“What, outside? It’s cold out there and it’s starting to rain.”
“We’ll go to the wine cellar.” She grabbed his sleeve. “Come on.”
He followed her, silent and obviously puzzled, as she marched across the yard, heedless of the cold rain spattering across her shoulders and head.
Reaching the door, she fished for the key that she’d dropped into her pocket earlier. The door swung open, and the familiar musty smell greeted her as she stepped inside.
Feeling around in the dark, she found the oil lamp hanging on the wall. She took it down and lit it with the matches she’d brought with her, then held it up to light the way down the stairs.
She heard Dan close the door behind them, shutting them inside the damp, dark cellar. Shivering, she wished she’d stopped for her shawl on the way out.
Reaching the floor below, she hung the lamp on the wall. It swung gently back and forth, sending shadows leaping across the wall.
Dan stepped down beside her, and pulled off his coat. “Here, put this around you before you freeze to death.”
Hugging the warm wool coat around her, she fought back tears. She never cried. Well, hardly ever. This was one time when she was determined not to let the tears fall.
“Now,” Dan said, leaning his shoulders against the wall behind him. “What’s all this about?”
From the far end of the cellar came the echo of voices from the card rooms. At one time, when gambling had been illegal in the Pennyfoot Hotel, the rooms had been hidden below the floor in a tunnel dug by smugglers long ago.
Now that the Pennyfoot had been turned into a country club, the card games were licensed, and the rooms had been opened up. The floor above them had been removed, so they were in a sort of pit. The guests loved the atmosphere, which still bore an air of decadence without the risk of breaking the law.
Even so, Gertie could sense that sinister feeling of something forbidden closing in on her. She turned an unhappy face to look up at Dan. Had he committed murder? Was he the kind, fun-loving fellow she’d fallen in love with, or a hot-tempered coward prepared to let someone else take the blame for his sins?
Dan’s eyes gleamed with the reflection of the flickering flame from the oil lamp. “What is it, Gertie? Have you had enough of me? Are you trying to say good-bye?”
Despite her best efforts, a tear escaped down her cheek. “I don’t know.”
He shifted away from her, as if bracing himself. “What did I do?”
It was hard to swallow, and she took a moment to answer him. “You tell me.”
“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”
She couldn’t see his face, but she could hear his voice. She could swear he sounded genuinely confused. Taking a deep breath, she said unsteadily, “You came back to the Pennyfoot the night Ian died.”
The pause that followed terrified her. Dan’s voice sounded strange when he answered her. “Yes, I came to see you.”
“I know, but you came back again later. It must have been after nine o’clock.”
Again the pause. “Yes, it was. I told you, I came back to see you.”
A tiny flicker of hope caught fire. “I didn’t see you.”
“I know.”
Now he sounded cold, and the hope fluttered out. “I don’t understand.”
“Gertie, the first time I came to see you that evening, it was to give you and the twins your Christmas presents. I left them in the motorcar so you could help me carry them in. But you were so upset over Ian I decided it wasn’t a good time. So I came back later. You weren’t there. I went looking for you and you were having some kind of argument in the library with one of the maids. So I gave up. I decided to wait until Christmas Eve in the hopes you’d be in a better mood, and I left.”
She almost choked on a sob of relief. Before she could say anything, however, Dan spoke again, in a harsh voice that frightened her.
“You thought I’d killed Ian.”
“No, I-”
“Am I that hard to trust? Don’t you know me at all? I thought we had an understanding. Obviously I was wrong.”
Now she let the sob out. “I’m sorry, Dan, but when I found out about the fight you had with Ian, and then you lied about having an accident with the motorcar-”
“I did have an accident with the motorcar. It was my fault. I was still fuming about Ian and wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t tell you that or about the fight in case you blamed yourself. I didn’t want to upset you.”
She held out a trembling hand to him. “Dan, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“I didn’t lie to you, Gertie. I might have left something out, but I didn’t lie to you. I thought you knew me better than that.”
“I do, but-”
“I think it’s time I left.” He turned and started up the stairs.
“Dan!”
Pausing at the top, he looked back at her. His face was lost in the shadows, but there was no mistaking the hurt and resentment in his voice. “You need to have more faith in the people you know. I never once doubted you, even though just about everyone thinks you killed Ian Rossiter.”
Her cry of anguish was smothered by the slamming of the door. Sinking onto the bottom step, she buried her face in her apron and sobbed.
CHAPTER 18
Cecily had spent most of the midday meal wrestling with her thoughts, and Baxter was noticeably put out as they left the dining room.
“I understand your eagerness to find out who killed Ian Rossiter,” he said, as they approached the stairs. “But I simply must object to the quest taking up your complete attention. I thoroughly dislike having to eat in total silence while watching you dissect every piece of information you might have come across. You used to discuss your thoughts with me. Am I no longer worthy of an opinion?”
Instantly filled with remorse, Cecily tucked her hand in his elbow. “I’m sorry, darling. Really. You’re right. I have been far too introspective with this dratted business. I’ll be happy to discuss it all with you once we reach the privacy of our suite.”
To her relief, Baxter seemed immediately pacified. Squeezing her arm, he murmured, “Once we reach the privacy of our suite I can think of something I’d much rather be doing with you.”
She uttered a little gasp of mock horror. “Mr. Baxter, are you suggesting what I think you are suggesting?”
Instead of answering, he looked beyond her, with an odd expression on his face.
Turning her head, she saw one of her most prestigious guests hovering at her side and quite obviously within earshot.
Embarrassed, Cecily withdrew her hand from her husband’s arm. “Good afternoon, Lady Roslyn! Is there something we can do for you?”
The woman’s cheeks were pink as she glanced from Cecily to Baxter then back again. “I… ah… I’m sorry to interrupt you, but I would like a quick word with you, Mrs. Baxter, if you could spare the time?”
“Of course!” Cecily looked up at Baxter, disconcerted to see his eyes twinkling with humor. “Go on up, dear. I’ll join you in a moment.”
Baxter nodded, gave Lady Roslyn a slight bow of his head, then quickly climbed the stairs, out of sight.
Cecily smiled at her uneasy guest. “Would you like to come to my office?”
“Oh, no.” Lady Roslyn dug into her handbag for a handkerchief and delicately dabbed her forehead. “I won’t keep you but a moment. I didn’t want to say anything until I was certain, but there’s no doubt in my mind, so I thought I should report it at once.”
With growing concern, Cecily drew the woman away from the stairs and closer to the Christmas tree in the corner. She had a nasty feeling she wasn’t going to like what her guest had to say. “What is it you need to report? Is something wrong with your room?”
“Oh, no, not at all.” Lady Roslyn shook her head to emphasize her words. “The room is lovely, quite exquisite. I just adore the eiderdown. Such a lovely shade of pink.”