A Sinister Establishment by Lynn Messina

Author:Lynn Messina [Messina, Lynn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781942218326
Publisher: Potatoworks Press
Published: 2020-06-15T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Mrs. Blewitt, in accordance with the behavior of her fellow servants, was eager to blame another member of the staff for Mr. Réjane’s horrendous decapitation. To her credit, however, she managed to patiently answer several of Beatrice’s questions before forcefully pointing her finger.

Calmly, she recounted her movements during the relevant interval in helpful detail, explaining that after reviewing all the items in the pantry so that she could replenish the stores the following day, she had inspected the kitchen to make sure it was up to her cleanliness standards. Then she retired to her room, performed her nightly ablutions, said her prayers and climbed into bed. Although she had not checked the clock specifically to see the hour, she felt strongly it was a little after one.

Furthermore, she readily owned to having a longstanding disagreement with Monsieur Alphonse regarding the plants she chose to cultivate in the little courtyard garden. It was a trifle annoying, yes, the way the Frenchman repeatedly derided her rosebushes, but certainly nothing over which she bore him a grudge.

“He would have preferred that I grow onions,” she explained, “because he thought you could never have too many of them. I am sure that is true, but my garden is an English one and must contain roses. I told him I was happy to share the plottage so that he may grow his own crops, but he had no interest in doing the work. I think he just enjoyed tweaking me about my roses. I did not mind in the least. It was like a game to him. Monsieur Alphonse did not take many things seriously. I understood that.”

As the chef’s nonchalant attitude had been mentioned in several interviews, Bea nodded absently at this statement and opened her mouth to question the nature of the disagreement, which had been described to her in considerably harsher terms by the scullery maid.

Before she could utter a word, however, Mrs. Blewitt’s placidity broke and she cried plaintively, “But I do not understand why you are asking all these questions about my behavior when you must already know who the killer is. It’s Gertrude. Gertrude hated Monsieur Alphonse and everyone knows it. She could not bear how freely he moved about the house, coming and going as often as he pleased. Every time he wandered out of the kitchen to walk around the square or visit Gunter’s, she seethed with anger, and he wandered out all the time, whenever the mood struck. It happened just yesterday! In the middle of preparations for the party! He simply disappeared for almost an hour, leaving the pots boiling and the quails roasting and not telling a soul. Gertrude was beside herself. I have never seen anyone so angry. She roamed the kitchen, muttering to herself and brandishing a ladle like it was a club. I really thought she was going to knock him on the head as soon as he returned. I was prepared to intercede before things got out of hand, but eventually she remembered to check on the quails and returned to work.

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