Mrs Lillywhite Investigates Box Set

by Emily Queen

  “I know it was part of the covert affair, and that we took down a notorious criminal as a result, but did he really have to manhandle me to successfully create a distraction? That’s right, he did not.” She answered her own question before Rosemary could take a breath. “Oh, look, we’re docking!” All thoughts of revenge seemed to evaporate as the boat came to a stop.

  A flurry of activity on the dock from several men in crisp white shirts reminded Rosemary of a glass-encased ant farm she’d seen at a museum when she was a child. In the short time it took to disembark, each one had amassed a pile of luggage from below decks and loaded them into the small bus that would take them to the hotel.

  “Mrs. Woolridge,” the driver, a snazzily-dressed young man, stuttered in a British accent as Rosemary approached.

  “Mrs. Woolridge is my mother,” Rose replied with a half-smile. “I’m Rosemary Lillywhite, and this lot is with me.” She gestured towards her friends.

  The boy—for he was barely more than sixteen years old by Rose’s estimation—turned a deep shade of red and apologized profusely. “I’m so sorry, Madam. So sorry. Please accept my deepest apologies.”

  “It’s quite all right, Ustus,” she said, peering at the gold-trimmed name badge pinned somewhat awkwardly onto his shirt. “No harm done. You’ll find we’re an easygoing lot, save for my brother the troublemaker, but I’ll tip you handsomely at the end of the trip if you ignore him completely.” She winked and young Ustus sighed with relief.

  The bus ride to the hotel was long, dusty, and more than a little jarring given the condition of the road, which went unnoticed as the scenery commanded the attention of the group.

  Groves of citrus and ripening olive trees, their trunks a fascination of twisting shapes, flanked parts of the road from the village, the scent of oranges and lemons riding the warm air like a blessing. There were, Rosemary noted, far more trees than buildings, yet she wouldn’t describe the landscape as primitive or untamed.

  Ustus kept up a running commentary that Rose let flow past her without listening too closely. Her artist’s eye was too busy making impressions and memorizing shapes and colors to be turned into sketches later. Locals in traditional garb blended with Brits wearing current fashions to create a wealth of pattern and movement.

  Vera, of course, concentrated on the male population, while Frederick kept his eye on the female. Des, as was his way, said very little.

  Over the crest of a low hill, the Aphrodite Sands Hotel finally came into view, its whitewashed facade and modern architecture standing out in stark contrast from everything they’d seen along the way. With bated breath, the foursome emerged from the bus and approached the front entrance. Stone steps cut into perfect rectangles and buffed to a gleaming shine spanned the width of the hotel, potted ferns and colorful plants dotting the expanse.

  Rosemary fingered a rubbery leaf and bent her head to sniff the single flower blossoming from one of its tendrils. Yes, she was going to have a nice, relaxing holiday surrounded by the type of exotic beauty London simply couldn’t boast. She only wished she’d packed some canvas and her paints but settled instead for committing the scene to memory.

  She trailed behind her companions, who hadn’t taken the time to stop and soak in the atmosphere, and approached the front counter at the rear of the group. Vera shot her a look from beneath furrowed brows as the receptionist, a petite, pinch-faced Greek woman with curly black hair leafed through a leather-bound register.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, not sounding sorry at all, “but I can only seem to find two rooms listed under the name Woolridge.”

  “Try Lillywhite,” Rosemary said, pushing between Frederick and Vera.

  Rose’s jovial mood plummeted while the receptionist scanned through the names listed on the page again. “I am sorry. If you would wait one moment,” she said, and without any explanation turned and strode away. After a few minutes, she returned with another woman in tow.

  “Well, I’ll be—” The second woman stopped to gaze at Rosemary.

  This, Rose decided, could be none other than Cecily DeVant. It wasn’t the English accent or the familiarity with which the woman spoke that created such certainty; it was the description that her mother had given Rosemary before she left London. When Evelyn Woolridge had said her friend was the ‘oddest looking woman’ she’d ever met, Rose had taken the statement with a grain of salt.

