Something Sinister Page 2

  She met Guntz at the Christmas market. Christmas was the only time of year when Miss Carew would set foot out of the house. She was very fond of the festive season and she was in the habit of buying everyone Christmas presents. She always bought presents for the servants as well as for the family. I suppose this must have been an attempt to buy herself into the affections of the household. Anyway, Guntz was selling German pastries at the market and as Miss Carew stopped at his stall to sample his wares, they started talking. Guntz told her that he’d been a baker in Germany for over twenty years. He had recently lost his wife and daughter in childbirth and, overcome with grief, he planned to start a new life for himself in America. He made it as far as London when his money was stolen and he was left stranded in England. Now he was forced to make a meagre living baking pastries in a makeshift oven in his backyard and selling them on the streets and in the market. I don’t know how much of this sad story is true, but it certainly seems to have affected Miss Carew. She bought a whole bunch of his pastries then and there and brought them home to sample them with her family.

  I will admit that the pastries were very tasty. Miss Carew brought back some little black-and-white biscuits with pretty checkered and spiral patterns, a cake made to look like a snow-covered tree log, tiny fancy sponges wrapped in coloured marzipan and a bag of little balls of chocolate powdered with chopped almonds and hazelnuts. They were very eye catching and festive looking. Even Mr Dunne-Smythe was impressed.

  Mr Dunne-Smythe had a great eye for things which were decadent and luxurious. He liked to impress his guests with extravagant banquets and lavish meals. Luxury and extravagance were his favourite words. Everything about him had to display luxury and extravagance. That is why he rented Dundsley Manor. The house was far too big for his family, but it was a beautiful and grand building and it displayed the very qualities he wanted to exude. Of course, he wouldn’t admit to his guests that the house was rented. He always made out that Dundsley Manor was his ancestral home and that all the grand portraits which hung in the stairwell were those of his ancestors. This was a lie, of course. The portraits and the furniture all came with the house and belonged to the earl of something or other. Anyway, Mr Dunne-Smythe always held a series of banquets during the festive season with which to impress his friends, colleagues and business partners. He decided that Guntz’s pastries would be a great addition to that year’s feasts. As the pastries had to be made fresh every morning, it was decided that Guntz should move into the house during the festive season so that he could make use of the manor’s kitchen and ovens.

  Apparently there is a certain charm about Guntz. I haven’t noticed it myself, but some of the kitchen maids have commented on it. They kept going on about his lovely accent and his endearing broken English. As far as I was concerned, Guntz was not at all what I would consider to be a handsome man. He must have been about forty-five or forty-six. He was balding at the temples and he had a bit of a pouch on him. But he did have very deep and intense eyes which some of the maids described as beautiful and melancholy, but which I simply found to be unsettling. Whenever I talked to him, he would stare back at me with those eyes – such an intense and penetrating stare that it forced me to look away. It certainly seemed, whenever you talked to him, that there was no one else in the world for him but you. This must’ve been what made him so attractive to Miss Carew, being as she was unaccustomed to having anyone paying any attention to her.

  Cook, however, was not impressed by him. The moment Guntz came into the house he started taking over the kitchen. Laying claim to the ovens, taking possession of the kitchen tables, barking orders at the maids. Cook and Guntz were constantly at each other’s throats. The festive season, of course, was a very busy time for Cook, with so many banquets to prepare. There were pigs to be roasted, jellies to be made, pies to be baked. Cook could certainly have done without the additional hindrance of a bossy German invading her kitchen! But the other staff members all took well to Guntz. The maids found him charming and attractive, as I mentioned, and were more prepared to help him with his pastries than Cook with her banquet. Of course, maids – whether they’re kitchen, parlour or chambermaids – always do find it easier to take orders from a man than from a woman, much to my frustration. Whenever Cook or I asked them to do something they would frown and argue, but when Guntz asked them to do something, they would instantly drop whatever they were doing and say: ‘Oh, yes, Herr Guntz! Certainly, Herr Guntz! Absolutely, Herr Guntz!’ all the while smiling and giggling and acting like little trollops! The footmen were equally fond of him. Guntz had a crude sense of humour which appealed to them. And if the female staff find it hard to take orders from a woman, then the male staff are much worse. I should mention, by the way, that we didn’t have a butler at the time. The previous one had run off with one of the kitchen maids a few weeks previously and I had taken over the butler’s duties in the meantime. But I can be a stern woman, believe you me, and I know how to hold my ground. I would not have had a problem dealing with the footmen if Guntz hadn’t decided to meddle with my work.

