Mrs Lillywhite Investigates Box Set

by Emily Queen

  In triumph, Des snatched up Vera’s drink and drained it off before telling the rest of his story. “The upshot of it all was that she would let the matter lie for one week, and at the end of that time, if the money found its way back into the drawer, that would be the end of it.”

  “And was it? The end, I mean. Did the money come back?” Vera wanted to know, but Des clammed up as Walter approached the table.

  “I just wanted to apologize on Benny’s behalf. The boy is quite upset. He didn’t mean anything.”

  Amid a chorus of reassurance that they’d suffered no ill will from the outburst, Walter asked after Anna. When Rose merely shrugged, he left to continue on his way towards the reception desk where he seemed to spend much of his time, flirting.

  By then, Boothe had gone, and one of the guests started a trend by standing up to speak a few words about the dearly departed. For the next hour, guests and staff alike shared memories and stories that Rose would take back to her mother to help assuage the grief, for they portrayed Cecily as a woman of many facets. One who was kind yet firm, strict yet willing to help anyone in need.

  Tears flowed as freely as the booze at the bar, and the mood at the end was one of both joy and sadness, but then, Rosemary thought, life is like that on the best of days.

  Chapter 14

  When Rosemary and Vera approached the outdoor bar later that evening, they found it packed to the gills. It seemed everyone needed a reprieve from the sadness of the day. Taking a page from Vivi Chevalier’s book, Gloria preened in front of the men, leaning in to talk to Desmond as though they were the best of friends.

  “That woman has positively no scruples,” Vera spat as they approached, echoing Anna’s earlier statement regarding Benjamin Marlowe. “Not that anyone around here seems to have any. She’s despicable, that’s what she is.”

  “Oh, Vera, calm down. First of all, don’t act as though you’ve never been forward with a man before because I’ve witnessed many a scene just like this involving some besotted fellow who was another woman’s beau. Second of all,” Rosemary continued, holding up her index finger to shush her friend, “if Desmond is stupid enough to fall for her charms, I don’t want him anyway. Thirdly, I don’t know if I want him at all.”

  Vera shot her a cold look. “It’s not my fault if a man isn’t happy with his woman. I’ve simply given a few of them a better option, but I’ve never turned my eye on a man who was engaged, and you know it. Moreover, Rosie, dear, it doesn’t matter if you want Des or not. We need to keep our little group close, especially considering how often we land in mortal peril!”

  “You’re being quite dramatic, Vera dear. Are you finding yourself missing the heat of the stage lights already?” Rosemary quipped, but her smile belied any malice behind her words. For the moment, she’d pushed Cecily’s grisly murder from her mind and was attempting to put herself in a better mood. Needling Vera out of a fit of pique fit the bill.

  “Perhaps. I’ve been thinking about my next role, and I’ve decided a bit of drama is in order. Modern drama this time, not of the Shakespearean milieu. But we can talk about that on the train ride home. For now, let’s see how much damage we can do.”

  This time, her gaze landed on Frederick who, in a rare moment, didn’t have a woman clinging to his arm. Rose shook her head and kept her mouth closed. Pushing Vera in any way would result in the opposite outcome she intended, which was somewhat ironic considering how pushy her friend could be when she thought she knew what was best for someone else.

  “Let’s do keep our heads about us, shall we?” Rosemary suggested. “Remember how ridiculous Geneviève and Benjamin looked when they had that blow up the other night. I’d rather hold on to a shred of my dignity.”

  “Speaking of the devils,” Vera replied, “there they both are, wrapped around one another as though nothing happened.”

  Sure enough, the couple in question held court at the bar, Geneviève evidently telling a hilarious story that had her gesticulating wildly while Benjamin grinned from ear to ear.

  Rosemary and Vera approached, Vera’s eyes shooting daggers at Gloria, who returned the glare when Desmond turned his back on her to greet them. Neither said a word but held the stare until Gloria finally flushed and turned away. Satisfied, Vera tucked into her drink and tilted her head back to stare up at Freddie.

  “What have we here? The great Lothario alone at the bar. Did you go through all of the available women already?”

