Mayhem for Her Majesty (A Cozy Beatles Mystery Series Book 2)

by Kal Smagh

  "Melon. How was it?"

  I hugged each one of them in turn. They smelled of cigarettes and alcohol and sweat.

  And if happiness had a smell, they had that in their pores.

  John was triumphant and they ordered scotch and Coke to a man.

  "And a Coke for the girl."

  I said, "Hold the scotch."

  Brian was nowhere in sight.

  Ringo smiled broadly, "Well young lady, for all of the trouble that you caused, with all of us maybe not even getting an opportunity to do the show, I have to say it was completely worth it."

  John said flippantly, "Of course he says that."

  Paul pointed, "You tell her why."

  Ringo smiled, "That Marlene Dietrich, she’s got some beautiful legs."

  George added, "Totally worth the hassle," then he asked, "did you do much running while you were here?"

  He was making fun of me for always breathing heavy when I saw him...probably because I had usually just come from sprinting somewhere doing Beatles work.

  I was always running, it seemed.

  In a hurry getting work done, or being chased while getting work done.

  "Yes, I did quite a bit, actually."

  At least George wasn't cupping his hands over his nose anymore.

  #

  Ringo shouted at George, "Darts! Nice! Where'd you get them?”

  George held three in each hand, red and blue wings protruding upward like small flowers. "Swiped them from behind the bar."

  Ringo spread his arms out, “Who's up for losing their lunch money?”

  “I’d beat you all square.” John sipped his scotch and coke.

  George looked at me, “He’s all talk.”

  John cut back quickly, “Mr. Harrison, what say we start with a pound per round. Yes?”

  “You’ll be easy to fleece.”

  Jaunting toward the dartboard, the four deserted me at the bar for their competition, slapping backs and and laughing.

  John turned around, “Melon, you in?”

  “Me?”

  “You’re with us, right?”

  “Well, yes," I shrugged, "But I don’t have any money.”

  Paul came back and produced a note, “Here’s a pound.”

  Ringo said, “Just one for the girl?”

  I accepted it, saying, “It's enough. I aim to win.”

  They all looked at me, a wide grin growing across John's face.

  John shoved the two, “The match is on, you scousers!”

  Paul asked Ringo, "Is this going to be a kerfuffle, or a donnybrook?"

  His eyes lit with an inner glow, Ringo said to me, "Watch out, you. I'll take your money first."

  Paul put his arm around Ringo's neck, pulling his head close in, "You're on top of the world because you met Marlene Dietrich."

  They followed to where George was already practicing, two red darts stuck in the board near center.

  John nodded, as we walked together to join in with the boisterous others, saying, “Nice, Melon. Like your fire.”

  #

  I hung up my black dress and secured my mother’s pearls in my small room when I finally made it to bed around 3 o’clock.

  While the Beatles were practiced hands at staying up late after performances, my body was conditioned to working in an office answering mail.

  I was completely knackered and collapsed on my creaky bed, face down, wonderfully exhausted.

  Chapter 26: Check Out Day

  It was Tuesday.

  Yesterday felt like a dream. A wonderful, happy, pinnacle dream.

  I found myself humming while dressing in my gray skirt, basking in last night's victory.

  A Royal Victory.

  Noises came from beyond my room, the alleyway below.

  In stocking feet I peered through my window.

  Dark clothed fans were surrounding the Mapleton. People were everywhere. Even a few red coated ones working already. Recovering their items, I imagined.

  Why?

  What was going on now?

  Then it hit me...the crowds were awaiting the Beatles' departure.

  The Beatles were up in their suite, probably preparing for their next performance in Slough, just a short drive away. Because of the television I wondered if they had become even bigger stars than they already were?

  It was normal for them now, these crowds, all year, and I wondered what the Boys' view from the top floor was of the the streets? Of the throngs of young Londoners waiting just for a glimpse.

  Refreshed after my few hours of rest, it was on to the day.

