Mrs Lillywhite Investigates Box Set

by Emily Queen

  “Since I’m not allowed to leave the premises, why don’t we go down to the outdoor bar and let off some steam?” Rosemary suggested. “Perhaps we’ll glean some useful information while we’re there.”

  Andrew had always said observation was a detective’s most useful tool, particularly when the subjects had no idea one was paying attention. She could almost hear him whispering the words in her ear, but lately, his voice had begun to fade. She wasn’t sure anymore whether she remembered it as clearly as she used to, and the thought saddened her.

  And so, in her typical fashion, she swept the notion under the rug—pushed it into the deepest corner of her mind where she wouldn’t have to think about it until she was alone, back at home, hiding beneath her bed covers.

  While she’d been musing, the rest of the group had agreed to her suggestion. They took the lift to the bottom floor, where Vera pulled her across the flagstone terrace and out into the night. Once they’d reached the bottom steps, Vera let go and fell into step beside Frederick, the black silk kimono she’d donned floating prettily on the breeze. Rosemary hardly noticed her friend’s ulterior motive and didn’t even realize she’d moved away to allow Desmond to take Rose’s arm.

  She did, however, recognize the subtle signs of being managed, and wished the lot of them would stop treating her as if she were some weak-willed woman who needed constant coddling. What irked was that she couldn’t even get mad because she knew it was only out of love for her that they behaved so. Rosemary sighed, resigned herself to her fate, and allowed Des to lead her towards the beachside bar.

  As they approached, it became obvious that this was the place where hotel employees came to unwind after a hard day’s work. She recognized Gloria immediately, even with her hair done up in some sort of complicated braid rather than hanging around her shoulders as she wore it during working hours.

  Margaret the receptionist sat on a barstool just at the edge of the shadows cast from an oil-burning lantern, her eyes shooting daggers towards Gloria every few seconds. Rose wondered if it was professional jealousy or personal, since Gloria sat quite close to Walter, the assistant manager.

  Walter must have come straight down after his shift because he still wore the starched shirt and loose pants required of all male staff. He sat on a stool at the corner of the bar where he had the best vantage point to survey the area. From the way he watched the employees through slitted lids, it appeared being truly off the clock was not in his nature.

  While neither Charlotte nor Benny were in evidence, she recognized a couple of waiters from the lounge and a floor maid. Richard Wright, the irritable guest, sat alone at a table out of the way. All of them she could stand to be around, but when she noticed Geneviève and Benjamin situated at the other end of the bar, their heads bent conspiratorially, her heart dropped. Rosemary wasn’t sure which of the pair was worse, but she had no doubt the two deserved one another.

  “Oh, thank goodness,” Rosemary said out loud when the couple merely waved and went back to their conversation. “I can’t handle her right now. Him either.”

  Vera opened her mouth to respond and instead sneezed. Once, then twice, a pause, then a third time. “Seconded,” she said when her breath returned.

  Though Frederick found Vivi delightful, he knew better than to speak out on her behalf, as arguing with his sister never ended well for him. Instead, he found a place at the bar with enough room for all four of them and settled onto a stool.

  “Barkeep!” Frederick shouted over the din. “A round of something rummy for my friends. Anything with a nice kick will do.”

  Rosemary’s spot near Walter’s back allowed for her to listen in on his conversation with Gloria, and she did so without the usual niggle of remorse at eavesdropping. It helped that the man spoke in louder tones than necessary most of the time.

  “Damn shame about Miss DeVant. Can’t help thinking if only we’d gone back a little earlier, I might have been able to put a stop to it all and saved that wonderful woman.” To Rose’s trained ear, Walter’s wistful regret struck a false note.

  “You couldn’t have known, and there’s no good that can come of fretting. It’s over now, and you’re not to blame for spending an hour or two in more entertaining pursuits.” Gloria very nearly purred, leaving Rose to assume that she might offer herself as the reward at the end of Walter’s quest for fun.

  “I suppose you’re right. Who do you think killed her? One of the staff maybe? Or a guest?”

