Murder at the Manor Hotel Read online

  ‘Sorry, duchess!’ He assumed the affected accent of a comedian aping the aristocracy. ‘I mean, of course, the Honourable Penelope de Lavier. Say “hello” to our scriptwriter, Pen.’

  Penelope held out a limp hand. ‘How d’you do?’ she drawled. ‘I think you’re awfully clever.’

  ‘Thank you,’ murmured Melissa.

  ‘And this is Will Foley, an old mate of me Dad’s from the smoke. Staying down here at his daughter’s place for a bit. He’s playing the copper in your panto.’

  Will had thinning grizzled hair and a steady gaze that reminded Melissa of her friend, Detective Chief Inspector Kenneth Harris. He transferred the drink he was holding to his left hand and took Melissa’s right in a firm clasp.

  ‘Nice to meet you, Mel. I like your books.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Chris Bright’s me minder,’ Mitch continued. ‘Makes sure I keep all me appointments and don’t drive when I’m over the odds.’ A stockily built man of about his own age, with shoulders like an American footballer and a pugnacious expression, shook hands and nodded without speaking. ‘Well, now you know us all. What happens next, Chloe? Where is everyone?’

  ‘I expect they’re waiting in the kitchenette,’ said Chloe. ‘I told them we’ll be using it as a greenroom.’

  Mitch’s brow puckered. ‘Greenroom?’

  ‘Rest room. Where the actors relax when they’re not on stage,’ Chloe explained. ‘Theatre jargon.’

  Mitch, apparently unaware of the hint of superiority in her tone, looked impressed. ‘You learn something every minute,’ he said. ‘Did you know that, Pen?’

  For the first time, a spark of animation appeared on the chiselled features of the Honourable Penelope and she laid a scarlet-tipped hand on Mitch’s arm. ‘Of course I did, darling,’ she purred. ‘I know lots of theatre people.’ The look she gave him would have melted Arctic snow and her voice was a mixture of honey and cream as she added, ‘We simply must tear ourselves away from business now and again and do some London shows, mustn’t we? And there’s Stratford just up the road from here – I do so adore Shakespeare!’

  ‘She thinks I need educating,’ Mitch explained cheerfully to the world at large.

  Unseen by Mitch, Chloe telegraphed ‘What did I tell you?’ to Melissa with an upward roll of her eyes and strode towards a door in the far corner of the room, to the left of the platform which would be serving as a stage. Despite her bulk, she had a graceful, almost regal carriage and she dressed with flair. This evening she was wearing a flowing tobacco-brown dress that flattered her fresh colouring and dramatised her generous but well-proportioned figure.

  Mitch’s gaze followed her with appreciation and there was admiration in his voice as he remarked, ‘Some woman, that!’ which evoked a look of disdain from the Honourable Penelope.

  Chloe returned with three women and one man, whom she proceeded to introduce to Mitch and his friends. ‘Felicity is playing the kitchenmaid who’s falsely accused of murder and Norman is her lover, the gamekeeper. Sheila is the heroine’s personal maid, in love with the same man but rejected and fiendishly jealous. And this,’ she turned to a slender girl with delicate features and smooth, glossy brown hair, ‘is Dittany, who’s playing the heroine, Ann Bull.’

  ‘And a very beautiful heroine she is, too!’ said Mitch as he took Dittany’s small hand in his. ‘What a smashing name! What does it mean?’

  Dittany looked gravely up at him with large, golden-brown eyes. ‘It’s an aromatic plant that grows in Crete. My father’s an amateur botanist so he gave me and my sister floral names.’

  ‘Nice idea,’ said Mitch, still holding her hand. ‘What’s your sister called?’

  ‘Asphodel.’ There was a hint of mischief behind the gravity as she added, ‘She hates it because she was called “Bog” at school, but I quite like mine.’

  If the botanical joke was lost on Mitch, there was no mistaking his enchantment with Dittany. ‘It’s the loveliest name I’ve ever heard and it suits you perfectly,’ he assured her earnestly.

  Penelope jerked impatiently at his arm. ‘Darling,’ she drawled, ‘we’re wasting time. I’m sure Chloe is dying to get started.’

  ‘Oh, sure.’ Mitch released Dittany’s hand, which she had seemed in no hurry to withdraw. He glanced round. ‘Hang on a minute – we aren’t all here. Where’s the two villains?’

