Desmond Atkins arrived back at the hotel later that afternoon. Cecily, who had been watching anxiously for him from her boudoir window, hurried down to alert Baxter of the man’s return.
Together they went up to the Atkins’s room and tapped on the door. Baxter had agreed to allow Cecily to do the questioning, though he’d cautioned her to avoid accusing the man of any wrongdoing.
Bernice opened the door and invited them inside. “Desmond has just returned from the fox hunt,” she told them after inviting them to seat themselves. “He’s changing his clothes at the moment but will be with us shortly.”
“Thank you,” Cecily murmured. “I assure you we won’t keep him long.”
“May I ask what this is about?” Bernice looked worried. “My husband isn’t in any trouble, is he?”
Cecily met her gaze. “Why would you think so?”
Bernice looked down at her hands. “Mr. and Mrs. Baxter, may I be frank?”
Cecily interpreted a warning look from her husband and gave him a brief nod. “By all means. I can assure you whatever you wish to say to us will be kept in strictest confidence. Unless, of course, it concerns the constabulary, in which case we should be forced to pass on any information that might be considered relevant.”
“I understand.” She heaved a deep sigh. “This is about the recent deaths, is it not? You suspect my husband of having a hand in it.”
Whatever Cecily had expected her to say, it wasn’t that. She exchanged glances with Baxter, who looked as if he wanted to bolt from the room.
“It’s quite all right,” Bernice added. “I understand why you suspect him. Desmond and I had a long talk last night. He told me the truth about his past, and about the conversation you had with him.”
“I’m sorry,” Cecily said quietly. “That must have been difficult to hear.”
“Yes, it was. I admire my husband, however, for being truthful with me. It must have been every bit as difficult for him.”
“I’m sure it was.”
“The point is, I understand that the two men were killed during the children’s Christmas party, is that correct?”
“Quite correct.”
“Then I can assure you my husband was not responsible. He was here with me that entire afternoon. I was not feeling well, and he stayed by my side. We did not leave the room until we went down for the evening meal. Desmond was with me the rest of the evening.” She looked straight into Cecily’s eyes. “My husband had nothing to do with the death of those two men, Mrs. Baxter. I’m willing to swear to it on the Bible.”
Cecily held the woman’s gaze for a moment or two, then nodded. Getting to her feet, she said briskly, “Well, I see no reason to disturb you and your husband further. I apologize for any inconvenience we might have caused you. I hope you still plan to join us this evening for the Christmas Eve ceremony in the library?”
Baxter leapt to his feet as Bernice rose. “Indeed we shall,” she said, smiling. “Desmond has a good voice. He will enjoy singing the carols.”
Baxter said nothing until they had descended the stairs and reached the door of the office. “Do you believe her?” he asked, as they entered the room.
“I see no reason to doubt her word.” Cecily sank into a chair and passed a hand across her brow.
“She could be lying to cover up for him.”
“She could, but I don’t think she is.” Cecily sighed. “I give up, Bax. This is beyond my powers of deduction. My mind is so confused, I can’t think straight anymore.”
Baxter frowned. “Are you not well? It isn’t like you to give up so easily.”
She smiled wearily at him. “Perhaps it is time I stopped interfering in police business and concentrated on running the hotel.”
“Now I know you’re not well.” He got up and laid a hand on her forehead. “You have always loved the challenge and excitement of solving a seemingly impossible puzzle.”
“But not the worry of it all.” Cecily yawned. “I’m tired, and we still have the evening event to struggle through before I can retire.”
“Not to mention the disposal of a dead body.” Baxter reminded her.
“Well, I’m leaving that little problem in your capable hands.”
“I just hope Prestwick remembers he’s supposed to help me with the body. That man can be a fool when he’s in the company of a woman.”
“I rather think it’s the other way around,” Cecily said, smiling. “But a cryptic reminder when he arrives should help stir his memory.”
Baxter shook his head. “This is a terrible time to be dealing with a murderer.”
“Is there ever a good time?”
He frowned at her. “You know what I mean. Here we are, celebrating a birth, while someone is out there indiscriminately taking lives.”
“I don’t think it’s indiscriminate. I think he’s desperately trying to cover his tracks.”
“Then why is he still here?”