  “You know that Ben fellow was in a right state last night. Certainly strikes me odd, that one. Not at all a stable chap. Could be something to it, don’t you think?” Walter said.

  “Yes, I think you might be right,” Gloria replied, the breathy note dropping from her tone as Walter seemed not to sense her romantic undertones. “Could be he had another violent episode.”

  Could be,” he mused. Walter lowered his voice, “On the bright side, being the assistant manager and all, I’ll probably be tapped to take over in her stead.” He sounded rather proud of himself, and Rosemary’s head filled with steam.

  “Perhaps. Although I wouldn’t go on about it too much, if I were you. Might be considered a motive for bumping off the old girl,” Gloria said vaguely, sounding suddenly distracted.

  “If a chance at running the hotel is a motive, then it’s one we share equally. The only reason I was promoted ahead of you is that the bloody dragon didn’t like you as—” Walter’s comment trailed off.

  When Rosemary looked up at Desmond and saw that his cheeks were pink, then glanced back at Gloria, it became clear just what—or rather who—had distracted the woman mid-conversation. Her stomach lurched as she watched Gloria try to get his attention with a little smile here, and a flutter of lashes there. It settled some when she noticed Desmond carefully avoided Gloria’s gaze, but then churned some more at the thought of Cecily. The poor woman had been murdered, and all anyone cared about was the state of their jobs—and their loins.

  Des caught Rosemary’s eye; a flare of hope flickered to life inside him when he saw the irritation on her face. He then did his best to extinguish it. Pressing the issue would only make things awkward between them, as he was sure Rosemary wasn’t ready for anything more than friendship.

  For the first time since he’d come back into her life, Rosemary considered whether Desmond harbored romantic notions towards her. Don’t be silly, she told herself as she fiddled with the beads around her neck, of course he does. You’d have to be quite daft not to notice the signs. For the first time, she found the idea intriguing rather than alarming.

  She shifted her attention back to the situation at hand. Poor Walter realized the situation he was in long after Rose had, and when he did, she watched his face turn stormy. So stormy, in fact, that the hairs on the back of her arms stood on end. When Margaret approached him, a hopeful expression on her face, he barely even glanced at her, his eyes focused elsewhere.

  From under the brim of her white straw cloche, Rose watched Gloria lean over and nip the olive from Desmond’s martini. With her eyes on his, she closed her teeth over the olive, using them to slide it from the toothpick slowly, her eyes never leaving his.

  When Desmond’s body stiffened, Rosemary pressed her lips together to hold back a giggle, but she also elbowed Vera in the ribs, happy to, for once, be the one making the jab instead of receiving it.

  To her credit, Vera didn’t let out an exclamation but merely turned around with wide eyes to see what it was her friend was so eager for her to witness.

  “Oh, how very interesting,” Vera murmured, now fully intrigued. “Shall we wager on whether Gloria makes any headway there?”

  “She’s rather an attractive woman.” Rosemary’s answer wasn’t an answer at all.

  Vera agreed. “In a florid, obvious way. Not at all the type our Desmond goes for.”

  A moment later, Desmond proved Vera right by gently rebuffing Gloria’s advances and turning away.

  “I’ve had quite enough,�
� Rosemary said when Frederick attempted to press another gin and tonic into her hand. She had to admit, however, that the alcohol had drowned out the horror of the day, made it almost bearable. “I think I’d fancy a walk down the beach, though.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Desmond offered, exchanging a look with Freddie, who took a step back and held up his hands in surrender.

  “Take care of my sister,” was all he said. Vera winked at Freddie and smiled as it suited her unspoken master plan for Desmond and Rosemary.

  “Do be a dear, Freddie, and buy me another drink.” To Rose, she said, “You run along now, I’ll stay behind and keep an eye on your brother. Someone needs to keep him in line.”

  Chapter 10

  Off down the beach, Rosemary went with Desmond and, once the sounds of revelry could no longer be heard above the roar of the water against the shore, she stopped and took a deep breath. “It smells amazing out here, doesn’t it?” she said, as much to him as to herself.

