A Death at Dinner: An amateur sleuth murder mystery (A Mary Blake Mystery Book 2) Read online

  “Now Mary, I realise you must be wondering why I invited you here all of a sudden.”

  “It had crossed my mind, yes.”

  He smiled nervously and then looked around as though checking no one else was in earshot. “I don’t like beating about the bush,” he continued in a low voice, “much rather get it out in the open and get on with it.”

  “Right…” Mary said slowly, wondering where on earth this was going.

  “The thing is,” he looked around again, “it seems I’m being blackmailed.”

  “Blackmailed?!”

  “Shh!” he cried, waving his hands at her in a panic as his eyes darted around the large room. “Please, be discreet!”

  “I’m sorry,” Mary continued in a whisper, leaning forward in her chair, “but you took me by surprise there. What do you mean blackmailed?”

  “I mean what I say! Someone’s been sending me threatening notes, I received another one just this morning!”

  “What are they threatening you with?”

  His face flushed a deeper crimson than it already was. “I couldn’t tell you,” he said rather gruffly. “They claim to know some secret about me, but that’s not important, what is important is finding out who’s sending them.”

  “Well, have you gone to the police?”

  “Good lord, no! In this town, that would be as good as advertising it to the world! I love the place, but it is home to the most terrible gossips.”

  Now that the initial surprise was wearing off, Mary had a sudden sinking feeling that she knew where this was headed.

  “And why does this have anything to do with me?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Well, I saw what you did with that murder recently and I thought you might be just the person to help me out, you know, do a little investigating. After all, an old family friend and all that, easy for you to hang around the place for a while and see what you can make of it, eh?”

  Mary opened her mouth to say that the man was an idiot. That he should stop worrying about his reputation and go straight to the police rather than putting his faith in an actress who had merely played the role of a detective rather than being one. Instead, though, she realised with a jolt that the feeling that had been growing in the pit of her stomach from the moment Spencer has said the word blackmail wasn’t one of fear or worry—it was one of excitement. When she did finally speak, she surprised herself.

  “I will do my best to help, but you’ll need to show me the notes and tell me everything you know and let me know of anyone you suspect.”

  “Right,” Spencer said, blinking. “Well, now that that’s out of the way, I’ll let you get settled.” He rose from his chair and gestured with his hand towards the reception desk. “I’ll see you and your friends at the bar in an hour, shall I?”

  “Of course,” Mary said, trying not to show her disappointment that she wasn’t going to find out more right there and then. She moved away towards the desk with her mind racing.

  Chapter Three

  “Blackmail?” Pea said, his mouth gaping.

  “That’s what he said,” Mary answered as she pushed in her earrings. “He invited me here to look into it.”

  “Who does he think we are?” Dot asked in an incredulous tone, “The Scooby-Doo gang or something?!”

  “Look,” Mary said, turning to them. “I told him he should go to the police, but he said he doesn’t want to because the whole town is full of gossips. So if he’s not going to go to the authorities, there’s no harm in us having a look, is there?” The two of them looked back at her with somewhat conflicted expressions. “Oh, come on, you two! Have you forgotten how much fun we had when we were running around trying to catch a murderer?! And then when we followed the clues to find the egg, and look how that turned out!”

  “It was the most fun I’ve had in years.” Pea grinned. They both turned to Dot, who sighed and shook her head.

  “You two are going to be the death of me.”

  “So that’s settled then!” Mary said as she sprayed herself with perfume. “We’ll help Spencer look into this blackmail business and see if we can assist.”

  “As long as you promise that if anything seems to be getting serious, we call the police,” Dot said firmly.

  “Yes, Mother,” Mary answered, rolling her eyes. “So, are you two ready?”

  “Well, you only gave us ten minutes before barging into our rooms and dragging us to yours, but yes, I’ll do,” Dot said, smoothing her cardigan down.

  “Come on then, let’s find out what all this is about!” Mary said, bouncing towards the doorway.

  The hotel had an old-world quality to it, but without feeling too dated. Many years ago, the place had been given the kind of rich and opulent decor that didn’t need modernising or updating. Yes, it was a little faded around the edges, but that only seemed to add to the feeling of longstanding quality from a bygone age. The rooms were large and furnished with solid mahogany furniture. The vast central atrium and lobby contained a wide wooden staircase which wound its way up either wall to the five floors above. Mary felt, as she descended, that they could have been in some old Hollywood movie from the twenties where a glamorous actress would undoubtedly find love with some strong and brooding lead. For a brief moment, she found her thoughts drifting to Inspector Joe Corrigan. She had heard nothing from him in the last month or so since their paths had crossed on a murder case, yet something about him lingered in her mind like an itch that needed scratching.

  They moved through the lobby and through an archway that led to a comfortable-looking room. Leather sofas were mixed with more standard table and chairs, and again everything had the aged look of quality. Spencer Harley leaned against the dark wood of the bar and raised his glass to the party.

  “So then, what can I get you all?”

  “Gin and tonic for me,” Mary said, moving towards him, “and I guess these two will have the same?” The others nodded their agreement and Spencer ordered from a young barman with a moustache and goatee arrangement that made him look as though he was a budding amateur magician. He also sported a fresh and very sore-looking black eye. “Right,” Mary said, determined to get down to business as soon as possible. “I’ve filled my gang in, so let’s talk about these letters, shall we?”

