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THE SEA SWALLOWED THE last pink and glowing rim of the sun as Rosemary stood on her balcony and watched, her heart heavy with sorrow over Cecily’s loss. She’d have to wire her mother and break the bad news, but that was a chore for the next day.
“Since I’m not allowed to leave the premises, why don’t we go down to the outdoor bar and let off some steam?” Rosemary suggested. “Perhaps we’ll glean some useful information while we’re there.”
Andrew had always said observation was a detective’s most useful tool, particularly when the subjects had no idea one was paying attention. She could almost hear him whispering the words in her ear, but lately, his voice had begun to fade. She wasn’t certain anymore whether she remembered it as clearly as she used to, and the thought saddened her.
And so, in her typical fashion, she swept the notion under the rug—pushed it into the deepest corner of her mind where she wouldn’t have to think about it until she was alone, back at home, hiding beneath her bed covers.
While she’d been musing, the rest of the group had agreed to her suggestion. They took the lift to the bottom floor, where Vera pulled her across the flagstone terrace and out into the night. Once they’d reached the bottom steps, Vera let go and fell into step with Frederick, the black-silk kimono she’d donned floating prettily on the breeze. Rosemary hardly noticed her friend’s ulterior motive and didn’t even realize she’d moved away to allow Desmond to take Rosemary’s arm.
She did, however, recognize the subtle signs of being managed and wished the lot of them would stop treating her as if she were some weak-willed woman who needed constant coddling. What irked was that she couldn’t even get mad because she knew it was only out of love for her that they behaved so. Rosemary sighed, resigned herself to her fate, and allowed Desmond to lead her towards the beachside bar.
As they approached, it became obvious that this was the place where hotel employees came to unwind after a hard day’s work. She recognized Gloria immediately, even with her hair done up in some sort of complicated braid rather than hanging around her shoulders as she wore it during working hours.
Margaret the receptionist sat on a barstool just at the edge of the shadows cast from an oil-burning lantern, her eyes shooting daggers towards Gloria every few seconds. Rosemary wondered if it was professional jealousy or personal, since Gloria sat quite close to Walter, the assistant manager.
Walter must have come straight down after his shift because he still wore the starched shirt and loose pants required of all male staff. He sat on a stool at the corner of the bar where he had the best vantage point to survey the area. From the way he watched the employees through slitted lids, it appeared being truly off the clock was not in his nature.
While neither Charlotte nor Benny was in evidence, she recognized a couple of waiters from the lounge and a floor maid. Richard Wright, the irritable guest, sat alone at a table out of the way. All of them she could stand to be around, but when she noticed Geneviève and Benjamin situated at the other end of the bar, their heads bent conspiratorially, her heart dropped. Rosemary wasn’t certain which of the pair was worse, but she had no doubt the two deserved one another.
“Oh, thank goodness,” Rosemary said out loud when the couple merely waved and went back to their conversation. “I can’t handle her right now. Him neither.”
Vera opened her mouth to respond and instead sneezed. Once, then twice, a pause, then a third time. “Seconded,” she said when her breath returned.
Though Frederick found Vivi delightful, he knew better than to speak out on her behalf, as arguing with his sister never ended well for him. Instead, he found a place at the bar with enough room for all four of them and settled onto a stool.
“Barkeep!” Frederick shouted over the din. “A round of something rummy for my friends. Anything with a nice kick will do.”
Rosemary’s spot near Walter’s back allowed for her to listen in on his conversation with Gloria, and she did so without the usual niggle of remorse at eavesdropping. It helped that the man spoke in louder tones than necessary most of the time.
“Damn shame about Miss DeVant. Can’t help thinking if only we’d gone back a little earlier, I might have been able to put a stop to it all and saved that wonderful woman.” To Rosemary’s trained ear, Walter’s wistful regret struck a false note.
“You couldn’t have known, and there’s no good that can come of fretting. It’s over now, and you’re not to blame for spending an hour or two in more entertaining pursuits.” Gloria very nearly purred, leaving Rosemary to assume that she might offer herself as the reward at the end of Walter’s quest for fun.
