Read Online Mulled Murder (Pennyfoot Holiday Mysteries) by Kate Kingsbury - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kate Kingsbury
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sly grin.
“You know what I mean.” Baxter laid down the poker. “If that were so, we would have known where the dead man lived.”
“Speaking of knowing where people live . . .” Cecily told him about Miss Memory and her predicament. “I told her she could stay in Pansy’s room.”
Baxter groaned. “It’s becoming an epidemic. How many more lost souls will end up at the Pennyfoot?”
“No more, I hope.”
“So what are you going to do with her?”
“I’m not sure. I was hoping Dr. Prestwick might be able to help her, but she refuses to see him.”
“There can’t be much wrong with her then.”
“Physically, no. It’s her mental state I’m concerned about.”
“Then Prestwick’s not the chap to help her. She needs a mental institution.”
Aghast at the thought, Cecily shook her head. “I’ll not send her to one of those horrible places. I’ll think of something.” She looked up at the sound of someone tapping. “I hope this isn’t more bad news.”
She got up to open the door, and was surprised to see the housekeeper standing there. “Mrs. Chubb! I hope nothing’s wrong?”
“No, m’m. I came to tell you, P.C. Northcott is downstairs. He’s eating mince pies right now. He told us that the gentleman down the hall, Mr. Evans, was found dead on the beach.”
Cecily exchanged a despairing look with Baxter, who had joined her at the door. “Was there anyone else in the kitchen at the time?”
“Gertie was there, m’m. And the new maid, Lilly. I’m afraid it gave her a bad turn. She went running off somewhere. Gertie went after her but neither of them have come back yet. I thought you should know.”
“Oh dear.” Cecily silently cursed Sam Northcott’s loose tongue.
Mrs. Chubb glanced down the hallway. “I told Gertie to remind Lilly not to say anything to anyone, but you know how easily this kind of news gets out.”
“Yes, I do.” Cecily sighed. “I suppose it was only a matter of time.”
“Pardon me for asking, m’m, but we don’t have another killer amongst us, do we?”
Baxter grunted. “There is absolutely no reason to think that, Mrs. Chubb, and if anyone else should voice such a thought, we’d appreciate it if you would quell the suggestion as quickly and firmly as possible.”
Cecily gave her husband a grateful smile. She couldn’t have said it better herself.
Mrs. Chubb raised her chin. “Of course, sir. Rest assured, I will see that no one mentions one word about it.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Chubb. Would you please ask the constable to meet me in the library? I’ll be down shortly.”
“Of course, m’m.”
Cecily closed the door behind the housekeeper. “I’d better go down and see why Sam is here,” she said, as Baxter returned to his chair. “I sincerely hope it’s to tell us he’s found out where that poor man lived and has contacted his family.”
“He could have told you that much on the telephone.” Baxter picked up his newspaper. “He’s here to gobble down more of Mrs. Chubb’s Christmas baking. He’d find any excuse to come here this time of year. If he had anything seriously important to report, he would have spoken to you first, before filling his belly with mince pies.”
“I hope you are right.” She looked back at him on her way out of the door. “You could come with me, if you like.”
He peered at her over the top of the newspaper. “I’m sure you’ll tell me what he had to say. You know Northcott and I have never seen eye to eye. I’d just be a distraction.”
She was still smiling as she made her way downstairs. A long time ago, her husband and Sam Northcott had been rivals for the hand of a young woman. Sam had won, though he had parted company with the woman soon after, and Baxter had never forgiven him. He barely tolerated the constable, and while in his company never passed up the opportunity to make caustic remarks about the lack of common sense and intelligence in the constabulary.
Nevertheless,
“You know what I mean.” Baxter laid down the poker. “If that were so, we would have known where the dead man lived.”
“Speaking of knowing where people live . . .” Cecily told him about Miss Memory and her predicament. “I told her she could stay in Pansy’s room.”
Baxter groaned. “It’s becoming an epidemic. How many more lost souls will end up at the Pennyfoot?”
“No more, I hope.”
“So what are you going to do with her?”
“I’m not sure. I was hoping Dr. Prestwick might be able to help her, but she refuses to see him.”
“There can’t be much wrong with her then.”
“Physically, no. It’s her mental state I’m concerned about.”
“Then Prestwick’s not the chap to help her. She needs a mental institution.”
Aghast at the thought, Cecily shook her head. “I’ll not send her to one of those horrible places. I’ll think of something.” She looked up at the sound of someone tapping. “I hope this isn’t more bad news.”
She got up to open the door, and was surprised to see the housekeeper standing there. “Mrs. Chubb! I hope nothing’s wrong?”
“No, m’m. I came to tell you, P.C. Northcott is downstairs. He’s eating mince pies right now. He told us that the gentleman down the hall, Mr. Evans, was found dead on the beach.”
Cecily exchanged a despairing look with Baxter, who had joined her at the door. “Was there anyone else in the kitchen at the time?”
“Gertie was there, m’m. And the new maid, Lilly. I’m afraid it gave her a bad turn. She went running off somewhere. Gertie went after her but neither of them have come back yet. I thought you should know.”
“Oh dear.” Cecily silently cursed Sam Northcott’s loose tongue.
Mrs. Chubb glanced down the hallway. “I told Gertie to remind Lilly not to say anything to anyone, but you know how easily this kind of news gets out.”
“Yes, I do.” Cecily sighed. “I suppose it was only a matter of time.”
“Pardon me for asking, m’m, but we don’t have another killer amongst us, do we?”
Baxter grunted. “There is absolutely no reason to think that, Mrs. Chubb, and if anyone else should voice such a thought, we’d appreciate it if you would quell the suggestion as quickly and firmly as possible.”
Cecily gave her husband a grateful smile. She couldn’t have said it better herself.
Mrs. Chubb raised her chin. “Of course, sir. Rest assured, I will see that no one mentions one word about it.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Chubb. Would you please ask the constable to meet me in the library? I’ll be down shortly.”
“Of course, m’m.”
Cecily closed the door behind the housekeeper. “I’d better go down and see why Sam is here,” she said, as Baxter returned to his chair. “I sincerely hope it’s to tell us he’s found out where that poor man lived and has contacted his family.”
“He could have told you that much on the telephone.” Baxter picked up his newspaper. “He’s here to gobble down more of Mrs. Chubb’s Christmas baking. He’d find any excuse to come here this time of year. If he had anything seriously important to report, he would have spoken to you first, before filling his belly with mince pies.”
“I hope you are right.” She looked back at him on her way out of the door. “You could come with me, if you like.”
He peered at her over the top of the newspaper. “I’m sure you’ll tell me what he had to say. You know Northcott and I have never seen eye to eye. I’d just be a distraction.”
She was still smiling as she made her way downstairs. A long time ago, her husband and Sam Northcott had been rivals for the hand of a young woman. Sam had won, though he had parted company with the woman soon after, and Baxter had never forgiven him. He barely tolerated the constable, and while in his company never passed up the opportunity to make caustic remarks about the lack of common sense and intelligence in the constabulary.
Nevertheless,
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