  As always, Freddie gave back as good as he got.

  “I haven’t noticed the male population prostrating themselves at your feet lately. What’s the matter? Lose your touch?”

  Before she could utter a scathing retort, a woman’s voice interrupted her.

  “Bonjour, mes amies,” Geneviève had approached and made a big show of planting air kisses on Rose, Des, and Vera’s cheeks, but her lips met Frederick’s face and lingered there a touch longer than necessary. It was enough to turn Vera’s sour mood bitter, and the fact that it irked her made her angrier still.

  While Vera fumed, Rosemary greeted Geneviève and attempted to pull her attention away from Freddie. “It seems as though you and your fiancé are in a better mood tonight,” she said, the words popping out of her mouth before she had a chance to censor them as she normally would. Rose found she cared little and rather enjoyed the look of irritation that crossed Vivi’s face before she laughed and brushed the comment aside.

  “Ah, yes, well, who amongst us hasn’t been drawn into a lover’s quarrel or two?” Geneviève replied.

  “Where is Benjamin?” Rosemary asked, looking around and discovering he’d disappeared. A vague thought that too much gin had loosened her lips flitted across her mind. “Off hunting for more maids to torture, is he? Or perhaps another woman to proposition.”

  That was enough to make Vera hiccup beside her, Frederick’s face turn beet red, and Geneviève’s eyes to flash. “You silly English women think you’re so evolved, but you obviously don’t know a thing about relationships. Men are wild creatures who need to retain a semblance of freedom. Some women are the same way.” She batted her eyelashes at Frederick, and the tension ratcheted up another notch.

  “We silly English women actually have class,” Vera retorted.

  Geneviève smiled smugly now, her dig having struck gold. “Men don’t appreciate class as much as they’d like you to believe they do. They appreciate guts and guile far more. Isn’t that right, Frederick?”

  The poor man looked like a gazelle who’d noticed the lioness just a moment too late. “Well, we appreciate a great many things about you ladies.” Freddie stammered, and turned wide, pleading eyes on Rosemary.

  “Ah, perhaps I was wrong about you.” Geneviève’s hand, which had been poised to brush a lock of Frederick’s curly blond hair back into place, went limp and dropped to her side. “I suppose you and your actress deserve one another.”

  Vera growled. It was a sound Rosemary had heard before, and one that meant she’d hit her limit. Vivi, having no idea what was coming, let a feral smile slip into place right as Vera hauled back a hand and slapped it off her face. Eyes widening with shock above the reddening handprint, Geneviève only missed a single beat before returning the favor, and then it was on.

  Vera’s fingers latched like vices in the French woman’s hair, yanking and pulling the perfectly coiffed waves to tangled strands.

  A collective intake of breath ran through the crowd, but no one stepped in to stop the fight, which ended fairly quickly anyhow when all the bravado deserted Geneviève, and she begged Vera to stop. Panting, sweaty, and close to tears, Vivi stumbled away while Vera crossed her arms and watched. Both women’s eyes shone with moisture, but in Vera’s case, the tears were the result of the sniffles, and not of ire or pain.

  From where Rosemary was sitting, the Isle of Love truly did seem more like the Isle of Lust. Or perhaps the Isle of Crazy People, she wasn’t sure which.

  She linked arms with Vera and steered her towar
ds the path leading back to the hotel. “I’m sorry about that. I should have kept my thoughts to myself. Perhaps I’ve gone round the bend,” she mused. “So much for keeping our dignity.”

  Vera laughed. “Rosie dear, this was the most fun I’ve had all week. That woman deserves whatever she gets. She’s a shameless, two-bit gold digger and someday it’s going to come back around to bite her in the rear.”

  “I, for one, applaud you both,” Desmond said jovially. “That was fine entertainment, don’t you think, Freddie?”

  Frederick smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He appeared to have a lot on his mind.

  “Well,” a voice said out of the darkness, making Rosemary’s arm hair stand on end. She felt a little thrill vibrate through her body. “I have to say I agree with Desmond on that point. You ladies put on quite a show.”

