Read Online Room With a Clue (Pennyfoot Hotel Mystery) by Kate Kingsbury - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kate Kingsbury
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stared dispassionately down at the body, as if afraid to allow himself the luxury of emotion. “I shall have to make arrangements, of course. It is too late tonight. I assume it will be in order to leave her … the body here until the morning?”
“Yes, of course.” Cecily felt an urge to touch his arm in sympathy. He would have been horrified, of course, if she’d indulged the impulse. “Again, Mr. Danbury, I am most sorry. Having recently suffered a bereavement myself, I can well understand your distress at this moment.”
Danbury lifted his head and stared at her. For just a brief moment, she saw anger in his pale blue eyes before he masked it. “Can you, Mrs. Sinclair?”
He dropped a last glance down at his wife, then with a nod of dismissal strode to the door. Reaching it, he turned. His voice sounded flat, devoid of emotion. “I’ll be in my room. Please send the constable up to me at his earliest convenience.”
“Yes, Mr. Danbury. Of course. And what about Miss Morris? Shall I inform her?”
He hesitated for a long moment, then said quietly, “No. I’ll take care of it.”
“Very well Mr. Danbury. As you like.”
Cecily let out her breath as the door closed behind him. “Poor man. I’m glad that’s over.” She sank onto the chair and looked at Baxter, who had remained at a discreet distance throughout.
He moved forward now, to stand at the foot of the table. “Are you all right, madam?”
“What? Oh, yes. Thank you.” She rubbed a hand across her brow. “I wonder if he’ll bring charges against the hotel.”
“I certainly would hope not, madam.”
He’d sounded shocked, and she gave him a rueful smile. “You didn’t see the look in his eyes just before he left. I’m afraid he might very well be vindictive.” She sighed heavily, seeking comfort from the delicate colors of the roses. “Not that I would blame him, of course. If the wall had been sound, Lady Eleanor would still be alive.”
“If milady had heeded the sign, she would not have fallen.”
Cecily shrugged. “I fear it is a little late to play with ifs and if nots.” She paused for a moment or two, then decided she could stand it no longer. “Bax, do you happen to have one of those wonderful little cigars you always carry around with you?”
Baxter switched his disapproving gaze to a point above her head. “Yes, madam.”
“May I have one, please?”
“Madam, I don’t think—”
“I know what you don’t think. That doesn’t alter the fact that I very much need one right now.”
“This is most improper, and I object very strongly to encouraging you—”
“Baxter, if I were a man, would you not be happy to give me a cigar?”
He shifted from one foot to the other. “I need hardly point out that you are not a man, therefore the argument does not stand.”
“Piffle. That is indeed what this argument is about. There is nothing to prevent me from going to my suite and smoking one of my own cigars.”
“Yes, madam. Master Sinclair would be appalled if he were to see you.”
“No doubt. But since he is the reason I indulged in this habit in the first place, if he were still here I would not be smoking. So can we now end this dispute?”
With wry amusement she watched the struggle go on insidehim. Finally he slipped two fingers into the pocket of his waistcoat and drew out a narrow, slim package. Without a word, he opened the end of it and handed it to her.
Cecily took it and withdrew one of the slender cigars, then handed the package back to him. “You have my permission to smoke, too, Baxter.”
His face registered his discomfort. “Thank you, madam, but I prefer to wait until I am in my quarters.”
Cecily sighed. How sad it was that convention disallowed them to be true friends. She genuinely respected his loyalty to the old regime, but at times it could be extremely tiresome.
She stuck the cigar in her mouth, leaned forward, and mumbled, “Then be so kind as to put a light to
“Yes, of course.” Cecily felt an urge to touch his arm in sympathy. He would have been horrified, of course, if she’d indulged the impulse. “Again, Mr. Danbury, I am most sorry. Having recently suffered a bereavement myself, I can well understand your distress at this moment.”
Danbury lifted his head and stared at her. For just a brief moment, she saw anger in his pale blue eyes before he masked it. “Can you, Mrs. Sinclair?”
He dropped a last glance down at his wife, then with a nod of dismissal strode to the door. Reaching it, he turned. His voice sounded flat, devoid of emotion. “I’ll be in my room. Please send the constable up to me at his earliest convenience.”
“Yes, Mr. Danbury. Of course. And what about Miss Morris? Shall I inform her?”
He hesitated for a long moment, then said quietly, “No. I’ll take care of it.”
“Very well Mr. Danbury. As you like.”
Cecily let out her breath as the door closed behind him. “Poor man. I’m glad that’s over.” She sank onto the chair and looked at Baxter, who had remained at a discreet distance throughout.
He moved forward now, to stand at the foot of the table. “Are you all right, madam?”
“What? Oh, yes. Thank you.” She rubbed a hand across her brow. “I wonder if he’ll bring charges against the hotel.”
“I certainly would hope not, madam.”
He’d sounded shocked, and she gave him a rueful smile. “You didn’t see the look in his eyes just before he left. I’m afraid he might very well be vindictive.” She sighed heavily, seeking comfort from the delicate colors of the roses. “Not that I would blame him, of course. If the wall had been sound, Lady Eleanor would still be alive.”
“If milady had heeded the sign, she would not have fallen.”
Cecily shrugged. “I fear it is a little late to play with ifs and if nots.” She paused for a moment or two, then decided she could stand it no longer. “Bax, do you happen to have one of those wonderful little cigars you always carry around with you?”
Baxter switched his disapproving gaze to a point above her head. “Yes, madam.”
“May I have one, please?”
“Madam, I don’t think—”
“I know what you don’t think. That doesn’t alter the fact that I very much need one right now.”
“This is most improper, and I object very strongly to encouraging you—”
“Baxter, if I were a man, would you not be happy to give me a cigar?”
He shifted from one foot to the other. “I need hardly point out that you are not a man, therefore the argument does not stand.”
“Piffle. That is indeed what this argument is about. There is nothing to prevent me from going to my suite and smoking one of my own cigars.”
“Yes, madam. Master Sinclair would be appalled if he were to see you.”
“No doubt. But since he is the reason I indulged in this habit in the first place, if he were still here I would not be smoking. So can we now end this dispute?”
With wry amusement she watched the struggle go on insidehim. Finally he slipped two fingers into the pocket of his waistcoat and drew out a narrow, slim package. Without a word, he opened the end of it and handed it to her.
Cecily took it and withdrew one of the slender cigars, then handed the package back to him. “You have my permission to smoke, too, Baxter.”
His face registered his discomfort. “Thank you, madam, but I prefer to wait until I am in my quarters.”
Cecily sighed. How sad it was that convention disallowed them to be true friends. She genuinely respected his loyalty to the old regime, but at times it could be extremely tiresome.
She stuck the cigar in her mouth, leaned forward, and mumbled, “Then be so kind as to put a light to
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