  You see, it was part of my duty to make sure the table had been laid correctly for the banquet. It was all about luxury and extravagance. We used the best china, the best crystal, the best silver and it had to be laid out in such a way that the banquet table caught the guests’ attention the moment they entered the dining room. The food also needed to be dressed and presented in an extravagant and luxurious manner. Guntz was responsible for the presentation of his pastries and confectionery, but he would interfere with the layout of my table. He would take away candlesticks or decanters to make room for his trays, or he would replace wine glasses because they blocked the view to his pastries! I ask you! The impertinence of the man!

  And that wasn’t his only impertinence. He was very forward with the family as well! I always tell new staff not to speak to the family unless they are spoken to first, but Guntz ignored that rule completely. He was always talking out of turn. Complimenting Miss Carew and Mrs Dunne-Smythe on their dresses, making jokes with Master Eugene and Miss Alice or giving unsolicited advice to Mr Dunne-Smythe! He had the great audacity of telling Mr Dunne-Smythe which cake to eat when! Certain pastries were more suitable for breakfast, he would say, while others tasted better during elevensies, and yet others were only suitable as desserts. I don’t know why the family put up with him. I can only assume that they made allowances for him because Guntz was a foreigner and they do things differently abroad.

  In fact, Mr Dunne-Smythe soon became very interested in the way things were done in Germany. You see, Guntz was a very cunning man, and knowing that Mr Dunne-Smythe was in the coffee trade, he started telling him all about the German coffee-drinking habits. They have a thing over there called kaffeeklatsches, which means coffee gossip. The women over there have coffee in the mornings instead of after dinner. They invite each other around for coffee, which they have with a pastry, of course, and they exchange gossip. Well, Mr Dunne-Smythe was very impressed by this. To have coffee in the mornings as well as at night! To think how much coffee he’d be able to sell if the English adopted this custom. He was determined to start a new trend in this country and ordered his wife and Miss Carew to start inviting their friends over on regular mornings for a kaffeeklatsch.

  Now, Miss Carew, who was very fond of Guntz – inappropriately so, I thought at times, but I will not divulge any further on that – insisted that Guntz remain in the house after Christmas so that he could bake the cakes which were to be served during the coffee mornings. Mr Dunne-Smythe agreed and, sure enough, he offered Guntz a post as a resident baker and he was to move into the house permanently. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, Guntz then went on to insist that he be the one to serve the coffee to the ladies in the morning, instead of the footmen! He said he might be called on to instruct and advise Mrs Dunne-Smythe on how to host a coffee morning. The cheek of the man! As if Mrs Dunne-Smythe wasn’t already well practiced in entertaining guests! Well, I hoped and prayed for the whole venture to fail and for Guntz to be kicked out of the house, but unfortunately the coffee mornings were a great success. The ladies all adored Guntz with his cheeky charm and bonhomie and kept asking him for the recipes of his pastries so that they could give them to their cooks and host their own kaffeeklatsches.

