Death of a Glutton by M.C. Beaton Page B

meat pie, fruit, a bottle o’ Beaujolais – that’s about as far as I can tell ye at the moment.’
    ‘Would ye know if anyone had been in the kitchens during the night?’
    ‘Not after ten o’clock.’
    ‘What if someone wanted a late coffee?’
    ‘There’s a coffee-machine in the bar.’
    ‘Aren’t the kitchens locked at night?’
    ‘No.’
    Hamish shifted uneasily. Archie had told him about Sean’s threatening Peta. But if he told Blair that, then the whole story about the cat would come out and Priscilla’s business might collapse. He bit his lip and decided to interrogate Sean on his own later.
    Blair asked Sean some more questions about whether he had seen any of the guests near Peta on the evening of her death and then let him go.
    ‘Well, ah’m packing this in fur the night,’ said Blair. ‘We’ll be back in the morning. We should hae a report from the pathologist by then and the forensic boys might hae matched these tyre tracks to one o’ the cars here.’
    The rest who were waiting in the hotel lounge were not relieved to be told they would be questioned in the morning. All had been geared up to getting it over with as soon as possible.
    Jenny had gathered from Jessica that the police were interested in where everyone had been the evening before and heaved a sigh of relief. She did not want to discuss Brian Mulligan or have to produce him as a witness.
    But her fears rushed back as Mr Johnson came up to her. ‘Miss Trask,’ he said severely, ‘you took out the Volvo and left it standing in the storm with the sunroof and the windows open. It took two maids an hour to clean and dry the inside of the car. Practically every other hotel would charge you for the use of a car. You abused the privilege and I am very angry with you.’
    Jenny smiled at him. She was so relieved to find he was only angry about the car and not about her bedfellow.
    ‘I am so sorry,’ she said. ‘Give me a bill for the maids’ work and I will gladly pay it and for any damage to the car. I insist.’
    ‘Well, I’m sure that won’t be necessary,’ said Mr Johnson, mollified. ‘Just be more careful in future.’
    He turned and addressed the whole group. ‘I am afraid the press will be here in the morning. They are already phoning. We will have gamekeepers at the castle gates to keep them out, so you should not be disturbed. If any of them sneak in, report them to me.’
    Jenny brightened. She wondered what to wear when she took a stroll down to the castle gates in the morning. She could already see her picture on the front page of the tabloids. Then her face fell. Of course she could not let that happen. Imagine all her friends knowing she was reduced to going to a marital agency to find a partner.
    ‘Newspapers,’ echoed Peter Trumpington in a hollow voice. He turned to Jessica. ‘They’ll ferret out everything about our backgrounds.’
    Someone let out a hiss of dismay. Jessica glanced quickly around but could not see anyone looking exceptionally disturbed. ‘Why should you worry?’ Jessica asked him. ‘Do you have anything sordid in your past?’
    ‘I was engaged to a starlet once and was in the papers a lot. She dumped me and that was in the papers. I don’t want to be reminded of that humiliation.’
    ‘Perhaps the best thing would be to make sure you don’t speak to the press and then don’t read any newspapers until this is all over.’
    Peter looked at her with affection. ‘You always say the right thing,’ he said.
     
    Sir Bernard found he was going ‘off’ Deborah. She made him feel ancient. She was wildly excited about the murder and fancied herself as some sort of Miss Marple, suspecting everyone in turn.
    ‘Gosh,’ she said, not without a touch of malice, ‘look at the way you yourself were after her for her money. You could have got her to change her will and then bumped her off. Not that I can see you shoving an apple in her mouth. I would think a good clobber with a blunt