Murphy's Law (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #1)

We went up the stairs again and back into the bright, sparkling light of the front hall. They kept the electric lights in the chandelier running all the time, even when nobody was around!

"I'll do the drawing room," Daisy said. "The mistress is more likely to notice specks when they're having coffee in there after dinner. You can do the stairs." She pointed at the curved staircase. "And make sure you do each step thoroughly. And if you hear any family members coming, try to get out of the way until they've passed. They don't like seeing servants in the main part of the house. They like to pretend the house runs itself with no human help!"

I took my sweeper and started on the bottom step, feeling quite exposed in the front hall. The sweeping might have been easier than with the brush and dustpan we used at home, but there were an awful lot of those steps and they became so narrow at the center that it was impossible to get that sweeper to work properly. I was feeling hot and tired by the time I reached the top. But a fascinating new hallway stretched out ahead of me. This might be a good opportunity to do a spot of scouting. My sweeper gave me a good excuse for being there. I started along the hall until I reached the first door. I glanced around, then knelt to put my eye to the keyhole. I was just focusing when the front door opened, letting in a blast of cold air. As I scrambled to my feet and grabbed the carpet sweeper, I got a brief impression of a large man with bushy whiskers depositing his hat on the hall table. Footsteps came up the stairs toward me. I shrank to the side as large feet came past me.

"You, girl. Go and tell Holmes that I'd like a whiskey and soda in my study straight away and then let cook know that I'll take my

lunch on a tray up here while I'm working. Nothing fancy, tell her. A slice of her pork pie and some pickles will do."

"Very good, sir." I bobbed a curtsy, as I'd seen the maids at the Hartley's do, and kept my eyes firmly on my feet.

"You're new here, are you?"

I had to look up then. "Yes, sir." Was the face the one I had seen that night? It was hard to tell. Same impressive whiskers and rounded paunch with a vest stretched across it. I realized that I had never taken in the features beneath those whiskers. Hadn't the nose been larger? If it was he, then surely he must recognize me by now.

"What's your name, child?"

"Molly, sir." I lowered my face rapidly again until he was looking at a cap.

"You don't have to be nervous with me, young woman. This is a happy household. If you do your work well, you have nothing to be afraid of."

"No, sir. I'll go and find Holmes for you, sir." I made a bobbing curtsy, grabbed my sweeper, and ran down the stairs. I was pretty sure he hadn't recognized me. The question was whether I had recognized him. He had spoken to me in a soft, rumbling voice. I'd have to wait to see how his voice sounded when it was booming.

I found Holmes without any trouble and passed on the instructions. He turned very pale.

"The master came home and I didn't even hear him come in? That makes twice in one week now. Dear me. I must be slipping. Very well, girl. You can go back to your duties."

I left him and went into the kitchen to pass on my message to the harried cook. She now had several pots on the stove and was moving from one to the next.

"Oh, blast him, right when I'm in the middle of waiting for this sauce to thicken," she muttered. "And Ruby still has all those potatoes to peel."

"I could take it up for you, if you'd like," I said.

"You? You're the parlor maid. It's not your job. Don't be ridiculous."

"I just wanted to help. I've finished doing the stairs."

She glanced around as if she was committing a

crime. "Well, I won't say no this time," she said, "and if the master doesn't like it, you can tell him I didn't want his favorite sauce to curdle."

She pointed out the pie and pickles to me, then gave me step-by-step instructions on which cloth to put on the tray, which napkin to go with it, and which salt cellar to use. When the tray was finished to her satisfaction she sent me off with it. "Up in his study. Third door on the left as you go along the upstairs hallway. Don't linger now and come back down the servants' stairs."

I carried the tray up the stairs and was just approaching the study door when I heard the master speaking.

"I told you, Bertie, there is nothing to worry about."