  ‘They’ll be along presently. I told them we shouldn’t be needing them till later,’ said Chloe crisply.

  Her manner, with its hint of bossiness, drew a little bow of mock deference from Mitch. ‘As you say, ma’am! What do we do first?’

  ‘We’ll start with a run-through of the prologue – that’s you, Mitch and then do Scene One. Everyone got their scripts?’ Heads wagged and scripts were waved in confirmation. ‘Right. On stage Mitch, Sheila and Dittany. Mitch, I want you to stand centre front to speak your lines. You’ll have a small table with your props and when you’ve finished I want you to pick it up and exit stage left.’

  ‘Okay. Where’s me props?’

  ‘Sorry, they haven’t been prepared yet. I thought you wouldn’t mind miming, just for this evening.’

  ‘Let’s see, what are we talking about?’ Ignoring Chloe’s suggestion, Mitch consulted his script. ‘Oh yeah – the knife, the rope, the gun and the poison. No problem, we can improvise. Sure to be a knife in the kitchen – someone go and look. Give us your tie, Chris, that’ll do for a rope. Now, the poison …’ He looked round for inspiration. ‘I know! Pen, chuck us your Mogadons.’

  ‘Oh darling, I do wish you wouldn’t call them that – you make me sound like a junkie!’ protested Penelope.

  ‘Only teasing,’ grinned Mitch, but Penelope seemed determined to dispel any misunderstandings.

  ‘They’re herbal capsules, to help me relax,’ she explained. ‘Running a business is so stressful nowadays and I simply hate the thought of taking drugs.’

  ‘I do so agree with you!’ Dittany called enthusiastically from the stage. ‘I’m into herbalism as well.’

  ‘Really?’ The indifference in Penelope’s voice bordered on rudeness but Dittany either did not notice or chose to ignore it.

  ‘Yes, really. Daddy’s just published a fascinating book about it. I’ll lend it to you if you like.’

  ‘I doubt if I could find time to read it,’ said Penelope in the same dismissive tone; then, remembering her society manners, ‘Frightfully nice of you to offer.’ She rummaged in her handbag and produced a small glass bottle with a bright flower on its label and tossed it to Mitch.

  ‘Ta!’ He caught it one-handed and put it on a chair at the front of the stage, together with Chris’s tie and the knife that someone had been to fetch. ‘I can pretend with the gun.’ He aimed two fingers at Chloe like a small boy playing at cops and robbers. ‘Bang! D’you want me to start now?’

  ‘Not for the moment. Dittany, will you find a chair and sit at the back of stage right while Mitch does his piece. Sheila, you stand behind her. When he’s finished, bring Dittany’s chair centre front, sit her down on it and start your business with the brush and comb. Did you bring them, by the way?’

  ‘Here.’ Sheila held them aloft.

  ‘Well done. We’ll rig up a spotlight for the performance but we won’t bother with it for now,’ Chloe continued. ‘What we’ll do is leave the stage in darkness during the prologue, then turn off the spot and fade in the stage light.’ She glanced upwards and pulled a face. ‘Damn! It’s a fluorescent tube – I wanted one with a dimmer. I wonder …’

  ‘Get one fixed if you need it,’ interrupted Mitch. ‘Gotta do it properly.’ He turned to his minder. ‘See to it, Chris. Chlo’ll tell you exactly what she wants.’

  ‘Thanks, that’d be super!’ A smile chased away Chloe’s earlier condescension. ‘Okay, ready everyone?’

  Will Foley cleared his throat and held up his empty glass. ‘Won’t be wanting me for a while, will you?’

  ‘Er, no, not just yet,’ said Ch
loe.

  ‘I’ll be in the bar,’ said Will and made for the door.

  ‘Don’t get pissed!’ Mitch called after him. Catching Penelope’s disapproving eye, he gave a disarming grin that emphasised the dimples at the corners of his mouth. ‘Sorry, Pen! Right, let’s get rolling.’

  ‘Isn’t there something I can do?’ said Penelope peevishly. ‘I mean, it’s going to be a bit tedious if I have to sit through every rehearsal without some sort of a job.’

  Chloe looked taken aback. Plainly, she had not bargained for Penelope’s constant presence, but it came as no surprise to Melissa. Mitch was too valuable a quarry – and by all appearances too impressionable – to be allowed out of her sight.