  Evelyn still couldn’t wrap her mind around why not all women focused on their looks or aspired to no greater heights than marrying well, so her perspective tended to be somewhat one-dimensional.

  However, in this instance, it seemed her mother had not missed the mark at all. Cecily’s face was a contradiction of angles. Impossibly high cheekbones created a triangular effect between her eyes and mouth, the features as symmetrical as those of an Egyptian princess. That is if you could look beyond the prominent, arrow-straight nose that angled towards the left side of her face so abruptly it gave Rosemary a start.

  “You must be Rosemary,” she trilled, stepping forward with her arms outstretched. “You’re the spitting image of your mother when she was a girl. It’s striking, as a matter of fact,” Cecily said, cocking her head to one side as she made her appraisal.

  “Yes,” Rosemary smiled. She couldn’t help but take an instant liking to the woman, though her mother had mentioned getting on Cecily’s bad side was inadvisable, and Rose had no doubt the statement was true. Formidable, be she friend or foe, was a fitting word for Cecily DeVant. “You must be Cecily. It’s a pleasure to meet you again.” Rosemary held out a hand but was instead enveloped in a lavender-scented embrace.

  “We’ll have to take lunch together sometime during your stay. I have many stories about your mother I think you’ll find amusing,” Cecily said, her gaze having come upon Frederick during the conversation. “And you look too much like your father not to be Cecil’s son.” He was treated to an enthusiastic hug, which Frederick returned in kind.

  “Cecil and Cecily,” he said, grinning and shaking his head. “I can only imagine how confusing that was for Mother.”

  Cecily laughed. “Perhaps, though the only thing I ever heard her call your father was ‘darling’ or ‘dear’ or some other such term of endearment. Are they still as besotted with each other as they once were?”

  Rosemary detected a hint of jealousy in Cecily’s tone, not that she could blame her. It wasn’t easy being a third wheel, as Rose had learned since becoming a single woman for the second time in her life.

  Frederick assured her that their parents were still happily married and then introduced Cecily to Vera and Desmond. Once pleasantries had been exchanged to her satisfaction, she retreated to the other side of the counter and took a look at the ledger.

  “Gloria, honestly!” Cecily admonished the receptionist, whose face went a deep shade of scarlet. “Could I have made it any easier for you to reserve the proper number of rooms? I distinctly remember writing you a note explaining that the Woolridge-Lillywhite party would need two suites plus a room for their staff. That’s three rooms, and you only reserved two,” she continued even though the public shaming of an employee made everyone feel somewhat uncomfortable. Anna hung back, a look of pure mortification on her round little face.

  “I’m sorry.” Gloria dropped her eyes, but not before Rose detected mutiny in her expression. “Margaret saw the note and passed the information along to me, but one of us must have made a mistake. All the suites are filled. Should I ask one of the other guests to change rooms?”

  Desmond stepped forward and cleared his throat loudly. “No need to trouble yourself, really. Frederick and I will do just as well in the smaller room.” He received a nod from Rosemary, and a small, grateful smile from the receptionist, who peered at him with interest.

  “Yes,” Rosemary said, “and Anna will stay in our suite, right, Vera?” Vera nodded her agreement.

  “Very well, but your graciousness doesn’t let Gloria off the hook.” Cecily continued to berate
the woman, whose face had gone stony. Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears.

  “You’re lucky I don’t let you go, Gloria.” Cecily’s tone insinuated this wasn’t the first such mistake the girl had made. “We’ll discuss this further later.” She took her leave, citing urgent hotel business, and Gloria breathed a sigh of relief at her departure.

  Rosemary thought once more how her mother had been right—one certainly didn’t want to get on Cecily DeVant’s bad side.

  Chapter 2

  “I’m sorry we all have to share a suite, Miss Rose,” Anna said quietly while they waited for the porter to load the luggage onto a rolling cart. “I’ll sleep on the floor; there’s no need for you and Miss Vera to share a bed.”

  Rosemary sighed and brushed a lock of hair away from Anna’s face. “You’ll do no such thing. It’s not your fault, dear, and furthermore, it’s of no concern. We’ll have a grand time all together. It will be like a slumber party. Vera and I have shared a bed plenty of times over the years. She hardly snores at all.”