  Chapter 15

  “Max!” Vera shouted while Rosemary gaped at the man standing in front of her. His presence on Cyprus was so unexpected she was struck dumb. Her heart thumped in her chest, and all the feelings she’d been pushing down came back to bubble up into her throat. “What are you doing here?” Vera demanded.

  “I heard you’d landed yourselves some more trouble.” It sounded like a reprimand without any real heat behind it. His eyes remained locked on Rosemary’s. “I didn’t realize it had come to fisticuffs. Arguing over a man, it sounded like.”

  His gaze flicked between Rosemary and Desmond, a neutral expression hiding the angst beneath. He’d worried her affections would be won during the trip out of London, and now it looked as if his worst fear might have come true.

  To Rosemary, it appeared as though he couldn’t care less, and her heart sank unexpectedly. Vera probably would have seen behind Max’s mask if she hadn’t been busy watching Frederick’s reaction to his comment. Freddie, in turn, avoided her gaze along with his feelings. All five of them were drowning in subtext, including Desmond, who was the only one not thrilled about Detective Inspector Maximilian Whittington’s arrival in Cyprus.

  Finally, Vera came to her senses and answered Max’s open-ended question. “That woman has been fawning all over every man who crosses her path, and she’s engaged to a man even more promiscuous than she is. It’s despicable. I simply put her in her place.”

  It hadn’t looked simple to Max, and he also noted that the woman to whom Vera referred had managed to get in a few jabs of her own. “Rose,” he said, looking at her expectantly, as she’d yet to utter a word.

  “I’m just so shocked to see you here,” she said, finally recovering her sensibilities. “It’s wonderful, really.” She gave him a somewhat awkward kiss on the cheek and then resorted to small talk. “What room are you staying in?”

  “A few down from Frederick and Desmond, according to the receptionist,” Max replied. “Would you like to get a drink and have a chat before we all retire for the evening?”

  Rosemary agreed, ignored the brow wiggle Vera aimed in her direction, and followed him into the lounge after bidding goodnight to her brother and a sullen Desmond.

  Once Rose and Max settled into a dimly lit corner table, the tension began to drain away, allowing the pair to return to their normal rhythm.

  “Are you all right?” Max asked now that they were alone.

  With a nod and a sigh, Rose replied, “I’m fine, but trouble and tragedy seem to follow me everywhere lately. This time, it happened to someone I actually knew and cared about. Cecily was a wonderful woman and a great friend to my mother. It’s more than a pity. It’s an injustice I intend to rectify.” Her jaw set determinedly, turning her face into a fierce mask that Max couldn’t help but admire.

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Rose. I got on the train as soon as I received word from the local police.”

  “And your mother? Is she angry that you left just as she was moving into her flat?” She’d met Max’s mother once before and come away with the distinct impression the woman didn’t care for her. She could only imagine what Mrs. Whittington would think about her son running off to Cyprus to her aid.

  Max kept his face neutral. “Mother is just fine, especially considering she’s currently on a trip with a group of her lady friends. She didn’t spend more than two nights in her new home before running off to Bath. It seems she has embraced her retirement and is taking to the waters for her health. That is a direct quote.”

  “I suppose she knows what’s best,” Rosemary smiled.

  “What is your take on this murder? Do you have a suspect?” Max asked.

  Rose scrunched her nose and said, “Several. That’s the problem. Very few of her employees cared for Cecily, and they all seem to have cause to want her out of the picture. I’ve got a line on a couple of the guests; a man named Richard Wright, who has been pushing for her to persuade the owners of the hotel to sell. I certainly wouldn’t put it past him to resort to violence, but all I’ve seen him do so far is make petty complaints and issue empty threats.”

  Max nodded as if he knew the type.

  “Then there’s the woman Vera just put in her place. She also seems to have detested Cecily, though for what reason I’m not sure. Geneviève Chevalier is engaged to a man named Benjamin Marlowe, and he’s a shady character if I ever met one. What either of their motives might be, I haven’t a clue. There’s very little hard evidence pointing in any definitive direction, save for the threatening letters we found in Cecily’s handbag.” Rose explained what the letters contained while Max listened. “They were typed with no signature, and I’ve been unable to track down the machine on which they were made. Basically, I’m at a dead end.”

