Mrs Lillywhite Investigates Box Set

by Emily Queen

  Meanwhile, Benjamin took the opportunity to pelt Rosemary and Vera with his own spate of boasting. “They’ll be finished building my new yacht just in time for next year’s boating season. It takes quite a lot of work, you know, and you wouldn’t believe the expense—” he waxed on, mentioning a ridiculous amount of money, acting as though the ladies ought to find his extravagance impressive. They didn’t.

  “I’d love to offer my congratulations on your engagement,” Vera finally said to cut off the discussion, and Rosemary smiled as she noticed the offer was made only in theory.

  “Tell me, how did you two lovebirds meet?” Vera hoped the mention of their impending union might jar at least half of the couple from blatant flirtation, though both would be preferable.

  Benjamin winked at his fiancée across the table. “Ah, what a lovely story. I’d just moved from London to Paris. Had some work to do there, investments to make. You see, the French market—” he began to launch into another boastful story but was quickly waylaid by Geneviève.

  “Mon cher, they don’t want to hear about that. What happened was zis,” she said as she leaned towards the group conspiratorially. “I stole him away from another woman.”

  How that was a lovely story was beyond Rosemary’s comprehension, but at that point, nothing about the couple would have surprised her.

  “True, true, my love,” Benjamin said with a grin, “quite a beautiful woman too, but no match for Vivi here. I walked into a little out-of-the-way nightclub in Paris, and there she was at the bar surrounded by a group of adoring men. From the second we locked eyes, I knew I was going to marry her. In fact, I walked up to her and told her just that.”

  “He did!” Geneviève trilled. “In terrible, broken French, I might add. Why he thought moving to Paris without knowing French was a grand idea, je ne le saurais jamais! And what did I say to you, darling?”

  “She said I’d have to show her a copy of my bank statement first! Can you believe the cheek?” Benjamin boomed. “I knew right then I’d met my match. We’ve been together ever since.” He laughed so loudly, nearly everyone in the lounge must have been able to hear him. An older woman at the table nearest theirs sent an annoyed look and a harrumph in his direction.

  A tap on his shoulder startled Benjamin, and when he turned, it was to find Walter, the assistant manager, staring down at him. “Sir, would you mind lowering your voice? While we appreciate that you’re enjoying yourself, we’ve had a few complaints from other tables regarding the noise.”

  Walter seemed more concerned with staring down the front of Geneviève’s dress, which did indeed draw the male eye, than he did in reprimanding Benjamin. The woman’s wink in his direction did nothing to dissuade him, and in fact, the man appeared as if he might begin to drool at any moment.

  “Sure, sure,” Ben replied jovially, though he threw a stony look after the assistant manager’s retreating back. After that, dinner wrapped up rather quickly, the mood having been extinguished. Desmond hardly said a word during the meal, and everyone save for Frederick, who had been having a grand time, was relieved when the bill came.

  “Let me,” Benjamin reached for the slip of paper, but his movements seemed slow, and Rosemary noted his assessing gaze darted between her brother and Desmond. When Frederick also reached out, Ben hastily withdrew his hand, leaving Freddie on the hook for the expensive bottle of wine.

  “I, for one, am completely exhausted,” Vera said with an exaggerated yawn as she rose from the table. Rosemary quickly agreed.

  Always the gentleman, Desmond offered himself and Frederick as escorts to the women’s’ suite. It seemed as though he was as desperate to get away from Geneviève and Benjamin as they were.

  “We can all ride the lift up together,” Geneviève said, squelching that plan. “I’ll need to freshen up before we head to the bar.”

  “Wonderful,” Vera whispered in Rosemary’s ear, making her choke back a snort.

  “Thank goodness the suite is well-stocked,” she whispered back. “I need at least two more cocktails after that dinner.”

  Outside, the wind whipped hard enough to cause the lights inside the hotel to flicker. Relieved for the excuse, Vera said loud enough for everyone to hear, “It sounds as though it might be rather chilly this evening; hunkering down in the comfort of our suite sounds just lovely.”