  Per the plan I stopped by the lobby to pick up the morning papers, one emblazoned with the headline

  The Greatest Variety Show on Television

  The Beatles and The Royal Variety Performance

  It was wonderful! Brian would like it.

  Then I went upstairs to the sixth floor and stood by in the hallway with Mal in case there were any errands to run before they departed.

  Brian came down the hall and I met him half way, walking with him toward where I had come, "Good morning, Helen. Please make sure to have the room cleaned up and all of the linens changed. We expect to be back but it won’t be until after midnight. And then on Wednesday we’ll do an early check out."

  I took down notes and nodded my head as he went along.

  He continued, "Thank you for getting the newspapers."

  He looked at the headline. A smile creased his face.

  "Well, it sure seems like everything continues on an upswing. I hope we continue to sell their current record, and we can continue promoting their upcoming release."

  I continued nodding my head yes, writing down, ‘new release’.

  Brian knocked twice on the Beatles suite.

  Paul sang out, "Come in."

  From my glimpse from the hallway, they were tired, happy, slightly hung over, men.

  They were having breakfast in their suite, and the smell of eggs and toast and crushingly delicious bacon wafted over me as Brian entered and then closed the door behind him.

  In the hall I chatted with Mal about the trip they had ahead asking, "How will you drive through this crowd?"

  Big Mal seemed sobered to the gauntlet ahead of him, "We'll need some assistance."

  The door opened and Brian leaned his head out, "Helen, I did mention to you that we won’t be back until late, correct?"

  "Yes. And to have all of the linens changed. And an early check out tomorrow."

  He nodded once agreement, gave a small smile, and ducking his head back inside he closed the door.

  A few moments later Brian emerged again and went back towards his room at the end of the hall.

  He said over his shoulder, "I’m just getting my bag and then we’ll depart, Mal."

  Mal said, "Got it."

  Mal went to get into the elevator, I supposed to go make sure the vehicle was ready to receive their equipment and to face the mayhem out in the streets.

  I stood alone in the hallway and then the door opened, and Ringo whispered, "Psssst! Is Brian still out there?"

  "He’s gone back to his room for a moment."

  "But the coast is clear?"

  "It’s clear."

  "Good, come in here Helen, we want to talk to you."

  I stepped forward into their suite and they all stood together. Their bags were packed and at their feet.

  I offered, "Do you need me to get your bags down to the car? I can get a bellhop."

  George laughed, "Won’t be needing that."

  Then it occurred to me, Brian had said they were coming back, so why did they have their bags packed?

  John must’ve seen the look on my face, saying, "Her gears are turning boys. She’s a smart one. What is it that you’re noticing, Melon?"

  "You’re not coming back, are you?"

  Paul rolled his eyes, leveling with me on the reality they lived, "There is no way we will make it back through the crowd to stay another night. But, since Brian
thinks we are, we’d like you to know that the room is paid for through Wednesday."

  "Do you want me to get you a refund?"

  John mumbled, "Forget what I said...she’s not as smart as I thought she was."

  Paul continued, clarifying what I wasn't getting, "You’re welcome to stay in the suite after we go. It might be refreshing after being in your maid’s quarters."

  Ringo said, "For all of your trouble. And as our thanks."

  I didn’t know what to say, my mouth fell open and no words came out. I felt some tears filling my eyes.

  "Go ahead and charge things to the room, Melon. You’ve earned it."

  George gazed into my wet eyes, "I think she’s about to start breathing heavy again, fellows."

  #

  Though I was still in their suite I could tell when the Beatles departed the hotel, Mal at the car's steering wheel.

  A giant swelling of noise growing around the hotel gave it away, roaring cheers from massive crowds echoing off the buildings like an airplane taking off, signifying their vehicle passing through.

  I went back to my maid’s quarters and threw all of my belongings into my bag, taking care to fold my black dress carefully, and rechecking that my mother’s pearls were still there.

