs for Innocent Blood Avenged. She found her alone in the staff common room, staring out of the window, while her cup of coffee sat untouched on the table in front of her.

  ‘You look like a woman with a problem,’ said Melissa, sitting down beside her. ‘Having a rough day?’

  ‘No worse than usual. My first-year lot seem to think that the main reason for enrolling in a computer studies course is to play games, but otherwise …’ With a shrug, Chloe took a sip from her cup, pulled a face and put it down. ‘This stuff’s foul even when it’s hot.’

  ‘Never mind, perhaps these’ll cheer you up.’

  ‘Oh, super!’ Chloe’s morose expression changed to one of delight as she examined the sketches. ‘Just the sort of thing I wanted … brilliant!’

  ‘She’s kept them very simple, but says if you want any help with executing them …’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure the art students can manage. They’ll be thrilled at the chance of working on something designed by Iris Ash. Please give her my heartfelt thanks, won’t you?’

  ‘If you want to do her a favour in return …’ Melissa explained Iris’s interest in meeting Mitch.

  ‘Of course, she’d be more than welcome,’ said Chloe warmly. ‘We’re rehearsing this evening, if she’s free.’

  ‘I’ll tell her. How’s it going, by the way?’

  ‘So-so.’

  ‘You don’t sound very sure. Is there friction between Dittany and the gorgeous Penelope?’

  ‘On the contrary, they’re getting on quite well, after a shaky start. Penelope seems a good sort under that high-hat exterior. I can’t say the same for her partner, though.’

  ‘You don’t mean Mitch? I thought …’

  ‘No, not Mitch. Her partner in Dizzy Heights Boutiques, Lady Charlotte Heighton. A real gorgon. I get the impression she’s the dominant one – Penelope’s lamp burns less brightly when she’s around.’

  ‘She comes to the rehearsals?’

  ‘Just the once.’ Chloe fiddled with the tapes on Iris’s portfolio. ‘Melissa, if you’re free I’d be glad if you’d come along this evening. There’s something funny going on and I thought you might be able to help me figure out what it is.’

  ‘What do you mean, something funny?’

  ‘It’s hard to say. Nothing I can put a finger on … just a hunch.’

  ‘But there must be something.’

  ‘Well, for a start, there’s Will Foley. He still hasn’t got a clue – he’s absolutely hopeless.’

  ‘I know the problem.’ Melissa gave a sympathetic chuckle. ‘I’ve got a student who hasn’t a clue how to write but she keeps on coming to classes.’

  ‘But she probably enjoys it, even if she’s not much good.’

  ‘Oh yes, she adores scribbling – turns out reams of stuff. She could paper the walls with her rejection slips, but she never gives up.’

  ‘There you are then. This is different – Will
simply hates acting. I heard him confiding to Dittany that he gets stage fright even at rehearsals, so why’ – Chloe spread her hands and cast a despairing glance at the ceiling – ‘does he carry on with it?’

  ‘Have you asked him?’

  ‘I never get the chance to speak to him on his own. When he’s not on stage, he’s in the bar chatting to the staff.’

  ‘Try having a word with Mitch.’

  ‘I have. I told him as tactfully as I could that I had several people who could play the part better, but all I got was, “Don’t worry about Will, he’ll be okay on the night.”’

  ‘Hmm. It almost sounds as if it’s Mitch’s idea for Will to play the policeman and Will’s got to go along with it whether he likes it or not.’

  ‘Exactly!’ Chloe finished her coffee and replaced her cup on the saucer with a clatter. ‘It’s Mitch’s party, of course, so he can do as he likes – and he does.’ Chloe’s mind raced off on another tack. ‘I don’t know what you’ll say to his interpretation of your script, Mel. He’s constantly ad-libbing – sends the rest of the cast rolling around laughing.’ She gave a dramatic sigh. ‘What with trying to get Will to loosen up and at the same time keep Mitch under control, I’ve got my hands full.’

  Melissa grinned. ‘So that’s what’s really bugging you – professional pride!’

