Mystery by the Sea: An utterly addictive English cozy mystery (A Lady Eleanor Swift Mystery Book 5)

by Verity Bright

  She jotted down a summary as he spoke.

  Clifford waited until she had finished and then continued. ‘The body – sorry, my lady – Mr Eden was found the following morning by the manager at nine fifteen. The coroner examined the, er… deceased around an hour and a quarter later. He estimated the regrettable incident had occurred a maximum of twelve hours and a minimum of four hours before he carried out his examination. He cautioned, however, that Detective Inspector Grimsdale should allow a certain amount of leeway between these two times.’

  She wrote again, then tapped the page with the pen. ‘But as we know from the man on the pier – if we believe him and what choice do we have? – Hilary was dead when he searched his room at eleven thirty. So, if that’s the case he must have died between… ten forty-five and… eleven thirty.’ She returned to the top of the page and added the line so it now looked like this:

  Saturday, 5th

  10.45 p.m. – Hilary checked in

  Sunday, 6th

  7 a.m. – Left hotel in morning

  6 p.m. – Returned in evening

  9.30 p.m. – Left hotel again

  10.45 p.m. – Thomas (desk clerk) sees Hilary enter hotel and go upstairs (to his room?)

  11.30 p.m. – man on pier searches room. Hilary dead.

  Monday, 7th

  9.15 a.m. – Hotel manager and maid find Hilary dead in his room

  10.30 a.m. – Coroner examines Hilary – puts time of death around 10.30 p.m. to 6.30 a.m.

  She went to suck the pen and then changed her mind. ‘So, the desk clerk, Thomas, saw Hilary alive at ten forty-five and the night porter locks the door at eleven. So if Hilary was murdered sometime between ten forty-five and eleven thirty, then it must have been a member of the staff? Or a guest?’

  Clifford nodded slowly. ‘Detective Inspector Grimsdale mentioned that there was no sign of a break-in and Johnson, the night porter, is usually in the lobby, I’m told, twenty minutes or so before his shift starts. So unless one of the staff let the murderer in, I think we can presume your conjecture is correct.’

  ‘And, given that we are pretty sure the murderer ransacked Hilary’s room, but failed to find what he was looking for—’

  ‘We can assume the murderer is still at the hotel as no one has checked out.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  Clifford cleared his throat. ‘We may be able to narrow down our suspects a little further, my lady. As you know, my room is on the same floor as many of the staff and there has been little talk of anything else except Mr Eden’s demise and the subsequent interrogation of the staff by the police.’

  She nodded. ‘I’m sure it has been no fun for them.’

  ‘Indeed not. However neither has it been too taxing. Given the lateness of the hour, most of the staff were already in their quarters, and as they share a minimum of two to a room, they were all able to substantiate each other’s alibi. The few exceptions, such as Thomas, who, as we know, was on the front desk, and the manager, were also able to verify their alibis. Johnson, the night porter, confirmed Thomas’ alibi from around ten forty-five until Thomas went off shift at eleven, and then his roommate confirmed his alibi for the rest of the night. The manager apparently similarly had witnesses to verify his alibi, although the staff weren’t privy as to who the witnesses were.’

  She pursed her lips. ‘Mmm, one of the staff could still have waited until their roommate was sleeping and then crept down and into Hilary’s room.’

  He nodded. ‘That is not beyond the realms of possibility, but given the location of the staff quarters and the layout of the rooms themselves, it would have been very tricky to leave and return with no one knowing, as I am well aware.’

  She let out a long breath. ‘Okay, so we’ll concentrate on the guests, but we should at least ask the manager if any staff were taken on recently. Or we could ask Thomas, actually.’

  He held up a cautionary finger. ‘But that would assume Thomas could not be a suspect.’

  ‘Good point. But that goes for the manager too, but I suppose we have to start somewhere. I’ll employ my artful questioning technique.’

  Clifford let this hang in the air for a moment. ‘Perhaps I should be the one to ask Thomas if Mr Eden had booked ahead?’

  ‘While I dazzle him with my Hollywood-worthy winning smile.’

