Dorothy Cannell - She Shoots to Conquer

The door opened, Thumper raised a sleepy head, and in she stalked, resplendent in purple taffeta and clearly in a bit of a mood.

“Well, I must say, Mrs. H, it’s good of you to show up at last, although I’d have thought you’d have come along to my room as is two doors down and helped me pick my ensemble instead of sitting canoodling.”

Getting to his feet, Ben said he would go downstairs and see if the provisions had arrived from Smithers, Smithers & Smithers, smiled at me, patted Mrs. Malloy on the shoulder, and went out of the room.

“We were not canoodling,” I said mildly. “We were discussing our plans for staying on at Mucklesfeld. That’s right,” in response to elevated painted brows, “Ben is going to be Monsieur LeBois’s personal chef for the duration and I’ll be your shoulder to lean on if you run into trouble with any of the other contestants.”

“Well, I must say,” she did a good job of not looking overly relieved, “it won’t be bad having you around. Although, of course, I don’t suppose as we’ll see much of each other what with a busy filming schedule. And don’t go expecting me to share anything personal that goes on between me and his lordship.”

“Certainly not.” I got off the bed. “You can keep your canoodling moments to yourself. Now let me make sure you’re up to snuff.” I turned her around-a tottery business given her four-inch heels. “Good, no wrinkles.”

“I should think not! Smooth as a baby’s bottom, my face!”

“I was talking about the frock.”

“Oh! Well, of course. So you think I’ll do?” She crackled with nerves, something so unlike her that I had to fight down the urge to tell her to give up on this silly business. “Is me hair all right, Mrs. H? Not too much jewelry?”

The fake ruby necklace and three diamanté brooches were perhaps a bit much. “Perfect! You’re a credit to me and the members of the Chitterton Fells Charwomen’s Association.”

“That reminds me!” She stuck a hand in her skirt pocket and drew out a folded piece of paper. “I daresay you’ll like to go into the village when things start rolling and you get to feeling in the way of the cameras and whatnot. Meaning there’s no reason you can’t take this note down to Dr. Rowley’s house; he gave me the address and it’s written down. Right here,” tapping with a sparkly flamingo-pink nail. “And what I want you to do, Mrs. H, is…”

“Dr. Rowley is here-or he was when I came upstairs.”

Mrs. Malloy sighed impatiently. “This isn’t for him; it’s for Mrs. Spuds, as comes in to clean for him of a morning, and a very nice woman too from the way he went on about her last night. I’m hoping she can give me the names of a couple of likely ladies to come up here and help me give some of the rooms a cleaning. Although why you couldn’t have offered to pitch in and help, Mrs. H, is beyond me.”

“I haven’t seen you since last night when I was flat out with a headache!”

“Well, there is that,” she gave her skirts a yank, “although like I’ve often said, your timing isn’t the best. But we’ll let that go; what do you think of my showing Lord Belfrey I’m the wife for him by rolling up me sleeves and…”

“Getting some women to come in and clean? Couldn’t he have come up with that one himself?”

“Not if he’s down to his last bean. I’m going to pay out of me own pocket. Besides, most like he hasn’t wanted to put the noses of them three scary faces out of joint. Never heard of elbow grease, any of them, from the look of the place.”

“Somehow I can’t see Lord Belfrey succumbing to pressure from whomever he marries to sack them. It turns out they were all homeless for a while.” I eyed her now lopsided skirts.

“So you have talked to him?”

“Not since last night.”

Mrs. Malloy heaved an annoyed sigh. “Well, that’s nice! After me telling you as how he wanted a word with you about me being one of the contestants! Sometimes, Mrs. H, I can’t make you out. Anyone would think you was trying to put spokes in the wheels of him marrying me.”

“Don’t take your jitters out on me.” I grabbed at her elbow as she swayed dangerously on those silly high heels. “I’m sure Ben will have given him his blessing, there’s no reason it had to come from my mouth. What you need to do,” a glance at my watch, “is get downstairs and join the remaining contestants, who should be arriving in ten minutes.”

“What do you mean, remaining ?” She was always good at picking up nuances.

“Two, besides yourself, are already here.” I steered her toward the door. “Judy Nunn and a rather pretty woman in her early forties named Livonia Mayberry. I want you to be particularly kind to Livonia, Mrs. Malloy.”

“And why’s that?”

“She’s the sort who’ll always need someone on her side.”

“Well, let that be you, Mrs. H!” Outrage shot sparks out the back of her head. “I’ve got to think of meself for a change.”

Talk about a nose out of joint! The door banged behind her and I turned to return Thumper’s speaking look. “ Here Comes the Bride could turn ugly,” I told him sadly. “I think you should leave Mucklesfeld before a murder takes place.”

S ome five minutes later, with Mrs. Malloy’s note to Mrs. Spuds in my jacket pocket and Thumper at my heels, I descended to the hall by way of the front stairs because that was the way Thumper took me and I didn’t want to argue. Especially when we must soon part. I hoped the timing would prevent my being caught up in a mob of activity with Georges LeBois and his crew milling feverishly around in readiness for Lord Belfrey’s formal greeting of the contestants. As it was, the hall was empty save for Judy Nunn, still wearing the same brown twill slacks and the hiking jacket with its numerous buttoned-down outer pockets. She stood, dwarfed by most of the furnishings, writing in a notebook. Looking up at my approach, she closed it after tucking the pencil inside.

“Hello, there!” she said in her brisk, friendly way. “Five minutes to go before I have to be outside for the opening scene-‘The Contestants Arrive.’ As per instructions from a young woman named Lucy, your friend Mrs. Malloy, Livonia, and I are to join the other three in coming up the drive as if we too are just getting here.”

“Have you met Mrs. Malloy?”

“We introduced ourselves. She and Livonia went with Lucy to do a practice walk. I was just jotting down some suggestions I have for Lord Belfrey in regard to the gardens and outlying grounds. I haven’t yet managed to see him.” A smile flitted across her face. “It took longer than needed to find his study because Livonia and I didn’t open the door with the posted order to keep out, by authority of Georges LeBois.”

“Oh?”

“When I finally realized that he might have sent us on a wild goose chase and decided to risk penalty of whatever the fiendish fellow had in mind, Lord Belfrey wasn’t in the study. That was after I had lost Livonia down that passageway,” pointing with the notebook-a sensibly sized brown leather one.

“I know,” I said, negotiating my way further toward her with Thumper as my shadow. “I’d just come from the kitchen when she came back out here.”

“Upset? Not inclined to think I’d ditched her on purpose, I hope?”

“For a moment perhaps, but she decided you were too nice to join Georges in pulling not so funny tricks.”

“Good!” Judy looked relieved. “Right after we divided up, I came to a door that instead of opening into a room took me outside.”