“We don’t know that he is.” Cecily got up and moved to the door. “He might well have left, now that he’s disposed of the one person who could have pointed him out as a killer.”
“Always supposing that’s why Barlow was killed.”
“Exactly, which is why this whole situation is giving me a brutal headache. There are just too many questions yet unanswered and nothing seems to be coming together. And yet…” She paused, her hand on the doorknob.
“Yet what?”
“I can’t dismiss the feeling I know something that might help solve this whole puzzle. The problem is that I can’t quite grasp it.”
“You’ve had these feelings before,” Baxter reminded her.
“And they have always proved to be significant in some way.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why I can’t bring this one to the forefront where I can examine it.”
“Perhaps subconsciously you don’t want to know what your mind is trying to tell you.”
She stared at him for a moment, then murmured, “You know, Bax, I hate to admit it, but you could possibly be right. That’s what worries me most of all.”
She opened the door, then turned back to him. “Of course, if our killer is one of our guests, he could hardly leave now without arousing suspicion. Which means he most likely is still in the hotel.”
“Well, let’s hope his killing spree is over, at least. The good thing is, the longer he’s here, the more chance Cranshaw will have to catch him.”
“Amen to that.” She left him then, closing the door gently behind her. Part of her wished Christmas was over. As much as she hated to call in the inspector, she did not enjoy the knowledge that a desperate killer still lurked amongst them. It put a damper on the festivities, to say the least.
Leaning across the table, Gertie piled dirty dishes onto her tray and balanced two wine glasses on top of them. She glanced across the dining room, to where Jeremy Westhaven sat with his chin buried in his hands, apparently unaware that the room had emptied out.
He’d barely spoken to her when she’d fetched his fruit and cheeses a few minutes ago. It was obvious to her he’d been drinking quite a bit. In fact, the bottle of wine she’d brought him looked as if it were just about empty.
Sidling over to him, Gertie murmured, “Is there anything else I can get for you, sir?”
He glanced up at her, his glassy eyes telling her he’d drunk more than enough for one evening. “Yes,” he said, giving her a wide smile. “You can fetch me another bottle of this excellent wine.”
She hesitated, concerned that any more of the stuff would put him on the floor. “You still have some left in this one, sir.” She lifted it up. “Let me pour it for you.” She tilted the bottle, but her hand shook, spilling dark red splotches on the white tablecloth. Chubby would have her hide for that.
Quickly she mopped it up with the serviette that Jeremy had thrown carelessly onto the table. “Sorry,” she muttered. “Me nerves are a bit dodgy at the moment.”
“Bit too much excitement, is that it?”
Charmed by his smile, and thrilled that at last he was actually talking to her again, she forgot to be discreet. “Too much is bloody right. What with all the fuss over Christmas, we don’t need all this nasty business messing us about, that’s for sure.”
Jeremy nodded in sympathy. “Must be troubling for you. Three poor souls on a dead man’s chest.” He lifted his glass and toasted her. “To you, my dear, and another bottle, if you please.”
She stared at him as he swallowed the wine then smacked the glass down on the table so hard she was afraid it might break.
He looked up at her, and all traces of a smile had vanished from his face. In fact, his eyes glinted in the candlelight like the steel that sharpened Michel’s knives. “Be quick about it, my girl.”
“Yes, sir.” She backed away from him. “I’ll fetch it from the cellar this instant.”
“Good.” He shoved back his chair and stood. “Bring it to my room. I’ll drink it there.”
“Yes, sir.” She hurried to the door, her thoughts in a whirl of misgivings. He was drunk, she told herself. Didn’t know what he was saying. Even so, she couldn’t shake the uneasiness she felt when she remembered the awful look in his eyes.
Mrs. Chubb stood at the kitchen table, fitting silverware into velvet-lined boxes. She looked up when Gertie burst in. The housemaid looked frazzled, with her cap on sideways as usual and hair all over her face.
Mrs. Chubb opened her mouth to scold her, then shut it again. It was Christmas. Let the girl alone, for once. There’d be plenty of time to straighten her out once Christmas was all over and done with.
Instead she glanced up at the clock. “Where have you been? The ceremony’s about to start in the library. Everyone’s already gone in there.”
