Murder After Midnight: A Mafalda Marchand Mystery Novella by Liam Ashe

Author:Liam Ashe [Ashe, Liam]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781735891002
Publisher: Knave Publishing
Published: 2020-10-29T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

Just before six-thirty, Marchand buttoned her deep blue dinner jacket and stepped out into the hall. Dr. and Mrs. Lazarus were also heading towards the staircase for dinner, and they paused to greet her.

“Doctor,” the doctor said stiffly.

“Doctor,” she replied.

“Oh, I do love your suit,” Lana offered. “Such a striking cut, and your monocle is simply a work of art. The sapphire pairs so beautifully with your coat. Wherever did you get it?”

“A gift from an old friend,” she replied with a friendly yet dismissive wave.

At the end of the hall, Fiona reached the landing carrying a large silver tray covered in dishes. Under her left arm she had tucked the dinner gong. It was clear she was struggling.

“My dear, let me help you,” Marchand called as she stepped to the young woman’s aid.

“Oh, bless you, ma’am. If you can grab the mallet I can handle the tray.” Her left hand now free, she fished the large brass key from her apron and unlocked the imposing door.

“Do you need a hand?” Lana asked without enthusiasm.

“No, I wouldn’t think of it. And with the mood he’s been in since lunch, the fewer guests he entertains, the better.”

From her post on the landing, Lana craned her necked around the door frame to where Graves’ feet were visible beneath the heavy bedcovers. His heavy breathing echoed into the hall.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” she replied. “I’ve had enough of that man for the day.”

Fiona carried the tray into the room and gave a brief introduction to each course. Graves rewarded her efforts with a hoarse, curt dismissal which she used as a cue to leave.

“If you need anything, just ring. If not, I’ll be back at eight to take your tray and set your bed warmer.” She closed the door behind her and locked it with a satisfying click. She returned the key to her apron pocket and thanked Marchand for holding the mallet.

“I suppose I don’t have to tell you that we’re almost ready for dinner,” she said. “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll have the soup course up in a jiff.”

Moments later, Ed assisted Fiona with filling water glasses and lighting the table’s delicate tapers. Over the course of an hour, the pair served a tantalizing array of dishes. A pepper soup and congealed salad were followed by roasted quail and root vegetables. The meal finished with a rich blueberry crumble with whipped cream.

“With the house going to let, we wanted to empty the larder,” Fiona confessed between courses.

Despite the elegant trappings and delicious repast, dinner was another somber affair. For the first time since before lunch, Marchand encountered the two businessmen from Chicago. Sam ate in his customary silence while Tony was uncharacteristically quiet. Even the usually vivacious Dolores Schmidt seemed unable to find any small talk to help pass the time.

As the hall clock struck eight, Fiona ascended the stairs to collect Graves’ tray. Two minutes later, she returned with a collection of empty plates and saucers that suggested he had enjoyed the meal as much as his guests.

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