  All good I went to the lobby and waited for the elevator.

  I felt like royalty myself, preparing to ascend to the tower.

  Then I thought of Archie and that perhaps it might be nice to have him join me for a late breakfast in the suite. I wondered if he would like that? If he had the time?

  No monkey business, just as a thank you for how much he’d done for me, coming through for me over and over.

  I took my bag and went out into the alley where the footmen were loading vehicles from all of the items they had placed inside the Theatre on the days before.

  I asked, "Has anybody seen Archie Taylor?"

  A red coated man pointed and I walked down the line as heads turned.

  Finding Archie, his face lit up, "Good morning, Helen. Smashing show last night."

  One man said, "Is this the Beatles girl you were talking about?"

  Beatles girl? I liked the ring of that. Again.

  Archie laughed, his face turning red, "Yes, everyone this is Helen."

  Several people warmed to me, "Hello, Helen," and I felt my face going scarlet.

  I asked Archie, "Would you like to come up to my room?"

  As soon as I said it, I was filled with regret and embarrassment. Damn my ability to speak without putting my foot in my mouth.

  To these people it probably sounded like Archie and I did nothing but have sex all the time. And I was at risk of being not only ‘Beatles girl’, but ‘trampy Beatles girl’.

  I corrected, "What I mean is, would you like to have breakfast?"

  Archie smiled broadly, and he turned to where his supervisor was standing, watching over us.

  This time the supervisor held up two hands with ten fingers splayed out saying, "See you this afternoon Archie. Enjoy your breakfast, kids."

  #

  In the hotel I stood before the elevators and Archie said, "I saw the Beatles drive away. It was absolute pandemonium. The Bobbies could barely hold back their surge."

  "Yes, a tidal wave of humanity."

  "They have an incredible effect on people."

  I nodded. It was true.

  Archie asked, as the elevator dinged, "Isn’t your room on the first floor?"

  "Not my new room."

  "They moved you?"

  "As a matter of fact, yes. Only a few people know about it. You, me, and John, Paul, George, and Ringo."

  The elevator arrived and we ascended, and I felt the excitement of staying in the same sweet room as the Beatles. As we entered, I jokingly spoke like I owned the place, "Forgive the mess."

  Archie laughed, and went room to room trying to guess who had stayed in which based on how messed up the bed linens were.

  "Whoa, definitely John in here."

  "Why?"

  "He left his car keys."

  "It wasn't John then."

  "How do you know?"

  "He doesn't drive yet. No license."

  He handed me the keys and I put them in my purse. I said, "Let’s order a full breakfast. Everything. Let’s live it up."

  "Really?"

  "Absolutely. You deserve a reward."

  I picked up the phone and dialed for room service, "I want to order your full English breakfast. Yes, and coffee, and orange juice. And I need someone to come clean up the old dishes, please. Yes, breakfast for two. Oh, um, charge it to the room."

  At that last statement Archie shook his head and let out a loud laugh.

  He must have thought I was quite audacious.

  #

  A furious knocking at the door startled Archie and I, coming just seconds after I’d requested the maid and ordered breakfast.

  I got up saying, "Wow! The service here is prompt. I could learn a thing or two," I said opening the door.

  Three teen girls, each a year or two younger than me, stood hyperventilating at the door.

  "Is this the Beatles’ room?"

  "Yes, but they’ve…"

  "We found it!" and they burst through, pushing past me into the seating area. I caught myself on a chair's back they swarmed by so fast.

  "Did they touch this?" One held up a white coffee cup, directing her question to Archie.

  Archie's eyebrows shot up, "I don’t…"

  "Did you drink out of this?"

  "I didn’t…"

  "It must have been them. I’m taking it."

  She dropped the cup in her purse.

  Another girl had disappeared into one of the bedrooms, emerging with two pillowcases, holding them to the sky like she'd just invented fire.

  "Look at these!"

  "Oh, I need to get one, too!"

  Another girl went into a different bedroom.

