A Merry Murder

by Kate Kingsbury

  “Does that mean you’ve got the time off to go with me?”

  Gertie straightened. “It means I’m going to try. I haven’t asked yet. I’ll tell Chubby I want to see the parade, and she’ll probably let me go.”

  “Good.”

  “Just don’t take a knife.”

  “All right, I said I won’t.” Charlotte ducked her hand into her pocket and drew out a small sheathed knife. “I’m going to carry it with me until then, though.”

  Gertie widened her eyes. “Wot? What for?”

  “In case our murderer comes after me, that’s what for.” Charlotte dropped the knife back into her pocket. “I’m not taking any chances. Just in case it’s not Mazie.”

  Gertie shot a look around the empty ballroom. “Shush! We’re not supposed to talk about it.”

  Charlotte sighed. “Well, all right, but some of the guests are getting a bit jumpy about it. I’ve had a couple of ’em asking me if it’s true the killer has been caught.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “I told them that’s what I’d heard. I told Mr. Baxter and asked him what I should say, and he said it was all right to say that.”

  “Then keep saying that.”

  Just then a shrill voice rang out from the far end of the ballroom. “Come along, girls! Stop your dawdling! We have a rehearsal to conduct.”

  Gertie closed her eyes. Phoebe Carter Holmes Fortescue and her dance troupe. That was all she needed to make this a perfect morning. She still had the grate in the second fireplace to polish, and now she would have to listen to the awful caterwauling of Mrs. Fortescue’s dancers, if she could call them that.

  Opening her eyes again, she saw Phoebe marching across the floor like a suffragette on the warpath, with a bunch of silly women trailing behind her.

  “You there! Gertie?” Phoebe’s voice penetrated Gertie’s skull like a dull sword. “Have you seen Archie? Where is that man? He was supposed to be working on my set this morning.”

  Before Gertie could answer, Charlotte sang out, “I can go and look for him for you, Mrs. Fortescue!”

  “No need!” Archie’s deep voice answered her, and Gertie looked over at the stage just in time to see him emerge from the wings. “Morning, Mrs. Fortescue! I’ve been backstage getting a few things together.”

  A chorus of murmurs and giggles erupted from the young women clustered in a group in front of the stage.

  Gertie rolled her eyes. Those stupid girls acted like little kids instead of grown women.

  “I’ve been waiting for a footman to come and help me,” Archie explained as Phoebe advanced to the door that led to the wings. “Mrs. Baxter promised me some help but he hasn’t got here yet.”

  “I’ll help you!” Charlotte dropped the candlestick onto the table and rushed toward the stage.

  Shaking her head, Gertie watched her dash past Phoebe and plunge through the door.

  Phoebe halted with a cry of protest. “Really! Such manners. Is there no discipline with this hotel staff?”

  Gertie folded her arms and leaned back against the table. This was going to be good.

  Phoebe had now reached the door, and beckoned to her unruly dance troupe with an imperious arm. “Get to your marks onstage, now. We don’t have all day.”

  With a great deal of nudging and shoving, the dancers followed their director through the door.

  Meanwhile, Charlotte had arrived onstage and was standing close to Archie, gazing up into his face as if he were a bloody king.

  Gertie rolled her eyes. Talk about being obvious. It was a wonder the girl wasn’t groveling at his blinking feet.

  Even Archie seemed somewhat surprised by this show of aggression. He backed away a step or two, muttering something Gertie couldn’t hear. She tried not to gloat about that. After all, it was none of her business if Charlotte wanted to chase after a man.

  Phoebe sailed out onto the stage at that moment, screeching at the top of her voice. “Get off my stage this minute, you little hussy! I have a performance to rehearse.”

  Charlotte turned on her at once. “I was just trying to help.”

  Archie stepped forward. “It’s all right, Mrs. Fortescue.”