  Well, the family all fell in love with Guntz after that. And Guntz became increasingly familiar in his dealings with them. He’d chat with them in the corridors, or exchange jokes with them while at the breakfast table. At one point, Mr Dunne-Smythe even asked Guntz to join him for coffee. He liked hearing Guntz’s opinion on his newest ventures in the coffee trade. So after dinner, when the rest of the family had retired to their rooms, he would ask Guntz to smoke a cigar with him. Oh, he looked so smug, sitting there with his arm spread over the backrest of his chair, puffing away on that cigar while I helped the maids clear the table! He even had the audacity to thank me as I removed a dirty dish from under his nose! Well, it was on one of those occasions that I overheard Guntz and Mr Dunne-Smythe discussing the household expenses. You see, we all knew – that is, the senior servants knew – that Mr Dunne-Smythe was living well above his means. The expensive house, the lavish banquets, it was all a facade. Mr Dunne-Smythe was not as wealthy as he liked to portray himself. He was heavily indebted to the bank. We all knew about it – and worried about it too sometimes – but we did not discuss it with the family. It was not our place to do so. But Guntz had no sense of his place in the household, and started expressing his concerns to Mr Dunne-Smythe. He started off by accusing Cook of mismanaging her kitchen. He told Mr Dunne-Smythe that he had witnessed some ‘shocking wastage’ in the kitchen. Shocking wastage indeed! He was referring to the flour bags which got ripped. Cook had simply swept up the spilled f
lour and had thrown it away instead of storing it in a container. And then he went on to mention the jam jars which had not been sealed properly, causing the jam to spoil. Twenty jars of jam had to be thrown away, which I admit was unfortunate, but it could have happened to the best of cooks. It wasn’t until Guntz started accusing me and some of the chambermaids of stealing cups of sugar from the dispensary that I had to intervene! (I admit, we did sometimes take some sugar up to our rooms when we’d run out, but it’s hardly stealing.) ‘How dare you!’ I said to him. I simply couldn’t contain myself any longer. ‘Why are you spreading such lies! You are nothing but an immigrant, a costermonger, a pastry chef, and yet there you sit as a lord, laughing and chatting with Mr Dunne-Smythe as if you were old friends!’

  It was an unforgivable display of rudeness and impertinence, I admit that. There is nothing more unseemly than two servants squabbling in front of their master. Mr Dunne-Smythe quickly put an end to the row by slamming his fist on the table and ordering me back into the kitchen, while Guntz remained sitting on his chair, puffing away on that cigar. I swear I could see a trace of a smile on his face as I shuffled back into the kitchen like a chastened child. That’s when I realized what he was up to. All this time he’d been slowly manipulating his way into the family’s good graces and plotting to get rid of the staff. Mark my words, that’s what he was up to. He wanted the Dunne-Smythes all to himself. And why? Well, I’ll tell you why. He wanted to be left alone with the family so that he could steal from them, that’s why! And I was right.

  Three weeks later we were all summoned to the kitchen by Mr Dunne-Smythe so that he could impart on us some ‘unfortunate news’. Due to some temporary financial restrains, he went on to say, he was no longer able to keep all the current staff working at Dundsley Manor year-round and he was forced to let most of us go. Only Rosie and Flora were to stay behind as well as some of the outside staff. And Guntz, of course, who was to remain on as Mr Dunne-Smythe’s butler and valet! He went on to add that we were all welcome to reapply for our jobs next winter, during the banquet season, when Mr Dunne-Smythe would be taking on casual staff on a temporary contract. The rest of the year, however, the house would be run with a ‘skeleton staff’ as he called it, ‘under Guntz’s efficient management’. Efficient management, indeed! So there you have it. After ten years of loyal service, I was let go with nothing more than an envelope containing a written reference!

  Well, I did stay in touch with Rosie and Flora all this time and they informed me that Guntz had completely changed his colours! Apparently he had become ruthless, bad-tempered and even a little mad! He had the poor girls working from five in the morning right through to the middle of the night, with barely any breaks to feed themselves. They ate nothing but gruel and lentil soup and Rosie, who was always a little on the plump side, wrote that she was now practically skin and bones! She also wrote that Master Eugene left the house quite suddenly under mysterious circumstances and that only a few weeks later Miss Alice was shipped off to a school in France, which means that only Mr Dunne-Smythe, Mrs Dunne-Smythe and Miss Carew were left behind in the house. It seems that, after getting rid of the staff, Guntz also managed to rid himself of the children, which only proves my theory that Guntz was plotting to keep the Dunne-Smythes all to himself! I’m telling you, there is something very wrong about their sudden disappearance. Guntz has a strange hold over Mr Dunne-Smythe and it is imperative that they are located as soon as possible. I fear something awful will happen to the Dunne-Smythes if he’s not found soon. The Kent police should have done more about this when I first reported the disappearance. I just hope and pray it’s not already too late.