  ‘Er, well, all the parts are cast, I’m afraid,’ said Chloe. ‘You could take charge of the props, if you really want to help. We’ll need a much larger poison bottle with a big label on it …’

  ‘With a skull and crossbones,’ suggested Mitch.

  ‘… and one of those knives with a disappearing point that squirts stage blood all over the place …’

  Mitch rubbed his hands in glee. ‘Great! I’ve always wanted to play with one of those!’

  ‘Can you manage to organise that?’ asked Chloe, ignoring his interruptions.

  ‘Yes, I suppose so.’ Penelope’s smile was gracious but cool. Remembering Iris’s comment about ‘finders keepers’, Melissa made a mental note to put Chloe in the picture as soon as possible.

  ‘Let’s make a start, then,’ said Chloe. ‘Ready, Mitch?’

  ‘Sure.’ Mitch took up his position, cleared his throat, and declaimed the opening lines in traditional pantomime style:

  Good people all, our play tonight

  Tells of that ancient, deadly fight

  For love; a fight that ends in doom,

  Here, within this very room.

  Melissa stole a sideways glance at Chloe and saw her eyebrows shoot up in gratified surprise. Mitch, by now fully into the spirit of the thing, embarked on the second stanza, the first two lines of which he delivered in the manner of a school-teacher addressing a class of five-year-olds:

  Among our players, one will die,

  As you shall witness by and by.

  For the second couplet, his manner changed again; with rolling eyes and menacing leer, he spoke in a sepulchral growl as he raised each of his ‘murder weapons’ in turn, miming the appropriate actions:

  How will the killer take the life?

  By rope? By poison? Pistol? Knife?

  On the final word, he threw down his script, held the kitchen knife aloft in both hands and, with a shout of maniacal laughter, plunged it into the body of an imaginary victim. There were chuckles from the rest of the cast, but Chris’s face registered a comical blend of resignation and embarrassment while Penelope, wearing a detached expression, examined her fingernails.

  ‘Was that okay, then?’ asked Mitch, evidently well pleased with himself.

  ‘Super!’ called Dittany, upon which his smile became positively blissful.

  ‘That was fine,’ said Chloe, ‘but don’t forget to exit.’

  ‘Eh? Oh, right.’ Obediently, Mitch picked up his makeshift props table and moved aside as Sheila and Dittany took up their positions.

  ‘Think he’ll do?’ whispered Melissa in Chloe’s ear.

  ‘He’s a natural. I only hope Will’s half as good.’

  Mitch took a long pull from his tankard of bitter and said, ‘What about some incidental music?’

  After more than two hours of somewhat ragged rehearsal, Chloe, in response to an appeal from Penelope supported by Mitch, had declared that it wasn’t bad for a first run-through and they’d leave it at that for tonight. Now, the entire company, together with their sponsor and his entourage, were relaxing in the small private bar.

  Chloe considered Mitch’s suggestion. ‘We could ask the Music Club if they’d organise a trio or something, I suppose,’ she said.

  Mitch guffawed. ‘I’m not talking about a chamber orchestra! I mean on the joanna, like they had with the old silent movies. Your Music Club got someone who can play that kind of stuff, Chlo? You know, diddle-diddle-dum, diddle-diddle-dum as the crooks are running away, and when the spook appears it goes BOMM, BOMM, BOMM, BOMM …’

  ‘Yes, I get the idea.’ Chloe joined in the general laughter as Mitch, eyes rolling in mock terror, beat out with both hands a thunderous cadenza that set the drinks dancing on the table.

  ‘I think it’d be super!’ Dittany nodded approval over the rim of her glass of orange juice. Her expression of serene gravity was suddenly illuminated by a smile of ineffable sweetness. ‘Brilliant!’

  Mitch blinked like a man dazzled by sunlight. ‘You reckon?’ he said. Natural courtesy made him include Chloe in the question but his eyes announced for all the world to see whose approval was the more important to him.

  ‘Oh, yes!’ Dittany fairly sparkled with enthusiasm. ‘It would fit in so well with the pantomime atmosphere – don’t you think so, Melissa?’

  ‘I suppose it would, but perhaps Mitch should talk it over with your producer,’ said Melissa in an attempt to give the initiative back to Chloe and at the same time divert Mitch’s attention from Dittany. She had observed Penelope’s expression during the exchanges and it carried an unmistakable storm warning.