  Vera aimed a mock-angry glare at her friend.

  “Besides, we won’t be spending much time in the suite anyway, and Fred and Des will be just fine sharing a smaller room.” The girl appeared slightly mollified, and Rosemary wondered if she would ever convince Anna to stop worrying so much.

  While they waited, the famously imported lift returned to the first floor. A balding man of advanced age stepped off and rudely pressed between Rosemary and Vera without so much as a glance of apology. As he approached the reception desk with a stormy expression on his pinched face, the look on Gloria’s made it clear she’d prefer being drawn and quartered to dealing with him.

  “What is it now, Mr. Wright?” she asked with a nearly audible roll of her eyes that didn’t go unnoticed by the cranky gentleman.

  “You’d best think twice before speaking to me in that tone, Missy,” the man snarled. “Is it my fault your staff is hopelessly inept? Where is Miss DeVant? I’d like to have a word with her about the maid service, as well as your behavior. A high-class hotel like this having hired incompetents to run the place. It’s a damn shame, that’s what it is.” He paused for a moment and continued to glare at Gloria before demanding once more, “Where is Miss DeVant?”

  Gloria’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “She’s indisposed at the moment, dealing with more important matters than your petty complaints. We’ve been more than accommodating to your requests, Mr. Wright, but even Miss DeVant has a limit. I’ll be sure to pass along the message.” She said the last with another roll of her eyes.

  “You do that,” Mr. Wright snapped, “and while you’re at it, remind her I am still trying to contact the owner of this establishment. I intend to file a formal complaint.”

  “The owner won’t talk to you,” Gloria replied, her voice just as icy as his. “Ever. So, you might as well stop hounding Miss DeVant.”

  Mr. Wright smirked. “We’ll see about that. We’ll just see. I expect my message will be received in a timely manner.” He strutted in the direction of the breakfast bar and missed the daggered look Gloria aimed at his back.

  Rose observed the exchange with a mixture of horror and interest until her attention turned to the porter. She watched as he piled Vera’s many cases onto the cart in a precise configuration with hardly any gaps. He bit his lip as he loaded the last one and grinned to nobody, Rose could ascertain, but himself.

  “Thank you,” she said. “That’s quite a stack, isn’t it? I’m afraid we have a habit of packing rather heavily.” Rosemary glanced at Vera, but her friend showed no sign of remorse.

  “I might not pack lightly,” Vera mumbled, “but I’m always ready for all contingencies.”

  “Yes, Madam,” the porter mumbled, a blush rising in his cheeks. “It’s no problem. Miss DeVant says I can take two trips if I have to, but…” he trailed off as if he didn’t know quite how to finish his sentence. “I’m Benny. Follow me and I will show you to your rooms.” He smiled shyly and then lumbered off, pushing the cart towards the lift, where he squeezed past the operator.

  It was a tight fit with the four of them plus Benny, the operator, and the luggage, and everyone held their breath as they ascended to the top floors of the hotel. Frederick and Desmond were first deposited into their smaller shared room one floor down from the women and agreed to meet them in the lounge after everyone had freshened up.

  “Here we are,” Benny declared as the door to the lift opened on the next floor up. He pushed his cart towards the suite marked 303. “Mr. Wright, whom you…er met downstairs, is just down the hall in 305. There are only three suites on this level. They’re the nicest ones we offer here at Aphrodite Sands.” That part sounded rehearsed. “You can even call down to the reception desk from your room.”

  “It’s a nice hotel and I can see Cecily works hard to provide all the most modern amenities,” Rose said, her gaze wandering around the lavish suite.

  “Yes, Miss. Still, the elevator don’t always run just right, and there’s an echo effect on the stairs.” Benny pulled a brass cigarette lighter from his pocket and absently spun the flint to produce a flicker of flame. “Miss Cecily says it’s to do with the angles and curves of the walls, but noises come right up sometimes.”

