Fifteen Sixteen Maids In The Kitchen: A Grasshopper Lawns whodunit Page 7

  ‘Your dogs? Fine old labby, aren’t you, boy? I can’t be doing with whippets. At least that one doesn’t quiver. Wonderful house. Wonderful! Are we going straight in or do we have to wait for the others?’

  ‘We should probably wait,’ Edge said apologetically and Martha Smith nodded again.

  ‘I’m dying to pee but I can hang on a bit. Odd bunch you’ve invited. That woman,’ she jerked her head towards Kkkitty Catt, who was mincing cautiously towards the house, her bosom cradled on Donald’s supporting arm, ‘writes smutty books. Did you know? Smut! In surroundings like this! Why?’

  Kkkitty Catt stiffened mid-step, and Donald urged her on. Vivian, smiling in welcome, had appeared under the portico and Stuart, unexpectedly smart in a blazer and his flat cap, stepped round her hastily to go to Donald’s aid.

  ‘I gather she wants a horror setting for the next one.’ Edge avoided meeting William’s laughing eyes over Martha Smith’s head.

  Grant Pearson, the next to emerge from the taxi, was also grinning — Martha had a carrying voice. He slapped William on the shoulder and crossed to Edge, bending to kiss her on both cheeks. He was dressed for cold weather in a wonderfully aged tweed jacket and a deerstalker on his balding head. His deep tan looked incongruous in the winter clothing but to someone newly arrived from Tenerife the cooling afternoon, with a sharp pre-storm wind stirring a few early fallen leaves, probably did feel cold.

  ‘Never thought we’d be meeting again this soon, did we? Great to see you, Edge. Marvellous house, all it needs is ravens. Those clouds! Perfect uncanny light.’

  ‘I said exactly that when I first saw it! Well, the ravens bit. And Donald has been working miracles with uncanny light inside. I hope you both signed your indemnity forms, it really does have some heart-stopping stuff.’ She looked past him to smile automatically as a half-familiar woman joined them.

  ‘We’re all hoping for heart-stopping terrors. I’m Diane Bagger. DJ Bagger. I know you, you’re Edge Cameron, is that right? We met once, briefly, when you were still on the Several Seasons production team. You’re looking very well.’

  ‘So are you,’ Edge said honestly. She remembered the writer now, although she hadn’t recognized her name on the house plan. In her early forties, Diane was, in her opinion, far more attractive than Kkkitty Catt would ever be: a slender brunette with flawless skin, large brown eyes and a tragic mouth. The two women smiled at each other as they shook hands, then Diane turned gracefully back towards the minibus as the taxi driver bent to the baggage door and the last passenger emerged.

  Edge bit her lip again. This had to be Aubrey Jellicoe, who couldn’t, according to Stuart, write a convincing sex scene. He certainly looked the part of a writer, with a large soft-brimmed dark hat twisted up on one side to show flowing black-and-silver hair, and a sweeping cape which he flung back over one shoulder as he in turn stared up at the house. A last shaft of late afternoon sunshine lit the façade, then was abruptly extinguished by the heavy clouds.

  ‘Magnificent. My dear sir, magnificent!’ His voice was beautifully modulated, tinged with Irish, and it was hard to judge his age. Perhaps late forties? His skin was firm, apart from deep creases from his commanding nose to the corners of his mouth, and what could be a weak chin was hidden beneath a black goatee with a single streak of silver. He brought his gaze down from the house to study Edge, then strode forward to claim her free hand and bend over it with a flourish. ‘A Scottish autumn rose! Lovely!’

  Martha Smith snorted audibly. Jellicoe, completely unfazed, switched his smile to her. ‘Beautiful talented women everywhere I look. This will be an inspirational week, I think. Do you not feel your creative juices surging already, dear lady?’

  ‘All I feel surging is the need for a lavatory,’ she returned tartly. ‘And then a large cup of coffee. Lead on, Mrs Cameron, if you please!’

  Edge couldn’t resist a last fascinated look at Aubrey Jellicoe as she turned for the house, and caught him exchanging a quick glance with Diane Bagger. There was a kind of wary appeal in his: she looked, if anything, more remote than ever and turned away towards William. So they knew each other — Edge fervently hoped there wouldn’t be difficult undercurrents in the week ahead.