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose, inhaling not the scent of the sea, but the scent of Rosemary. “It certainly does.”

  “It’s enough to make me dread returning to London.” Desmond made no response other than a hum of agreement. “Are you settling down there, or had you planned to move on? It sounded as though you enjoyed traveling around with your great aunt. Did you get a taste of wanderlust?” she wanted to know.

  “Sure, I had a grand time,” he said, moving a little closer to Rosemary until his arm brushed against hers. “But London has its own draw. My friends are there. You’re there.” All intention of keeping his feelings to himself had evaporated in a rum-soaked haze.

  Rosemary didn’t quite know what to say to that, but she felt those blasted butterflies in her stomach take flight and settle into her throat. She swallowed, gathered her considerable courage, and looked him square in the eyes. What she saw there was a smoldering flame, ready to erupt; all she had to do was tilt her head and lower her lashes.

  A war raged between Rosemary’s heart and her mind. She knew Andrew was gone; he wasn’t coming back and he would never begrudge her the chance to be happy, to find love with someone else. Over the past year, she’d examined their relationship through the luxury of hindsight, but not with perfect vision. Instead, she found she’d been looking through rose-colored glasses. No, she and Andrew hadn’t been the sort of couple who fought or even disagreed often, and he’d rarely raised his voice to her, but there were still those bumps in the road that every marriage must weather.

  For the first time, it didn’t feel like a betrayal to admit that, and so she inclined her head, closed her eyes, and waited.

  Desmond didn’t give the invitation a second thought. He didn’t need to know why Rosemary had decided to succumb to the tension that had existed between them since he’d come back into her life. When his lips finally met hers, their touch was tender; the kind of kiss she’d imagined as a girl before she’d known to expect passion rather than sweetness.

  Breath meeting breath sent a shiver up her spine, but when the two finally parted, she let out an uncontrollable giggle.

  “It really doesn’t stroke a man’s ego when a woman he kisses laughs in his face,” Desmond said wryly.

  “No,” Rosemary gasped, “I’m not laughing at you. It was a great kiss. Amazing even, just as I’d imagined it.”

  Desmond blinked. “Just how often have you imagined kissing me?”

  “Every night for years, Des dear. I followed you and Freddie around like a little lost puppy when we were children. You must have known I had a hopeless crush on you.” How he might not have noticed was a mystery to her.

  He shrugged. “We were children, and I found you charming even then. You must have known that.”

  She thought about that for a moment, wondered if, had either of them been daring enough, they might have had an entirely different life. “I didn’t,” was all she could think of to say.

  “It’s funny how things turn out, but I’d hope not so funny as to make you laugh at my best attempt,” he replied, still confused by her reaction to his kiss.

  “I wasn’t laughing at your romantic prowess if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s just, well, I hate to bring it up, but I haven’t kissed a man other than Andrew in years. I’d been dreading it, if I'm honest, thinking it would be the most painful part of moving on.”

  She looked up and into Desmond’s eyes and saw that he was trying to understand but still appeared puzzled. “It wasn’t. Painful, I mean. Just nice. Maybe I’m not explaining it well, but I feel relieved. And lighter, somehow. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, I guess,” Desmond said. Thank you wasn’t exactly what a man wanted to hear, but it beat a slap in the face. He’d consider it a win and leave it at that.

  Rosemary’s heart did feel significantly lighter upon her return to the bar and her friends. She sidestepped Desmond’s attempt to grab her hand on the way back across the beach, for somehow, even though she’d allowed him to kiss her, holding his hand felt even more intimate than having his lips on hers.

  She was surprised when neither Frederick nor Vera even glanced in their direction. She’d expected some childish snickering at the minimum, and at least one eyebrow wiggle between the two. Instead, their eyes were fixed on something across the way, on the opposite side of the hut.

  “Things are about to get interesting, Rosie,” Vera said without even looking at her. “Those two are getting heated.”

