Mistletoe and Mayhem

by Kate Kingsbury

  “I just want to talk to you, that’s all. Tell me your name.”

  “Pansy.” She stared boldly into the laughing eyes. “What’s yours?”

  “Lenny. I’m working up there on your roof.”

  “Yeah, I saw you.” She chewed her bottom lip. “Did you hear about the footman what got killed, then?”

  Lenny’s eyes clouded with concern. “Yeah, I did. Poor bugger. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, that’s what.”

  “Yeah, he was.” She shivered as a gust of wind whipped her skirt around her ankles. Across the street the empty sands stretched out to the rows of frothy waves racing to shore. The water looked dark and gray, signaling the onset of a storm. Maybe even snow, though it didn’t usually last long if it came. Looking back at Lenny, she added, “Mrs. Chubb says as how your boss will be in trouble.”

  Lenny’s eyebrows shot up, giving him a comical expression, though his eyes were anything but amused. “Mick? What’s he got to do with it?”

  “He left the gargoyle up on the roof where it could fall down, that’s what. Mrs. Chubb says that’s criminal negil… negle… neg…”

  “Negligence,” Lenny said, shaking his head. “Nah, it weren’t Mick’s fault. He’s really careful about packing everything down tight. I helped him myself last night and that gargoyle was jammed down in the corner where an earthquake wouldn’t have shifted it.”

  Pansy stared at him. “You sure it wasn’t a different gargoyle?”

  “We only removed one, didn’t we. The others are still on the other three corners of the roof.”

  “Then how did it fall on Charlie’s head?”

  Lenny nodded. “That’s a good question. I’m beginning to wonder that meself.”

  Pansy felt a stab of fear, though she wasn’t sure exactly what frightened her. “Well, then, your boss must not have done as good a job as you thought. Anyhow, I’d better get along. Mrs. Chubb will be wondering where I am.”

  Lenny stretched out his hand and laid it on her arm. His fingers felt strong and warm through the thin material of her sleeve. “So when do you get time off?”

  “Not until tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Yeah? Wanna go for a walk somewhere?”

  “I might.” She pulled away from him, unsettled by the thrills chasing down her spine. “I’ll let you know.”

  He grinned, showing even white teeth. “I’ll wait for you by the gate. Tomorrow afternoon. Three o’clock.”

  Heart pounding, she gave him a quick nod of her head, then shot through the door and slammed it behind her.

  Much to Cecily’s dismay, P.C. Northcott arrived at the club before Dr. Prestwick later that morning. Madeline had decided to wait there for her husband, thus sparing herself the long walk home with the baby.

  Although Madeline was used to walking what seemed to Cecily to be impossibly long distances, carrying her rapidly growing daughter around with her had somewhat limited her stamina. Besides which, flakes of snow had begun to float in on the wind, and Madeline had no desire to trudge through a snowstorm.

  Cecily had suggested her friend hire a nanny, or at least purchase a perambulator, neither of which Madeline seemed inclined to do. She preferred to use the methods nature dictated, she’d told Cecily. Even if it impaired her ability to travel as much.

  She was therefore in Cecily’s suite when Baxter returned from his trip into town. He greeted Madeline with a guarded nod, then turned to his wife. “What the devil is that fool Northcott doing here?”

  Cecily rose, dreading having to impart the bad news. “I’m sorry, my love, but I’m afraid one of our footmen has met with an accident.”

  “Accident?” Baxter’s brows drew together in a fierce line. “What happened?”

  Cecily explained what she knew. “We’re waiting for Kevin to arrive. P.C. Northcott insisted on viewing the body, even though I tried to tempt him with Mrs. Chubb’s mince pies. He seemed most determined.”

  “I thought he was off on his annual Christmas visit to relatives.”

  “He won’t be going this year. Apparently the relatives have decided to stay with him and his wife for a change.” Cecily sighed. “He’s none too happy with the idea.”

  “I can imagine.” Baxter raised his chin and stared at the ceiling. “I leave for one morning and all hell breaks loose. We seem to have been through all this before.”

  “I don’t think this had anything to do with your absence, dear.” Cecily laid a hand on his arm. “Don’t worry, Bax. I know it’s terribly distressing, but it does seem to have been an accident this time. Poor Charlie was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. That’s all.”

