be no more of these ghastly murders.
“So, Gertie,” Pansy said, as she stacked the last dish on the pile in the cupboard, “where are you and Dan going tomorrow afternoon?”
Gertie took her time answering. The truth was, she wasn’t looking forward to her meeting with Dan as much as she usually did. She had the feeling that they were reaching some kind of turning point in their relationship, and she had the distinct impression that it wasn’t going to be in her favor.
She fervently hoped she was wrong, but if she wasn’t, she prayed it would happen after the New Year, just in case Dan was planning to break it off and leave her down in the dumps all over Christmas. She’d have to pretend to be happy and cheerful, so as not to spoil everything for the twins.
Sighing, she pulled the plug in the sink and watched the gray soapy water disappear down the drain. How she missed her babies. Though they weren’t babies anymore. They were growing so fast she probably wouldn’t recognize them when they got back tomorrow.
“Gertie? Are you all right?”
Hearing Pansy’s worried voice, Gertie snapped up her head. “’Course I’m all right. I was just thinking about my twins, wasn’t I. They’ll be home tomorrow night, just in time for the carol singing ceremony. They’ve always loved that.”
“Is Dan coming? Like he did last year?”
Gertie’s stomach seemed to drop at the mention of Dan’s name. “I expect he will. I haven’t asked him yet.”
Pansy got a funny look on her face. “Why not?”
Gertie shrugged. “I dunno. I just didn’t think about it until now.”
“Well, you’d better hurry up. You’ll have to ask him tomorrow when you see him.”
“Yeah, I will.” Gertie wiped her hands on a towel. “I think-” She broke off as the kitchen door flew open and Samuel rushed in, eyes wide and hair mussed. “Gawd, Samuel. What the bloody hell happened to you?”
Pansy let out a cry of dismay and rushed over to him. “Are you all right, Samuel? Are you hurt?”
Samuel shook his head and sat down heavily on one of the kitchen chairs. He started to speak, then shook his head again and sank back.
Gertie stared at him a moment longer then said sharply, “Pansy! Go and get the brandy from the pantry.”
She reached for a brandy snifter from the cupboard and set it on the table.
“What’s up then, mate? Seen a ghost or something?” Gertie asked him.
“Something,” Samuel muttered, as Pansy rushed back with the bottle.
Gertie poured a generous amount in the glass and put it in Samuel’s shaking hand.
“Mrs. Chubb will be cross you helped yourself to that,” Pansy said, watching Samuel sip at the spirits.
“It’s an emergency.” Gertie put the stopper back in the bottle. “That’s what it’s for-emergencies.”
Pansy sat down on the chair next to Samuel. “Oh, I thought it was to keep Michel from attacking everyone with a carving knife.”
Samuel choked on the brandy, then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Don’t say that! Don’t ever say that!”
Pansy looked startled, then offended. “I was just trying to cheer you up with a joke, that’s all.”
She looked about to cry, and Samuel muttered something under his breath, then leaned forward to cover her hand with his. “Sorry, luv, but if you’d seen what I’ve seen you wouldn’t make jokes like that, I promise you.”
Pansy snatched her hand away. “Whatcha mean?”
Gertie felt cold all over. “Tell us, Samuel. Not someone else killed, is it?”
She felt for the edge of the table for support when Samuel nodded, while Pansy let out a shriek. “It’s that Mayfair Murderer! That man in room nine. I told you it was him! Why won’t anyone listen to me?”
Samuel grabbed her flailing hand and held on to it. “We don’t know that yet,” he said, sounding dreadfully tired.
“Yes we do!” Pansy tugged on his hand so hard the brandy he held in the other hand spilled in his lap. “He wrote a note about it. I gave it to madam but she didn’t do nothing about it and he’s still lurking about in his room waiting to kill anybody what walks by, I know it.”
Samuel stared at her. “What are you talking about?”
Pansy seemed beyond words so Gertie butted in. “Pansy found a note in his room and it said he was going to stab someone in the neck while they were asleep.”
Samuel’s eyes widened even more. “That’s exactly what he did,” he said, his voice hushed.
“See? See? I told you!”
Pansy’s voice had risen to a shriek again and Samuel held out his glass. “Here. You’d better take some of this.”
Gertie stepped forward. “Never mind that. Who the heck got killed?”
Pansy swallowed the brandy and coughed. “I don’t think I want to know.”
“It’s the Danvilles, poor devils,” Samuel muttered.
Pansy whimpered, while Gertie stared at him in horror. “The honeymoon couple? Both of them?”
In a tired voice, Samuel described the scene in the ballroom and in the Danvilles’ suite. “Horrible,” he said, when he was finished. “It felt like dead bodies all over the place.”
Pansy’s whimpering got louder.
“What’s madam doing about it?” Gertie demanded, feeling like crying herself. “I’ve got my twins coming home tomorrow night. I don’t want them here if there’s a madman running around stabbing people.”
Samuel squared his shoulders and stood up. “I’m sure madam will do her best to find out who did this. She’s really good at ferreting out murderers.”
“Well,” Gertie muttered, reaching for another brandy glass, “I hope she bloody well hurries up or we’ll all end up dead.” She winced as Pansy howled. “It’s all right, I didn’t mean it. I was just joking.”
“It’s no joking matter,” Samuel said, frowning. He pulled Pansy toward him and put his arm around her. “It’s all right, luv. I’ll take care of you. Nothing’s going to happen to you while I’m here.”
Pansy snuggled up to him and Gertie felt a pang of envy. She and Dan had been like that once. What had happened to them? When did things start going wrong? Picking up the bottle, she poured brandy into the glass. Maybe it was time she had a real heart to heart with Dan. Tomorrow. That’s what she’d do. Maybe if she told him a lunatic was running around carving up people he’d want to take care of her, like Samuel and Pansy.
Her lips curved in a bitter smile. Fat bloody hope of that. Closing her eyes, she shot the entire glass of brandy down her throat.
CHAPTER 16
Mr. Mortimer was a man of habit. For the last three mornings, at precisely half past ten, he had left the building to take a leisurely stroll along the seafront. Cecily knew this because Philip, her sharp-eyed desk clerk, had watched the odd gentleman with great interest, and had been only too eager to share his observations.
Mr. Mortimer had returned each morning after a half hour or so. Having watched him leave through the front door a few minutes earlier, Cecily estimated that she had at least twenty minutes to search his room. She could do it in even less if she hurried.
This was probably the best time to carry out her intention, or at least make the attempt. Baxter would have a fit if he knew what she was about to do, so it was just as well he was occupied for the time being.
She would be taking a risk, of course. Then again, one accomplished very little without taking a risk or two. This was something that must be done, and could only be done by her. Squaring her shoulders she opened her door and marched purposefully down the hallway.
Standing outside the door of room nine, she glanced up and down the corridor. Having satisfied herself that she was quite alone in the hallway, she turned the handle and slid inside the room, gently closing the door behind her.
The dull skies gave her little light from the window, but she resisted the impulse to light the oil lamp. She couldn’t afford to leave any evidence of her intrusion.