  Chloe shook her head. ‘No, it’s not only that. After all, the whole thing’s a send-up anyway. What puzzles me is why a man like Will should allow himself to be pushed into doing something he hates. He doesn’t strike me as the wimpish sort.’

  Melissa shrugged. ‘It’s odd, I admit, but it doesn’t sound particularly sinister. Is that the only strange thing you’ve noticed?’

  ‘There’s nothing really concrete – just odd remarks between the three men that sound almost like a code … or a sub-text spoken aloud … and once Will said something out of the side of his mouth to that chap Chris and they went out together.’

  ‘To the bar, perhaps?’

  ‘Chris doesn’t drink.’

  ‘Well, it doesn’t seem much to go on.’

  ‘I know it sounds feeble when I tell you but …’ Chloe spread her hands in a gesture of frustration. ‘Maybe it’s my imagination, but I keep feeling that the whole thing is a charade and that Mitch’s birthday isn’t the real reason for putting on this show.’

  ‘Chloe, what are you suggesting?’ Remembering Joe’s dark warnings about a possible scam, Melissa felt herself coming out in goose-pimples. ‘Have any of the others noticed anything?’

  ‘They don’t seem to have done. They all like Will and give him lots of encouragement. As for Mitch, they think he’s the bee’s knees and they’re having a ball … all except poor old Eric, that is.’

  ‘Still yearning after Dittany?’

  ‘The way he glares at Mitch and fingers his “prop” dagger when no one’s looking, I get the impression he’d like to stick a real knife into him. Not that it’d get him anywhere – she’ll never have him, poor lad.’ Chloe gathered up her possessions and stood up. ‘You will come along and let me know what you think, won’t you? And bring Iris by all means, if she wants to come.’

  ‘We’ll be there.’

  Melissa parked her dark green Golf in the forecourt of the Heyshill Manor Hotel, switched off the engine and opened the driver’s door. A gust of wind almost wrenched it from her hand; as she locked the car she glanced up and saw a blanket of cloud unrolling from the west, rapidly obscuring the remnants of the sunset. Showers of dead leaves whirled in the air and skittered across the gravel.

  ‘I think there’s a squall blowing up,’ she remarked.

  Iris got out of the car, turned up the collar of her loose woollen coat and shivered. ‘Think you’re right.’ She hugged her shoulders as she studied the scene with a professional eye. ‘Dramatic, isn’t it? I’d like to paint it in these conditions.’

  Against the background of heavy cloud, the floodlit building stood out like a stage set. The trees where the lights were concealed rocked and creaked in the rising wind; shadows thrown by their flailing branches flitted to and fro like giant bats across the stone façade.

  ‘Very dramatic,’ repeated Iris thoughtfully, ‘and somehow, menacing.’

  It was Melissa’s turn to shiver. ‘Let’s go in,’ she said. ‘Oh look, there’s our nervous “policeman”.’ She pointed to where Will Foley, straddle-legged, hands thrust into the pockets of his waxed cotton jacket, was studying a large black American car parked against the hotel wall. A plaque fixed to the stonework stated that the space was reserved for the manager.

  ‘Fancy one like that, Will?’ called Melissa as she and Iris approached.

  Will grinned. ‘Beauty, isn’t she?’ He squatted on his haunches for a closer look.

  ‘Ostentatious gas-guzzler,’ sniffed Iris. ‘Shows complete disregard for the environment.’

  Will straightened up and looked at her enquiringly; Melissa introduced them.

  ‘I’d have said it was more a sign of a healthy bank balance,’ he commented as they shook hands. ‘It must cost a fortune to run.’

  Iris was unimpressed. ‘More money than sense. I’d rather own a haunted manor.’ She turned to Melissa with a glint of mischief in her eye. ‘Seen the spook yet, Mel?’

  Will was peering through the window of the driver’s door at the console with its battery of instruments, twisting his head this way and that, one hand raised to blot out the reflection of light on the glass. He turned round on hearing Iris’s question and before Melissa had time to reply, said with a grin, ‘Not scared of ghosts, are you?’

  ‘Of course not.’ She pulled a face at Iris. ‘Just at the moment, I’m interested in all things spooky. Writing this burlesque thing for Mitch has given me an idea for a creepy murder plot.’