  “If you ask me, it’s a clear case of carelessness on the roofers’ part. They should be held accountable.”

  “Yes, dear. I plan to have a word with them just as soon as Kevin has given us his report.”

  Baxter stared at her for a moment. “Very well. I have some reports to study. I’ll be in your office if you need me.” He nodded at Madeline again. “Mrs. Prestwick. Beautiful child you have there.”

  He was gone before Madeline could respond with more than a surprised, “Thank you!”

  “Your husband,” she added, after the door had closed behind him, “can be quite charming when he chooses.”

  Staring after him, Cecily murmured, “Quite. He even surprises me sometimes.” Baxter rarely brought work home from the office, and never at Christmastime. Perhaps whatever was worrying him had to do with his business. She would be sure to ask him at the earliest opportunity.

  Just then a light tap on the door startled her. “I hope that’s Kevin.” Cecily hurried to open it, and stepped back as a short, stocky man in a constable’s uniform dragged his helmet from his head.

  “It’s me again, m’m.”

  “Yes, so I see.” She beckoned for the constable to enter, then followed him into the room.

  He waited for her to sit down before taking a seat himself. “I ’ave h’examined the body,” he said, adopting the pompous tone he used to deliver official business. “It seems clear to me what happened.” He paused with an expectant look, waiting for her reaction.

  Knowing he would not continue until she had practically begged for information, Cecily took a deep breath. “Do tell me,” she said, trying not to sound irritated. “Exactly what do you think happened?”

  The constable looked immensely pleased with himself. “Well, it went like this, m’m. The gargoyle was either blown off the roof by the wind, or it slipped off of its own accord and fell, where it landed on the head of Charles Baker, who, I believe, was one of your footmen ’ere at the Pennyfoot.”

  “That’s correct,” Cecily said solemnly.

  “Right. Ah…” He paused, fumbled in the breast pocket of his uniform, dragged out a notebook, and flipped it open. “The blow most likely killed him, so I’m putting this down as h’an accident. Should the doctor find anything untoward, which I’m not expecting, I shall investigate further. Otherwise the case is closed.”

  Relief caused Cecily to rush her words. “Thank you, Sam. I shall make arrangements to have the body collected by Charlie’s next of kin just as soon as Dr. Prestwick arrives. Now, if you’d like to have some refreshment in the kitchen, I’m sure Mrs. Chubb will oblige.”

  The words were hardly out of her mouth before the constable had spluttered his good-byes and disappeared out the door.

  “Well,” Cecily murmured, “we do know how to get rid of him when needs be.” She turned to Madeline, expecting to see an answering smile, and instead, encountered an expression on her friend’s face she knew well. Madeline sat staring into space, her features transformed into stone.

  Cecily sank down on her chair, knowing there was nothing she could do until Madeline came out of her trance. For long, anxious moments she waited, until Angelina, apparently unnerved by the tense silence, let out a howl of protest.

  Madeline blinked, focused for a moment on Cecily’s face, then leaned over to pick up her squa
lling baby. “Hush, now, little one,” she murmured, rocking Angelina back and forth until the crying subsided.

  “You saw something,” Cecily said, as peace was restored to the quiet room.

  Reaching into the bag at her side, Madeline pulled out a soft cloth and dabbed at her daughter’s wet cheeks. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I did. I’m sorry, Cecily, but I’m afraid P.C. Northcott is wrong. Your footman’s death was no accident. He was murdered.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Cecily briefly closed her eyes. “I knew it. The moment Gertie walked into the room this morning I felt certain it would turn out to be murder. What did you see? Do you know what happened?”

  Madeline straightened the baby’s bonnet, which had slid sideways over her face. “Not much that would be of help, I’m afraid. All I could see was the figure of a man standing on the roof, with his hands raised over his head. He was holding a gargoyle.”

  “That could have been one of the roofers working up there. Perhaps the gargoyle slipped out of his hands and he’s afraid to tell anyone.”

  “It didn’t slip, Cecily.” Madeline rested her baby’s head on her shoulder. “It was deliberately thrown, and in great anger, I would say.”