  “You look exhausted.” Max rubbed at his chin, and Rose heard the scrape of whiskers against his fingers. She looked at him more closely and saw the fatigue that hovered over his own features even as he worried about her.

  “Dear Max, that is surely a case of the pot calling out the kettle on account of its color. You look like you haven’t slept for days.”

  “The fastest way from London is to travel with freight, or as freight, I suppose. Not much luxury to be had, but plenty of speed. I’m not sure if I’ve caught up with myself yet.”

  But he’d come for her, and Rose found herself incredibly touched by the gesture. Enough that she nearly kissed him but caught herself in time to avoid being made the fool.

  “Why don’t we reconvene in the morning and figure out where to go from there.” If Max was aware of her impulse, he never let on. “I’d hoped you’d find some peace on this holiday, Rose.”

  “I have, Max, found some in the midst of all this. Now that you’re here, well, I have to say I’m feeling much better.”

  She didn’t tell him her heart had been going pitter-pat ever since he’d arrived. She didn’t say any of the things she wanted to say and neither did he, but he walked with her towards the lobby, a protective hand on her back.

  Rosemary was surprised to see Gloria standing behind the reception desk, looking even more sour than usual. “Are you all settled in, Mr. Whittington?” she asked, batting her eyelashes at him while staunchly avoiding Rosemary’s gaze.

  “Yes, thank you,” Max said, not taking his own eyes off Rosemary.

  “You don’t usually work evenings,” Rose commented, unwilling to allow the impertinent girl to disregard her., She was surprised to see Gloria back behind the desk after having spent most of the evening guzzling cocktails and flirting shamelessly.

  Gloria raised her eyes up towards the ceiling. “I do since I had to give Margaret a night off and dock her pay. It is my job to fill in when I am needed.”

  “Really? She seemed like a good girl.” Rosemary’s stomach churned, hoping she and Vera weren’t the cause of someone losing their job.

  “Yes, well, good employees don’t allow keys to go missing from the office during their shift.”

  Rosemary’s heart sank, her suspicion confirmed. As disgusted as she was that Gloria would speak that way in front of guests, she wasn’t shocked. If Cecily’s uncle didn�
��t find another decent manager to run the hotel, she had a feeling Richard Wright might be correct in his estimation that the Aphrodite was in trouble.

  “You’ll have to take the stairs,” Gloria said as they turned to leave. “The lift isn’t available at the moment.”

  Rosemary dreaded the thought of walking up three flights but quickly resigned herself to the task. To her surprise, someone was rummaging around in the supply closet where Cecily had died, and when Richard Wright’s head popped out from behind the door, she wondered if her thoughts had summoned the man.

  “Oh, hello there,” he said, somewhat guiltily. “I’m just looking for some fresh towels since the maid doesn’t seem intent on bringing me any. The door was open,” he explained even though neither of them had asked.

  “All right,” Rosemary replied. “Have a good night.”

  “I’m sure I will now that I’ve taken matters into my own hands,” Wright said.

  Arriving back at the suite, Rosemary found Vera exactly where she expected her friend would be: sprawled across the sofa with a drink in her hand waiting to hear what had transpired with Max.

  “Spill,” Vera ordered and raised the tumbler to her lips.

  It wasn’t spite, exactly, that made Rose hesitate, more the need for a moment to ponder. “Where’s Anna?” she stalled.

  “She’s out with the friends she’s made since we got here. I told you that situation was going to get worse before it got better,” Vera said, echoing her previous statement regarding Anna. “You need to watch that girl, or she’ll get herself into trouble.”

  Not the level-headed, somewhat timid girl, Rose knew. Anna wasn’t possessed of an intrepid soul, but of the type of personality to sit on the sidelines and watch others commit daring deeds.

  “That reminds me,” Rosemary said. “I think Anna has set her sights on that assistant manager chap, Walter.” She explained how she’d seen Anna looking at him the morning after Cecily’s murder.