6 Grounds for Murder by Kate Kingsbury Read Free Book Online Page A

grimaced. She needed a cigar quite badly. “Well, let us trust that he’s not a butterfingers,” she murmured.
    Phoebe’s laugh echoed down the corridor. “You worry far too much, Cecily, my dear. I shall return for the final meeting before the ball, after having confirmed the appearance of Wilhelmina Freidrich. In the meantime, leave everything to me. I shall take care of it all, as always.”
    And that, Cecily thought, as the door closed behind her friend, was exactly the reason she was so concerned.
    She sat for several minutes, her eyes on James’s portrait, her mind going over the recent conversation. Phoebe’s remarks had unsettled her, leaving a little knot of anxiety for some reason.
    It was true that many people believed that Madeline carried gypsy blood. Cecily could hardly blame them. Madeline had some strange hobbies and beliefs, and although Cecily was reluctant to admit it even to herself, her friend displayed quite remarkable powers at times.
    More than once Cecily had been confounded by the odd incidents involving Madeline. So much so, she had been unwilling to question the event and preferred to let things be.
    Sighing, Cecily let her gaze wander around the paneled walls of the library. Rows of dusty tomes lined the shelves that stretched from floor to ceiling, untouched by human hand for more than a decade. Cecily hadn’t wasted more than a glance at the dreary titles. Shakespeare or the
Canterbury Tales
did not interest her. She much preferred the stories of the indomitable Sherlock Holmes and his faithful Dr. Watson.
    Thinking of Sherlock Holmes and his pipe reminded her of her need of a cigar. Baxter should be in the office still, since it was another hour or two before he conducted his rounds of the dining room. She would have plenty of time to retire to her room and freshen up before seeking him out.
    Her spirits racing, Cecily left the library and headed for the staircase, considering the possibility of inviting Baxter to join her for a light meal in the dining room.
    Her suite was on the second floor, and she climbed the stairs, trying to remember which items were listed on the menu that day. Whatever it was, she could trust Michel to create a meal fit for a king.
    She reached the door of her room and took out her keysfrom the pocket of her long, gray skirt. She was thinking about Phoebe and her comment about Madeline not wearing a corset. What would Phoebe say, Cecily wondered as she entered her room, if that good lady knew that Cecily often slipped out of her corset the minute the door of her suite was safely closed?
    Trousers, Cecily thought, as she shut the door. That’s what women should be wearing. There’d be no more twisted ankles after catching a heel in the hem of a skirt. And no more mud-caked cloth to flap around one’s ankles on a wet, windy morning.
    Her eye caught something lying on the rich blue carpet at her feet. Frowning, she stooped to pick it up. It appeared to be a note, though it was addressed to no one in particular. The scrawled words covered a sheet of hotel stationery, and were difficult to read.
    Carrying the page over to the window to catch the light, Cecily stared at the spidery letters. Whoever owned the hand that had scribbled the message must have been shaking very badly.
    The note was short and to the point:
George killed the gypsy girl. He must be stopped. He would kill me also if he knew I had told you
.
    Cecily watched the notepaper flutter from her fingers to the floor. Baxter would be most displeased to see this, she thought. It would seem that she would be involved in the murder of the gypsy after all.
    “I know you bloody chopped sticks last night,” Gertie said, glaring at the belligerent girl standing in front of her. “It’s not my bleeding fault madam wants the fires laid in all the rooms.”
    “Well, I ain’t got time to chop another two loads this morning, so there.” Doris dashed a wayward lock out of hereyes. In the shadows of the