  “Convenez-vous,” Geneviève replied lightly. “Suit yourself.”

  On their way through the lobby, Richard Wright’s furious voice commanded attention. His spine ramrod stiff, he banged a hand on the reception counter with one fist, the other he held at his side.

  “I still cannot fathom how you’ve managed to keep this hotel afloat considering the abysmal level of service your guests receive.” The man was relentless, and when Cecily stepped out from the office behind the counter, she looked as though she might thoroughly enjoy wringing his neck with her bare hands. She rounded the counter to face him head-on.

  His attention switching from Gloria to Cecily, Wright loomed over her to continue his tirade.

  From his position near the lift, Benny said, “See here, now.” His normally placid expression settled into a frown as he took a few steps towards the angry man.

  Cecily’s hand came up to warn Benny back. “Mr. Wright, if you’re unhappy here,” she snapped, “you’re more than welcome to try your luck at one of the other hotels on the island. In fact, if you continue to badger the staff, I’ll have to insist you procure other lodgings.”

  Out of nowhere, Geneviève squared her shoulders and strode the rest of the way across the lobby, piercing Cecily with a cold look. “If zis is how you speak to your guests—then it’s no wonder he’s upset. Mon Dieu!” She glared at Cecily and opened her mouth as if she were about to say something else, but Benjamin took her by the arm and led her towards the lift.

  “Come on, now, Vivi,” he said. “It’s time we were on our way.” Geneviève let herself be pulled away, and Richard Wright, apparently having lost his steam, followed. When the lift failed to move no matter how many times Benjamin pressed the button, another tirade regarding the state of affairs at the Aphrodite erupted as Mr. Wright clamored up the stairs ahead of the couple.

  Rosemary and company lingered near the reception desk to offer Cecily their support after the inappropriate outburst.

  “Don’t you fret, dears,” Cecily said, flashing them a genuine smile. “Mr. Wright blusters, but I know just how to handle him. Gloria,” she said in a much softer tone, “you look simply knackered. I’ll send for Margaret to come in early and you can take the rest of the night off. That man could try the patience of a saint.”

  She winked in Rosemary’s direction, then turned back to Gloria, who looked surprised. “And Gloria, you can bin any further missives from Mr. Wright.” Smiling, Cecily strode off to summon Margaret.

  Chapter 6

  “Well, that was certainly interesting,” Rosemary said with a grin. She’d kicked off her shoes and was settled comfortably in one of the armchairs in the suite’s sitting room. Vera had dispensed with the mixers and poured them each a generous glass of gin, which Rosemary sipped appreciatively. “We were hoping for some excitement to complement our relaxing holiday, so I suppose we ought to count the redoubtable Vivi Chevalier and her deplorable fiancé as such and consider it a success.”

  Vera glared at her friend, “how dare you say that? It was like torture sitting there all evening watching her fawn all over your brother.” At Rosemary’s raised eyebrow, she hastened to add, “she’s engaged, and it’s simply not right.”

  “Where did this sudden burst of propriety come from? Do you realize who you sound like? You sound exactly like me,” Rose said, grinning. “I believe we’ve experienced a reversal of roles.”

  “You picked a fine time to broaden your ethical horizons, Rosie.”

  “It isn’t as though I’m advocating her behavior, Vera. It’s simply not my problem. Nor yours. She won’t get anywhere with Freddie, not really,” Rosemary
said wryly. “He merely likes to puff out his chest and act the big man. What he really wants is to settle down with a nice girl. Not too nice, mind you. He needs to be thoroughly entertained, and as yet no woman has been able to keep him on his toes. I suspect he’ll find someone before long.” She watched Vera’s face carefully but left the rest of her thoughts unsaid, merrily taking another drink.

  Vera flopped into a chair, somehow managing not to spill a drop of gin, and sighed. “I suppose you’re right. It’s simply that, well, I was hoping for an evening with just the four of us. You know, like old times.”