  “No, it’s not all right.” Phoebe advanced on the girl. “I know what you’re up to, and I won’t have it. This man is here to build my set, and you will leave him alone to do it. I want no distractions to slow him down. Do I make myself clear?”

  The dancers were now grouped at the edge of the stage, whispering and snickering among themselves. Gertie was beginning to feel sorry for Charlotte, then reminded herself that the girl could take care of herself. She’d made that very clear.

  Charlotte folded her arms in a gesture Gertie knew well. Her friend was not going to give up without a fight.

  Just then the ballroom doors opened and one of the footmen wandered in. Gertie recognized him as Wally, a quiet-spoken young man with a shock of ginger hair and a face full of freckles. He stood looking up at the stage, apparently wondering what was going on.

  Not surprising, since Phoebe was now red in the face, waving her arms about as she screamed at Charlotte, while her faithful dancers stood cheering her on. Archie was quietly talking, obviously trying to defuse the situation, while Charlotte was mouthing off something Gertie mercifully couldn’t understand.

  The noise was deafening, and Wally seemed frozen to the spot. Thankfully, after several moments of chaos, Archie caught sight of him and waved to him to come up onstage.

  Once up there, Wally had to push his way through the group of dancers, which intensified their giggling. The young man’s cheeks burned by the time he reached Phoebe. He stood there for so long, Archie was forced to signal to her that the footman was standing behind her.

  Phoebe stopped yelling and spun around to face the terrified young man. “Where have you been? We’ve all been waiting for you. I need work on this set to begin immediately. This minute! Do you understand?”

  Wally backed away from her, mumbling his apologies. Charlotte must have felt sorry for him, as she snarled something at Phoebe and marched offstage.

  Gertie watched as order was gradually restored. Archie took Wally’s arm and led him back into the wings, while Phoebe yelled commands to her dancers, finally getting their attention. Charlotte appeared in the doorway and tramped over to Gertie, still in a huff judging from her face.

  “That old biddy,” Charlotte muttered as she reached her friend. “Who the heck does she think she’s talking to?”

  “A housemaid,” Gertie said, getting worried now that the fun was over. “You’ll get it in the neck if she goes bleating to madam. You’re not supposed to talk that way to your betters. Just keep your fingers crossed Chubby doesn’t hear about it, or you could be out of a job.”

  Charlotte shrugged. “She attacked me for no reason.”

  “Well, you was interfering with her rehearsal.”

  “I was offering to help Archie.” Charlotte’s scowl disappeared. “I’d help that man do anything, anytime. He’s a real corker, that one.” She sighed, switching her gaze to the ceiling. “I can see myself married to him. I really can.” With one hand at her throat, she wandered back to the tables and picked up another candlestick.

  Gertie grabbed up her polish and cloth and headed over to the second fireplace. All this fuss and palaver had lost her time. Chubby would be gnashing her teeth by now, wondering why her chief housemaid wasn’t in the dining room, helping to get the tables ready for lunchtime. She was all behind now, thanks to Charlotte and her chasing after Archie Docker.

  Gertie dropped to her knees and slammed the tin of blacklead down on the hearth. She should be feeling happy for her friend, glad that Charlotte had found someone to cozy up to and have fun with, and instead of that, all she was feeling was resentment.

  She didn’t know why she was jealous of C
harlotte. Gertie leaned forward and attacked the grate with vengeance. Maybe it was because she didn’t have no one, like she had last year, and it didn’t look like she ever would now. She was getting too old to meet someone new, even if she wanted to, which she didn’t, she hastily assured herself.

  It was just that this Christmas was going to be a whole lot different than the last one. And that was sad.

  In the next instant, she chided herself. She had the twins, who loved her, she had a job she enjoyed, people she liked working with, a nice room to live in, and plenty to eat. Not many people like her could say the same thing.

  Count your blessings, she told herself, and stop wishing for stuff you know you can’t have. It was good advice, but she couldn’t prevent a small sigh escaping for what might have been.