  Cecily collapsed against the back of her chair. “Well, that’s it, then. For heaven’s sake, don’t tell anyone else. Not yet, at least. The last thing I need is Sam Northcott snooping around here again.”

  “We’ll have to see what Kevin says.” Madeline settled the baby more comfortably on her lap. “If he so much as smells foul play, you know he’ll go straight to the constabulary.”

  She had barely finished speaking when a knock on the door brought up their heads. Putting a finger to her lips in warning, Cecily walked over to the door and opened it.

  The tall, handsome man framed in the doorway smiled at her. “Cecily, my dear. How very nice to see you, though I wish it were under better circumstances.”

  “Do come in, Kevin. Your wife and daughter are waiting for you.”

  “Ah, I wondered if they would still be here.” Kevin Prestwick strode into the room, dropped a kiss on his wife’s forehead, and patted his daughter’s cheek. Turning to Cecily, he added, “Jolly bad luck about your footman. He must have been passing under the roof when the gargoyle fell. A second or two earlier or later and he’d still be alive. Must have been his time to go.”

  Avoiding Madeline’s gaze, Cecily concentrated on the doctor. “Dreadful shame. His family will be devastated.”

  “Well, these things happen, unfortunately. This is an old building, and there’s bound to be pieces falling off it now and then. Especially if you have workmen scrambling all over the roof. I’ll be happy to take care of the arrangements for the body, if you like. I assume you have the address for the lad’s family?”

  “Oh, would you?” Cecily clasped her hands together in front of her. “That would be such a help. I’d like to keep this from the guests if possible.”

  “Of course. I understand.” Kevin turned to his wife and plucked the baby from her lap. “Now, I have to get back to my office, so if you’re ready, my love?”

  Madeline rose and reached for Cecily’s hands. “I sincerely hope the rest of your day goes well.”

  “Thank you, Madeline.” Knowing her friend was warning her to be cautious, Cecily managed a smile. “You will both be coming to the pantomime, as well as the carol singing ceremony, I trust?”

  Madeline exchanged looks with her husband. “I don’t know, Cecily. Now that we have the little one to take care of, we don’t do much socializing at all.”

  “Then bring her along.” Cecily stroked Angelina’s soft cheek with her finger. “She’s such an angel, I’m sure she’ll sleep through the whole thing.”

  Madeline looked doubtful. “Well, I suppose we could, if you’re quite sure…”

  “I’m certain, so that’s settled.” Cecily saw them to the door and waved a final farewell before returning to her chair. So the curse had struck again. It would be only a matter of time before the truth came out and Sam Northcott would be back upsetting everyone with his eternal questions.

  That was supposing Madeline’s vision was accurate, of course. In all the years she’d known her friend, however, Cecily had never known any of Madeline’s revelations to be false. She would act on the assumption that Madeline was right and start making enquiries.

  At least this time she had a little leeway and a head start on the investigation. She needed to talk to the roofers right away. It seemed the best place to begin, and hopefully Baxter would be closeted in her office for some time, allowing her to conduct her own enquiries without being disturbed.

  With luck on her side, she might be able to identify the killer and hand him over to the constable, thus avoiding a lengthy and disruptive investigation that would certainly cast a pall over the festivities.

  Without further ado, she reached for her shawl, wrapped it around her shoulders, and headed for the door.

  “Well, I think it’s nice to have children in the Pennyfoot at Christmastime.” Mrs. Chubb wiped her wet hands on her apron and hurried over to the kitchen table, where a large beef roast stood waiting to be carved. Pulling a carving knife from its stand, she waved it at Gertie. “I miss the twins running around here. Those two little ones remind me of your James and Lillian. They must be about the same age-seven or eight, don’t you think?”

  Gertie sniffed and dashed a hand across her nose. Tears glistened in her eyes due to the stinging smell of the onions she was chopping for the stew. “My twins ain’t nothing like those two Millshire brats. Little devils, they are. I caught them swinging on the curtains in the library. It’s a wonder they didn’t pull them down.”

  Mrs. Chubb smiled. “They’re just excited, that’s all. Your twins get into all sorts of scrapes when they’re excited. Especially this time of year.”