  “It’s only our second night on the island,” Rosemary reassured her. “I’m sure there will be plenty of intimate dinners with just the four of us over the next few weeks. To tell the truth, I’m surprised you feel that way. I assumed you’d be racking up flirting partners far faster than my fool of a brother. From what I’ve heard, the island doesn’t lack for eligibles, or for jazzy nightlife. What exactly is standing in your way?”

  With another sigh, Vera threw her head back and stared at the ceiling before answering, “I think I’ve had enough of men for the time being.”

  Rosemary nearly spat her drink onto the beautiful Persian rug. “Say that again, please, I want to remind you of it the next time you find yourself besotted by some tall drink of water with fire in his eye.”

  “I’m restless, I suppose. Men are all the same, deep down. At least the ones who chase me. The men who follow you around have substance; the ones who come after me just see the pomp and circumstance. They never really try to get to know me. They treat me like I’m a piece of fluff, and that’s where it ends. Maybe I want more than that.”

  It was more of an admission than Vera had ever made, and Rosemary felt as though something was coming down the pike for her friend. It was about time, in her opinion.

  When the door slid open a crack to admit Anna, Vera burst out in surprise. “Well, where did you come from, then?” She’d have sworn the young maid was already tucked up in bed.

  “Sorry, Miss. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I was talking to some of the staff and lost track of time.” Red-faced, Anna bustled around the suite, putting things to rights. “It won’t happen again.”

  “Nonsense, Anna. You’ve done nothing wrong, and there’s no need to scurry about as though you’re breaking curfew. You look better, I must say. The color is returning to your face.” In fact, there was a pretty flush to the girl’s cheeks, but Rosemary decided not to pry.

  How long they stayed up talking, Rosemary couldn’t say, but when Vera’s eyelids began to droop and she begged off for bed, it must have been close to two o’clock in the morning. Rosemary wandered onto the balcony and noticed someone coming up the path from the beach. Squinting, she made out Mr. Wright’s bald head shining in the light of the moon. As she shivered in the cool breeze, she wondered what he’d been doing out and about but didn’t linger on the notion, as the insufferable man’s schedule was none of her concern.

  Rosemary slept restlessly that night, her dreams interrupted by terrible visions. It had been this way since Freddie’s unfortunate arrest; during the day, she could control her thoughts, but under the cover of darkness, the horrors she’d seen combined with the pain of losing Andrew manifested in the form of nightmares.

  After she had watched the bodies of her friends and family pile up behind her eyelids, she decided she’d had enough and rose from the comfort of her bed to pace around the suite. She opened the terrace door quietly, trying to avoid waking Anna or Vera, and stepped onto the cool flagstones. Amid a swath of pink and gold, the sun rose over the mountains until there was nothing but blue sky as far as the eye could see. The dreadful breeze from the evening before seemed a distant memory.

  Deciding that the sand and sparkling water were too inviting to ignore, Rosemary dressed quickly and took the stairs to the first floor. By the time she arrived at the bottom, she regretted having declined the use of the lift. The sheen of sweat on the back of her neck made an early morning swim an even more desirable notion.

  A half-loaded maid’s cart blocked the door to the reception area, trapping Rosemary in the stairwell. “Hello?” she called and jumped when her question was answered with a bloodcurdling scream.

  Charlotte, the maid, stepped out from the storeroom situated down the hallway to the left of the stair landing, her eyes the size of dinner plates and her hair a disheveled mess. She looked as though she hadn’t got a wink of sleep the night before and hurried to smooth her wrinkled uniform when she realized who stood in the stairway. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Miss—Miss—” she stammered.

  “Rose, it’s Rosemary—”

  “Miss Rose, I’m so sorry. You startled me. I’m afraid I’m rather easily frightened,” Charlotte explained.

  “It’s all right,” Rosemary replied once her heartbeat returned to its normal rhythm. “I just needed to get past your cart.” She gestured towards the front reception area, sending Charlotte into another round of apologies. Rosemary suppressed the urge to roll her eyes up towards the heavens and reassured the girl a second time, then was nearly bowled over when someone attempted to shove past her.

  “Charlotte, what on earth is going on? Why are you screaming like a banshee?” Gloria admonished. “We have guests, you know.”