  ‘They’ve got a good spook here – several, in fact. This place has quite a gruesome history. You want to have a chat with Janice in the bar. Make your flesh creep, she will!’

  ‘There you are, Mel,’ said Iris triumphantly. ‘Told you so!’

  Reluctantly, it seemed, Will abandoned his inspection of the car. He stepped back and glanced at his watch. ‘Time for a quick one before I’m on.’ He gave a somewhat watery smile. ‘Can’t say I’ll be sorry when this malarkey’s over. Not really my cup of tea.’

  He held the door open for the two women as they entered the hotel. Kim Bellamy, elegant as ever in a crimson velvet jacket over a low-cut black dress, was at the reception desk, speaking on the telephone. She raised a hand in greeting and the light from a chandelier drew points of fire from the diamonds on her fingers.

  ‘See you later,’ said Will and headed for the bar.

  ‘Nice man,’ commented Iris as she and Melissa made their way along the passage leading to the Priory Suite. ‘Does seem a bit jumpy, though.’

  Chloe and most of her cast had already foregathered. They had evidently been instructed to bring their costumes for approval. Eric Pollard and his friend Peter Little, who were playing the two villains, had turned up in waistcoats over collarless shirts with coloured handkerchiefs knotted round their necks and peaked caps pulled low over their foreheads. Sheila and Felicity, decked out in mob-caps and aprons over long skirts for their roles as servants, were parading for Chloe’s inspection. Mitch, clad surprisingly in a baggy jacket and trousers with a black roll-neck sweater, was in earnest consultation with his minder in a far corner and paying no attention to the proceedings.

  ‘Where’s the Hon. Pen?’ hissed Iris in Melissa’s ear.

  ‘Over there.’

  Penelope and Dittany, the former wearing a sapphire-blue tailored suit and looking as if she had just stepped off the cat-walk in a Paris salon, the latter like a character from a Jane Austen novel in a dress of sprigged cotton, were examining the contents of a box which lay between them on a window-seat. They appeared totally relaxed, exchanging comments and friendly smiles.

  ‘Never think they were after the same man,’ whispered Iris.


  ‘Chloe says Penelope’s being very civilised. Come on, I’ll introduce you.’

  ‘The lady who designed our back-drops? I’m so pleased to meet you,’ said Dittany warmly as she shook hands with Iris. ‘I think they’re simply lovely!’

  ‘Masterly!’ agreed Penelope.

  ‘Thanks.’ Iris peered into the box. ‘What’ve you got there?’

  ‘These are the props – Penelope’s got hold of some super things.’ Dittany rummaged and brought out a sack with ‘Swag’ stencilled on it in large letters. ‘That’s for Peter and Eric to put their ill-gotten gains in, and this,’ she picked up what looked like an ordinary kitchen knife and waved it around, ‘is what Eric murders me with.’

  ‘I’ve never seen one of those before,’ said Melissa. ‘How does it work?’

  ‘The point retracts into the handle, like this. When the killer strikes, it looks as if the blade has gone into the body.’ Dittany demonstrated by stabbing a cushion; even at close quarters, the effect was surprisingly realistic. ‘Of course, I have to grab the handle and hold it during my death throes, otherwise it’d fall over when Eric lets go.’

  ‘Where’s the blood?’ Iris wanted to know.

  ‘Here.’ Penelope dipped into her box and produced a small bottle. ‘It’s the real, professional stuff, Kensington Gore! Oh, do be careful,’ she warned, as Iris unscrewed the top and peered at the contents. ‘It’s terribly expensive. We don’t use it in rehearsal, of course.’

  ‘How does it work?’ asked Melissa, thinking this might be useful information, if ever she set one of her murders in a theatre.

  ‘I have a … well, the blood is in a … a sort of rubber bulb thing … I have to squeeze it to make it burst.’ Dittany turned pink and Penelope looked amused.

  ‘It’s a condom, actually,’ said a matter-of-fact voice. Chloe had appeared among them. She clapped her hands for attention. ‘Prologue and beginners on stage, please.’