“You haven’t,” Gertie pointed out.
“I’m going just as soon as I finish this. Can’t trust those maids to put the knives and forks in their proper places. When I opened the boxes this morning the silverware was all over the place.”
“I’ll have a word with them about that tomorrow,” Gertie promised.
“Well, get along with you to the library then.” Mrs. Chubb frowned at her. “I’ll be along in a minute.”
“I have to go down to the cellar first. I just stopped by to get the key. Mr. Westhaven wants another bottle of that wine he likes. The one I can’t pronounce proper.”
“Beaujolais.” Mrs. Chubb clicked her tongue. “He’s a bit late with that, isn’t he?”
“He wants it in his room.” Gertie shrugged. “I suppose he doesn’t feel like singing carols tonight.”
“Well, here you are.” Mrs. Chubb took the key off the ring at her belt and handed it to her. “I showed you where it is. You can go and get it. That reminds me. Madam hasn’t given me back the key to the laundry chute. I suppose I’ll have to go and get it from her.”
Gertie took the key and turned it over in her hand. “You know, he said something to me just now that didn’t seem quite right.”
Mrs. Chubb fitted the last spoon in its pocket. “Who did?”
“Mr. Westhaven.”
Her attention caught by something odd in Gertie’s voice, Mrs. Chubb looked up. “Why, what did he say?”
Gertie stared back at her, looking for all the world as if she badly wanted to say something, but didn’t know if she should. Finally, she shook her head. “Oh, never mind. I’ll go and get the wine for the toff.”
The door closed behind her, leaving Mrs. Chubb to stare uneasily after her.
Cecily stood just inside the door to the library, greeting each guest as they entered the room. The string quartet she’d hired to play for them was in place and awaiting her signal to begin.
It seemed as if most of the guests had chosen to attend the ceremony. Normally Cecily would have been delighted to have such a crowd, but this evening her apprehension kept her from enjoying the spectacle of ladies in elegant gowns on the arms of their debonair escorts.
Bernice Atkins looked particularly radiant as she swept into the room. At her side Desmond actually smiled as Cecily greeted them. The man seemed quite presentable when he was being pleasant, she thought, as she watched them join another couple on the other side of the room.
Baxter edged up to her during a lull in the arrivals. “Prestwick isn’t here yet,” he hissed in her ear.
“I know,” she whispered back. “They should be here any moment now.”
“I certainly hope you’re right. Samuel is waiting by the laundry chute to make sure no one is roaming about down there. He’ll be wondering what’s keeping us.”
“I’m sure he’ll wait for you.” Cecily nodded and smiled as yet another couple entered. “Good evening. I’m so glad you decided to join us this evening. The carol singing will begin very shortly.”
She waited until the man and his wife had moved out of earshot, before saying to Baxter, “Why don’t you wait for Kevin in the lobby. It will save time. Just send Madeline down here so I will know he has arrived.”
Baxter nodded. “Good idea. I can’t settle into anything here anyway until we’ve taken care of Barlow.”
“Cecily darling! Isn’t this utterly exciting!”
The voice came from the hallway, and Cecily looked up to see Phoebe smiling at her, one hand holding grimly on to the colonel’s arm.
“That’s it. I’m off.” Baxter nodded at her and rushed out the door, answering the colonel’s gruff greeting with a wave of his hand.
“Oh, dear.” Phoebe looked flustered as she sailed into the room in a cloud of lavender water, dark blue ostrich feathers drifting after her. “I do hope it isn’t something urgent. It would be such a shame for your husband to miss the singing. Frederick loves to sing, don’t you, lovey?”
Cecily stood back to allow Colonel Fortescue plenty of room. “Baxter just has an errand to run, Phoebe. He’ll be back very soon.”
“Good.” Phoebe looked around the room, her gaze resting on one of the ladies every now and then to study her gown. Apparently satisfied no one outshone her, she smiled at Cecily. “Is Madeline here yet?”
“Not yet.” Cecily peered down the hallway. “She should be here soon.”
“Well, I’m rather surprised she’s late. After all, the woman does nothing to make herself respectable. She simply throws one of those dreadful frocks of hers over her head and leaves it at that. She doesn’t even bother to dress her hair, for heaven’s sake.”