  ‘It’s worth thinking about,’ said Chloe, with a grateful glance at Melissa. ‘We’d have to arrange for a piano to be brought in.’

  ‘No problem. See to it, Chris.’

  ‘Hang on a minute,’ said Chloe as Chris reached for his notebook. ‘We haven’t thought it through yet. We’d need the right sort of piano.’

  ‘Sure,’ agreed Mitch. ‘One of the old honky-tonk variety. Sort it out with Chris.’

  ‘There’s a dreadful old piano in our church hall,’ said Melissa. ‘I dare say they’d lend it to us if we offered to make a donation to the roof repair fund. Would you like me to have a word with the Rector, Chloe?’

  ‘Thanks. We could talk about it on the way home.’ Chloe pulled a diary from her handbag. ‘Now, a date for the next rehearsal. Is this time next week all right for everyone?’

  ‘Next week?’ Penelope looked aghast. ‘We have to go through this … this mummery every week … for over a month?’

  ‘You’re getting off lightly. If it was a full-length production, we’d be rehearsing for at least a couple of months and it’d be every night for the final week before the show,’ Chloe informed her briskly. ‘Still, we can probably manage without you for the next couple of times, so long as you’re here for the dress rehearsal.’

  ‘There you are, Pen, no problem,’ said Mitch, with a bland smile. ‘I’ll let you know how things are going.’

  ‘Oh, it’s all right, darling, I’ll come along and keep you company,’ purred Penelope, with a change of mood that was plainly an effort. ‘But please, take me home now. I need a good night’s rest before tomorrow’s meeting. We’re negotiating with a top designer from Italy,’ she informed the assembly, one proprietorial hand on Mitch’s arm. ‘It’s vital for our future strategy that everything goes smoothly, isn’t it, darling?’

  Mitch finished his beer and stood up. ‘You’re absolutely right, Pen – business before pleasure.’

  It was not the most tactful of remarks and Melissa held her breath for a moment, but the Honourable Penelope had not attended an exclusive finishing school for nothing. With a gracious smile all round, and in the confident manner of one who has been trained to be aware of the effect of her every move, she uncrossed her long, perfect legs, rose to her feet and smoothed the skirt of her saffron-yellow designer suit.

  ‘I just love that colour, it looks marvellous on you!’ said Dittany, with a warmth and spontaneity that were obviously genuine.

  Penelope responded with a regal inclination of the head. ‘Thank you, my dear, how very sweet of you,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll tell you what,’ Dittany went on, either unaware that she was being patronised or imper
vious to the fact. ‘You shouldn’t take too many of those capsules of yours – Daddy says they contain valerian, which tends to make you lethargic. Why don’t you try these? They’re just as soothing to the nerves and totally harmless.’

  Penelope’s smile was condescending. ‘I’m sure my homeopathic consultant wouldn’t prescribe anything that wasn’t safe,’ she said. With barely a glance at the bottle in the palm of Dittany’s outstretched hand, she picked up her jacket and held it out to Mitch.

  Dittany flushed. ‘Oh, I didn’t mean to suggest …’ she began but Penelope ignored her. She snuggled into the jacket, contriving as she did so to brush Mitch’s cheek with her hair, and twisted round to shoot him a glance full of promise before picking up her handbag and taking his arm.

  ‘Well, good-night everyone. It’s been a totally fascinating evening,’ she murmured over her shoulder.

  ‘We should be going as well,’ said Chloe, standing up. Diaries were put away, drinks finished and chairs pushed back. In the general move towards the door, Melissa noticed the bearded young man who was playing the part of the murderer – one of the two who had arrived late and whose name she had failed to catch – take Dittany by the arm and whisper something in her ear. She appeared to give him only half her attention; her eyes were on Mitch and with an impatient shake of the head she hurried to rejoin his group while the man was still speaking. He seemed about to follow and remonstrate, but his companion restrained him.

  In the reception hall, Kim Bellamy was seated at a computer while a heavily built man in a white dress-shirt with a crimson velvet bow tie studied the screen over her shoulder. They looked up with professional smiles as Mitch and his party appeared.

  ‘Evening, Vic. Evening, Kim!’ said Mitch.

  ‘Good evening, Mr Mitchell. Was everything in order?’

  ‘Fine, thanks. We’re going to do a spot of work on the light over the stage and there’ll be a piano coming some time.’ He gestured at Chris. ‘Mr Bright’ll talk to you about it later.’