  When Rosemary stepped further into the suite amid Vera’s squeals of delight and Anna’s soft exclamations, she felt as though she’d been transported to another world. Windows spanned the wall across from the entrance door, opening onto a balcony that overlooked the brolly-dotted beach and provided a breathtaking view of the sea and mountains beyond. Intricately carved woodwork spanned from floor to waist height and continued in the crown molding and ceiling, the wall between covered with fabric wallpaper that looked like hand-spun silk.

  All the furnishings were of the highest quality, with a sunken sitting area taking up the center of the main room. Through the twin doors on either side, two large four-poster beds piled with pillows promised the experience of sleeping on a cloud. Even Vera, who had traveled far and wide and stayed in some of the most expensive hotels money could buy, was taken aback by the sheer luxury by which she, Rosemary, and Anna were now surrounded.

  As he wheeled the cart into the room, Benny went into a rehearsed spiel about the hotel and how the management spared no expense to provide features found nowhere else on the island, including en-suite bathrooms and hot running water. He didn’t mention the lift again, but he did add in his more normal cadence of speech that the boiler worked most of the time and the water was never rusty.

  “Thank you, Benny,” Rosemary said after he’d unloaded the cart. “You’ve been most helpful.”

  The man blushed again, mumbled something along the lines of “if you ladies need anything else…” then trailed off and beat a hasty retreat out the door.

  Once he had gone, Rosemary flopped onto the bed and let out a giggle. “It’s even better than I imagined. I could stay here all day eating chocolates and taking in the view.”

  “Well, Rosie dear, I have a feeling that’s what we’ll be doing the day after Desmond convinces us to hike up one of those mountains,” Vera said, her voice taking on a tired-sounding tone at the mere thought of physical exertion.

  “We’ll cross that bridge when—and if—we come to it,” Rosemary said with a laugh. “For now, I’m going to take a nice, long bath and hope my brother hasn’t gone three sheets to the wind before we make it down for tea. It’s quite early yet, but that’s never stopped him before.”

  She rose and peeked into Anna’s room, where the girl lay sprawled out on the fluffy down mattress. She gave a contented sigh. “It’s not moving,” she said with a yawn. “I think I shall stay here and unpack rather than go down for tea, if that’s all right.”

  “Ring down and see if one of the hotel staff can bring you something,” Rosemary suggested. “I wish I could do the same, but the men are expecting us to rally. I refuse to be called a stick in the mud. You know how Freddie can get when he feels we aren’t upholding our
sacred duty to enjoy ourselves.”

  Anna smiled and nodded as she spotted the telephone on a table with a card lying next to it. “Oh, look here’s a menu. Isn’t that simply topping.” She scanned the sheet, her eyes widening at the selection, and she said on a breath, “There’s too much to choose from, and they’re all dishes I recognize.” Once underway, Anna had fretted about having to eat things that might make her sick. “Should I order a scone or cake?”

  “Get both, then, and enjoy yourself.” It didn’t take much to make Anna happy, and for all the little things she did to please her mistress, Rosemary wanted nothing more than to ensure she had the time of her life on the Isle of Love. The grin on Anna’s face was thanks enough.

  While the tub filled with the hottest water Rosemary could stand, she tossed in a handful of bath salts, then stepped out onto the balcony and surveyed her surroundings. She’d kept a morsel of information from even her best friend; Cyprus was a place Rosemary and her late husband Andrew had dreamed of visiting. Being here without him was bittersweet, but it was something she needed to endure to move on. As long as this holiday went off without a hitch, she believed she’d find herself stronger at the end of it. With one last lingering look at the beauty surrounding her, Rosemary strode back inside towards the fragrant bath that promised to soothe all her rough edges.

  Chapter 3

  An hour later, she and Vera, dressed for tea in light, gauzy frocks, passed Anna stashing the luggage in a coat cupboard near the door as they exited the suite, and pressed the button to summon the lift. Their wait was interrupted by the uttered expletives of a man entering the hallway from suite 301, the room across the hall that Rose was sure must have been meant for Frederick and Desmond before the receptionist’s error.