Chapter 17

Sunday started off well with Sunday brunch for the family. Agnes had the day off and I took the trays up to the family’s dining room.

“Oh, Chef,” the duchess stepped in as I handed off the plates. “Do come in for a moment.”

I stepped into the room. Staff had already set the table up. The dishes would be served on the sideboard. The family was small but we kept with tradition. The dining room smelled of coffee and sausages and my famous cinnamon rolls.

“What can I do for you, ma’am?” I asked.

She smiled at me. She wore close-fitting jeans and a striped three-quarter length T-shirt. Her bouncy hair was down around her shoulders. It struck me how thin she was. No wonder designers loved to dress her.

“First off, I wanted to say congratulations for coming in second yesterday at the bake-off.”

I felt the heat of a blush rush up my cheeks. “Thank you. Thank you for sponsoring my entry.”

“Of course,” she said. “Children’s charities are one of our biggest concerns.” She paused. “I also wanted to thank you for the wonderful job you did at the bridal shower. I know I can count on you to go above and beyond your duties.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I understand there have been some bumps in the road since you have been here. I certainly hope you won’t let anything drive you away.” She sent me a soft smile. “William loves your pastries.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” I said. “I won’t.”

“Good,” she said. The sounds of children running down the hall echoed throughout the elegant surrounds. “Have a good day.”

“You, too,” I hurried out the side door of the dining room. The butler had returned my empty cart to the hallway. The servants’ halls snaked in and around most of the main living areas. They were there to keep us out of sight so that the family could live their lives discretely.

I glanced up as I stopped at the elevator door. There were cameras in the halls. That was to keep us and the royals safe. Somewhere on the other side of the camera, Ian and his men ensured as little as possible disturbed the occupants.

It had to be difficult living a life where you were always in the public eye, even when you were in your own home.

*   *   *

“Garrote was wrong,” Penny said gleefully as she sailed into my kitchen.

It was just after I had served dinner and I was busy doing dishes. “How was he wrong?”

Penny grabbed a mug from the cupboard, tossed a tea bag into it, poured hot water in her cup, and sat down by the table. “The poison that made Butterbottom sick was not the same thing that killed Wentworth Uleman.”

“How do you know that?” I asked as I rinsed dishes.

“The news reporters said that Wentworth died of cyanide poisoning.”

“Okay?”

“And Butterbottom and his crew were poisoned with isopropyl alcohol.”

“Wait—so it wasn’t the same killer?” I finished rinsing the last dish before grabbing my own cup of tea and sitting next to her.

“No, they think it could still be the same killer or it could be a copycat.” Penny sipped her tea with an animated her expression. “Most likely whoever poisoned Chef couldn’t get their hands on any more cyanide and turned to something more readily available.”

“Ugh,” I groaned. “So we have two potential killers running around trying to frame me?”

“If there is a copycat, I don’t think they were trying to frame you or they would have made sure CID found traces of the poison in your possession.”

“So why poison Butterbottom?”

“That certainly is a good question,” she sipped her tea.

“Except no one knew what poisoned Wentworth until today’s newscast, right?”

“They might have guessed wrong,” Penny shrugged.

“Or the killer only had a little cyanide and had to change poisons.” I tapped my finger on my chin. “So why did DCI Garrote ask me if I’ve been around garden or kitchen chemicals?”

“Maybe he hadn’t gotten the report yet,” Penny mused.

“Here’s my big question. How do you get cyanide to poison someone? I mean isn’t it illegal?”

“Let’s find out.” Penny grabbed her smartphone and did a search. I picked up my smartphone and started searching as well. “Oh, they can make it from peach pits and cherry pits and such.”

“Except those fruits are all out of season,” I said. “Not only would they have to get ahold of a bunch of out-of-season fruits, but they would have to grind the pits. That’s a lot of work.”

“It could be why they switched to isopropyl.” Penny tapped on her phone.

I studied the information on cyanide. “Wow, that’s nasty stuff.” I looked up poisons. “Did you know that rhubarb leaves could poison someone? It is rhubarb season. It would be much easier to grind that up and put it in a pie.”

“But not as immediate.” Penny scrolled through the text on her phone. “It’s pretty clear they wanted Wentworth to be found with his face in your pie.”

“Huh?” I studied Penny. “I know there wasn’t any poison in my pie. That means someone used my pie pan without me knowing or someone slipped it into my pie before Wentworth ate it. Do you think the intended murder victim might have been someone else?”

“I hadn’t really thought about that,” Penny said. “But you’re right. Anyone could have slipped poison into your pie. You left it on the counter for the staff.”

“Maybe it was intended for Chef Wright,” I said.