  * * *

  • • •

  Cecily had to wait until the afternoon in order to speak with Sir Clarence. Apparently that gentleman had taken part in the game shooting that morning, and didn’t arrive back until the midday meal was being served.

  Cecily waited until he had left the dining room before accosting him in the foyer. He was alone, apparently having left his wife to her own pursuits.

  At first, she thought he would decline to talk to her, but good manners held him in place when she approached him. “Sir Clarence, I shan’t keep you a minute. I just have one question to ask you, if you have a moment?”

  He sent a hunted look to the staircase, as if wishing he could escape up them, then said, with a note of resignation, “How can I help you, Mrs. Baxter?”

  “I was talking to Mr. Coombs this morning, and it appears he had a serious argument with Lord Farthingale during a card game. Since you were present, I was wondering if you could tell me what the argument was about.”

  Sir Clarence’s jaw tightened as he glared at her. “I have not the slightest idea. I have to say, Mrs. Baxter, these questions seem entirely unnecessary. I was under the impression that Lord Farthingale’s assailant has been arrested.”

  “One of my housemaids has been arrested, yes.” Cecily drew a deep breath. “I am, however, convinced she did not kill the gentleman. I am trying to discover the true culprit, and I was hoping you could help me.”

  Sir Clarence nodded. “I wish I could help you, Mrs. Baxter, but I’m afraid I know little of what transpired between the gentlemen. Perhaps you should question Mr. Coombs?”

  “Oh, I have.” Cecily sighed. “Unfortunately, he wasn’t entirely informative.”

  “You suspect him of the crime?”

  “Oh, no,” Cecily answered hastily. “I’m merely trying to find out exactly what happened leading up to the murder.”

  “Isn’t that the work of the constabulary?”

  “It is, but I have found very often that people are more forthcoming when speaking with me, rather than answering a constable’s questions. I have had some success in the past in solving a crime, and I have high hopes of solving this one.”

  “I see.” Sir Clarence stroked his chin. “Well, it seems obvious to me that whoever silenced Lord Farthingale tied a scarf around his neck to implicate a woman. Rather despicable if you ask me, but then, anyone who would take someone else’s life would most likely be a person of inferior breeding. You might have to look among the male members of your staff to find your killer, Mrs. Baxter.”

  Bristling at the slur to her beloved household members, Cecily took a moment to answer. “You may well be right, Sir Clarence, though it pains me deeply to suspect any of my servants.”

  “Yes, well, one never knows these days whom we can trust.” He turned his head to look at the grandfather clock in the corner. “Please excuse me. I have an appointment I must keep.”

  “Of course.” Cecily still struggled to gather her thoughts. His comment had reminded her of Madeline’s dire warning. You will face danger from an unexpected source. She would do well to remember that. “Thank you for taking the time to speak with me. You have been most helpful.”

  For a second he looked puzzled, then he twitched his lips in the semblance of a smile, turned sharply on his heel, and marched toward the stairs.

  Cecily followed more slowly, her mind working over the conversation that had just taken place. Both Sir Clarence and Kevin Prestwick had put forth the idea that the killer had used the scarf in order to make everyone think a woman had committed the crime.

  She had to confess, she had not once suspected a member of her staff guilty of the crime. Indeed, she had been determined to clear Mazie’s name. Now that Sir Clarence had put the idea in her head, however, she could not dismiss it.

  Was it possible that this was a crime of jealousy? Perhaps one of her footmen, having become enamored of Mazie, saw her with Lord Farthingale and decided to rid himself of his competition?

  It was a scenario she did not want to consider, yet she had to admit, she could not deny the possibility existed. She would have to make enquiries to find out if Mazie had an admirer, and that was something she was not happy about at all.

  CHAPTER

  10

  Charlie took a last look into the cracked mirror hanging on the far wall of the stables. His hair could do with a comb, but since only sissies carried one, he would have to improvise. Raking his fingers through his dark curls, he rehearsed in his mind what he would say to Lilly. That is, if she stayed around long enough for him to say anything at all.