As usual, Cecily felt compelled to come to her friend’s defense. “That is Madeline’s way, as you well know, Phoebe. She is not one for fancy clothes and dressed-up hair.”
“Well, she raises eyebrows whenever she attends one of these little soirees. You’d think that pride alone would prompt her to make an effort to dress properly. Isn’t it enough that everyone is half afraid of her? What with those ungodly powers of hers and all that mumbo jumbo, people already think she’s a witch. It might do her well to pay more attention to her appearance, at least.”
“Madeline is dressed properly as far as she’s concerned. We have to accept her as she is and not judge her choices.”
“You might want to amend that sentiment,” Phoebe said with a smirk, “when you see what she’s wearing tonight.”
Cecily turned her head to see Madeline seemingly floating down the hallway. She wore a shapeless gown in gray silk that clung where it touched and flowed around her bare feet. Tiny white flowers encircled one ankle and graced her neck. She’d pinned a sprig of mistletoe in her hair, which flowed about her slim shoulders. She resembled a sprite visiting from the woods that lay behind Deep Willow Pond.
“Look at her,” Phoebe whispered. “Positively pagan. Whatever that doctor sees in her I cannot imagine.”
Cecily jumped as the colonel, having apparently caught sight of Madeline, bellowed out a greeting. “Hail there, maid of the mountains! To what do we owe the pleasure of your charming and gracious company tonight?”
Madeline bestowed her beautiful smile on him. “I’m here to sing Christmas carols with you, Colonel.”
“Over my dead body,” Phoebe muttered, loud enough for Cecily to hear.
Madeline must have heard as well, since she laid a slender hand on the colonel’s free arm. “How is the mixture working for you, Colonel? Helping matters, I trust?”
Phoebe stared up at him, color flooding her face. “Frederick! Don’t tell me you’re taking one of Madeline’s obnoxious potions! What on earth for?”
The colonel grunted and cleared his throat, apparently at a loss how to answer his wife.
Madeline had no such trouble. “A gentleman of your husband’s advanced age,” she said sweetly, “needs a little help in certain…shall we say…intimate matters. The colonel asked me for assistance and I was happy to oblige.”
Phoebe opened her mouth but nothing came out except a strangled sound that boded ill for the hapless colonel.
Sensing trouble, Cecily drew Madeline aside and suggested she join the group around the Christmas tree. “I trust Dr. Prestwick is with Baxter?” she whispered, as the quartet began to tune up with a wail of strings that sounded like angry cats in a fight to the death.
“I’m not sure we should leave those two men together.” Madeline put her hands over her ears. “You know how hostile they can be with each other.”
“We don’t have much choice. Besides, Samuel’s presence will prevent them from becoming too contentious.” Wincing, Cecily raised her hand to give the signal for the musicians to start playing. Anything would be better than that dreadful noise resounding from their corner of the room.
“Well, I’ll do my best to help with the singing.” Madeline drifted off toward the Christmas tree, while Phoebe dragged her confused husband to the other side of the room. Cecily was about to join Madeline when Baxter appeared in the doorway, crooking his finger at her in a frantic signal.
Frowning, Cecily slipped into the hallway and closed the door behind her. “Is it done already?”
“No.” Baxter looked up and down the hallway. “I had to take care of something.”
Cecily clenched her fingers in frustration. “What in heaven’s name could be more important than getting that body out of the hotel?”
“I think you’d better come down to the office.” Baxter took hold of her arm.
She tugged it free. “I can’t come now, I have guests that need my attention. Surely, whatever it is, it can wait until we have taken care of our little problem?” She looked past him, down the empty hallway. “Where’s Kevin? I thought he was with you.”
“He’s in the office.” Baxter took hold of her hand this time. “I must insist you come with me right away. The guests will simply have to do without you for a while.”
“Can’t you just tell me what this is all about?”
Baxter sent an anxious glance at the library door as a chorus of voices began singing. “Cecily, we are wasting valuable time. If you want us to get that body out of here before everyone starts leaving the library, you had better do as I ask and come with me now.”
“Oh, very well.” Allowing him to lead her to the office, she tried to ignore the fitful churning of her stomach. The last thing she needed right now was yet another disaster.