“And yesterday’s poisoning was meant for Chef Butterbottom. Maybe someone is taking out the palace chefs. Which means you could be next.”

“I certainly hope not.” I put down my tea. The flavor suddenly tasted sour to my tongue.

“I can be your taster,” Penny said with a grin. “You haven’t had any of those petit fours yet have you?” She pointed to the glass-covered platter filled with the tiny tea cakes.

“Too late,” I said. “I’ve not only tasted them, but the family had them for tea.”

“Oh,” she sounded so disappointed.

“But you can have some if you want,” I said.

“Super.” Penny jumped up and got a small plate and put three icing covered cakes on her plate. She bit into one the moment she sat back down. “Seriously, I’m here if you need a taster.”

I shook my head. “How do you stay so trim when you eat like that?”

She shrugged. “Good genes?”

“You know women around the world hate you,” I teased.

She shrugged and bit into her cake.

“So tell me about this mysterious romance you have that keeps you from going clubbing on Saturday night.”

She sighed and put her elbows on the table. “He’s a vicar.”

“What? No—you mean like a preacher?”

“Yes,” she said. “His name is Dale Ruthart and he is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“How did you two meet?”

“My mother’s best friend got married in a little church and Dale presided over the ceremony. Lucky for me, my mother insisted I dress like a lady—which I did.”

I tilted my head. “Does your vicar know you go out clubbing?”

“No.” She sipped her tea. “All he knows is that I work here, and that I work a lot.”

“So you’re lying to him.”

“Not lying,” she said. “I no longer go clubbing.”

“So you’ve known him less than a week,” I teased.

“Long enough to know he has the most gorgeous eyes I’ve ever seen on a man. That’s saying a lot. Oh, and he works with poor children at an afterschool program. Isn’t that something?”

“It’s something.” I sipped my tea. I could tell from her expression that she truly thought this vicar might be the man for her. “Do you see yourself as a vicar’s wife?”

“Well, why not? I have experience running a large household.”

“That you do.” I stood. “Do you have a picture?”

“He won’t take a selfie with me,” she pouted. “He says it’s a bit too narcissistic for him.”

“Surely he has a picture,” I said. “What is his parish? They must have a website, right? Wouldn’t he have a professional picture?”

“Oh, gosh, you’re right,” Penny’s eyes lit up. She tapped into the search bar of her cell phone. “Here, St. Anthony. Ah, there’s my guy. Isn’t he cute?” She pushed her phone toward me. There, in full choir dress, was an earnest-looking young man with a round face, round, bright blue eyes, and blond hair pushed away from his eyes.

“Oh, he is quite good looking,” I said with a smile and handed the phone back to her. “I see what you see in him.”

“You should see him without a shirt.”

“You saw him without a shirt already?”

She blushed. “I might have peeked when he was changing out of basketball clothes. You see, he invited me to come see what he does with the kids’ afterschool program.”

“But you hate kids,” I pointed out and took her tea mug and empty plate to the sink.

“I don’t hate kids.” She raised her chin. “I happen to like the little prince and princess.”

“You hate kids,” I said. “You tell me that all the time when we go into the park to eat lunch.”

“Well, that’s unruly park-going children.” She stood. “I have never been around afterschool-program kids. I didn’t know, I might have liked them. I know for sure that I like to see Dale all sweaty after playing a game of ball.”

We walked out of the kitchen, and I turned out the lights and locked the door. “Well, that’s a start I suppose.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Penny said with a secret smile. We walked through the hallway, up the stairs and down our hall. The floors were all wood and creaked with our steps. The beige walls were very clean and the baseboards dust free. Mrs. Worth ran a very clean household. I never saw the maids who cleaned the halls, but it was clear they did. I bet you could practically eat off the walls.

I stopped outside Penny’s door. “Do you think you’ll ever have children?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I hadn’t thought about it much. The thought of going through a pregnancy like the duchess did, not once but twice. I don’t know.”

“Well, you just met your vicar. It will be a while before you need to think about it.”

“Do you think he’ll want children?” She whispered with concern.

“He’s a vicar who helps with an afterschool program,” I said. “Sounds like he wants children. Good night, Penny.” I walked off to my room feeling a bit sorry for her.

“Good night,” she said, disappearing into her rooms. I opened my door, turned on my light and sighed at the cozy peace of my little suite. Maybe it will work out for Penny and the vicar, I thought. Weirder things have happened. I put my keys in the small basket on my breakfast bar and headed to my bedroom, turning on lights as I went.

Thinking about children made my mind go to thoughts of dating again. Jasper was really handsome. He wanted to go out with me but thought I had a thing for Ian—which, if I was being honest with myself, I did.

I frowned. Why did everything have to be so difficult?