  ‘What could possibly go wrong, my lady.’

  As they made their way to the hotel lobby, the manager stopped them just inside the main entrance. He ran his hands down the line of strained buttons on his striped grey waistcoat. ‘Please can I offer my sincere apologies, Lady Swift, for the, erm… inconvenience of the disturbing event you witnessed on your arrival. I would be delighted if you would consider the dining room at your disposal for the rest of your stay, on the owners’ account, of course.’

  Eleanor smiled, appreciating the gesture but wondering how on earth free meals, however sumptuous, could be compensation for the sight she witnessed on their arrival. ‘A kind and generous thought, but not necessary, thank you.’

  She glimpsed Clifford’s lips twitching, but continued on. ‘In fact, I congratulate you on how the situation has been handled. It cannot be easy dealing with such an incident whilst running a hotel of this size and distinguished reputation. I understand most hotels struggle with a very high turnover of staff, that alone must be very time consuming for you.’

  The manager’s flaccid chin wobbled as he shook his head vehemently. ‘Gracious no, not here at the Grand. I insist on a most rigorous system of hiring staff, but also one for ensuring their retention as well. Our staff are very happy and understand the privilege which working here affords them.’

  Clifford nodded. ‘That has certainly been my experience.’

  ‘I’m very pleased. In fact, the last time a member of staff left us was because they married and followed their new husband back to his native Scotland.’

  ‘A September wedding? I hope it wasn’t as chilly as it is now,’ Eleanor said.

  ‘September? Did I say that? No, no, it was bitterly cold being as it was in December.’ With a click of his heels, he nodded and walked away, disappearing into the lift.

  Eleanor eyed Clifford’s expression. ‘You would have preferred me to take up his offer of working my way through the entire menu without incurring the cost?’

  ‘I was merely thinking of the benefit to the household accounts, my lady.’

  She tutted. ‘Clifford, I’m really not that rapacious. I’m not a greedy bulldog, unlike some amongst us.’ She ruffled Gladstone’s ears and then noted Clifford’s arched brow. ‘Well, not away from Mrs Trotman’s fine fayre, anyway.’

  ‘However, if I might in fact offer my admiration for you declining his offer. It brought him considerable relief and eased the conversation significantly. And the question of any new staff was, as you promised, artfully woven in.’

  She nodded. ‘So it seems that no one was taken on recently. That may not mean they had no part in Hilary’s murder, but if he didn’t make a reservation, then it’s certainly less likely. I mean, we can assume none of them would even have known he was coming to the hotel when they were taken on.’

  Clifford nodded back. ‘And as Mr Eden came from abroad, unlikely they would have known him previously. Although, I believe you told me he was originally from this country?’

  She nodded. ‘Sydenham in South East London. Ah! There’s Thomas.’

  Eleanor sashayed over to the fitted cases of jewellery and silver giftware, flashing the desk clerk a beaming smile as she did so. He ran a hand over his neat side parting and swallowed hard. Clifford approached the desk.

  ‘Err, how can I help, Mr Clifford?’ The clerk’s eyes strayed back to Eleanor, who wandered over to one of the wingback chairs and arranged herself elegantly, making a show of adjusting the pleats of her sage silk skirt. Yesterday afternoon she had bought an oversized pair of sunglasses, which were rapidly becoming the de rigueur accessory for all Hollywood stars. Now she slipped them on and gave
Thomas her best wave as if she were Gloria Swanson herself acknowledging her legions of fans as opposed to one lone desk clerk.

  Clifford cleared his throat loudly in an effort to regain the clerk’s attention. ‘Thomas, I wonder if the gentleman from 204 who was unfortunately… “permanently indisposed” on Monday morning had called ahead to make a reservation?’

  The clerk frowned. ‘A strange question.’

  ‘If I can rely on your discretion?’ Clifford paused until Thomas nodded. ‘The lady’ – he indicated Eleanor – ‘is worried about any adverse publicity. She is here incognito, as it were, and would be most grateful to anyone who helped her avoid the unwanted attention of the press.’

  What connection this had with Clifford’s question didn’t seem to bother the clerk. He leapt at the opportunity for the film star he was besotted with to be in his debt.