  *

  “Well, that was a waste of time!” Inspector Flynt got off his chair and started pacing up and down the office. “Good Lord, I thought that woman would never shut up! Sixty minutes she sat there nattering! Sixty precious minutes which we will never get back. And what have we learned? Nothing! Absolutely nothing!” Flynt stopped pacing and turned to face his colleagues, who were still sitting at the meeting table. “Billings, you’re off to Dundsley Manor tomorrow to interview this Rosie. She’s the one we should have been talking to in the first place, instead of this garrulous old maid! And Clarkson, you had better alert the press.”

  “Is that wise?” Billings asked.

  Flynt frowned and turned to look at him. “Wise? Of course it’s wise! Why wouldn’t it be wise?”

  “I’m not sure we should let Guntz know we’re searching for him. If he is really holding the Dunne-Smythes hostage somewhere, then surely it’s better for him not to know that we’re onto him.”

  “Hostage? Good God, man! Guntz isn’t holding them hostage!”

  “But Miss Kemp said…”

  “Miss Kemp is a bitter old housekeeper who’s jealous of her usurper! Surely you don’t believe all her gossip? We have nothing against the butler. It’s Mr Dunne-Smythe himself we’re after. It’s perfectly clear that he has stolen money from his company and that he has gone on the run. I want his likeness to be published in all of the papers. I want the public to be on the lookout for him. We also need to establish the whereabouts of the two children. Clues are what we need. Clues and sightings. I want Mr Dunne-Smythe to feel the pressure. He’ll soon make a mistake and betray himself. In fact, I think I’ll get in touch with the press myself.” And with that, Flynt turned towards the door and marched out of the office, leaving Billings and Clarkson sitting at the meeting table.

  Billings took a long breath and sighed. “We’re going to get inundated with letters from the public,” he warned Clarkson. “We always do when we turn to the press. Crackpots, fantasists and pranksters. They’re the only ones who ever write to us. And guess who’s going to have to sift through all that rubbish.”

  “It’s going to be one of them cases, is it?” his colleague responded.

  “How about a drink, Clarkson?” Billings had been meaning to ask his colleague out for a drink for a while now. He had decided that he had been too gloomy and insular lately and that he needed a friend. And Clarkson seemed amiable enough.

  Clarkson looked up, surprised. “A drink?” he asked. “I didn’t think you drank.”

  “I do occasionally. And I think I will be needing one with this case. How about going to that pub around the corner. It’ll be my treat.”

  “Well, that’s very kind of you, Billings, but it’s pork tonight,” Clarkson replied. “The rib’s waiting at home for me with me dinner and the lil’ ones are looking forward to seeing me.”

  “Of course.” Billings quickly turned his back on his colleague and headed for the hat stand.

  “But you’re welcome to join us, Billings,” Clarkson continued. “I’m sure the rib won’t mind.”

  Oh God, thought Billings. Now he’ll think I’m lonely. “Thank you, Clarkson, but no,” he said, putting on his greatcoat and hat. He still had his back turned to Clarkson, afraid that his colleague might notice the look of disappointment on his face if he saw it. “I should probably go home and see to that dog.”

  “Some other time then, Billings.”

  “Yes, some other time. Goodbye.” He hastily buttoned up his coat and walked out, all the while avoiding eye contact with his colleague. He shook his head as he stepped out of the office. Damn it, he thought. I shouldn’t have asked him!

  *

  As soon as Billings opened the front door, Mrs Appleby came rushing out of the lounge to meet him.

  “I’ve got a bone to pick with you!” she said. “I’ve been wounded!”