Fighting a sudden urge to be sick, Gertie put a hand over her mouth. “I have to talk to madam. Look after them until I get back.”
“What’s wrong? Gertie, whatever is the matter?”
Ignoring Daisy’s anxious cries, Gertie fled out the door and ran headlong down the corridor. She reached the stairs before she thought to hide the candlestick under her apron. Clamping it against her hip, she raced awkwardly up the stairs and across the foyer.
Just as she reached the foot of the stairs, Sid appeared in the hallway. “’Allo,” he called out. “What’s yer bleeding rush? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Maybe I have.” She paused on the bottom step. “Is madam in her office?”
“Nah, I just come from there. I don’t know where she’s gone.”
Without bothering to answer him, Gertie leapt up the stairs, taking them two at once. By the time she reached the first landing she was fighting for breath and had to slow down.
Climbing the second flight more slowly, she tried to sort out her jumbled thoughts. The twins had found the candlestick under the bed. She had no doubt it was the murder weapon, but what in blazes was it doing under her bed? She certainly hadn’t put it there.
Which meant someone else must have. The same someone who had hit Ian over the head with it? With a cold stab of fear she remembered the tumbled contents of her dresser, the clothes dragged to the side on her wardrobe.
Had there been a killer in her room? When? How?
The thought of it made her feel faint. A killer in the room with her twins. He could have killed them, too. From now on, she would make sure that the door would be locked all the time, whether anyone was in there or not.
At last she reached the top landing. Breathless and afraid, she raced down the hallway to madam’s suite and rapped on the door.
Baxter’s muffled voice answered her, sounding irritated. “All right, all right, hold your horses. I’m coming.” The door opened, and his disgruntled face peered out. “Oh, it’s you, Gertie. What is it now?”
“I’m looking for madam. Is she here?” Gertie heard the tremble in her words and swallowed.
“No, she’s not. She’s out on an errand. What is it?” He must have noticed her distress, and he peered more closely at her. “What’s happened now? Oh, great heavens. Don’t tell me someone else has been murdered?”
“Not as far as I know, sir.” Gertie drew the candlestick out from under her apron and held it out to him.
For a long moment he stared at it as if he’d never seen anything like it before, then his frown cleared, to be replaced by shock. “Good Lord! Don’t tell me that thing is what I think it is?”
Gertie nodded. “I think so, sir. I think it’s the candlestick that killed Ian Rossiter.”
CHAPTER 15
Instead of answering Gertie, Baxter opened the door wider, grabbed her arm, and dragged her inside the room. Slamming the door shut, he took a deep breath. “All right. Now tell me where you found it.”
Gertie blinked hard. “It was under me bed, sir.”
“Under your bed? What the devil was it doing there?”
“I don’t know, sir. My twins found it. They were playing with it when I walked in there just now.”
Baxter took the candlestick out of her hand and walked over to the dresser, where he carefully set it down. “Are you quite sure they found it under the bed?”
“Yes, sir. Daisy was with them all afternoon and they never went out of the room.”
“And you’ve not seen it before now?”
Gertie shuddered. “No, sir.”
“Then how did it get under your bed?”
“I don’t know sir, but last night when I got back to me room I thought the twins had been messing around with my things. Now I think someone was in the room, and put the candlestick under my bed.”
Baxter’s eyebrows shot up. “Why?”
“Perhaps he was looking for a place to hide it.”
“And in the entire building, all he could find was your bed?”
“Yes, sir. Or…” She hesitated, reluctant to put her thoughts into words.
“Or what, girl? Spit it out!”
“Or p’raps he wanted it to be found in my room, so’s people would think I killed Ian.”
“Oh, good Lord.” Baxter ran a hand through his hair. “I suppose that could be.” He thought for a moment, then said briskly, “All right. Leave this with me.” He put an awkward hand on her shoulder, gave her a gentle pat, then dropped his hand again. “Try not to worry, Gertie. Mrs. Baxter and I will sort all this out.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” She bent her knees, then twisted around to reach for the door handle. “I didn’t kill him, sir.”
“I know that, Gertie. Now run along and do try not to worry.”
“Yes, sir.” Feeling only slightly reassured, Gertie pulled the door open and left the room.
All the way down the stairs she thought about what could have happened to her twins with a killer in the room. In all the years she’d worked at the Pennyfoot, she’d never felt a need to lock her door.
For one thing, she didn’t have anything of value that a thief would want, but mostly, she’d always felt as if the Pennyfoot was her home, and she would never go around locking up rooms in her home. Nobody would.
Now all that security was gone. From now on she’d never feel the same about living in the Pennyfoot, and no thief could ever have taken more from her than that.
The second Cecily walked in through the door of her suite she was pounced upon by her irate husband.
“Where have you been? You’re late for supper and now we shall have to gobble down our food in order to get to the dratted pantomime on time. You know how I hate to eat fast. I have a good mind to enjoy my meal and skip the pesky show altogether.”
Feeling guilty, Cecily did her best to soothe his ruffled feathers. “I’m so sorry, my love. It took me longer than I had anticipated to choose just the right gift for you.” She headed for the boudoir, calling out over her shoulder, “I do believe you will feel it was well worth the extra trouble I took when you see it.”
After hurriedly shoving the package inside her wardrobe, she pulled off her hat and scarf and threw them on the bed. Quickly she peeled off her long gloves and threw them down, as well. She would put them all away later, she decided, as Baxter’s growl reached her.
“I hope you’re not stopping to change your clothes. We don’t have time for that.”
“No darling. I’ll be out in a minute.” She pulled open a drawer and snatched up a lace-trimmed shirtwaist. “I just need to tidy my hair.”
He grunted a reply and she made a face at herself in the mirror. Quickly she unbuttoned her blouse, dragged it off, and slipped on the fresh one. A quick flick of the brush had to suffice, and for good measure she slid in a mother-of-pearl comb to anchor any stray strands that might escape.
A splash of toilet water on her cheeks refreshed her face, and she hurried out to join her husband, who was pacing back and forth across the carpet with his hands behind his back.
“Oh, there you are.” He glared at her. “I assume we can leave for the dining room now?”
“Yes, of course, dear.” She started forward, then stopped as she caught sight of the candlestick on the dresser. “What on earth is that?”
Baxter sighed. “I don’t suppose it can wait until we get downstairs?”
With a muffled cry of distress, she darted forward and snatched it up. A quick peek at the base confirmed her suspicions. “Bax! For heaven’s sake! Why didn’t you tell me? Where did you find it?”
“I didn’t find it. Gertie brought it up to me a short while ago.”
Cecily listened as he repeated his conversation with the housemaid. “I told her to try not to worry,” he finished. “I promised her we’d look into it.”
“We will have to give this to Sam Northcott when he gets back.” Cecily replaced it on the dresser with a shudder. “There’s no doubt that whoever killed Ian wants the blame put on Gertie. It was most likely the same person who told Sam about Gertie’s threats to Ian.”