Kate Kingsbury - Mistletoe and Mayhem

Stray snowflakes still floated down on the wind, but turned to water the moment they hit the ground. With any luck, they would have no snowfall to spoil the Boxing Day hunt.

Her skirts whipped around her ankles as she entered the rose garden, and she drew her shawl closer around her throat. She was thankful to see Clive raking the flower beds as she passed under the trellis arches that supported the roses in the summer.

Although Charlie’s body had been removed from the premises, viewing a crime scene was never one of her favorite things to do, and it was comforting to have someone else present.

The big man paused when he saw her coming, and propped his rake up against the wall. “I’m sorry about what happened to Charlie,” he said, as she approached. “I would have come and told you myself, but I thought it best to stay here until the body had been taken away.”

“Of course, Clive. Thank you.” Cecily glanced at the rose bushes. “Whereabouts did you find him?”

“Right here, m’m.” Clive stepped into the row of bushes and pointed at the ground. “I picked up the gargoyle pieces and raked it all over. I hope that was all right.”

Cecily would rather have seen the murder weapon still in place, but she was reluctant to tell Clive what she suspected. He would find out soon enough if Madeline’s vision proved to be correct. “Where did you put those pieces?” she asked him instead.

“In the dustbin, m’m.” He gave her a sharp look. “I can retrieve them if you like?”

She shook her head. “No, that won’t be necessary. Both Dr. Prestwick and P.C. Northcott are satisfied with their investigations.” She glanced up at the roof, unable to suppress a shudder at the thought of that heavy masonry hurtling down on Charlie’s defenseless head. “I suppose the men are still doing the repairs on the roof?”

“No, m’m. They finished up this morning. They left a short while ago.”

“Oh, dear. I really needed to talk to the foreman.”

“Mick Docker?” Clive looked even more curious. “Well, he did say he’d be back this afternoon to pick up his money.”

“Oh, good. I can talk to him then.” Of course, how silly of her. The man had to be paid, and she would take care of that herself, as usual.

“The constable talked to Mick this morning about the accident,” Clive said, reaching for his rake. “I heard Mick tell him he packed everything down tight last night and he can’t understand how the gargoyle got loose.”

Avoiding Clive’s probing gaze, Cecily said hurriedly, “Well, these things happen. It could have been the wind, or maybe a cat brushing up against it.”

“Yes, m’m. If you say so.”

She was about to answer him when she heard someone call out behind her. Turning, she saw Samuel hurrying toward her. One look at his face told her he was bringing bad news. Clutching her throat, she prayed it wasn’t another so-called accident.

“It’s Ellie, m’m,” Samuel said, panting a little. “She’s gone missing and her mum doesn’t know where she is.”

Cecily felt as if someone had punched her right in the ribs. “Missing? For how long?”

“Since last night, m’m. According to Mrs. Tidwell, Ellie never went home from here.”

“I see.” Aware of her maintenance man’s steady gaze on her face, Cecily made an effort to recover her composure. “Well, perhaps we should pay Mrs. Tidwell a visit, Samuel. Please have a carriage ready at the front door in half an hour.”

“Yes, m’m.” Samuel touched his cap with his fingers and hurried off in the direction of the stables.

“Thank you, Clive.” Cecily gave him an uncertain smile. “I appreciate you taking care of things here.”

“Not at all, m’m. My pleasure.” Clive’s dark eyes raked her face. “I hope you find Miss Ellie, m’m.”

A chill that had nothing to do with the cold wind chased down her spine. “So do I, Clive,” she muttered as she turned away. “So do I.”

Baxter was still in her office when Cecily returned a few minutes later. As she pushed open the door and entered, he snapped shut the ledger he had in front of him, and replaced his pen in its stand. “Excellent timing,” he said, as she reached the desk. “I was about to come looking for you.”

“Oh?” She glanced at the ledger and then back at his face. “You have something to tell me?”

A flicker of discomfort tightened his mouth for a moment, then he smiled. “Only that I’ve missed your pleasant chatter. What have you been up to this morning? I assume Mrs. Prestwick has left?”

“She has indeed.” Cecily hesitated, wondering if she should tell him that Ellie was missing. In the next instant she dismissed the thought. It would only worry him, and if he had the slightest inkling that she suspected foul play and intended to look into it, he would immediately launch into a hundred reasons why she shouldn’t.

She had been through that particular argument with him more than enough times already. If she had to resort to a little subterfuge now and again to avoid unpleasantness then that’s exactly what she would do.

“Well, then.” He rose, tucking the ledger under his arm. “What say you to a pleasant lunch in our suite?”

She would have liked nothing more, but the fate of Ellie lay heavily on her mind. She couldn’t rest until she had at least spoken to the maid’s mother in the hopes of uncovering a clue as to where the young girl may have gone.

“I’m sorry, Bax, really I am, but I have to prepare the envelope for the roofers, and then I have an errand to run in town. I’m afraid it will have to be a very late lunch, unless you would prefer to dine alone?”

For an anxious moment she thought he might protest, but then he sighed, and headed for the door. “One of these fine days we really do have to reexamine our lives. When you have free time in the spring, that’s when I’m at the peak of my business. Then, when I have time to spare, you are always busy here. We never seem to have any time when we can enjoy some relaxation together.”

“Perhaps tomorrow my time will be a little less in demand.” She smiled at him, hoping to soften his scowl. “You know I would much rather spend it with you.”

He opened the door, his words almost lost as he stepped outside. “Would you? I’m beginning to wonder.” The door closed behind him, leaving her staring after him.

She didn’t have much time to ponder his words. She had barely finished stuffing pound notes into an envelope when Pansy arrived to announce that Mick Docker was waiting for an audience with her.

Inviting him in, she waited for him to seat himself. He was a stout man, almost as tall and broad shouldered as Clive, but carried a great deal more flesh on his belly. His cheeks glowed, more from a penchant for ale than from the biting wind, and his graying dark hair had thinned considerably above his brow.

He sat with an expectant look on his face, and she indulged him by passing the envelope across the desk. “I think, Mr. Docker, that you will find this pays for all the repairs in full.”

“Thank you, m’m.” He reached for it, and without opening it, stuffed it into the breast pocket of his coat. “I trust you found everything satisfactory?”

The roofer’s thick Irish accent confused her, and it took her a moment to realize what he’d said. “Well, I haven’t observed the repairs myself, but I’m sure everything is in order. We shall soon find out with the next fall of rain, no doubt.”

He uttered an irked laugh. “I can assure you, m’m, there will be no more leaks from that part of the roof, at least.”

She felt a pang of dismay. “Oh? Are you saying the rest of the roof is in need of repair?”