  ‘Ah! In that case, no. I was on duty the evening the gentleman, Mr Painshill, checked in but he simply arrived and asked for a room. As the season doesn’t start until Easter weekend, it is not that uncommon for guests to arrive without a reservation.’

  Eleanor frowned to herself until she remembered that Hilary had booked himself in as Geoffrey Painshill. She busied herself admiring her nails as she heard Clifford add, ‘The lady will be most grateful to hear that. And to you too.’

  ‘To me?’ Thomas said in delight.

  ‘For your discretion in not mentioning this conversation to anyone. As I said, she does not wish to draw attention to her presence.’

  ‘Oh absolutely. Please assure the lady I shan’t breathe a word.’

  Tapping the lobby desk with the flat of his hand, Clifford turned to meet Eleanor who threw the clerk a finger wave before gliding on half a step ahead. As they passed the grand piano, she whispered, ‘My turn to applaud. Your performance was far more award-worthy than mine.’

  ‘With apologies, I beg to disagree, my lady. I feared I might need to proffer a handkerchief, given how close he was to drooling.’

  Fourteen

  Pleased with the news that the ladies had planned a fun day trip to the nearby historic town of Lewes, Eleanor was delighted with Clifford’s suggestion to visit the Grand’s main rival, the Metropole.

  ‘Unless, that is, you are still too replete from breakfast, my lady?’ Clifford said.

  She scoffed. ‘That was ages ago now. I bet the Metropole has cake worth risking indigestion for.’

  ‘His lordship always said exactly that.’

  ‘Which is why you suggested it, of course.’

  Taking advantage of the Grand’s dog-sitting service, they left Gladstone in the care of the concierge, and headed out into the morning sun in search of early elevenses.

  In contrast to the set back, palatial vision of stuccoed cream stone that the Grand cut, the Metropole loomed imposingly over the main street. Its red-brick and terracotta frontage felt more formal and austere to Eleanor. Inside, however, the tea room was a haven of serenity. It seemed a hundred miles away from the unpleasantness she felt she had been living and breathing at the Grand. She paused in awe at the double-height floor-to-ceiling windows, each one over twenty feet wide and separated with an ornate mirror set behind a low-hanging chandelier.

  ‘I feel like a princess,’ she murmured as she took the seat the waiter pulled out for her.

  ‘As you should.’ Clifford gave her a conspiratorial look. ‘As my ward, out to be spoiled as part of your birthday tea.’

  ‘I had no idea we would need to pull the wool over so many people’s eyes on this holiday,’ she said once the waiter had left them. ‘But as it is the only way you and I can talk over tea in public without causing a scandal, I’m game.’

  Clifford adjusted his tie. ‘However, please forgive my reduced formality whilst we engage in the charade, my lady.’

  She waved a dismissive hand. ‘Doesn’t the stifling etiquette of it all strike you as being as ridiculous as I find it, Clifford?’

  ‘I really couldn’t say.’

  ‘You could, you know.’

  He gave a rare smile. ‘I know who I am and who I may be if I choose.’

  ‘Really? I have no idea who I am at this point in my life.’

  ‘It is a quote.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘I confess to enjoying a revisit to Cervantes’ Don Quixote for a wander through the fantasy of “what if” on occasions. However, we each have our station in life, which it is easier to accept and be sincerely grateful for than forever rail against.’

  ‘Although my station has changed significantly, several times actually, but most notably so since Uncle Byron left me Henley Hall. I think that’s what makes it so frustrating. Now, as the supposed lady of the manor, I’ve got even more blasted restrictions society insists I conform to.’

  ‘And yet, many of those restrictions are intended to safeguard both the lady and her reputation. Whilst I wholeheartedly do not appreciate the many constraints placed on ladies purely because of their gender, I do fear a world where they are not treated with respect and solicitude. I could never consider a man a gentleman should he loosen his grip on gallantry, whatever society might permit in future years.’

  She smiled. ‘Ever the chivalrous knight. Anyway, this place was the perfect suggestion. My head feels clearer just being away from the Grand. And just look at the cake stands!’

