Chapter 4

Saturday morning dawned clear and bright. The family had breakfast at eight AM. The duchess took the children to the park to play for an hour or so before she had to come back and get ready for the state affair.

All morning, Agnes helped me load pies and tarts into coolers and warming carts and take them over to the Orangery kitchen where Chef Wright had freed up space for us to set up for the bridal shower.

I was surprised how long it took to complete the catering for the shower. Penny’s sister was not only a friend of the duchess but of many other women from higher British society. There were twenty-five attendees, and all of them were well-connected. Most of the women attending were part of the duchess’s sorority or the duke’s social group.

It seems when I made friends, I made them in high places.

“Oh, pish,” Penny had said when I made a comment about the duchess giving the bridal shower for her sister. “My father knows her father through business. It’s not like I’m in the royal set or anything.”

Still, it was hard for an American girl like me to understand how everyone fit in the social structure. But I wasn’t blind to the fact that some of the women attending had titles that I would never see on an American name card.

On my last trip to the Orangery, ladened with a tray full of warm meat pies, I pushed open the door to the kitchen and ran into someone. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” I said as I worked quickly to resettle the pies before they all ended up on the floor.

“No worries,” a young man said.

I looked over to see that I had run into a young man with big ears. He seemed as startled by my presence as I was by his. “Wentworth?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, er Chef, but I have to get out to the floor.”

“Stop!” I said, following him through the door. I grabbed his arm and juggled my tray of pies while he fumbled with his tray with a fresh tea service on it. “I want to know what you think you’re doing peering into my kitchen late at night.”

“I’m sorry, but you must have the wrong person,” he said.

“No.” I felt my mouth grow tight. “I don’t have the wrong person. I clearly saw you—twice now—standing outside my kitchen. Last night it looked as if you were filming me. What were you filming?”

“Excuse me, is there a problem here?” the maître d’ came up to us. It was then that I noticed that everyone was staring. I guess I had unknowingly made a scene and done exactly what Ian had asked me not to do. I had confronted my Peeping Tom, face to face.

“No problem,” I said.

“She has me mixed up with someone else,” Wentworth said. “I’m trying to do my job here.”

“So am I,” I said, straightening up so I towered over him. I leaned in toward him. “I don’t want to see you outside my window again. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “I mean, Chef…”

“Good,” I said. Then I glanced at the maître d’. “Then there is no trouble here.” I walked back into the kitchen, my heart pounding. I put the pies in the warmer and leaned against the counter in relief.

“Are you okay?” Chef Wright came out of his office and over to check on me. “You look quite pale.”

“I’m fine,” I said. “No, no, I’m not fine. I saw your waiter Wentworth Uleman looking in my kitchen window again last night. It looked like he was filming me.”

“Oh, that’s terrible,” Chef Wright said. “I’ll speak to him.”

“I already have,” I said. “I ran into him out in the pavilion just now.”

“Oh, no, what happened? Did he harm you or threaten you?”

“No,” I said. “He claimed I had the wrong man, but there is no mistaking those ears. I saw him very clearly last night.”

“Then I will have him fired.”

“I spoke to Security Chief Gordon,” I said. “He told me that he had already spoken to the man once before. They were looking for him last night. I have to assume they didn’t find him since he is here at work today.”

“You are clearly distressed,” Chef Wright said and took a hold of my hand. “Come sit down. Let me get you some water.”

“Thank you.” I put my forehead in my hands. “I had no idea that I would be so upset when I came face to face with him.”

I took the glass of water from the chef and sipped.

“I can’t have a man working for me who does these kinds of things,” the chef said, patting my hand. “I will go now and see that he leaves here immediately.”

A twinge of guilt struck me. What if he was right? It was dark outside. What if it wasn’t Wentworth at all who was looking in my window. Could I have him fired?

I took a deep breath. “No, please,” I said and squeezed Chef Wright’s hand. “Let the man finish his shift today. I’ll have Ian Gordon check the video from outside my window and confirm it was Wentworth. I think it’s only fair that a full investigation be had before you let him go.”

“If you are certain…”

“I’m not certain,” I said with a wry smile. “But I do want to be fair.”

