He wore such a soulful expression she felt a pang of remorse, though she wasn’t sure why. She paused, looking up at him when he reached her side. “What is it, dear? What did I say?”
“Nothing.” To her pleasant surprise he bent his head and kissed her. “It’s just that I wish we could have had a child of our own.”
She smiled, touched by the sentiment. “We have two wonderful godchildren,” she reminded him. “And they will be home tomorrow, so I hope you have finished all your Christmas shopping.”
He patted her on the shoulder, then opened the door for her. “You know I always leave it until the last minute. After all, that’s why we have Christmas Eve, is it not?”
Cecily shook her head. “You men are incorrigible.”
“Which is precisely why you adore us. Come now, let us get to bed. You have a long day tomorrow, and something tells me it won’t be a pleasant one.”
“Indeed. Four families devastated by loss at Christmastime. How awful. I suppose there’s little hope of keeping all this from the rest of the guests.”
“Unlikely. We shall just have to reassure them as best we can.”
“The only way to do that is to find the killer.” Cecily sighed. “And every moment that feat seems to get farther out of reach.” She led the way down the hallway, deep in thought. If her theory about the killer proved correct, the best way to prevent more murders would be to advertise the fact that the Mayfair Murderer was responsible, thus leading the killer to believe his ruse had worked, and therefore there would be no need for any more deaths.
The problem with that line of thought was that everyone in the building would think a serial killer was on the loose and they could well be the next victims.
It seemed that whichever way she turned, she was doomed. Christmas Eve was tomorrow. All she could do was see that her guests had the best Christmas she could give them, and hope with all her heart that there would be no more of these ghastly murders.
“So, Gertie,” Pansy said, as she stacked the last dish on the pile in the cupboard, “where are you and Dan going tomorrow afternoon?”
Gertie took her time answering. The truth was, she wasn’t looking forward to her meeting with Dan as much as she usually did. She had the feeling that they were reaching some kind of turning point in their relationship, and she had the distinct impression that it wasn’t going to be in her favor.
She fervently hoped she was wrong, but if she wasn’t, she prayed it would happen after the New Year, just in case Dan was planning to break it off and leave her down in the dumps all over Christmas. She’d have to pretend to be happy and cheerful, so as not to spoil everything for the twins.
Sighing, she pulled the plug in the sink and watched the gray soapy water disappear down the drain. How she missed her babies. Though they weren’t babies anymore. They were growing so fast she probably wouldn’t recognize them when they got back tomorrow.
“Gertie? Are you all right?”
Hearing Pansy’s worried voice, Gertie snapped up her head. “’Course I’m all right. I was just thinking about my twins, wasn’t I. They’ll be home tomorrow night, just in time for the carol singing ceremony. They’ve always loved that.”
“Is Dan coming? Like he did last year?”
Gertie’s stomach seemed to drop at the mention of Dan’s name. “I expect he will. I haven’t asked him yet.”
Pansy got a funny look on her face. “Why not?”
Gertie shrugged. “I dunno. I just didn’t think about it until now.”
“Well, you’d better hurry up. You’ll have to ask him tomorrow when you see him.”
“Yeah, I will.” Gertie wiped her hands on a towel. “I think-” She broke off as the kitchen door flew open and Samuel rushed in, eyes wide and hair mussed. “Gawd, Samuel. What the bloody hell happened to you?”
Pansy let out a cry of dismay and rushed over to him. “Are you all right, Samuel? Are you hurt?”
Samuel shook his head and sat down heavily on one of the kitchen chairs. He started to speak, then shook his head again and sank back.
Gertie stared at him a moment longer then said sharply, “Pansy! Go and get the brandy from the pantry.”
She reached for a brandy snifter from the cupboard and set it on the table.
“What’s up then, mate? Seen a ghost or something?” Gertie asked him.
“Something,” Samuel muttered, as Pansy rushed back with the bottle.
Gertie poured a generous amount in the glass and put it in Samuel’s shaking hand.
“Mrs. Chubb will be cross you helped yourself to that,” Pansy said, watching Samuel sip at the spirits.
“It’s an emergency.” Gertie put the stopper back in the bottle. “That’s what it’s for-emergencies.”
Pansy sat down on the chair next to Samuel. “Oh, I thought it was to keep Michel from attacking everyone with a carving knife.”
Samuel choked on the brandy, then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Don’t say that! Don’t ever say that!”
Pansy looked startled, then offended. “I was just trying to cheer you up with a joke, that’s all.”
She looked about to cry, and Samuel muttered something under his breath, then leaned forward to cover her hand with his. “Sorry, luv, but if you’d seen what I’ve seen you wouldn’t make jokes like that, I promise you.”
Pansy snatched her hand away. “Whatcha mean?”
Gertie felt cold all over. “Tell us, Samuel. Not someone else killed, is it?”
She felt for the edge of the table for support when Samuel nodded, while Pansy let out a shriek. “It’s that Mayfair Murderer! That man in room nine. I told you it was him! Why won’t anyone listen to me?”
Samuel grabbed her flailing hand and held on to it. “We don’t know that yet,” he said, sounding dreadfully tired.
“Yes we do!” Pansy tugged on his hand so hard the brandy he held in the other hand spilled in his lap. “He wrote a note about it. I gave it to madam but she didn’t do nothing about it and he’s still lurking about in his room waiting to kill anybody what walks by, I know it.”
Samuel stared at her. “What are you talking about?”
Pansy seemed beyond words so Gertie butted in. “Pansy found a note in his room and it said he was going to stab someone in the neck while they were asleep.”
Samuel’s eyes widened even more. “That’s exactly what he did,” he said, his voice hushed.
“See? See? I told you!”
Pansy’s voice had risen to a shriek again and Samuel held out his glass. “Here. You’d better take some of this.”
Gertie stepped forward. “Never mind that. Who the heck got killed?”
Pansy swallowed the brandy and coughed. “I don’t think I want to know.”
“It’s the Danvilles, poor devils,” Samuel muttered.
Pansy whimpered, while Gertie stared at him in horror. “The honeymoon couple? Both of them?”
In a tired voice, Samuel described the scene in the ballroom and in the Danvilles’ suite. “Horrible,” he said, when he was finished. “It felt like dead bodies all over the place.”
Pansy’s whimpering got louder.
“What’s madam doing about it?” Gertie demanded, feeling like crying herself. “I’ve got my twins coming home tomorrow night. I don’t want them here if there’s a madman running around stabbing people.”
Samuel squared his shoulders and stood up. “I’m sure madam will do her best to find out who did this. She’s really good at ferreting out murderers.”
“Well,” Gertie muttered, reaching for another brandy glass, “I hope she bloody well hurries up or we’ll all end up dead.” She winced as Pansy howled. “It’s all right, I didn’t mean it. I was just joking.”