  “It’s my fault,” Rosemary explained. “I startled her is all.”

  “Well,” Gloria said, looking up and down the hallway, “I’d say you’d better get back to work before her strictness—I mean Miss DeVant—shows up to pin your ears back for you.”

  If Rosemary hadn’t liked Gloria much before, she certainly didn’t care for her now after hearing her talk about her superior in such a manner in front of a guest, and particularly after Cecily had been so kind to her the evening before. The red tinge that rose to Gloria’s cheeks when she realized the gaffe did little to alleviate Rosemary’s irritation.

  Rosemary ducked out and Gloria followed, Charlotte’s tittering still echoing behind her.

  “Drat,” she said out loud as she stepped outside onto the flagstone path that led directly to the beach. “I forgot to bring a towel. And now I’m talking to myself.” Rosemary wondered if a dip in the sea was worth the trouble of returning to her room, and then realized she didn’t have to go that far after all.

  She retraced her steps to where Charlotte stocked her cart, and this time made sure not to startle her. “I’m looking for a towel,” she said gently, frowning when she realized the cart was filled with sheets instead.

  “The cupboard on the other side of the stairwell has towels,” Charlotte explained and tried to maneuver around the cart that was blocking her into the storeroom. Rosemary now understood why she’d placed it at the bottom of the stairs.

  “I can help myself if that’s all right,” she told the girl, who nodded gratefully.

  “Of course, take as many as you need. Reach up, and you’ll find the cord for the light.”

  Rosemary pulled open the door Charlotte had indicated and took a step forward, her arm reaching high for the cord. Her foot knocked into something on her way, and when the light came on, Rose thought for a long, drawn-out second that she was still trapped in one of her nightmares.

  There, dead on the floor in a pool of blood, lay the unmistakable figure of Cecily DeVant. Tears sprang to Rosemary’s eyes, and her hand fluttered to her mouth, as much in shock as to keep herself from heaving. An ear-piercing scream erupted from her throat.

  Out in the hall, Charlotte struggled with the cart but wasn’t able to break free before Gloria arrived on the scene, her brows drawn down in consternation.

  “For the love of all that is good and holy, Charlotte,” she snapped as she rounded the corner, “what on earth—” she broke off her diatribe when she realized it wasn’t Charlotte but rather Rosemary screaming, then rushed towards the cupboard door.

  “Oh—oh—oh no!” she wailed into the silence left when Rosemary abruptly quieted. “Stay back, Char. Go out to the lobby. Ring
for the police.”

  Later, Rosemary would appreciate the efficiency with which Gloria handled the situation, but right then all she could do was sob. Cecily wasn’t the first murder victim she’d ever seen—and it was clear as day that this was indeed murder—but it was the first time she’d actually had affection for the body she’d happened upon.

  “She’s dead, isn’t she?” Gloria asked, her voice flat and devoid of emotion.

  “Yes,” Rosemary said after a long pause. “She’s most certainly dead.” From somewhere deep down, she summoned the strength to examine Cecily not as a friend but as an investigator. She knew the scene would be, as all the others were, permanently seared into her memory, and she wanted to ensure she didn’t miss what might turn out to be a vital clue.

  Spatters of blood colored the stacks of stark white towels a macabre crimson, which meant the crime had been committed here, in the storeroom. Judging by the angle, Cecily had been kneeling down when she was struck on the back of the head. The only other sign of trauma was a shallow scratch on Cecily’s forehead.

  Rosemary had already ruled out the possibility that the death had been an accident, but the site of the wound clinched it. That, and the fact that whatever weapon had struck the fatal blow was nowhere to be seen. She looked for blood on the corners of each shelf just to make sure it couldn’t have been an unfortunate accident but found none.

  Once satisfied, and with a sorrowful glance at Cecily’s unusual face, she turned and walked slowly through the door, across the lobby, and into the bathroom where she finally allowed herself to break down. Sobs turned to dry heaves from her empty stomach, and the pounding in her head hammered up a decibel until it was deafening. So deafening she didn’t realize someone was pounding on the door.