Page 5 of Murder at the Dinner Party
I told her about the black tablecloths and the chrysanthemums. “I thought Mrs. Hessing was going to make a scene. Mr. Chapman did, too, by the worried look on his face. If she had, he’d only have himself to blame. He shouldn’t have changed everything at the last moment. It threw everyone out, and now Mrs. Poole is probably annoyed. My uncle is definitely annoyed. And Mr. Hobart…well, who knows where he is or what he thinks. Do you know why he wasn’t there last night?”
“He’s not in the habit of confiding in the maids.” Harmony accepted the coffee cup from me and sipped thoughtfully. “So Mr. Chapman made a botch of it, did he?”
“I feel a little sorry for him. I know he was simply trying to make it all grander to impress my uncle, but it failed. If only he’d enlisted your help. Or better still, if only you’d taken charge of the entire event from the beginning.”
Harmony smiled into her cup.
“The wedding is next month,” I went on. “I’m concerned that if it’s left in Mr. Chapman’s hands again, he might not be up to the task.”
“Perhaps that’s why Sir Ronald is currently having words with him in his office.”
“You know everything that goes on here.”
“I overheard his raised voice before knocking on your door, although I couldn’t hear his exact words.”
“You have to press your ear to the door for that.” I gathered toast, eggs, and bacon onto my plate and picked up my knife and fork. I pointed the fork at Harmony. “Youshould be in charge of the wedding. You did all the work with the restaurant opening and look how well that turned out.”
“Mr. Bainbridge was in charge of the guest list.”
“The guest list was the easiest part. We both know Floyd did little else. You did it all. My uncle knows it, too.”
“He gave me bonus wages, Cleo. I didn’t do it for nothing.”
“My point is,youshould organize the wedding. I’ll mention it to him.”
She bristled. “You’ll do no such thing.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want any favors.”
“But—”
“No, Cleo. Thank you, but I’d rather you didn’t.”
I didn’t push the point further. Instead, we spent the rest of breakfast discussing what the ladies wore to the engagement party.
* * *
Although Mrs. Turnerpointed out that she was two years younger than her sister, Mrs. Short, they could have been twins. There were many similarities, from their stout frames to the gray hair arranged into a tight bun at the back of their heads. Mrs. Turner’s thin eyebrows formed a shallow V as she scrutinized my appearance in an almost identical manner to her sister. I used to think Mrs. Short was scowling at me, but came to realize her brows were always in that position and she regarded everyone the same way, even my uncle.
“You’re prettier than I expected.” Mrs. Turner turned away and strode down the corridor in the basement service area, the bunch of keys at her hip jangling with every step.
Assuming she wanted me to follow, I hurried after her. We passed the open door to the kitchen. A cook looked up from the central bench where she was chopping vegetables. Her young assistant stirred a pot on the range, humming softly to herself. A footman and maid seated at the table in the staff dining room also looked up from their mending. Mrs. Turner gave me no opportunity to study them in return as she bustled onward, past the larder, pantry and servants’ staircase.
“Mrs. Short tells me—”
“Hush.” Mrs. Turner used one of the keys to unlock a door. Inside was a small office without so much as a pen out of place on the desk. “Walls have ears. You ought to know that given your profession and where you live.”
“Right. Yes.” I waited until she’d closed the door and sat behind the desk, then I sat, too. “Your sister tells me you don’t believe the butler died of natural causes, that he was relatively young and in good health. He was also fearful in the days leading up to his death.”
“Not fearful. Merely…different. He’d been an even-tempered fellow, not overly stern with the staff. But before his death, he ceased to have idle conversations and seemed more introverted, reflective. It was unlike him.”
“Did he simply drop dead in the dining room? There were no outward signs of murder?”
“Poison doesn’t necessarily leave obvious signs.”
“No, but poisoning is not the usual conclusion to jump to, even if someone has been acting oddly in the days before their death. People do die suddenly in their forties from natural causes, Mrs. Turner. However, I can already tell that you and Mrs. Short are alike, and I know Mrs. Short would not jump to the conclusion of murder without good reason. So tell me, what reason do you have for assuming the butler was murdered?”