“I suppose you’re right. Who do you think killed her? One of the staff maybe? Or a guest?”
“You know that Ben fellow was in a right state last night. Certainly strikes me as odd, that one. Not at all a stable chap. Could be something to it, don’t you think?” Walter said.
“Yes, I think you might be right,” Gloria replied, the breathy note dropping from her tone as Walter seemed not to sense her romantic undertones. “Could be he had another violent episode.”
Could be,” he mused. Walter lowered his voice, “On the bright side, being the assistant manager and all, I’ll probably be tapped to take over in her stead.” He sounded rather proud of himself, and Rosemary’s head filled with steam.
“Perhaps. Although I wouldn’t go on about it too much, if I were you. Might be considered a motive for bumping off the old girl,” Gloria said vaguely, sounding suddenly distracted.
“If a chance at running the hotel is a motive, then it’s one we share equally. The only reason I was promoted ahead of you is that the bloody dragon didn’t like you as—” Walter’s comment trailed off.
When Rosemary looked up at Desmond and saw that his cheeks were pink, then glanced back at Gloria, it became clear just what—or rather who—had distracted the woman mid-conversation. Her stomach lurched as she watched Gloria try to get his attention with a little smile here, and a flutter of lashes there. It settled some when she noticed Desmond carefully avoided Gloria’s gaze, but then churned some more at the thought of Cecily. The poor woman had been murdered, and all anyone cared about was the state of their jobs—and their loins.
Desmond caught Rosemary’s eye; a flare of hope flickered to life inside him when he saw the irritation on her face. He then did his best to extinguish it. Pressing would only make things awkward between them, as he was certain Rosemary wasn’t ready for anything more than friendship.
For the first time since he’d come back into her life, Rosemary considered whether Desmond harbored romantic notions towards her. Don’t be silly, she told herself as she fiddled with the beads around her neck, of course he does. You’d have to be quite daft not to notice the signs. For the first time, she found the idea intriguing rather than alarming.
She shifted her attention back to the situation at hand. Poor Walter realized the situation he was in long after Rosemary had, and when he did, she watched his face turn stormy. So stormy, in fact, that the hairs on the back of her arms stood on end. When Margaret approached him, a hopeful expression on her face, he barely even glanced at her, his eyes focused elsewhere.
From under the brim of her white straw cloche, Rosemary watched Gloria lean over and nip the olive from Desmond’s martini. With her eyes on his, she closed her teeth over the olive, using them to slide it from the toothpick slowly, her eyes never leaving his.
When Desmond’s body stiffened, Rosemary pressed her lips together to hold back a giggle, but she also elbowed Vera in the ribs, happy, for once, to be the one making the jab instead of receiving it.
To her credit, Vera didn’t let out an exclamation but merely turned around with wide eyes to see what it was her friend was so eager for her to witness.
“Oh, how very interesting,” Vera murmured, now fully intrigued. “Shall we wager on whether Gloria makes any headway there?”
“She’s rather an attractive woman.” Rosemary’s answer wasn’t an answer at all.
Vera agreed. “In a florid, obvious way. Not at all the type our Desmond goes for.”
A moment later, Desmond proved Vera right by gently rebuffing Gloria’s advances and turning away.
“I’ve had quite enough,” Rosemary said when Frederick attempted to press another gin and tonic into her hand. She had to admit, however, that the alcohol had drowned out the horror of the day, made it almost bearable. “I think I fancy a walk down the beach, though.”
“I’ll go with you,” Desmond offered, exchanging a look with Frederick, who took a step back and held up his hands in surrender.
“Take care of my sister,” was all he said. Vera winked at Frederick and smiled, as it suited her unspoken master plan for Desmond and Rosemary.
“Do be a dear, Freddie, and buy me another drink.” To Rosemary, she said, “You run along now; I’ll stay behind and keep an eye on your brother. Someone needs to keep him in line.”