  Spencer’s face paled as he looked up sharply at the barman. “Why don’t we go and find a table? Er, James? Could you bring our drinks over when they’re ready? There’s a good chap.”

  The young man nodded silently and continued with his task as Spencer hurried away. They followed him to a quiet corner where two leather sofas faced each other.

  “I’d be grateful if you could be more discreet,” he said, his face ruddy.

  “I’m sorry,” Mary said, looking over her shoulder at the barman on the other side of the room. “So you suspect the barman?”

  “James? Oh, I don’t know about that. I would just like to keep this between us,” he looked at Pea and Dot, “though I see that’s already not possible.”

  “Oh, Dot and Pea are OK,” Mary said dismissively. “Souls of discretion, the both of them. Besides, we come as a team, so if you want our help we’ll need to know everything.”

  The barman, James, appeared with a tray of drinks and they fell silent, only muttering thanks until he had left.

  “So come on,” Mary said eagerly. She turned to Spencer, who was sitting next to her on the sofa and taking a large swig of what she had to admit was excellently mixed gin and tonic. “Let us have it.”

  Spencer looked nervously between them all and cleared his throat. “Well, it all started a couple of months ago when a note was pushed under my door here at the hotel.”

  “You were staying here?” Mary asked.

  “Oh, I have a permanent room. A perk of being part owner.”

  “So I’m guessing you stay here at the hotel a lot?”

  Spencer frowned. “What on earth has that got to do with anything?”

  “If someone
knows enough about you to blackmail you, then they probably know enough to know where you live. It’s not far from here, is it?”

  “No, just a few miles outside of town,” Spencer stuttered, looking pale. He took a large swig of the whiskey that stood before him on the table.

  “So someone knew that you were at your hotel room quite a bit and would find the note,” Mary continued thoughtfully. “Does housekeeping have access to your room?”

  “No.” Spencer shook his head, making his double chin wobble vigorously. “My room is more like a personal flat of mine, quite separate from the hotel. I do allow Daisy in once a week to do a good clean though.”

  “Daisy?” Pea asked.

  “Daisy White, she organises our cleaning staff who are from an external company. She does other things around the place too. The girl is a godsend.” He took another large gulp of whiskey and sighed. “To tell you the truth,” he said, leaning forward, “the hotel doesn’t make a great deal of money other than the restaurant, and we have to have a bit of a skeleton staff. The tourist trade for Parchester isn’t what it used to be, I’m afraid, especially in winter.”

  “OK,” Mary said, “back to the note, what did it say?”

  “Oh nothing in particular,” Spencer said with a dismissive hand gesture. “Just how they knew what I was up to and all that business. Said that they wanted money.”

  “And did they say where you had to send the money? Or leave it somewhere?”

  He frowned again, his head tilting to one side as though deciding something. “No, I don’t think any of them did. Just said they wanted money.”

  “Any of them?” Dot said. “How many have you had?”

  “Oh, I think I’m up to four now,” he sighed again, leaning back in his chair.

  “And are you sure there’s nothing you can think of that gives them cause to think you could be blackmailed?” Mary asked gently. “I mean, they did say they knew what you were up to. What could that relate to?”

  “No, of course not, not a clue what it’s all about. Don’t worry about all that, just find out who’s sending them.” Spencer bridled, but the reddening of his cheeks made Mary think otherwise. She glanced at the others and saw that they were thinking the same. She decided not to push it, for now—maybe they would know more when they saw the notes.

  “So, tell me about your situation,” Mary continued, “do you live with anyone?”

  “No, I live alone.”

  “And where you live, does anyone else have access to it?”

  “I have a cleaning company come once a week, they have a key.”

  Mary turned to ask if someone could take notes but saw that Dot had already pulled a notepad from her handbag and was dutifully jotting things down.

  “We’ll need the name of the cleaning company, you could have left some confidential papers lying around that someone there saw.”

  “Oh no, it’s nothing like that, I’m sure. I don’t keep anything of note outside of my wall safe, and no one sees inside there but me.”

  “So the hotel then,” Mary continued, “you say you’re a part owner—who is your partner?”

  “That would be Roderick Sutton,” Spencer said coldly. “Truth be told I wish I’d never got into business with the fellow, but we are where we are.”

  “Why do you regret it?” Pea asked. “Is the chap not pulling his weight?”

  “Oh, neither of us does much if I’m being honest. We have a hotel manager who takes care of everything, Edward Landry, his name is. No, it’s just Roderick is one of those go-get-’em types, young and ambitious. Persuaded me to go in on this place with him when I didn’t care a jot for the hotel business! Still, he does fuss so, always looking to change things. It’s enough to tire one out just talking with him.”

  “This Edward Landry, what’s he like?”

  “Oh, he’s a fish-faced bore of a man but good at keeping things running smoothly, I have to give him that. Lord knows how he does it. I try to stay out of the whole business. We don’t have much in the way of staff really, we have a couple of young lads from the town we call in if we get busy, which between you and me isn’t very often these days, but other than that it’s mostly all about the restaurant.”