  Good thing Archie had given me the keys. I shuddered envisioning Ringo waking up to see girls staring at him in his bed at home.

  Hands on my hips I said, "Stop taking things."

  It didn't put a dent in their melee.

  I followed them scattershot around the room, shouting, "Stop taking things."

  They either didn’t hear me or were too awestruck at the treasures they’d stumbled upon.

  Archie said, "Gah! It's like they've found King Tut’s tomb."

  There was another set of rapid-fire knocking on the door.

  Archie smirked, "You want me to get that?"

  "No!"

  I rounded them up and pushed them toward the door, not even knowing their names.

  "You have to go. This is hotel property."

  "Yes, and the Beatles touched it!"

  Another shouted, "All of it!"

  The knocking came again on the door, insistent and louder. Someone outside jiggled the handle.

  I yanked it open and pushed the three original girls out into a hallway of boys and girls all trying to push their way in.

  "Archie! Don’t just sit there, help me!"

  Together we pushed against the door an inch at a time and managed to get it shut.

  Out in the hallway we heard screams and wails as the original three showed their treasures.

  I shouted through the door, "Go away!"

  I stood at the door, arms crossed, hearing the mob move away, the elevator dinging over and over as others came and went.

  I ignored the knocking and jiggling handle as each successive wave tried the same approach.

  The noise died down; security must have regrouped and sent them to the exits.

  After ten more minutes I opened the door to see one cleaning lady emerging from the freight elevator with a maid’s cart.

  I waved at her rapidly, ushering her into the room, looking like a maniac. Her eyes grew wide at my frantic arm motions.

  She could easily have mistaken me for one of the fans I’d just shoved out of this same door, such was my des
ire to get the place cleaned up.

  I smiled, feeling sheepish, "Thank you for coming. Please take whatever is left."

  #

  The room was cleaned. And then food arrived on a silver cart, like the one Archie had wheeled me over to the Prince of Wales Theatre upon.

  "Could it be the same one?"

  "No squeak."

  The food was magnificent, warm and toasty and salty and sweet. The aroma covered me in happiness.

  I asked, because I didn't know, "Where are you from?"

  "Weybridge. Sixteen miles."

  "Nice there?" I spread butter, watching Archie cover his toast in Marmite.

  "Posh." He added, swallowing a bite, "Golf course and all that."

  "Really? People with money?"

  "Not my family. Not even close."

  "But you're a golfer."

  "A caddy. Carry their bags."

  No wonder his arms were strong.

  As we were finishing Archie offered, "I’ve seen where you work. Would you like to come see where I work?"

  "At Buckingham Palace?"

  Was he for real?

  He nodded.

  "Yes, I absolutely would love to see it."

  "Then how about if we catch a taxi?"

  "When? Now?"

  "Whenever you’re ready."

  I immediately went into a tizzy. I couldn’t possibly go to Buckingham Palace dressed as I was in regular working clothes. Was I supposed to wear a baggy gray skirt?

  "Give me a few minutes. I need to clean up."

  Disappearing into the back room, and finding the bathroom I quickly checked my makeup. At least I'd showered.

  I still wasn’t very good at makeup but at least I could look dignified, more like an adult than a child. Then I shook out the wrinkles in my black dress and I set out my mother’s pearls.

  But oh gosh, my clunky black shoes.

  It was one thing to be in those shoes at night time with this dress. But I absolutely could not be seen in the daylight this way.

  I put on the dress and the pearls and I looked good. Real good.

  Then in my stocking feet I strutted into the living area where Archie was waiting.

  He sat up and stared at me, "Wow. Beautiful."

  I picked up the telephone.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Taking charge of my adult life, and throwing caution to the wind."

  I asked to be connected to the concierge.

  On the other end the man picked up and I ventured, "I am in the Beatle Suite. I need a pair of shiny black heels, size 4, delivered to the room. Needs to be fast. Can you send someone out to buy them and deliver?"