Death at the Theatre: Miss Hart and Miss Hunter Investigate: Book 2 by Celina Grace

next have a night off?” she asked.
    I thought about it. “On Tuesday. Why?”
    “Fancy going to the theatre again?”
    I looked at her, feeling a thump of both excitement and anxiety. “The theatre? You mean, to see Tommy’s play again?”
    Verity nodded. “He promised me tickets. And, we can go backstage afterwards. You know. Talk to people.”
    The excitement was there and sharper now. I wanted to talk to people, to all the stage hands and the actors and the people who’d been there on the night of the murder. “That would be wonderful,” I murmured, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m sure it’ll be fine but I’ll check with Mrs Watling.”
    “Good.” Verity took care of the last forkful of stew on her plate and then daintily wiped her mouth with the rough napkins we used below stairs. She jerked her head up to the ceiling. “What do you think they’re talking about, up there?”
    I knew exactly who she meant. So Verity had been puzzling over it too? “I don’t know,” I said, reluctantly. And then, because I had to know, I leant a little closer and whispered, “Dorothy’s not – not interested in the inspector, is she?”
    Verity laughed. “I doubt it. Dorothy might like to dabble with men of a different class but she’d hardly go so low as a policeman. Come on, Joan.”
    I sat back, feeling unaccountably relieved. “Well, that’s what I thought too, to be honest.”
    Verity pushed her chair back, shaking her head. “Want me to help you clear up? Haven’t you got the pudding to do?”
    I got up too, thankful that at least I had that under control. “All done and waiting to be taken up. If you could wipe the kitchen table down for me, that would be wonderful.”
    “Consider it done.”
     
    Gradually the servants’ hall emptied of staff until there was only Doris, Verity and me left. I left Doris to get on with the washing up in the scullery and got Andrew to take the coffee and cheeseboard up to the dining room. Almost over… Wearily, I began hanging up the copper pans and putting the washed utensils away.
    The dining room bell jangled, and both Verity and I looked up in surprise. “I’ll go,” she said, getting to her feet with a groan. Nodding, I waved a tired hand at her as she left the room.
    I helped Doris with the last of the washing up and then sent her up to her room at the top of the house, which she shared with Nancy. I was expecting Mrs Watling back at any moment – it was past eleven o’clock. What were the chances of Dorothy and Inspector Marks wanting any more refreshments? I wavered for a moment and then re-filled the kettle, just in case they decided to go on chatting into the night.
    There was a clearing of a masculine throat behind me that made me jump. I turned around to find  Inspector Marks was standing in the doorway of the kitchen.
    “Sorry to startle you, Miss Hart,” he said cheerfully, coming in. I was suddenly very conscious of my dirty apron and the strands of hair that had escaped from my cap and had plastered themselves to my forehead as I had stood, sweating, over the stove. “I just wanted to come down and thank you for a really excellent dinner.”
    I smiled. “It was my pleasure, sir. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
    “I haven’t enjoyed a meal like that in a long time. The beef was done to perfection.” I was feeling rather hot by now, under such praise. The inspector stood for a moment, looking about him. I don’t suppose he got to go into many kitchens during his usual working day.
    There was a slightly awkward silence then. I could hear the faint clangs of expanding metal as the kettle began to heat up on the gas.
    “Can I bring you anything else, sir?” I asked.
    The inspector looked at the kettle. “Well, if you’re not too tired, I wouldn’t say no to a cup of tea.”
    “Oh, certainly.” I began to worry about where the good cups were. “Would her ladyship like a tray sent up?”
    “No, I meant, I’d quite like to have a cup