Trifling Favors (Redcakes Book 7) by Heather Hiestand

another word.
    Greggory realized Miss Popham’s jaw hung slack and expected his face had assumed the same expression. The last thing they needed was for elderly ladies to feel unsafe in their place of business. And yet, she had had a point. With Victor on the loose, anything was possible.
    “Go out and find us a new window and have the pavement washed,” he said to Miss Popham. “I’ll telephone Lord Judah and the police. I don’t think I should leave the premises.”
    “Yes, sir. Do you want me to go for the police?”
    “I don’t think it is necessary. Since you know where he lives, and his sister is here.” He paused. “Incidentally, he does not want his sister to work.”
    Miss Popham took on a mulish expression. “But you’re going to have him arrested and put away. Violet will have to be employed, then.”
    “As you say, but she’s under my protection now, and I don’t want her beaten by her brother.”
    “If Victor isn’t found by the end of the day, I’ll take her home with me,” Miss Popham promised. “All she’ll need is a clean uniform for tomorrow.”
    “An excellent suggestion. We’ll protect what is ours, Miss Popham, or die trying.” He squared his jaw and puffed out his chest, hoping his assistant manager saw an impressive specimen, well suited to shielding everyone in his employ.

    The tearoom had to stay closed until the glaziers were able to arrive late that afternoon to replace the window. The cakies were kept busy mopping the floor because it rained just after noon. Mr. Soeur fretted about the wasted food, but they were able to sell some of it in the bakery, which continued to do a brisk business. Betsy wasn’t too disappointed to turn away the casual tearoom visitors, who wanted to see where the man had been killed.
    Mr. Redcake prowled the halls like a sheepdog, ready to herd his flock to safety. Most of their regular local customers stayed away, though. News of the window breaking had spread throughout the neighborhood, even though it hadn’t reached the newspapers yet.
    After the glaziers had finished putting in the window and the tearoom had reopened for one sitting at the end of the day, PC Rivers made an appearance. Betsy hovered behind Mr. Redcake as he received the word that the inquest would be at ten A.M. Monday morning, and that Victor Carter had not been found.
    “The constables walking the beat near his flat will keep an eye out for him,” Rivers said. “What about his sister?”
    “Miss Redcake is going to take Miss Carter to her home for the night, but Victor Carter knows where it is,” Mr. Redcake reported.
    “Where’s that, then?”
    “Chiswick.”
    “We’ll notify the police there to keep an eye on you.” The constable made a note. “Stay indoors after dark.”
     
    At the end of the workday, Betsy stopped in at Mr. Redcake’s office to see if he needed anything else.
    “Still here?” he asked. “You can take a half day on Saturdays, you know.”
    “You never do.” She made a point of working his hours and more.
    “I’ve taken too much on for both of us,” he said. His olive skin, courtesy of his heritage, made him look jaundiced in the half-light. “I’m going through the books, trying to decide if there is enough money to hire department managers.”
    Had she given him the wrong impression? “I don’t mind my workload.”
    “I understand all too clearly why you are so eager to please, now. But Miss Popham, you and your father must understand that your servitude to the Carters is over. Your secret is out. Violet has work. Victor belongs in a mental institution.”
    “I still have my pride, even if we can look forward to spending more money on ourselves in the future,” Betsy said.
    Mr. Redcake took an envelope from his desk. “I am sorry I neglected to give you your wages yesterday. I’ve answered to everyone in the departments.”
    She took it and tucked her pay into her skirt pocket. “Thank you, sir.”
    “Are you really