Then Chester Heavens led me back along the corridor to the kitchen and pantry area. I had thought the kitchen in the Stonehouse apartment was large; this one was tremendous, with a floor area that must have measured 15 x 25 feet. It looked like a hotel or restaurant kitchen, with stainless steel fixtures and appliances, and utensils of copper and cast iron hanging from overhead racks.
There were four doors leading from the kitchen. One was the entrance from the corridor which we used. A swinging door led to the dining room. A rear door, glass panelled, allowed access to the patio. The fourth door was heavily bolted and chained, and had a peephole. Chester told me it opened on to the alleyway and was used for deliveries.
'Mrs Neckin is off today,' the butler said in his soft voice, 'but perhaps you would care to meet the other member of our staff.'
He led the way into the pantry. It was large enough to accommodate a square oak table and four high-backed oak chairs. Seated in one of the chairs, leafing idly through the afternoon Post, was a vibrant young lady who looked up pertly as we entered.
'Mr Bigg,' Chester said formally, 'may I present our maid, Miss Perdita Schug. Perdita, this gentleman is Mr Joshua Bigg. Stand up, girl, when you're meeting a guest of this house.'
She rose lazily to her feet, smiling at me.
'How do you do, Miss Schug,' I said.
'I do all right,' she said saucily. 'And you can call me Perdita. Everyone else does. Except Chester here, and I won't tell you what he calls me!'
He looked at her with the first emotion I had seen him exhibit — disgust.
'Watch your tongue, girl,' he said wrathfully, and in reply she stuck out her tongue at him.
He turned away. I nodded at Perdita, smiling, and started to follow the butler. Then a buzzer sounded and I 123
heard a sharp click. Chester looked up at the monitor mounted on the wall. It had two rows of indicators in a glass case. When a servant was summoned from anywhere in the house, the monitor buzzed and an indicator clicked up to show a white square. A label was pasted on the glass above each square showing in which room the button had been pushed. I counted the labels. Thirty-two.
'They'll want their tea now, I expect,' Chester said.
'Excuse me a moment, Mr Bigg. Get the tray ready, Perdita.'
I was standing in the pantry entrance. There was plenty of room, but Perdita brushed closely by.
'Pardon me,' she said blithely, 'but duty calls.'
She took a plate from the refrigerator and whisked away the damp cloth covering it. The sandwiches were crustless and about the size of postage stamps. She put the plate on a dolly on a large silver serving tray, then added a silver teapot, china cups and saucers, spoons, silver creamer and sugar bowl. She turned the light up under a teakettle on the range and, while the water was coming to a boil, dumped four teaspoons of tea into the pot, making no effort to measure it exactly. All her movements were deft and sure.
Chester returned and examined the tray.
'Napkins,' he snapped.
Perdita opened the cupboard and added two small, pink linen napkins to the tray.
'Mr Bigg,' the butler said to me, 'Mrs Kipper asked if you were still in the house, and when I said you were, she requested that I inquire if you would care for a cup of tea or coffee.'
'That's very kind of her,' I said. 'Coffee would be fine.
If it isn't too much trouble.'
'No trouble, sah,' he assured me. 'Perdita, make enough for all of us. I'll be back as soon as I've served.'
The copper kettle was steaming now, and the butler filled the teapot. Then he lifted the tray up before him with 124
both hands. He had to carry it extended at some distance; his stomach intruded. He moved down the corridor at a stately pace.
Perdita was no more than an inch or two taller than I. A dark, flashing button of a woman. Shiny black hair cut as short and impudently as a flapper's. Sparkling eyes. Her long tongue kept darting between small white teeth and wet lips. I watched her as she assembled our belowstairs treat.
She was formed like a miniature Venus. Almost as plump as that marble Cupid in the entrance hall. Creamy skin. In a steamy fantasy, I saw her wearing an abbreviated satin skirt, tiny lace apron and cap, pumps, a shocking decolletage — the classic French maid from the pages of La Vie Parisienne. She frightened me with her animal energy, but I was attracted to her.
She came into the pantry bringing a plate of macaroons.
She fell into the chair across the table from me. She put an elbow on the tabletop, cupped her chin in a palm. She stared at me, eyes glittering.
'You're cute,' she said.
'Thank you, Perdita,' I said, trying to laugh. 'You're very kind.'
'I am not kind,' she protested. 'I'm just telling you the truth. I always say what I feel — straight out. Don't you?'
' W e l l. . not always,' I said judiciously. 'Sometimes that's difficult to do without hurting people.'
'What do you think of me — straight out?'
I was rescued by the return of Chester Heavens. He sat down heavily at the oak table. He ate three macaroons swiftly: one, two, three.
'The coffee is ready,' he said. 'Perdita, will you do the honours?'
She rose, passed behind his chair. She stroked the back of his sleekly combed hair. He reached up to knock her hand away, but she was already in the kitchen.
'Please excuse the girl, sah,' he said to me. 'She has a certain wildness of spirit.'
Perdita returned with the percolator and we sat having our coffee and macaroons. I wondered how to bring them around to a discussion of Sol Kipper's plunge.
'Sad times, sah,' Chester said, wagging his big head dolefully. 'Mr Kipper was the best of marsters.'
'A doll,' Perdita said.
'It was a tragedy,' I said. 'I don't know the details, but it must have been very distressing to all of you.'
Then they started reliving those horror-filled moments beginning when they heard the crash and thump on the patio. What they told I had already learned from Percy Stilton. Like him, I was convinced they were telling as much of the truth as they knew.
'And there were only the four of you in the house when it happened?' I asked.
'Five, sah,' Chester said. 'Counting poor Mr Kipper.'
'The janitor wasn't here then?'
'Oh no, sah. It was in the afternoon. He comes only in the morning.'
'Terrible,' I said. 'What an awful experience. And Mrs Kipper fainted, you say?'
'Just fell away,' Perdita said, nodding. 'Just crumpled right up. And Mrs Neckin started screeching.'
'Weeping, girl,' the butler said reprovingly.
'Whatever,' the maid said. 'She was making enough noise.'
'You all must have been terribly upset,' I said, 'when you heard the noise, rushed out, and saw him.'
The butler sighed.
'A bad few moments, sah,' he said. 'Girl, are there more macaroons? If not, there is a pecan ring. Bring that. Yes, sah, it was a bad few moments. The marster was dead, Mrs Kipper had fainted, Mrs Neckin was wailing — it was a trouble to know what to do.'
'But then the Reverend Knurr rang the bell?' I prompted.
'Exactly, sah. That gentleman waiting outside was our salvation. He took charge, Mr Bigg. Called the police department, revived Mrs Kipper, moved us all into the sitting room and served us brandy. I don't know what we would have done without him.'
'He seems very capable,' I said, my attention wandering because Perdita had brought the pecan ring to the table.
She was standing next to me, cutting it into wedges. Her soft hip was pressed against my arm.
'He is that, sah,' Chester said, selecting the wedge with the most pecans on top and shoving it into his mouth. 'A fine gentleman.'
'Oh fine,' Perdita said, giggling. 'Just fine!'