A Murder of Christmas Past: A 1920s Historical Cozy Mystery (The Kitty Worthington Mysteries Book 5) by Magda Alexander

Author:Magda Alexander [Alexander, Magda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781943321193
Publisher: Hearts Afire Publishing
Published: 2022-12-05T16:00:00+00:00

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CHAPTER 9

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MRS. SWEETWATER

MARGARET, MOTHER, AND I encountered the physician as he was leaving Mrs. Sweetwater’s parlor. She was so ill the staff hadn’t been able to take her to her bedchamber.

“How is she faring?” Margaret asked.

“Not well. She’s suffering from abdominal pain and experiencing numbness and tingling. And her pulse is racing. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she was poisoned.”

It seemed my fear had come to pass. Someone had indeed hurt Mrs. Sweetwater. “Did she have anything to eat or drink?”

“Breakfast. But she shared the meal with the rest of the staff, and they’re not suffering any symptoms. I was told she drank tea this morning in her parlor while she was working on the menu for the wedding feast. She asked one of the kitchen maids to bring her some hot water, but she used her own special blend.”

Alarm bells went off in my head. “It’s the tea. Somebody must have put poisonous leaves in the tin. It’s the only theory that makes any sense.”

The doctor’s eyes widened with horror. “Surely not. Who would do such a thing?”

“A murderer. Can you have the tin contents analyzed?”

“Yes, but it will take some time to get back the results. Everyone’s on holiday.”

“No matter. Take it with you. We’ll need to test the container for fingerprints as well, although I suspect the culprit wore gloves.”

“What can we do for Mrs. Sweetwater, Doctor?” Margaret asked.

“She’ll need to be watched. Around the clock, mind you. I left instructions with Mrs. Branson.” He nodded toward the parlor. “She’s in there with her now.”

“We’ll assign four-hour shifts,” Margaret said.

“I can help, if you wish,” Mother offered.

“No, Mother,” Margaret said, pressing Mother’s hand. “You’ve done more than enough. I don’t want you to take on this additional task.”

“But dear, how will we know who to trust?”

“Have our London staff watch her,” I suggested. “They wouldn’t have a quarrel with her. Mrs. Simpson can take the first watch. Betsy will be glad to help as well.”

“Cummings makes a great nurse,” Mother offered.

“Yes, she does.” She’d tended to Mother more than once when she’d felt poorly. “She can take the third shift. Grace can take over from her. She’s more than proven her worth.”

“I agree,” Margaret said. “We’ll call you, Doctor, if Mrs. Sweetwater takes a turn for the worse.”

“Please do. Although I fear there is little I would be able to do. She’ll either pull through or she won’t. It’s in God’s hands now. I’ll fetch the tin and take it with me.”

After he’d done so, and Mother escorted the doctor out, Margaret and I entered Mrs. Sweetwater’s parlor. The cot she’d had installed had proved valuable indeed.

“How is she doing, Mrs. Branson?” Margaret asked in a whisper.

“Very poorly, Miss.” Her eyes clearly showed how worried she was.

She had good reason to be. Not only was Mrs. Sweetwater deathly pale and sweating profusely, but her breathing was ragged.

“The doctor said not to give her any food or drink and wipe off any vomit which I have done.

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