  The first fat drops of rain splatted warningly onto the gravel and they all hurried inside to be formally introduced to each other.

  Alec

  He was feeling sick and shaky with reaction by the time he reached his room. The oddity that is English behaviour, in which people don’t speak until introduced, had given him the time to absorb the shock, collect himself before introductions finally started. He had smiled, said polite inanities, shaken hands and smiled again, for what had seemed an eternity. When, how, why, had Jeanette wangled herself into the group? Even through his shock he’d had to admire her outrageous cheek in masquerading as such a well-known writer. The one good thing was that she couldn’t expose him without being exposed instantly in return. She’d known that, of course, and reacted from the first as though to a complete stranger. Hard to come back from that, she could hardly out him now.

  He tossed his hat onto the chair, threw himself back on the bed and put his hands over his eyes, his head aching fiercely. Think! He’d relied completely on no-one knowing him as Alec. To be unmasked, accused – how bad would it really be? He winced. Bad. Catastrophic, on some levels, if she spoke up: but she’d had the chance, and let it go. As his hammering pulse quietened, he realized if she would stay quiet, all would be well. If she was prepared to join forces in the search . . . He groaned. The search, of course. She was looking for the treasure herself. Greedy, selfish – his fists tightened. But no, he mustn’t let himself even think that, it would show. She had to be played carefully, but how? He’d instinctively gone with appreciative glances since she demanded that of all men anyway. Dance attendance? Admire from a distance? Stay aloof? She had entered the game and he would take his cues from her: respond if she was friendly, keep a deferential distance if she wasn’t.

  He breathed in deeply. Calm. Stay calm. Stay focused. There was everything to play for, and nothing, nothing, to be gained from losing his disastrous temper. If only this headache would go away, let him think. . .

  Last arrivals

  Zoe Black’s arrival in a mud-spattered classic old Jeep, soon after the heavens opened, added yet another element to what Edge was finding an unexpectedly tense atmosphere. She was bone thin and dressed like a model, with flawless Goth makeup. She swept the group with a scornful glance as if she couldn’t believe she’d signed up with such a dreary bunch, and cut William short in her crisp English accent as he started introductions.

  ‘No need, I never remember names.’ She took a packet of cigarettes from her handbag, delicately removed one with her impossibly long nails and put it to her darkened lips, glancing around as though waiting for someone to jump forward with an eager lighter. Vivian, an ex-smoker who still suffered pangs, stiffened, and Stuart hurriedly invited Zoe through to the library, which had been designated the smoking room. Kkkitty Catt, who had only reluctantly relinquished her vice-like grip on Donald, stared after them with her heavy-lidded sultry eyes, obviously disapproving of any man leaving her orbit with another woman. She then turned her attention back to Grant, who was hovering attentively. Martha Smith had obviously decided it was her role for the week to depress any pretensions Kkkitty Catt may have, and was uttering a stream of marginally offensive comments which were, so far, being determinedly ignored. The desultory conversations interrupted by Zoe’s arrival trickled back until the smokers reappeared and William, looking slightly harassed, called for attention in his stentorian voice.

  ‘There are a few things we’ve put in place to minimise the danger. Well, not perhaps danger, but definately inconvenience. You’ve all signed your indemnity forms and you all know roughly what to expect, but we have no idea what this house could have in store for us. I have panic buttons for each of you, and you are to wear them all the time, even in your sleep, and keep them whe
re you can reach them when you are in the bath or shower. There are slides, drop traps, hidden rooms that seal themselves, and those are the ones we know about. There’s are house plans on the wall in the kitchen, and as you spot stuff you write it on the board, red for illusions and black for mechanical, then tell Stuart, okay?’

  He pointed at the land agent, who coughed and looked embarrassed as they all looked at him.

  ‘Stuart is representing the estate and he drew up the schematics. He’s also got them on his laptop, so whatever you report to him he’ll update there and then. The house plan shows who is sleeping where and, for safety’s sake, we ask you to keep tabs on the guests in the rooms either side of you. The end rooms, you keep tabs on each other. If the alarm is sounded and you can't see one of your two, let us know instantly. Diane is in the far left room, then Kkkitty,’ he pointed to each in turn, ‘then Zoe, then Martha. Grant is next to them, then Aubrey. The corner room is Kirsty and Drew, who haven’t arrived yet. Stuart is next to the bathroom, and there’s a bathroom at each end. If a panic button sounds, get into the passage and, if necessary, head here to the hall. If the fire alarm sounds, that’s different: head straight out to the fountain in the driveway. In both cases look out for the people either side of you and sing out if you can't see one of them. Get into the habit of looking out for them at all times. Believe me, if you fall into a trap, you will want to know you’ll be found as fast as possible.’

