Foxden Hotel (The Dudley Sisters Saga Book 5) by Madalyn Morgan (ebook reader ink txt) 📕

only saw him in the bar when my sister, Mrs Burrell,’ Bess nodded at Margot, ‘and I were there, but I’d stake my life on him going back later and asking Simon what he’d heard.’

‘We’ll have a word with them both, if we need to.’ Sergeant McGann glanced at his notes, again. ‘On the telephone, Mrs Mitchell said the man causing the trouble was a Nazi?’

‘I told her to tell you that so you knew the situation was serious. He’s a fascist. I should have said, Nazi sympathiser.’

‘How did you know the man was a Nazi sympathiser, Mrs Donnelly?’

Fearing she would get herself tangled up in the details of Dave Sutherland’s fascist beliefs, which might then lead to Sergeant McGann suspecting she had known him in London, Bess shot Margot a sideways look and raised her eyebrows.

‘Because I told my sister,’ Margot said. ‘David Sutherland is ex-BUF. He’s an apologist who was sent to prison because his beliefs stopped him from answering the call up.’

The sergeant looked from Bess to Margot. ‘So, it is you who knows Mr Sutherland?’

Margot shook her head. ‘I don’t know him; I knew him.’

‘Ah.’ McGann sucked thoughtfully on the end of his pen. ‘Do you have any proof to back up these accusations?’

‘I don’t have physical proof, but I knew his girlfriend, Goldie Trick. She was a dancer in the theatre where I worked in London and we became friends. One day she found Sutherland’s BUF papers and membership card.’

Sergeant McGann’s mouth fell open and for a moment he appeared to be speechless. He cleared his throat. ‘Was your friend here tonight?’

‘Good Lord, no. She isn’t even in the country.’

Margot’s account of the relationship between her friend and David Sutherland was halted by a knock at the door. Bess looked at her sister and put her finger to her lips. Margot stopped speaking and Bess crossed to the door and opened it. ‘Yes, Maeve?’

The receptionist was holding a large tray. On it was a coffee pot, teapot, milk, sugar, cups and saucers - and a plate of biscuits. ‘Sorry to interrupt, Mrs Donnelly, but I thought you could all do with a hot drink.’

‘You’re a life saver, Maeve, we certainly could.’ Bess took the tray from the receptionist. ‘Shouldn’t you have gone home by now?’ She looked up at the clock. ‘Your shift finished an hour ago.’

‘I stayed to see in the New Year, then there was so much going on I forgot the time. I’ll be off now,’ she said, turning to leave.

‘Maeve? Before you go, were all the guests accounted for after the party?’ The receptionist looked at Bess quizzically. ‘Were any room-keys left in the pigeonholes at the time your shift ended?’

‘No, not that I remember.’

‘Would you do something for me?’ Maeve nodded. ‘Would you ask Mr Potts if he noticed whether there were any keys in the pigeon holes when he came on duty?’

Maeve left the office, leaving the door ajar. By the time Bess had crossed the room with the tray of hot beverages she was back. ‘No, Mrs Donnelly. Except for keys belonging to rooms that were not occupied every key was out or, like Mr and Mrs Burrell’s, accounted for. All the guests were in the hotel. Most had gone up to their rooms, Mr Potts said.’

‘Thank you, Maeve. Goodnight.’

‘Goodnight.’ The receptionist nodded to the room in general and left, closing the door quietly behind her.

‘Nothing amiss according to the night porter,’ Bess said. Putting each cup in a saucer she looked from the sergeant to the constable. ‘Tea, or coffee?’

‘Tea,’ said the sergeant. The constable nodded in agreement.

Bess poured tea for each of the policemen. ‘Help yourselves to milk and sugar.’ She then poured four cups of coffee, adding milk to hers and Margot’s, but leaving Frank and Bill to add their own.

‘Sorry about the delay, but it crossed my mind that you might want to know if all the hotel’s guests were accounted for.’

‘I did. Now, Mrs Burrell,’ the sergeant said, adding milk to his tea and waving away the offer of a biscuit that the constable took eagerly, ‘where were we?’

‘You asked if my friend Goldie was here tonight. She wasn’t.’ Despite the sadness she felt when she thought about her friend, Margot chuckled. ‘Her real name was Doreen, but she hated it, so we called her by her stage name.’ Tears welled up in her eyes. ‘Goldie was lovely. She was pretty and full of life. She was always laughing. She was generous too.’ Margot wiped a tear from her cheek with the flat of her hand. ‘No! She wasn’t here tonight. She wouldn’t dare come back to England while that Nazi’s around,’ Margot spat.

‘David Sutherland beat Goldie up and dumped her like a piece of rubbish, in an alley.’ Remembering that terrible day, Margot bit her bottom lip to stop herself from crying out and looked to the heavens. ‘She couldn’t stand when I found her, let alone walk,’ she said at last. ‘I don’t know how I did it, but somehow I managed to get her to the theatre.

‘It was obvious she wouldn’t be able to perform that night, her face looked like a piece of raw meat. One of her eyes was so swollen she couldn’t see out of it, and her ribs hurt every time she moved. Sutherland had beaten her so badly she almost died.’ Margot took in a breath and blew it out slowly. ‘We looked after her; hid her until she was well enough to travel, then we got her out of London.’

‘You and your sister did this?’ The sergeant looked again from Margot to Bess.

‘No, Bess wasn’t in London then. It was Goldie’s friends, the other dancers in the show, Mr and Mrs Goldman - the owners of the theatre - and me. Mr and