kill you!”
“Not if I kill him first,” Samuel muttered.
“She’s right, lad.” Clive joined them at the gate. He gently pried open Samuel’s fist, then took the knife and slipped it in his pocket. “He’s not worth that kind of trouble. You sent him on his way and that’s what matters.”
Pansy choked, tears running down her cheeks. All she could think about now was Samuel’s words, yelled in fury.
Did he mean it? Was she really his girl? The thought made her forget all about the pain in her lip, which now felt twice its size when she ran her tongue over it. All she could feel was a fuzzy warmth way down deep in her tummy. She would hear those words in her head, she told herself, over and over again for as long as she lived.
“Are you all right, little lady?” Clive looked down at her, then pulled a big white handkerchief from his pocket. Very gently he dabbed at her chin and her swollen lip. “You’ll have a bruise for a couple of days, but you’ll live.”
Pansy tried to smile, but it hurt too much, so she nodded instead.
Clive stepped back and then Samuel stood in front of her, a look in his eyes she’d never seen before. “You need someone to take care of you,” he said gruffly, “and I think that should be me.”
Even the pain couldn’t keep Pansy from smiling. She wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but right at that moment she didn’t care. Samuel was looking at her the way she’d always dreamed he would, and now it was real. That was all she asked for right now. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have take care of me,” she said unsteadily.
Now Samuel grinned. “I’d kiss you, but I’m afraid it would hurt you too much.”
Pansy lifted her face. “Try it.”
Samuel didn’t need any more prompting.
“I am quite sure I paid you the right amount!” Seated in her office, Cecily flipped the pages of her ledger back to where she had entered the amount of the check she’d given Stan Whittle. “Look, here it is. Three shillings and ninepence.”
“It should have been four and six.” The craggy face of the coal man glared down at her.
“I ordered five hundredweight. At fifteen shillings a ton that’s three shillings and ninepence.”
“I had two extra bags so I added them in.”
Cecily puffed out her breath. “I didn’t ask for two extra bags. When I order five hundredweight that’s exactly what I expect and what I’m prepared to pay. No more, no less.”
The coal man jutted out his chin. “You got the coal, so you pay for it.”
“Why didn’t you mention all this when I paid you two days ago?”
“I didn’t look at the check until after I left.” He leaned over her desk. “I thought I could trust you to pay the right amount.”
Cecily met his angry gaze squarely. “Is this what you were arguing about with Ellie?”
Stan Whittle straightened, his face turning to stone. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I heard that you and my new maid, Ellie, were in the kitchen yard, arguing about something.”
“I talk to a lot of people. I don’t remember which one Ellie is, do I.” He strode to the door, tossing words over his shoulder. “Keep your money. I’ll just leave two bags less next time.”
“As you wish.” She was talking to empty air. The door had closed behind him. Furious, she snapped the ledger shut. Infuriating man. She had never cared for his attitude, and now she thoroughly disliked the man. Perhaps her first thoughts were right, after all, and Stan Whittle had killed Ellie. But then why would he have killed Charlie as well?
No, it was far more likely that Mick Docker was the culprit, and all she had to do was prove it. She wasn’t quite sure yet how she would do that, but she had asked Samuel to send the roofer to her office as soon as he arrived, which should be just about any minute now.
Even as the thoughts passed through her mind, a loud rap on the door announced the arrival of her next visitor. Crossing her hands on the desk, she called out, “Come in!”
Mick Docker’s round face appeared in the gap. “You wanted to see me, m’m?”
“Yes, Mr. Docker. Please, come in.” She waved him to a chair, and waited for him to sit down.
“I’ve sent the men up to take a look at the roof,” he said, tucking his cap into a back pocket. “As soon as I know what needs doing, I’ll give you a report and then you can decide what you want us to do.”
“Very well. Thank you.” She fixed her gaze on his face as she added, “I’m afraid I have some very bad news. It’s about Ellie.”
She saw a flicker of alarm in his eyes. “Ellie? She’s all right, isn’t she?”
“I’m afraid not.” She paused, then added quietly, “My stable manager found her body yesterday afternoon. She’d been strangled.”
He made an odd sound in his throat, as if he were choking. “Dead? Ellie’s dead?”
If he was, indeed, the murderer, Cecily thought, he was a remarkably good actor. He certainly looked as if he’d received a tremendous shock.
He swallowed a couple of times, and when he spoke, his voice was hoarse with emotion. “Who did this?”
“I was rather hoping you could tell me.”
Mick’s eyes widened. “Me? How the hell should I know who did it?”
“According to a witness, you were probably the last person to see her alive.”
He stared at her for a moment as if he didn’t understand the words, then he violently shook his head. “That’s impossible. The last time I saw Ellie was three days ago. I’d come down from the roof to have a bite and she was walking across the kitchen yard. I knew there was no point in talking to her. She’d made it very clear how she felt about me. So I went around to the rose garden and ate my lunch there. That was the last time I saw her.”
Cecily frowned. “You didn’t see her that evening? You didn’t have an argument with her in the yard?”
Again he shook his head. “It wasn’t me, Mrs. Baxter. I swear it. Ask Lenny. We knocked off around four o’clock that afternoon, when it was getting dark, and we went straight down the pub. We had dinner down there and stayed until closing time. Left there just after eleven and then went home.” He buried his head in his hands. “I can’t believe she’s dead. Who would do this to her?”
“That’s what we’d all like to know.” Cecily sighed. “I’m sorry, Mr. Docker. I know this has been a shock for you.”
“Yes, it has.” He got up from his chair, slowly, as if he were lifting something heavy with his shoulders. “I’ll be getting along now, m’m. I’ll let you know what we find on the roof.”
Cecily watched him leave, letting out her breath as the door closed behind him. She didn’t know whether to believe him or not. Samuel had seemed fairly certain that he’d heard the roofer arguing with Ellie that night, but he could have been mistaken. There was one way to find out. She would talk to the new publican of the Fox and Hounds, Barry Collins.
Since she couldn’t trust the operator not to listen in, she would have to go down there in person. Meanwhile, she must go at once to the foyer. Madeline would be arriving any minute. Baxter was probably still in the suite, going over his records, which, he told her, would take most of the morning. She would have to have her conversation with her friend in the library and hope that they wouldn’t be interrupted.
For what she had to ask Madeline was definitely not for anyone else’s ears.
CHAPTER 13
“Samuel kissed you!” Gertie stopped curling coils from the slab of butter and stared at Pansy. “Go on! What happened next?”
Pansy shrugged. “Nothing. He had to go back to the stables and I came back in here.”
“Well, you was lucky he was around, that’s what I say.” Gertie picked up the lump of butter again and swiped the curler across it, letting a soft spiral of butter join its companions on the silver dish. “Wait until Chubby sees that lip. She’ll faint from shock.”