  “And who works there?” Pea asked.

  “Well, there’s Anna of course.” He looked at their blank expressions for a moment before continuing. “Anna Crosby? You haven’t heard of her?”

  “Afraid not.” Mary shrugged apologetically.

  “Well she’s been making quite a name for herself at the restaurant here, we received a Michelin star just two months ago, you know.”

  “Congratulations. So I take it this Anna woman is the head chef?”

  “That’s right, wonderful she is. Then there’s Thomas Mosley and Ruth Faulkner who both work with her, all very talented. I must say it’s all come together very nicely, despite all the problems. We hope that it will lead to things with the hotel itself picking up.”

  “Problems?”

  “Oh, you know, the normal issues when you’re trying to start something up. Refrigerator breaks down, a pipe starts leaking. All costs money and time, but we got through it.”

  Mary took another sip of her gin and tonic and leaned back against the soft leather of the sofa. This didn’t seem to be getting them anywhere. Spencer was being so vague over the blackmail letters that she had the impression he was either lying or genuinely had no idea what he was being threatened with. Either way, his seemingly quiet life lived between his country home and the hotel didn’t seem much cause for intrigue. She was going to have to do some digging without Spencer. If he wasn’t willing to be completely straight with her, maybe the people who knew him would be.

  “Of course,” Spencer continued, “you’ll get to meet everyone tonight at the rehearsal.”

  “Rehearsal? Rehearsal for what?”

  He looked at her in mild surprise. “Why of course, that’s the reason you’re here as far as anybody else knows.”

  Mary, Dot and Pea exchanged blank looks.

  “Didn’t I tell you? Oh, well, tomorrow night is our special Christmas fundraiser for the local hospice. You know the kind of thing, dignitaries from the town, charity auction and all of that business. Of course, there will be a special meal prepared for the occasion and all the proceeds going to the worthy cause. Tonight we’re having a little rehearsal meal for the staff as a kind of end-of-year bash. You’re all welcome tonight of course, but tomorrow, you, Mary, will be the guest of honour!”

  “Oh,” Mary said with a sense of dread. “How lovely.” Her agent Tony had been forever sending her to far-flung corners of the United Kingdom to attend some charity function or a grand opening of a local landmark. She had endured for several years until the small, sweaty mayor of a town in Yorkshire, after boring her to death on his town’s plan for a new car park, had pinched her bottom. She had sworn off such events ever since.

  Chapter Four

  They had left Spencer in the bar of the hotel and ventured out for lunch. Pea had gone his maximum period of roughly two hours since his last meal and was already getting tetchy. The hotel restaurant was not yet open and Spencer had been unhelpful when asked for recommendations, so they had wandered down the pretty rows of shops that lined Parchester’s main thoroughfare until they had seen a small café named “The Tumbledown” and dived inside, deciding that it was cold enough outside to not be picky.

  The café was small, but neat, with little round metal tables and chairs that were more suited to a patio than inside. They had, however, been covered with brightly coloured cushions, and the bright spotlights and pictures that lined the walls showing different scenes and people of the town made it feel cosy and inviting.

  “Oh!” a woman with a round face and welcoming eyes exclaimed as they approached the counter, her hands rising to her cheeks. “If it isn’t Mary Blake in my café!”

  “Hi,” Mary said with a slight sense of dread, feeling the other people in the café turning to l
ook at them.

  “Oh, I just loved Her Law,” the woman gushed. “You were just brilliant in it!”

  “Thank you.” Mary smiled. “We were just looking to grab something to go for lunch,” she said, hoping to move the conversation on and get out of here as soon as possible.

  “Oh nonsense,” the woman said with a wave of her hand. “You look bloody frozen from being outside, sit down and I’ll bring you all a nice cup of tea.”

  “Thank you, but I’m not sure…”

  “Oh don’t worry, I’ll make sure no one bothers you,” the woman said, grabbing three menus and gesturing at them to follow her.

  Twenty minutes later the three of them were each tucking into a toasted panini and listening to a brief history of Parchester from the café’s owner, who had introduced herself as Sandra. After listening politely while eating, Mary dabbed at her mouth with a serviette and decided to see what the town’s apparently considerable grapevine had to say about the hotel.

  “Oh that old place has been going downhill for years,” Sandra said dismissively. “It was built when there was a railway line all the way to Tanbury from here, but when that closed down Parchester never got the visitors to keep a place like that running.”

  “What about the new owners? It was bought a couple of years ago, wasn’t it?”

  “Spencer Harley.” Sandra nodded knowingly. “Bit of a figure around here, always putting things on at Sundown Manor and he’s very generous with the town. Lovely man he is.”

  “And Roderick Sutton?” Dot asked.

  “Well,” Sandra said, her eyebrows rising, “he’s a bit of a slippery one. Fancies himself a bit of a big-shot. I’ll never understand why Mr Harley went in with him. Mr Harley is a cut above that kind of company, an honest to goodness gent.”

  Mary smiled and did her best to listen, but Sandra was off again on the past and future of the town she clearly loved and they soon made their excuses and left.