  He frowned at his reflection. Granted, it had been a while since he had fancied a girl enough to chase after her, but normally he didn’t have a lot of resistance to his advances. Lilly, on the other hand, seemed determined to give him the cold shoulder.

  That bothered him. Either she was playing hard to get or he was losing his touch. Nah, that would never happen. Charlie Muggins was at the top of his game, and Lilly would come around if he dealt the right cards.

  Having assured himself that he looked the best he could under the circumstances, he set off for the kitchen.

  His timing was dead-on. He was halfway across the courtyard when the object of his affections appeared in the doorway, framed in the reflection of the kitchen’s gas lamps. He knew that every evening, after the guests’ dinners had been served, Lilly would bring out the milk churns and stand them by the kitchen door for the milkman to fill. He’d expected to have to wait for her, but here she was, bending over to set the churns on the ground, giving him the perfect opportunity to approach her.

  “Good evening to you!” he sang out as he strode toward her. “Do you need a hand with those?”

  Lilly straightened, peering into the darkness in his direction. “Is that you, Charlie?”

  “It is, indeed. Charlie Muggins at your service.” He walked into the light, his mouth stretched tight in a grin.

  Lilly backed up a step, as if she were afraid he might attack her or something.

  His grin faded as he stared at her. Most of the snow that had fallen the night before had thawed, but there was still enough on the ground to reflect the light back to her face. She actually looked scared.

  All his bravado melted away and he softened his voice. “I was just wondering if you needed my help, that’s all.”

  She shook her head. “Thanks, but I’m all right.”

  He half expected her to turn tail and disappear back into the kitchen, but she sort of hovered there as if trying to make up her mind about something.

  Feeling a little more confident, he tried to sound offhand. “I was thinking of going down the pub later tonight. I don’t suppose you’d like to come along?”

  Her eyes widened, looking huge in her pale face. “Are you asking me out?”

  Aware that he had shocked her, he hurried to reassure her. “Only if you want to. I mean, I just thought you might like to join me, but if you don’t, well, that’s all right, I just—”

  “Charlie.”

  She was almost smiling, and he
relaxed. “What?”

  She looked at him for a long moment, then said quietly, “I think there’s something you should know. I promised not to tell, ’cos it’s supposed to be a big secret, but it’s going to come out sooner or later and you might as well know now.”

  Now his curiosity was at full throttle. “What is it, then?”

  Lilly turned back to peer through the crack in the kitchen door. Apparently satisfied, she turned back to Charlie. “Before I tell you, you have to swear to me up and down that you won’t tell another soul.”

  “I swear, I swear.” Charlie was almost sweating with anticipation.

  “Cross your heart, then.”

  Charlie drew his thumb over his chest. “There, crossed my heart. Now tell me.”

  Lilly leaned forward. “It’s about Henry. He’s really—”

  A piercing voice sliced through the air, making them both jump. “Lilly? Where are you, girl? These dishes are not going to clean themselves. Get back in here this minute.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Chubb!” Lilly mouthed Sorry at him, leapt through the door, and slammed it shut behind her.

  Charlie stared at the closed door for several seconds. Henry’s really what? What was it Lilly was going to tell him? Whatever it was, he had a strong feeling it was something important he should know.

  Or maybe he already did know. Was Lilly trying to tell him that Henry was queer? Nah, how would she know that?

  Maybe Henry was her boyfriend. He found that even more unbelievable.

  He was sorely tempted to march into the kitchen and demand Lilly finish what she was going to tell him. Only he couldn’t do that. For one thing, he didn’t want to face Mrs. Chubb’s wrath, and for another thing, whatever it was Lilly knew, she’d promised to keep it secret. She certainly wasn’t going to spill the beans with everyone listening in.

  No, he’d have to corner her again when she was alone. Until then, he’d just have to wait, even though he was busting to know the big secret. Either that, or he could ask Henry what it was all about.