The wind off the ocean froze Gertie’s lips and brought tears to her eyes. Although the sun filtered through fluffy white clouds, farther out to sea a thick band of black sky heralded another storm.
It would probably snow again, Gertie thought, as she trudged along the Esplanade, holding a small hand in each of hers. Lillian seemed subdued now, though James skipped about, tugging and pulling until Gertie jerked him back with a sharp warning.
“What did I tell you? Behave or it’s the coalhole for you.”
“When is Father Christmas coming?” he demanded.
Gertie sighed. “I’ve told you until I’m blue in the face. He’s coming tonight. But only if you’re really, really good and only after you’re both fast asleep in your beds. So you’d better do as you’re told for the rest of the day if you want to see toys in your pillowcases tomorrow morning.”
“Father Christmas is coming tonight, Father Christmas is coming tonight, Father Christmas is coming tonight!” Chanting happily to himself James hopped and skipped along by her side.
Gertie looked down at Lillian, who was chewing on the thumb of her mitten. Her little face looked pinched with the cold, and Gertie felt sorry for her. “We’ll just go to the end of the Esplanade and back,” she told her. “Then when we get back I’ll ask Mrs. Chubb to make us a cup of hot cocoa.”
James cheered, but Lillian just went on plodding along by her side, tugging at the mitten with her teeth.
Gertie stopped. “What’s the matter now?” She bent down to look in the little girl’s face. “It’s Christmas Eve. You should be happy. Father Christmas is coming.”
Lillian’s eyes filled with tears. “I want Daddy to come, too.”
Gertie felt a pang of remorse. What a terrible mother she was not to realize the children would miss their father. Well, maybe James didn’t. He didn’t let much bother him. But Lillian was like her mother. She got silly over things like that.
Letting go of James’s hand, she put her arms around the little girl. “I know you miss Daddy, Lilly, but you know he’s gone to heaven and he can’t come back.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s too far, that’s why not.” Gertie’s heart ached for her. “But he can see you, and he wants you to be happy and smiling. You want Daddy to enjoy his Christmas, too, don’t you?”
Lillian nodded.
“Well, then, we have to show him we’re happy and excited about Christmas and then he will be, too. He—” She broke off as a loud shout was followed almost immediately by the screeching sound of a motorcar’s brakes.
Gertie swung around, and let out a shriek of horror. Her son stood in the middle of the street, frozen in shock, just inches from the bonnet of a motorcar. Coming the other way at a fast clip was a horse and carriage, and she started forward, terrified James would dart out in front of those flying hooves.
As she reached the edge of the curb, a man in a dark blue coat leapt out from behind the wheel of the car, ran around to the front and scooped up James.
After a quick look each way, he strode toward Gertie, carrying the struggling boy under his arm. It wasn’t until he deposited him at Gertie’s feet that she recognized her son’s savior.
Dan Perkins looked down at her, his face grim. “Is this yours?”
And, once again, Gertie had no answer.
“I came to have a word with Miss Kendall,” Cecily said, nodding in the direction of the young lady. “I apologize if I’m intruding.”
“Not at all.” Randall gestured at the chair he’d vacated. “I thought perhaps you had changed your mind about attending the funeral.”
Cecily cursed herself for her wayward memory. “Of course. The funeral. It is this afternoon.”
“Yes, it is.” Randall’s dark gaze probed her face, waiting for her to continue.
Cecily glanced once more at Naomi, who now sat looking at her with an expectant air. The idea of asking her about the brooch with Randall hovering over them was unsettling. Unfortunately, there was no Madeline to help get rid of him this time.
Deciding she had no other choice, Cecily dipped into her pocket for the brooch. Carrying it over to Naomi, she repeated the story she’d given Mrs. Trumble. “I thought it might belong to someone here in the manor,” she said, smiling pleasantly at Randall, who still watched her with his sharp gaze.
Naomi seemed listless as she took the brooch and examined it. After a moment or two she shook her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know who it belongs to,” she said. She raised her head, and her eyes met Cecily’s with a clear message in them.
Taking back the brooch, Cecily murmured, “Thank you, Miss Kendall. I’m sorry to have bothered you on such a sad day. I sincerely wish you well at the funeral this afternoon. Please accept my regrets at your loss.”
Naomi bowed her head. “Thank you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Withdrawing from the fire, Cecily smiled at Randall. “I won’t intrude on your privacy any longer. While it seems inappropriate to wish you a happy Christmas, I trust tomorrow will bring you a measure of peace.”
Randall nodded gravely. “Thank you, Mrs. Baxter. Now may I escort you to the door?”
He took her arm, and Cecily jumped violently when the door opened before they got there, revealing Wilmot standing on the threshold. Apparently he’d recovered enough to resume his duties. If Randall had summoned him with a bell, she had neither seen him do so, nor heard the sound of it.