“You are not only beautiful, but you are kind. It is my pleasure to know you.”

I felt the heat of a blush rush into my cheeks. “I’ve got to put this behind me and continue on with work. Thank you for your hospitality.”

“It is my pleasure,” he said, picking up my hand and kissing my fingertips.

Okay, that action crossed a line in my mind. Especially since he wore a wedding ring. I pulled my hand away and got up. “I won’t keep you. I’m sure you have a family to get back to…” I glanced pointedly at his ring finger.

He smiled broadly. “Of course. It was my pleasure to help.”

Thankfully the rest of the night went smoothly. I didn’t see Wentworth again. I assumed Chef Wright escorted him from the building quietly while I was setting up for the bridal shower.

The shower itself was elegant, and Penny and her sister and friends had a wonderful time. There was laughter and teasing and gifts and games. Two hours later the ladies all exited to several limos that were waiting to pick them up and whisk them off to a few London hot spots, while the older women headed home.

I packed up the kitchen and left a lemon pie with a note of thanks to Chef Wright and his staff for allowing me to use their space.

Ian met me at the door of the pavilion as I pushed the final cart out toward my kitchen. “How was the shower?”

“It seems like it was a success even without the duchess,” I said. “The women all had a good time.”

“Good.”

“I saw Wentworth,” I said as we crossed the garden and stepped into the parking lot.

“I heard,” he said and held the door open for me to the palace. We all had employee key cards and he swiped his to gain access to the hall entry of the kitchen. “I looked over the video from last night.”

“And?” I asked as I pushed the cart down the short hall and opened the door to my kitchen.

“It was definitely Wentworth Uleman,” he said. “I had Chef Wright escort Wentworth to the security offices when he got off his shift.”

“And?” I asked again as I started to put the washed platters away. “Did he tell you what he was doing?”

“He claims that he saw you wave at him. That’s why he peered into the kitchen window.”

“Well, that’s just ridiculous,” I said. “I was inside baking pies. I only saw him because I felt as if someone was watching me and looked up to see him peering back at me again.”

“I told him that this was his second offense. There won’t be a third.”

“You fired him?”

“I can’t, but Chef can and I have written up a report asking Chef Wright to do just that.”

“So he could come back tonight and look into my window again?”

“No.” Ian pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down. “I escorted him from the Palace grounds.”

“But he could come back.” I bit my bottom lip.

Ian tilted his head. “I thought you might say that, so I’m going to stay with you until you retire for the night.”

I laughed. “That sounds like a big waste of the government’s money.”

“No waste,” he said. “I’m off the clock. So why don’t you put a kettle on for tea and offer me a piece of pie?”

“Oh, I see, that’s your true reason for being here.”

“What?” He drew his eyebrows together as if caught off guard.

“For the pie…”

He laughed. “You caught me.”

“Well, then, what kind of pie do you want?” I opened the last covered platter with four kinds of pie left over from the shower.

“I don’t know,” he said as he looked them all over. “Why don’t you set the platter down on the table and hand me a fork. I’ll tell you which type is more to my liking.”

That made me laugh. I handed him a fork and a dessert plate. There was something about a man admiring my cooking that made me happy. Much happier than a man who tried to charm me with guile.

*   *   *

There was a banging on my apartment door. I stumbled out of bed and glanced at my clock. It was five AM. A half hour before my alarm normally went off. “Chef! Are you in there?” It sounded like Penny outside my door.

I grabbed my fluffy pink bathrobe, slipped my feet into mule slippers, and hurried to the door. I turned on the light and blinked against the brightness of the bulb.

My apartment consisted of a three-room suite. You entered into a great room that had a kitchenette near the door. Separated by a breakfast bar was a small, furnished living area with an overstuffed couch and coffee table. Between the breakfast bar and the couch was the door to my bedroom. Inside the bedroom was the bath area, across from the kitchen. It was a neat setup and just enough for a young woman who spent most of her time in the family’s kitchen.

“Carrie Ann?”

“I’m coming,” I said. I unlocked my door and opened it to find Penny standing in the doorway. “What’s the matter? Why are you up?”

“Something’s going on at the Orangery,” Penny said. She was still dressed in a pale blue shift dress and jacket. The same clothes she wore to the bridal shower.

