Kate Kingsbury - Decked With Folly

She looked for the last pie bird, but couldn’t see it on the table. Someone must have moved it. More than likely picked it up with some dirty dishes. Clicking her tongue in annoyance, she walked over to the sink.

There was the pie bird, sitting on the counter. Relieved, she picked it up. Without that little porcelain funnel sitting in the center of her pie, there’d be nowhere for the steam to escape while the pie was cooking. Then she’d have a mess, all right. Burnt filling all around the edges. Madam wouldn’t like that.

Out of habit, she glanced at the windowsill to make sure her ring was still there. She always took it off when she was making the pastry. If she didn’t it ended up with pastry stuck in between all the little grooves, and it was a devil of a task to get it all cleaned out. So she left it on the windowsill until she was finished with the pies.

Only today, it wasn’t there.

Mrs. Chubb paused, unable to believe her eyes. All the years she had been working at the Pennyfoot, and it had been far too many to remember, she had placed that ring on the windowsill and it had always been there when she came to get it. It had to be there.

With a little cry of dismay, drowned out by the din in the kitchen, she put down the pie bird and leaned across the sink for a better look. No, she wasn’t seeing things. The ring was gone. It must have somehow been swept off the sill and into the sink.

Frantically she dug her fingers into the drain hole in some vain hope of finding it there. Behind her, she heard Michel call out above the racket of crashing pots and pans.

“Where the blazes is the pie? Sacre bleu! It should be halfway to cooked by now! Whatever are you doing over there in the sink?”

“Oh, go drink your brandy,” Mrs. Chubb muttered, quiet enough so he wouldn’t hear. Turning her head, she added more loudly, “My ring fell down the sink. It’s gone!”

“We find it later.” Michel waved a wooden spoon, dripping with gravy, in the air at her. “I must have that pie in the oven this minute.”

“Oh, all right.” With a last, searching gaze along the windowsill, Mrs. Chubb turned and trotted back to the table. Staring at the pie, she couldn’t think why she hadn’t put the top crust on. Then she remembered the pie bird and had to go back for it, earning a scathing stream of curses from the irate chef.

Ignoring him, she took the pie bird back to the table and sat it in the middle of the apple filling. This had to be one of the worst days ever. Poor Ian lying dead in the duck pond and now her ring was lost. Mrs. Chubb slapped a second circle of pastry on top of the pie plate. What else was going to go wrong, for heaven’s sake?

The morning passed swiftly, and in no time, it seemed, Kevin returned to the Pennyfoot. Cecily had invited Madeline to join her and Baxter in the dining room for the midday meal, and Kevin arrived just as they were finishing the last crumbs of delicious apple dumplings with brandy sauce.

When Cecily offered to have a meal sent in for him, he declined, and instead asked that they adjourn to her office. “There is something of grave importance that we must discuss,” he said, filling her once more with cold dread.

She rose at once, signaling Madeline and Baxter to follow her and together they made their way to her office. As Baxter closed the door, she let out a long sigh. “It’s bad news, isn’t it.”

Kevin waited for the women to seat themselves before following suit. “I’m afraid so.” He paused, waiting for Baxter to also take a seat.

Unable to wait a moment longer, Cecily blurted out, “Ian’s death wasn’t an accident after all?”

Baxter looked startled, while Madeline merely nodded.

Kevin glanced at his wife, then folded his hands across his chest. “I decided to take my wife’s advice for once. I examined the wound on the victim’s head. It couldn’t have been caused by a rock. It had a distinct shape. A hexagon, obviously the result of being struck by a heavy object.”

“A candlestick,” Madeline said.

Both men stared at her, while Cecily, realizing at once what was coming, sank back in her chair.

“Candlestick?” Kevin’s voice was sharp again. “How do you know that?”

“There’s one missing,” Madeline said calmly. “Out there on the hallstand. It was part of my display and someone has removed it. I think it might have been used for a much more malicious purpose.”

She gave Cecily a look of apology. “I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure, but when Kevin mentioned the hexagon-shaped wound I knew it had to be the candlestick. I sensed the aura of malice when I touched them, and besides, they have a six-sided base.”

“Good Lord.” Baxter leaned forward, his jaw tense with shock. “Are you telling me someone murdered Rossiter?”

“It would appear that way.” Madeline sighed. “I’m so sorry. I know this must be a shock to you both.”

“Why?” Cecily covered her face with her hands for a moment. “Why here? Why now?”

Baxter groaned. “Not again.”

Kevin got up from his chair and pulled a watch from his vest pocket. “If the candlestick was used as a weapon, then we should try to find it.”

“It’s such a beautiful Christmas candlestick,” Madeline said mournfully. “I do hope you get it back.”

The loss of the candlestick did not concern Cecily at all. Nor was she as shocked as Madeline might think. Ever since Clive had burst into the lobby with the news, she’d had an uneasy feeling that Ian’s death might not have been an accident.

What’s more, she was thinking about Gertie’s reaction when she told her that Ian had died. It hadn’t been the first time Gertie had threatened dire harm to Ian if he didn’t leave her and the twins alone. Not only that, Gertie hadn’t seemed in the least surprised that Ian had returned to Badgers End. Which suggested she already knew that he was in the vicinity.

She needed to have a word with that young lady, Cecily decided. As soon as possible.

Gertie pushed the sweeper back and forth across the carpet, angling in between the dining room tables to get underneath them. Pansy was across the room polishing the sideboard, and Gertie had to raise her voice above the squeaking wheels of the sweeper.

“Where’s that Mabel got to? She’s supposed to be in here helping us.”

Pansy shrugged. “Dunno. She went down to the kitchen and she hasn’t come back yet.”

“Bleeding useless, that girl.” Gertie dragged a chair out of her way. “You’ll never guess what she did last night. Lit all the flipping candles on the Christmas tree.”

Pansy spun around. “Go on! What’d she do that for?”

“She said she’s never seen candles lit on a Christmas tree and wanted to know what they looked like.” Gertie paused to get her breath. “Can you imagine what madam would have done if she’d seen them? Ever since that year when the tree caught fire and nearly burned down the hotel she’s never lit another candle on there. I could have screamed when I saw them all flickering away like that.”

“Did you make her blow them all out?”

“You bet I did. I bloody helped her, too.” Gertie shook her head. “It’s a bloody good job it was after nine o’clock and madam had gone to her suite. I told that little twit she’d better not tell anyone what she done or she’d be out on her ear. If I hadn’t seen the flickering light under the library door and gone in there gawd knows what might have happened.”

Pansy’s eyes opened wide. “She could have burned down the hotel!”

“Well, she didn’t, so don’t say nothing. She might not be much of a worker, but we need her help and it’s too late to hire anyone else for the Christmas season now.”