“Good day, Mrs. Baxter.” Randall nodded at Samuel. “Thank you for calling.”
“Our pleasure,” Cecily said graciously. She walked out into the hallway, with Samuel right behind her. Together they followed Wilmot to the front doors.
His silence was intimidating, though his red nose and watery eyes suggested that rather than sound undignified he’d prefer not to speak at all.
The door had barely closed behind them when Samuel muttered, “I don’t like that Randall Thorpe. Something about him gives me the willies. Wouldn’t surprise me at all if he’d bumped off his cousin to get all the money.”
“It certainly is a strong motive,” Cecily agreed.
“Do you think Miss Kendall was lying about the brooch?” Samuel led the way down the steps, watching her with one eye to make sure she didn’t trip. “She had a funny look on her face when she looked at it.”
“Yes,” Cecily murmured. “I noticed that, too. I wonder—?” She broke off as the front door opened up behind her. Turning, she saw Naomi appear at the top of the stairs.
“Mrs. Baxter!” she called out, and ran lightly down the steps toward her.
Cecily waited, not in the least surprised to see her. She had known right away that Naomi had something she badly wanted to tell her, and that she did not want to say it in front of Randall Thorpe.
Now she could hardly wait to hear what it was that Naomi felt was so important.
Reaching the bottom, Naomi looked back at the door over her shoulder. “About the brooch,” she said, her voice low and hurried. “I think I’ve seen it somewhere before, but I don’t remember where. That fox design is distinctive. I remember thinking how charming it looked. I’m sure it belongs to someone I’ve met. I just don’t remember who.”
Cecily nodded. “Well, thank you, anyway, Miss Kendall. I appreciate you coming to tell me.”
Naomi’s smile was strained. “I don’t suppose it has anything to do with Gavin’s murder?”
Feigning surprise, Cecily raised her eyebrows. “Why would you think so?”
Naomi shrugged. “That’s why you’ve been calling on us here, isn’t it? To find out who killed Gavin? You didn’t really find the brooch in the driveway, did you.”
Samuel uttered a small sound of protest, while Cecily frowned.
Naomi sent another furtive glance up the steps behind her. “Look, all I’m saying is that it looks as if someone here in the manor killed Gavin. I won’t sleep at night until he’s locked up. So if there’s anything I can do to help find out who he is, just tell me.”
Cecily hesitated, then said quietly, “To be honest, I don’t know if this brooch has anything to do with the murder or not.” She took the brooch out of her pocket, watching it flash in the sunlight. “It was found near the body, and since the killer came back sometime after the murder, I assume he was looking for something that might incriminate him.” She held up the brooch. “This.”
It was Naomi’s turn to frown. “But men don’t wear brooches.”
“Then either the killer was a woman, or he had an accomplice.”
Naomi stared at her for long seconds. “Randall has been keeping company with a woman in the village. He denied it when I asked him about it, but I know he’s lying. I’ve seen them together.”
Trying to hide her eagerness, Cecily waited a moment before asking, “Do you know who she is?”
Once more she was disappointed when Naomi shook her head. “All I know is that she lives in the village, has dark hair, and dresses rather poorly. I’m not sure I’d even recognize her if I saw her again. Though Randall seemed to know her very well.”
“Then I shall have to find her and ask if she has lost a brooch recently.” Cecily slipped it back into her pocket. “Thank you for your help, Miss Kendall.”
“Oh, please, do call me Naomi.” She smiled at Cecily. “I feel as if we are beginning to know each other quite well.” Her smile faded almost instantly. “I hope you find the killer before long, Mrs. Baxter.”
“Please, try not to worry. You are quite safe as long as you don’t ask too many questions.”
Once more the fear appeared in Naomi’s eyes. “I shouldn’t be seen talking to you. Be careful, Mrs. Baxter. I should hate to hear that something awful has happened to you.” She glanced at Samuel. “You be careful, too, Samuel.”
The young man blushed, and Cecily hid a smile. “I do hope your Christmas won’t be too melancholy,” Cecily said.
Naomi sighed. “I’ll feel better once the funeral is over. Happy Christmas to both of you.” She turned and ran up the steps, leaving both Samuel and Cecily staring after her.
“Come,” Cecily said, as the door closed behind the young woman, “I must get back before Mr. Baxter starts worrying about me. I’ve been gone far too long as it is.”
“Yes, m’m.” Samuel opened the door of the carriage. “Right away, m’m.”
Cecily climbed in and leaned back against the soft leather. She’d had such high hopes of finding out to whom the brooch belonged. She’d been so sure the owner was in the mansion. Now she had to look for a mysterious woman in the village.