  Once tea and cake had been served and they were alone again, Clifford passed Eleanor her pen and notebook. Turning to a clean page, she tapped her chin thoughtfully.

  ‘Shall we ignore the staff initially? They all have witnesses to back up their alibis and, as we said earlier, if there have been no new appointments in four months, it would be a particularly involved plot to take a post all that time ago. I mean, why? In the hope that Hilary would conveniently book in? And how would any of the staff have known about this mysterious item Hilary had, which, if we are right, he was murdered for?’

  Clifford nodded. ‘Agreed, given the police have, it seems, come to a similar conclusion. And furthermore, given the late hour Mr Eden retired on the fateful evening, we can assume not only that the murderer was most likely a guest, but that he was already in the hotel. It would have been very conspicuous for the killer to have roused the night porter, though we obviously need to check with him.’

  ‘Unless the murderer bribed the night porter to let him in without recording it? Anyway, let’s both see what we can deduce on that score later.’ She jotted a reminder to do so on the next page. Then she frowned. ‘But surely Grimsdale will already have taken the details of all the guests?’

  ‘And insisted none of them leave Brighton. We are all under surveillance in that regard.’

  ‘So, again as we thought, it is most likely that the murderer is still here. Because if he had fled the inspector would be focusing on him alone. Besides, we think he wants Hilary’s mysterious item.’

  ‘Quite so. Whoever it is, they are particularly confident it seems. To commit a murder and then calmly stay put rather than fleeing shows a strong degree of self-possession.’

  ‘Hmm, that and a callous disregard for human life. And why was that woman staring at me at breakfast?’

  Clifford furrowed his brow. ‘I assume this has nothing to do with the present conversation?’

  She shrugged. ‘For some reason it reminded me of it. She was in the hotel when we first arrived and at breakfast this morning she was definitely scrutinising me.’

  ‘What was the lady wearing, might I ask?’

  ‘Navy-blue cardigan, matching short-sleeved V-neck jumper and calf-length pleated skirt of the same colour. Two strings of pearls, a tortoiseshell hair clip around her chignon and brocade T-strap shoes, better suited to the dance floor than the breakfast room. And rather liberal on the make-up front.’

  ‘A most comprehensive description. Is there a sliver of a chance she might have been returning the scrutiny she felt herself to be under?’

  ‘She started it,’ Eleanor huffed, then tasted the slice of strawberry and sherry-infused
cream chocolate cake. ‘Oh, too divine.’

  Clifford raised his teacup. ‘If we could put aside the lady in question, and the cake, for a moment, we need to work through each of the guests.’

  She reluctantly put down her fork. ‘Exactly. Because either the murderer followed Hilary here, was tipped off by someone already at the hotel, or Hilary himself volunteered the details of where he was to his killer. He might have arranged to meet the very person who murdered him.’ She shivered. ‘Luckily it’s out of season and there are few guests, but how do we narrow down the few there are?’

  ‘Perhaps by finding out who they are. If you will excuse me for a moment.’

  She watched him step over and speak to their waiter, who led the way out of the tea room. Intrigued, she decided laying waste to a fair proportion of the cakes would save her curiosity eating her up.

  On his return, Clifford eyed the layers of the two china cake stands, now relieved of many of the petits fours.

  He took his seat. ‘And your favourite among the selection?’

  ‘Too hard to choose. The cream eclairs are sublime. The sour fruit tartlets just too heavenly. Those marzipan and fondant icing fellows kept calling my name.’ She dabbed her mouth with her napkin. ‘But the blueberry meringues have completely turned my head.’

  ‘At least we have managed to sweeten a morsel of the unpleasantness of recent events.’

  ‘And what fiendishly clever ruse have you just been on?’

  ‘Merely telephoning your number one fan for a little more information.’

  She groaned. ‘I shall feel terrible if Thomas finds out the truth about who I really am.’

  ‘I see no reason why he will. And it is making his month to believe he is helping your well-deserved break between films more restful. To the point that he was happy to confirm several key things for us.’

  She leaned across the table eagerly. ‘Go on.’