The Clue is in the Pudding Read Online Free

Go and find four more clean ones in the linen closet, while you”—she jammed the four serviettes into Pansy’s hands—“go and put these in the laundry room.”
    Pansy took the white cloths and fled, while Gertie jutted out her chin. “It weren’t my fault they went on the floor.”
    Beatrice crossed her arms, her thin face sucked in at the cheeks. “I’ll have none of your impertinence, young lady. Get upstairs and get those tables laid this second, or I’ll report your insubordination and carelessness to madam.”
    Gertie was about to respond with a few choice words, then with an effort, curbed her tongue. She’d be wasting her breath on the old bat, she decided. Instead, she’d take her concerns to madam. Something had to be done about Tucker the Terrible, or there’d be another Christmas tragedy in the Pennyfoot. If someone didn’t kill the bleeding old hag, she’d be tempted to do away with her herself.
    Carrying the serviettes, she marched out of the kitchen and up the stairs. By the time she reached the dining room, she’d calmed down a little. She took her time folding the serviettes and placing them into their silver rings. It wouldn’t do to go to madam all blustery and hot under the collar. Madam listened to her a lot better if she kept her voice low and didn’t use too many swear words. Especially if Mr. Baxter was there. He didn’t have no patience at all with people complaining.
    Pansy wandered into the dining room just as Gertie was about to leave. “I’ll be back to finish the tables,” she said, as she untied her apron strings. “I’m just going to pop up to have a word with madam.”
    Pansy looked anxious. “Is something wrong?”
    “A lot,” Gertie said grimly. “But I hope to do something about that.” She left before Pansy could say anymore.
    Reaching the end of the hallway, she was about to enter the foyer when she heard the dreaded voice of the housekeeper. Still smarting from her recent spat, Gertie decided to wait until the coast was clear before venturing any farther.
    Apparently Mrs. Tucker was talking to a gentleman, as Gertie heard his soft tone, though it was too quiet to understand what he was saying.
    Whatever it was, it made the housekeeper laugh, which surprised Gertie. The old bat must have been at the brandy, after all.
    Gertie heard the gentleman speak again, then Mrs. Tucker raised her voice in what seemed to be a farewell. “I’m looking forward to hearing the choir, Mr. Rickling,” she called out. The gentleman answered, then came the sound of the front door closing.
    Gertie waited a moment longer, then peeked around the corner. The foyer was empty, except for Philip dozing at the desk. Breathing a sigh of relief, Gertie sped across the carpet to the stairs.
    Climbing fast, she rehearsed everything she wanted to say. There was no telling how Madam would react to her complaints. After all, it was Christmas, and it would be hard to make do without a housekeeper. At a pinch, Gertie knew she could fill in well enough. She’d worked at the Pennyfoot long enough to know how to manage everything.
    Mrs. Chubb had finished all the baking before she’d left, and Michel didn’t need no supervising. As for the maids, she could handle that all right, and madam always took care of the footmen. Feeling a little more hopeful, Gertie trotted up the stairs to the top floor.
    She was passing by room three when she heard the moaning. At first she thought it was the wind in the chimneys. When it was really windy the chimneys groaned like they were in pain. Only this didn’t sound like no chimneys. Gertie paused outside the door of room three.
    It was the actor’s room. The bloke what rescued Samuel’s dog. Perhaps he’d caught a cold after wading into the icy duck pond. Gertie hesitated, then gently knocked on the door. A loud moan answered her.
    “Are you all right, sir? Is there anything I can get for you?”
    She heard another moan, fainter now. She tried the