Page 89 of The Mystery Guest

She gasped as she took it from my palm. “Really?” she asked as she held proof of her promotion in her own hands.

“You’ve earned it. Put it on,” I replied.

She turned to the mirror and affixed it right above her heart.

“Lily,” I said, “do you think you can serve the tea to our VIP guest, just as you did last week?”

She shook her head, her eyes wide with shock.

“I don’t mean that literally. I assure you the end result of today’s tea service won’t be an untimely death. Can you manage, Lily? Tell me if you can’t.”

“I can do it,” she said in her new, confident voice. “A good maid has a can-do attitude,” she added. “You taught me that.”

“I best be off,” I said. “Please get the VIP tea cart ready. You can roll it into the tearoom at five to the hour.”

Lily curtsied, then left.

I heard the familiar sound of feet flopping down the hallway. It could be only one person.

“Good morning, Cheryl,” I said as she entered the change room. Miracles are possible, and the proof was on the wall clock. Cheryl was early for her shift!

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your punctuality?” I asked her.

“Dunno,” she replied with a shrug. “Doesn’t it say something about the wisdom of early birds in that annoying handbook of yours?”

I gritted my teeth but said nothing. After all, her punctuality was a sign of improvement, and that’s exactly what I’ve been hoping for.

After a rather impassioned debate between Mr. Snow and me a week ago, it was decided that despite Cheryl’s flagrant theft and mischief, we would not fire her. I wanted to give her one last chance to redeem herself as a maid.

I made it expressly clear that animalistic behavior of all kinds would not be tolerated. “In other words, you are not to behave like a thieving rat or a trash panda,” I explained. I placed her on a PIP explaining that I had “Great Expectations” for her in the future. Naturally, she didn’t understand my witty references to Charles Dickens’s novel, so I explained that PIP was short for “Professional Improvement Plan,” meaning Cheryl’s employment was subject to strict adherence to every chapter, rule, and verse ofA Maid’s Guide & Handbook.It also meant she would retrain as a maid, working right by my side, where I could watch her every move—and I have been watching her every single day.

I do believe Cheryl is grateful for my clemency, not that she has expressed it in words. But she shows it in other ways. A few daysago, she sneezed and was about to wipe her nose on her sleeve, but I stopped her. “Ah, ah, ah,” I said. “Tissue for your issue.” I handed her one right from her own trolley.

Yesterday, I caught her about to use her toilet cloth on a guest’s washroom sink. “Ah, ah, ah,” I said. “What’s the rule?”

“Please be neat when you sterilize the seat,” she replied with only the faintest trace of sarcasm.

So you see: we’re making progress.

“Earth to Molly. Are you with us?”

I shake off my reverie to find Angela and Detective Stark standing outside the maroon cordon by the entrance to the tearoom. Angela holds up the cordon, and they both duck under and come my way.

“Detective Stark,” I say. “I didn’t know you were coming today.”

“Neither did I,” says Stark. “But the LAMBS showed up at the station yesterday and dropped off this lanyard for me.”

I look at the VIP event pass hanging around her neck. “I couldn’t help myself,” she says. “Curiosity killed the cat and all of that.”

“Here’s hoping no feline, or anyone else, is killed in today’s proceedings,” I reply.

“How are preparations for the court case going?” Angela asks.

“Beulah pled guilty,” says the detective. “So there won’t be a trial. Just a sentencing. And you’ll never believe what she admitted.”

“Do tell!” says Angela as she rubs her hands together with glee.

“The maid she tracked down, the one who used to work for the Grimthorpes ages ago,” Stark says. “Turns out, that maid knew all about the ghostwriter in the mansion, said she figured out long before she was fired what Grimthorpe’s personal secretary really did for him.”

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