Free Mulled Murder (Pennyfoot Holiday Mysteries) by Kate Kingsbury Page A

had to be an expert at reading lips. She must remember that next time she talked to him.
    When she entered the library, she saw P.C. Northcott in his usual pose in front of the fireplace, his helmet lying on a chair. A quick glance around assured her that none of the guests were in there, and she greeted the constable as she took a seat on her favorite Queen Anne armchair.
    She leaned back so that the high wings on either side would keep the draft from her face. “Well, Sam,” she said, folding her hands in her lap to warm them, “what news do you have for me today?”
    “We’ve discovered the h’identity of the victim, Mrs. B.” Sam scratched the bald spot on his head. “Bit of a puzzle, if you ask me.”
    Cecily felt a faint stir of anxiety. “A puzzle?”
    “Yes, m’m. You see, we found out that Gerald Evans was a private detective.”
    She frowned. “A detective? I wonder what he was doing in Badgers End.”
    “Well, m’m, I think it’s safe to assume he was either here on holiday, or he was working on a case.”
    Her anxiety deepened. Evans proclaimed to have switched hotels because he was dissatisfied with his room. Had there been a more significant reason why a private detective, perhaps investigating a crime, had taken a room at the Pennyfoot?
    “That brings up another possibility,” Northcott was saying. “It’s possible that Evans was investigating a case, and got too close to the perpetrators.”
    The nasty feeling in the pit of Cecily’s stomach intensified. “I thought you had established that he was robbed and killed by a vagrant.”
    “That was before we knew he was a detective. Evans had a partnership in London. I sent a telegram to his partner, a chap called Harry Clements, but I haven’t heard anything from him yet. He could be away for the Christmas holiday, of course, in which case, he won’t know his partner’s dead until the New Year.”
    “I see.” Cecily stared into the flames, trying desperately to think of a way to stall an investigation until after the holidays. “Well, I suppose you will just have to wait to find out what Mr. Evans was working on.”
    “Yes, m’m. We will.” Sam cleared his throat. “I h’investigated the cricket matches in the area. Seems as how there are none. Haven’t been any since September. It looks like that’s a dead end. The victim must have written that note to hisself back in the summer and just now got rid of it.”
    Cecily nodded. “That’s entirely possible, Sam.”
    “Yes, well, seeing as how it could be a week or two before we hear anything from London, there doesn’t seem much I can do until I talk to the victim’s partner. So I’m going ahead with my plans for the Christmas holiday. In which case, I’m putting in my report that the murder was most likely caused by a vagrant, seeing as how we really don’t know that it wasn’t. I’ll be leaving for London tomorrow, and when I return, I’ll take up the case again.”
    Feeling greatly relieved herself, Cecily rose to her feet. “I hope you and your family have a really nice Christmas, Sam. Thank you so much for coming to tell me all this.”
    “Yes, m’m.” Sam reached for his helmet. “It doesn’t seem as how this has anything to do with the Pennyfoot Country Club, but if you should hear something important, I trust you will let me know?”
    “Of course, Sam.” She walked with him to the door. “Happy Christmas.”
    “Happy Christmas to you and yours, m’m.”
    She closed the door behind him and leaned against it for a moment in sheer relief. So far, it seemed, she had avoided a full-scale investigation. But for how long? If the inspector got wind of the murder, and found out the victim was a detective staying at the Pennyfoot, there was no doubt in her mind that he’d arrive at the club with the intention of questioning everyone there, disrupting all her carefully planned events, and ruining everyone’s Christmas. Not to mention Pansy’s wedding.
    There was