  Donald managed to work his way back to Edge without being intercepted by Kkkitty Catt while William sounded both alarms so the guests would know the difference, then went on to explain how to use the panic buttons. He bent his head to murmur in her ear, ‘I wouldn't count on some of them to lift a finger. Just me, or are you picking up some underlying hostility?’

  She nodded ruefully and squeezed his hand before following Vivian through to the kitchen to get supper ready. They’d decided to keep the first night casual and serve it in the kitchen around the big table, as some of the company had been travelling most of the day. Stuart slipped away to join them and brushed off their protests that he was a guest.

  ‘Don’t send me back to that lot, they’re the most terrifying bunch I’ve ever seen. That Zoe creature could be part of Donald’s décor. I loathe skinny women. She obviously hasn’t eaten for six years and will demand a glass of chilled blood so she can sip it, looking faintly disgusted, while we eat.’

  Even Edge laughed at that, warming to him, and he was quick and deft helping Vivian with the serving dishes, leaving her free to lay the table.

  ‘It all smells wonderful. What’s this?’ He ran a serving spoon through the first chafing dish, turning over the thick creamy contents.

  Vivian stood back to check the display with a critical eye. ‘Chicken à la King in that one, nice safe choice, most people like chicken. Rice in the middle one and for those who don’t like chicken, although no-one specified special diet, there’s a broccoli and cauliflower cheese option which can be veg for everyone else. Rolls, butter, cheese, biscuits, with figs and grapes for afters, or ice-cream with chocolate sauce. All easy stuff for the first night. We’ll get a little fancier for the rest of the week.’

  ‘I’ll gain pounds,’ he said cheerfully, patting his middle complacently, and she laughed at him.

  ‘You could do with fattening up,’ she teased. ‘What would you eat for supper normally?’

  ‘Nothing as good as this. Is it my imagination or is there a bit of an atmosphere out there? I’d have thought the whole writing community were best buddies.’

  ‘Maybe by the end of the week they will be.’ Vivian, ever the optimist, laughed as both Edge and Stuart snorted in unison. ‘Well, when in doubt head for Grant. He’s a very nice man. Or, since you don’t like skinny women, the Catt woman. You seemed very taken with her.’

  He grinned. ‘She’s something, isn’t she? I double, no, triple dare you to throw some white pepper in the air at supper. If she sneezes, that dress will explode.’

  ***

  The indefinable friction between the guests intensified, if anything, over the kitchen supper. Neither Aubrey nor Diane said a word, and Zoe’s lip curled further every time Kkkitty opened her mouth to utter another inanity in her breathy voice. Since Martha promptly talked over her, even Grant and Stuart, manfully trying to carry conversation, were struggling. Donald looked sardonic, William, usually a genial host, was abstracted, and even Vivian, after Zoe had turned the sneer on her few conversational attempts, confined herself to making sure everyone had enough to eat. By the time they left the table to head back to the hall Edge’s shoulders were aching with tension and she had a dull headache which was refusing to respond to the two aspirin she had hurriedly swallowed.

  She wasn’t the only one: Aubrey, looking strained, had just quietly told her he was heading up to his room for a ten-minute rest to see if he could shake his migraine when Kirsty and her fiancé Drew McKenzie arrived, peeling off their outer layers to leave them streaming in the vestibule.

  Edge patted Aubrey sympathetically on the arm and excused herself to hurry over, suppressing the sudden impulse to fall on her niece’s neck. Kirsty, pink-cheeked, breathless and her abundant red hair darkened by the rain, was an uncomplicated gust of freshness, and Drew’s mischievous grin was unquenchable as he looked round, including them all in laughing greeting.

