Authors: Kate Kingsbury
“I thought it possible, yes. I admit it was a wild guess, but one worth pursuing, given the absence of motive.”
“I see.” Baxter frowned. “I still don’t understand how you knew McPherson and Stewart knew each other.”
“Well, I must admit, I had a bad moment when I ran into Gertie last night.” Cecily smiled at the memory. “Gertie happened to mention that the man she had met earlier, Ross McBride, also knew Peter Stewart before the contest.” Cecily looked up at her manager. “Did you know he proposed to Gertie?”
Baxter looked shocked. “Stewart?”
“No, Ross McBride.” Cecily frowned. “She was supposed to meet him this afternoon to give him her answer. I wonder what she told him.”
“I certainly hope she refused. I should hate to lose such a good worker.”
Looking up at him, Cecily asked softly, “Or someone you care about? Such as the mother of your godchildren?”
Baxter’s face turned a pale shade of pink. “Perhaps I do feel somewhat responsible for that young lady and her children. She has, after all, been under my employ for several years—”
“Relax, Baxter, I do understand. I feel the same way myself.”
He sighed. “You were explaining how you knew McPherson had known Stewart before the contest.”
“Simple deduction, as always.” Cecily leaned back in her chair with a sigh of satisfaction. “You see, Elsie told me that Peter Stewart had missed the first day of practice. That’s how she met him. Phoebe had also told me that Alec McPherson had missed the second day of practice to work with her girls. Since Peter Stewart was killed that night, the men could not have practiced together. Yet Alec McPherson had assured Phoebe that Peter Stewart was tone-deaf, judging by his performance on the pipes.”
Baxter nodded, looking impressed. “So therefore McPherson must have known Stewart at some time before the contest.”
“That’s what I surmised. There was one way to find out.” Cecily paused long enough to take another draw on the cigar. “I told Phoebe that Elsie had found new evidence on the floor of the cellar. I said that Elsie would leave it there until the police could examine it the next morning. In which case, it was likely the pipers could be forced to stay in town until after the investigation, thereby missing the contest.”
“Very cunning, if I might say so.”
Cecily shrugged modestly, though rather pleased with the compliment. “I was reasonably certain that Phoebe would immediately pass on the news to Alec McPherson. If, for some reason, I was mistaken, there still remained the chance that he would pass on the news to the rest of his group. I hoped the guilty person would do exactly as our murderer did, rush to remove the evidence before the police could see it.”
“You never fail to amaze me, madam.”
“Thank you, Baxter.” She smiled rather wistfully, wishing she could recapture the magic of the night before.
It seemed as if he had read her mind, for he said, with feigned indifference, “It was a pity our dance had to be interrupted yesterday.”
Assuming a matching air of nonchalance, Cecily nodded.
“It was indeed. I was rather enjoying myself. It has been such a long time since I’ve danced, I had almost forgotten how very pleasurable it can be.”
Baxter cleared his throat. “We could possibly conclude the dance now, since there is no one here to interrupt us.”
“We could, I suppose.” She held her serious expression as she looked at him. “Except for one thing. There’s no orchestra to play for us.”
He stared down at her, and she felt a flutter of excitement at the determined look on his face. “Maybe not, but I do believe we could manage without it.”
Quickly she stubbed out her cigar. “I would like that very much, Baxter. Just as long as you don’t expect me to sing. I am like that poor man, I find it impossible to hold a tune.”
She rose and allowed him to take her hand. Following him onto the dance floor, she marveled at this welcome change in him. Even though she cautioned herself against depending too much on hope, she couldn’t help wondering if at long last, Baxter was beginning to bend to the pressures of modern society.
It didn’t seem possible, and yet … it was very difficult not to hope. She looked up at him as he turned to her and placed his hand above her waist.
They took two or three awkward steps, and then they were off, gliding in perfect unison around the floor.
“I cannot help wondering,” Baxter murmured after a period of pleasurable silence, “why McPherson would have gone to all that trouble to assist Mrs. Carter-Holmes with her dance troupe. It was a thankless task, at best.”
“I think he was merely attempting to create an image … the portrait, if you will, of a Good Samaritan, offering his expertise to a helpless woman in need of his advice.”
“I think you may be right.” Baxter expertly whirled her around in a tight spin.
She was catching her breath when a slight movement on the balcony above her took her breath away again. “Baxter,” she whispered urgently. “Look up there, behind you.”
With a startled expression, Baxter paused and looked over his shoulder.
Together they watched the hazy figure of the piper in full dress walk slowly along the balcony. He reached the door, paused for a moment, then simply vanished through it.
“By God, I don’t believe it,” Baxter whispered hoarsely.
“Neither do I,” Cecily echoed, her voice unsteady. “But there it was, right in front of our eyes.”
“It has to be one of our guests,” Baxter insisted. “Though what he would be doing on the balcony now I have no idea.”
“Particularly,” Cecily said quietly, “since every one of the pipers left this morning for Wellercombe. They had to report by midday for the contest. Of course, they could have returned, I suppose, but I sincerely doubt it. And if Ross McBride came back to visit Gertie, I can’t imagine why he would need to walk the balcony. Or how he was able to walk right through the door.”
Baxter seemed unable to answer, and she gave him a moment or two to recover before adding, “It would seem that the Pennyfoot has acquired a ghost. I shall have to consult Madeline as to the best way to deal with it. We can’t let our guests be frightened away by its presence.”
“Indeed no.” Apparently recovering his composure, Baxter turned back to her and once more placed his hand above her waist. “Neither will I let it interrupt our dance.”
Cecily happily agreed.
“As for the ghost,” Baxter remarked, “all I have to say is that I sincerely hope that it isn’t your late husband’s ghost roaming the balcony. Now that would make me most uncomfortable indeed.” Holding her a shade closer, he swept her across the floor.
Peeking up at him, she could tell nothing from his bland expression. She could perceive a tiny gleam in his eye, however, that left her pondering on the delicious implications of that remark.