  “My twins don’t sauce me back when I tell them off.” Gertie wiped her dripping nose again with the back of her hand then went on chopping. “You can tell those two have toffs for parents. They’re just as bloody stuck-up as the grown-ups. Talked to me like I was a bleeding worm under their feet, they did.”

  “Well, they’ll settle down after a while.” Mrs. Chubb started carving wafer-thin slices of beef from the roast. “Just be careful what you say to them. We don’t want them carrying tales to their father, now do we?”

  Gertie didn’t answer. As far as she was concerned, Lord and Lady Millshire’s offspring were spoiled rotten and a sound boxing around the ears would do them a world of good.

  “Here.” Mrs. Chubb handed a plate of roast beef sandwiches to Gertie. “Mr. Mortimer’s tray is on the dresser. Take this up to him, and make up a cheese and fruit plate to go with it. Oh, and pick up a glass of sherry from the bar on the way.”

  Gertie scowled. “I’m chopping onions, aren’t I. Why can’t Pansy take it?”

  “She’s doing Ellie’s job, isn’t she.” Mrs. Chubb shook her head. “I wonder why she didn’t come in today. I thought I could rely on that girl. I just hope she isn’t ill or something.”

  “Well, we’ll soon find out. Samuel went over her house a while ago to see if she was all right.”

  Mrs. Chubb raised her eyebrows. “Samuel? What’s a stable manager doing running a footman’s errands, may I ask?”

  Gertie shrugged. “We’re short, aren’t we. What with Charlie gone and all.”

  “God rest his soul.” The housekeeper walked over to the dresser and put the sandwich down on the tray. “That poor boy’s parents. My heart goes out to them. Especially at Christmastime. Makes it twice as hard to bear.”

  “I still can’t believe it.” Gertie finished the onion and grabbed another from the bowl. “Fancy taking a morning stroll in the rose gardens and getting bumped off like that. Who’d have thought that could happen.” She sniffed and rubbed her nose again. “Wonder what he was doing there so early in the morning. Rotten luck, that’s what it was.”

  “Yes, well, you’ll have bad l
uck, too, if you don’t get this tray up to Mr. Mortimer. He’s not exactly a patient man, so I’ve heard.”

  Gertie put down her knife and the onion with a puff of breath. She wasn’t about to admit it to old Chubby, but the truth was, she didn’t want anything to do with J. Mortimer after what Pansy had told her about the old geezer. He was a scary old bugger, that’s what, and she would just as soon stay out of his way.

  Still, she knew how far she could go with the housekeeper, and she wasn’t about to let a grumpy old grouch get the better of her. After making up the cheese and fruit plate, she grabbed the tray, muttering, “If I’m not back in ten minutes send Clive up to look for me.”

  Mrs. Chubb laughed. “You sound like Pansy. What on earth has that poor Mr. Mortimer done to frighten you so?”

  “Frightened?” Gertie made a guttural sound of disgust in her throat. “Who said anything about being frightened? We just can’t be too careful with strangers, that’s all. We never know who they are, do we. Could be that serial killer what’s running around London murdering young girls. You just never know these days.”

  Mrs. Chubb’s grin vanished. “Hush, Gertie. Don’t say such things. You’ll be frightening the maids, and I have enough trouble with them as it is.”

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Gertie marched across to the door. Just as she reached it, it flew open, and a skinny young man burst into the kitchen, narrowly missing the loaded tray in Gertie’s hands.

  Shaken, Gertie glared at him. “Blimey, Samuel! What’s your bleeding hurry?”

  Ignoring her, Samuel looked at Mrs. Chubb. “I just came from Ellie’s house,” he said, sounding out of breath.

  Mrs. Chubb hurried toward him. “Is she all right? She’s not ill, is she?”

  Samuel shook his head. “We don’t know. She never came home last night. Her mum says she hasn’t seen Ellie since yesterday morning. Her brother’s out looking for her now.”

  The housekeeper gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “Oh, my, I wonder where she went.”

  Remembering Clive’s stricken face when he told her Charlie had died, Gertie felt her stomach start to churn. The tray felt heavy in her hands and she set it down on a chair by the door. “Oh, gawd,” she whispered, “you don’t think something bad has happened to her as well, do you?”