  ‘Sorry we’re so late, what have we missed? That gully of yours is a complete water-race, William. You’ll need to pull Kirsty’s car out for tomorrow morning. It’s stuck up to the axles in wet gravel and blocking the tunnel completely. We had to abandon it and walk the rest of the way. Well, run. Hotly pursued by a bampot stag!’

  He flicked water out of his hair with his fingers, then pointed at the nearest stag head. ‘Okay, now I understand why. What is this place, an abattoir?’

  Kirsty flinched as the stag head twitched an ear at them. ‘Creepy! We have to change out of our wet things and please, please could I have something hot to drink when we’ve changed?’

  ‘I’ll show you your room.’ Edge kissed her in grateful greeting. ‘I’m so glad you’re here, I was getting worried. You’re soaked, are you frozen?’

  Drew picked up the one of the cases he’d put by his feet. ‘We’re wearing layers under our layers, and have more layers here. Lead on, MacDuff!’

  Edge laughed and started up the creaking staircase, Kirsty almost tripping as she tried to look at everything at once and Drew bringing up the rear with both bags.

  ‘I really am so glad you’re here,’ she repeated as she opened the door to their room, and dropped her voice. ‘You could cut the atmosphere with a knife, and I have no idea why! Half the people here seem to hate the other half.’

  ‘Oh, hell. Did you know they all knew each other?’ Kirsty hauled her jersey over her head, picked up the towel placed on the chaise longue at the foot of the bed and rubbed her hair vigorously while Drew slung her case on the bed, collected another towel and headed towards the door with his suitcase.

  ‘I’ll change in the bathroom, leave you two to catch up. Which is the bathroom?’

  ‘There’s one either end, take your pick, the closest one has a trick slide in it but Donald swears it’s safe, he’s tested it! I’d have put you next to it, but this is the biggest room.’

  ‘It’s lovely.’ Kirsty emerged from her towel and opened her suitcase, rapidly selecting a cotton blouse and a pullover and dressing hastily. ‘I’m slightly disappointed not to have a four-poster, mind.’

  ‘Be grateful you have a new mattress! No, no-one is admitting to knowing anyone, which makes it worse. Some definitely do, I can feel it, but not a word is said. And darling, I have to warn you to be ready for anything in this room. Donald hasn’t worked out what its trap is.’

  Kirsty nodded, bright-eyed, and wriggled into slacks. ‘I suppose we missed supper, but I’m pure starving so I hope there’s a pantry we can raid. I ken we can't rope William in to rescue my car until this rain stops. I hope it does before we h
ead to bed, or we’ll have to root him out early tomorrow so we can get to work. I doubt he’ll be impressed. We are the last to arrive, right?’

  Drew reappeared, looking awed. ‘I went to the far one, and there’s a plant that tried to talk to me,’ he reported. ‘Plucked at my arm in the most human way you can imagine. I like this house. Will you show us round?’

  Edge nodded. ‘There’s a big house plan in the kitchen. In theory you’re supposed to mark everything you spot on it so others don’t get caught, but Donald’s set his heart on that wretched triffid scaring someone half to death in the wee small hours. There’s a matching one downstairs. There’s not that much to see, it’s really just a large shooting lodge, but of course I’ll show you round. Oh, and for safety’s sake, if the alarms go off, you, Kirsty, are looking round for us and Stuart, who is in the room next to the bathroom, and he’s looking for us. The writers are watching each other. William hired panic buttons for everyone to wear at all times. We’re trying to minimise the danger factor.’

  She gestured along the open mezzanine as they left the room.

  ‘There’s a service staircase along near the corner which opens into the passage next to the library, if there is a fire and the other staircase is affected. It’s a bit narrow and nasty, barely half as wide, and also goes up to what was once servant rooms in the attic, but those are completely locked off now. Still, everyone knows about them. Not that this place could burn, it is way too damp.’ She led the way down the stairs towards the kitchen. ‘I know Vivian left some food in the warm drawer in case you hadn’t eaten, so serve yourselves while I collect your panic buttons from William. That urn has boiling water, and the huge tin has biscuits.’

  She hurried along the archway corridor and flinched as the downstairs plant swivelled to watch her. Drew was right, it did look as if it wanted to talk to her, but she gave it a wide berth, found William, and returned to the kitchen with the panic buttons. Kirsty and Drew were sitting at the big table clearing their plates with good appetite.