One thing appeared certain. Naomi no longer seemed convinced that Randall Thorpe was innocent. In fact, if the fear in her eyes was anything to go by, Cecily sensed that Randall Thorpe was the cause. Naomi suspected Randall of killing Gavin Hargrove. It would seem, Cecily thought wryly, that she was back to square one.
“I just took my eyes off him for a flipping minute and he was gone.” Gertie grabbed James to her and hugged him close. Looking up into Dan’s concerned face, she felt like crying. “Thank you. He could have been killed out there.”
“Yes, he could’ve.” Dan looked down sternly into James’s face. “What were you thinking, lad, running out in the street like that? Don’t you know how much you frightened your mama? If I hadn’t seen you coming and put on my brakes, I would have run right over you. Then there would have been no Christmas for you, my boy.”
To Gertie’s surprise, James looked suitably repentant. “Yes, sir,” he mumbled.
“All right, then.” Dan looked back at Gertie. “What about you? Are you all right, then?”
“Apart from the trembles I’ll be all right.” She gave James a little shake. “I could kill him, though.”
Dan shook his head. “I think he’s had enough fright to keep him quiet for a while.” He looked back at his motorcar. “I’d better get back to it before someone runs a horse into it.”
James tugged on his sleeve. “Mister? I like your motorcar.”
Gertie had to agree. It was a lovely car. All blue and silver and shiny, like the pictures she’d seen in the magazines. “Is it new?”
“Two months old yesterday.” Dan pulled his shoulders back in pride. “She’s a beauty all right.” He sent Gertie a sideways glance then smiled down at James. “How’d you like to come for a ride with me?”
James shouted his reply. “Yes! Can I, Mama? Please? Please?”
“I don’t think he should—” Gertie began. But Dan interrupted.
“I’ve got plenty of room for all of you. Just around the town? It won’t take long and they’d enjoy it.”
Even Lillian looked excited, though Gertie could tell she was a little nervous. She looked back at the car. It was a nice car. She’d always wanted to ride in a nice car.
“All right,” she said, setting James off again with another shout of glee. “Just around the town, then.”
“I’ll take you back to the Pennyfoot afterward. Come on.” After making sure the road was clear, he grabbed James’s hand and led him over to the car. With a quick push he helped him up onto the backseat, then turned and grabbed Lillian about the waist. With no effort at all he lifted the little girl and set her down next to James.
Then he turned to Gertie. “Your turn.”
“I’ll manage meself, thank you very much.” She ignored his grin and walked around the bonnet to the passenger side. Before she could open the door Dan was at her side, opening it for her. With a nod of her head, she climbed up and sat down.
The car smelled of leather and lemon polish. She ran her hand over the seat. It was as soft as a baby’s bum. There was a little clock on the shelf in front of the driver’s seat, but she couldn’t see what it said.
James was wriggling about with excitement in the backseat and she twisted her head to look at him. “Sit still or we’ll get out right now.”
James immediately leaned back against the soft leather.
“Where are we going, Mama?” Lillian asked.
“We’re going for a jaunt around the town,” Dan said, poking his head in the driver’s side. He reached under the seat and pulled out a handle. “Just got to start her up.”
Gertie watched him put the handle in somewhere below the bonnet and start cranking. After a moment or two the engine coughed, then started a loud throbbing.
“We’re off, we’re off!” James chanted.
“Be quiet, now,” Gertie warned.
Dan climbed back in, did something with a lever on the floor and they started forward.
Gertie hung on to the little handle in the door with one hand and her hat with the other. She felt like a queen, chugging down the road by the side of her king, with the engine making little popping noises now and then that startled the passersby.
They passed a horse and trap, then another, as they chugged easily up the hill. James and Lillian exclaimed with excitement over every bump in the road, and when the engine banged really loudly, both of them shrieked in delight.
Dan looked right at home behind the wheel, his hands deftly steering the motorcar past horses and bicycles and the stray pedestrian. He grinned at her when they reached the top of the high street. “So what do you think of her? Pretty natty, huh?”
“It’s very nice.” She didn’t want to admit how wonderful it made her feel to be gliding along so smoothly. A lot different from a carriage. Almost like flying. It made her feel like the rich toffs who brought their motorcars to the Pennyfoot.
Which made her wonder just how a butcher could afford a motorcar like this one. All the butchers she’d ever known rode bicycles around town. Dan must have got a lot of money from somewhere to buy it. He didn’t even look like a butcher in his smart coat and cap.
She thought about what he’d said the day before when she’d told him she was off for Christmas Eve. I can’t talk about it. It made her uneasy, wondering what he was doing that he couldn’t talk about, and owning a posh car and all. She was putting two and two together, and she didn’t like what it was adding up to at all.