  With a glance in Geneviève and Benjamin’s direction, Rosemary sighed. The trip to Cyprus suddenly felt like a misadventure. Not only had she become embroiled in an unintended romance and a depressing murder investigation, but she had also now been reduced to an eavesdropping busybody. What she really wanted to do was nab Vera, retire to their suite, and tell her all about what had just taken place on the beach. Those hopes were fated to be dashed, as there would be no pulling Vera away when a knock-down, drag-out fight appeared poised to occur.

  “That’s enough, Vivi, you’re making a scene,” Benjamin bellowed, causing everyone who hadn’t been watching with avid interest to glance in his direction.

  “I’m the one making the scene?” Geneviève snapped back. “You’re the one yelling at the top of your lungs!” Her voice rose to an octave higher than his, drawing even more attention, and then lapsed into what sounded like French profanity.

  Benjamin’s face grew redder until it looked as though his head might explode, and he was forced to shout, “You know I can only understand half of what you’re saying.”

  “I’m saying,” Geneviève said, switching back to English with an effort, “that you’re nothing but a lying, philandering git, and I wish I’d never laid eyes on you!”

  Snapping back into work mode, Walter stepped into the fray. “Here now, get hold of yourselves. You’re creating a scene.”

  Quite often, the brave man who places himself between two spitting animals finds himself the new target of their ire. This was the case with Walter. For just long enough to announce that they’d take themselves off if they weren’t wanted, Ben and his Vivi joined forces. A detente that lasted mere moments as they moved away from the bar and the fight began again more loudly than ever.

  Without a word said between them, Rosemary and her companions rose to follow as a group. Not too close, but close enough to hear Ben and Geneviève going at each other with renewed fervor.

  “How dare you to accuse me of ill behavior when you’ve been out at all hours of the night, eh? I spend half my time alone while you’re, qu'est-ce que c'est, catting around.”

  “You know it wasn’t like that.”

  “Why? Because you say so?” Geneviève let out a loud snort. “Your word is worth nothing. You say you will go and do what needs to be done, but that is a lie. You say you will return in an hour, and it is nearly daybreak before you crawl into bed. “You are a vile thing.” her voice dripped with loathing.

  “You are a shrew. A harpy.” Ben match
ed her tone with similar venom, prompting Geneviève to tell him in great detail what method she’d employ to take his life should he repeat such perfidy.

  Chapter 11

  Vera slept with her arm around Rosemary that night, and she slept lightly knowing the nightmares that had plagued her friend would only increase in frequency after this latest brush with murder. Rosemary woke early with Vera’s hand still resting on her shoulder, and it made her feel better to know she had someone in her life who cared as much as Vera did.

  The events of the previous day and evening came thundering back; the horror of the morning, finding Cecily’s body, and then the sublime sweetness of a long-awaited kiss to end the day. Too many emotions crowded her mind until finally, she decided she wouldn’t get any more sleep no matter how long she lay in bed, unable to quell her worries.

  Quiet as a mouse, Rose slipped from beneath the covers, dressed quickly, and carefully closed the door behind her. Then, she tiptoed around the sitting room, treading carefully so as not to wake Anna, who slumbered in the next room. Halfway there, her foot caught against the edge of one of the end tables and she cried out, the noise jarring Anna from sleep. The girl bolted out of her room in a panic.

  “What is it? It’s not another…murder, is it?” Anna whispered the word as if saying it too loudly would make it true.

  “No, dear, I simply can’t sleep and thought I’d go down for an early breakfast. Though now that you mention it, the last time I went down early wasn’t particularly pleasant. I’m sorry to have awakened you. Would you like to join me, or are you able to fall back asleep?”

  Anna shook her head. “I’m awake, and I’m starved.” The girl looked like she’d barely shut her eyes to begin with, but Rosemary didn’t argue or pry. What Anna did on her own time was her own business, and there was enough to worry about already.

  After Anna dressed, the two women took the lift to the lobby, where the smells of breakfast made Rosemary’s stomach rumble. “It’s quite a different atmosphere than it was yesterday, isn’t it?” she mused.