PH02 - Do Not Disturb by Kate Kingsbury Page B

madam.”

    She frowned at him, irritated by his stubbornness. “Very well, have it your way.” She reached for the kettle and poured the boiling water on the leaves. “Would you care for a biscuit? I know Mrs. Chubb keeps some in that blue tin over there.”
    “Thank you, madam, but I ate a large Cornish pastie and two Scotch eggs. I think that is sufficient for one night.”
    “Yes, indeed.” She crossed to the larder and found the jug of milk. Carrying it back to the table, she asked, “So tell me, what did you find out at the George? Had Colin Bickley visited there last night?”
    “Yes, madam. According to Mr. Scroggins, the proprietor, Mr. Bickley arrived there shortly after eight o’clock and left there at half past ten.”
    “And did he have anything to eat there?”
    “Mr. Scroggins didn’t say. He was offended that I asked, and stated quite emphatically that many people had eaten at his establishment last night, and all were healthy today.”
    “That’s as may be,” Cecily said, pouring milk into two bone china cups, “but then the same can be said of Madeline’s dinner, since she is also healthy.”
    She looked up when Baxter didn’t answer, and found him watching her with an anxious expression on his face. “What is it?” she said sharply.
    “Have you asked Miss Pengrath if she sold a potion to Mr. Bickley?”
    Cecily thumped the jug on the table. “No, I haven’t. But I’m seeing her in the morning and I’ll ask her then. I must admit, the possibility of it worries me.”
    She lifted the lid from the sugar bowl and picked out two lumps with the silver tongs. Plopping them into the milk one at a time, she added, “There’s something else, isn’t there, Baxter?”
    “Yes, madam.”
    “Perhaps you’d better tell me.”
    “I’m afraid there was some trouble at the George and Dragon last night.”
    Cecily filled the cups with tea, trying to ignore theominous fluttering in her stomach. She set the teapot down, then picked up the cup and saucer. “Trouble?”
    “Yes, madam. There was a violent argument, which ended in a fight.”
    “Mr. Bickley?” She walked toward Baxter and handed him the tea.
    “Yes, madam. According to Mr. Scroggins, shortly before he died, Mr. Bickley had been fighting with Ian Rossiter.”
    Cecily stared at him in consternation. “Ian? Surely not. Does anyone know why?”
    “No one I talked to seemed to know.” He took the cup and saucer from her. “Thank you, madam.”
    “It could have been something to do with Ian’s job. But how foolish of him to fight with his boss. I thought he had more sense man that.”
    Cecily returned to the table and picked up her own tea. “I must say I am astonished to hear this news. I know Ian has a quick temper, but in all the time he has worked here at the hotel, I have never known him to engage in a common brawl. I wonder what came over him.”
    “Whatever the reason, it was considerably ill-timed, given what happened later.”
    “Yes, I see what you mean.” Cecily sat down on a kitchen chair and sipped at her tea. “It’s inconceivable to think that Ian would be capable of murder.”
    “He might not have intended it to be murder. He might have simply intended to make the man very uncomfortable.”
    “By deliberately poisoning him?” Cecily shuddered. “I find that impossible to believe.”
    Baxter stretched up his chin and ran a finger around his stiff collar. “I have to agree with you, madam, I cannot bring myself to believe that Ian is capable of such a dreadful deed. I am merely pointing out the suspicions that are bound to arise from the incident.”
    “Yes,” Cecily said slowly. “It would appear that Madeline is not the only person to worry about.” First thing tomorrow,she promised herself, she would ask Madeline about the potion.
    The wind got up in the night, howling down the chimneys and rattling the windows in its fury. Cecily lay listening to the rain driving against the leaded windowpanes,