“Are you just getting in?”

“Yes,” she said and didn’t even blush about it. “We pulled in to see security at the Orangery. I thought I saw Detective Chief Inspector Garrote.”

“Oh, no!”

Garrote was the Criminal Investigative Department Detective Chief Inspector who worked on the murder case of Frank Deems. Something bad had to have happened for the CID to be involved.

“I know, I thought you might want to check it out with me.”

“Are you going to the Orangery?” I asked.

“Of course,” Penny said. “Quick, get dressed. Let’s go down together and see what’s going on.”

“Come in,” I said, waving her inside. “I’ll be just a few minutes.”

I hurried off to my bedroom and quickly dressed for work, pulling my wayward hair into a tight ponytail and grabbing a jacket. It was spring in London, and that meant it was still chilly outside in the early morning.

“Hurry,” Penny said through the door. “They aren’t going to let us close if we don’t get there soon.”

“I’ll be right out,” I said and shoved my arms into the jacket while Penny and I left my apartment. Penny lived in a small suite down the hall from me. Our hall was the servants’ quarters. The walls were painted a soft beige and the wooden flooring was well-worn.

We hurried down the hall, down the stairs, and out through the door just beyond my private kitchen. I could see the flashing lights of the police cars in the distance. People came out of the palace to see what was going on. Most had not stopped to get dressed like I did. But I was glad not to have rushed out in a night gown, robe, and slippers.

We approached the crowd to get a good look. All of the lights were on at the Orangery. The building wasn’t usually open to the public until ten AM. Security and police came and went. They all had looks of concern on their faces.

“What’s going on?” Penny asked a bystander.

“Someone said there was a murder in the Orangery,” the man in a robe and pajama pants said. His hair stood straight up on the left side of his head while the right side was smashed down.

“A murder?” Penny nudged me. “Who? How?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged.

I caught a glimpse of Ian Gordon. I pushed through to the edge of the crowd. There the security forces held back the growing crowd. “Ian? What’s going on?”

“Chef Cole, what are you and Miss Nethercott doing out here?”

“We saw the lights,” I said. “We heard there was a murder. Is it true?”

“Billings,” Ian said to a tall, thin man in a security uniform beside him. “Disperse the crowd.”

“Ian?”

“Go inside, Chef,” his expression was grim. “Someone will let you know if your presence is needed.”

“But—”

“You can’t help, Carrie Ann,” he said. “Go inside.” Ian turned his back on me and spoke to another security officer. Together he and Officer Billings began to break up the crowd.

“All right, folks, go on back to your rooms,” Officer Billings said.

“Was there a murder?” This time it was Mrs. Worth, the head of the duke and duchess’s household, who asked the question. Mrs. Worth was a formidable woman. Thin and very proper, she looked completely ready for her day. She wore a gray sweater set, a black skirt that hit her midcalf and a black quilted coat. Her hair was a perfect gray shoulder-length bob.

I had known Mrs. Worth only a short time, but I had never seen a hair out of place on the woman. Even at five-fifteen AM, she was immaculately turned out. Unlike the rest of the crowd, it was as if she sprang out of bed fully dressed for the day.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but Chief Gordon did not give me the liberty to discuss the details.” Officer Billings ducked his head. “Please tell your staff to go back inside. We will share any information as soon as we can.”

“Tell Chief Gordon that I expect to hear from him before I see anything on the telly.”

“I will, ma’am.” The officer held up his hands. “Now everyone, go inside.”

“Well,” Penny said to me as we walked back across the parking lot. “If it is murder, at least this time you are off the hook.”

“Thank goodness for that,” I said. “I had enough of that adventure last time.”

If you decide to investigate this one, let me know,” Penny winked at me. “I love all the insider details.”

“Please,” I said. “It’s not going to happen. I have work to do that is more important. Which reminds me, I’d better dial Agnes. I don’t think they are going to let anyone inside the Palace gates this morning.”

“Let’s hope if there was a murder that neither of us knows the suspect,” Penny said rather morbidly.

“From your mouth to God’s ears,” I said. The last thing we needed was another disruption to the household.