Crime in the Café. Фиона Грейс
air show.
“And how many rooms did you say there were?” she asked, peering nervously back out the door and along the dark corridor, which was lined either side with doors. She didn’t want to make it quite so obvious to Suzy just how much work would need to be done to get this place up to scratch, so as she ducked back into the room, she rearranged her features into something altogether more receptive.
“There’s four hundred square meters of accommodation in total,” Suzy explained. “Six bedrooms and a bridal suite. But we don’t have to do everything all at once. Just the drawing room, dining room, and a few of the bedrooms. Two or three would do to begin with, I think.”
She sounded so relaxed about the whole thing, despite not actually knowing the exact amount of bedrooms she wanted furnished!
“And you need that all done in time for the air show on Saturday?” Lacey asked, as if seeking extra clarification would somehow make it make sense.
“Actually, Friday,” Suzy corrected. “That’s when I’m holding the launch party.”
Lacey remembered Suzy mentioning Grumpy Greg the events planner, and the launch party, her question about when that was going to be had gotten lost in the moment when Suzy had hugged her by surprise.
“Friday…” Lacey repeated hypnotically, as she followed Suzy back out of the room and into the elevator.
The doors closed softly behind them and Suzy turned her eager eyes to Lacey. “So? What do you think?”
The elevator started its descent, making Lacey’s stomach flip.
“You have quite a gem here,” Lacey said, choosing her words carefully. “But the turnaround time is tight. You do know that, right?”
“That’s what Grumpy Greg said,” Suzy replied, her lips twisting, her tone becoming more morose. “He said organizing a full fireworks display in time for Friday would be nearly impossible.”
Lacey held her tongue, although what she really wanted to say was that sourcing a bunch of fireworks was significantly less difficult than turning a four-hundred-square-meter care home into a Victorian hunting lodge with period furniture. If the events planner thought the turnaround was tight, then where did that leave her?
The elevator doors pinged open and they stepped out together into the main corridor, with its linoleum floor and myriad of signage and medical posters drilled into the walls.
Lacey caught Suzy peering at them, as if she’d only just seen them. As if it had only now occurred to her just how much work was needed to transform this place. For the first time, she looked a little overwhelmed. Worry began to shine in her eyes.
“Do you think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew?” she asked, as they headed back into the foyer.
Lacey’s instincts to not disappoint her kicked in.
“I’m not going to lie,” she said carefully. “It will be a lot of hard work. But I do think it’s possible. I already have quite a lot of stock that would be appropriate for the theme. But there’s some really big things you need to prioritize before any decorating can begin.”
“Like what?” Suzy asked, grabbing a piece of scrap paper, as if hanging on Lacey’s every word of expertise.
“The floors,” Lacey began, pacing through the room. “This linoleum has got to go. The walls need to be stripped of that horrible textured paper. The artex ceiling. Opening up the fireplace alone will take a whole team…”
“So basically, gut the place and start again?” Suzy interrupted, looking up from her notes.
“Pretty much. And don’t take shortcuts. When it comes to interiors, it’s all about the small details. You need to create a fantasy. No fake wallpaper made to look like wood paneling. If you’re going to go for paneling, make it real. Fake looks cheap. So sourcing that is an absolute priority.”
Suzy went back to scribbling, nodding the whole time Lacey spoke. “Do you know a good handyman?”
“Suzy, you need ten handymen,” Lacey told her. “At least! And a whole soccer team’s worth of decorators. Have you even got the budget for all of this?”
Suzy looked up. “Yes. Pretty much. I mean, I won’t be able to pay anyone until the hotel starts bringing in money, which might make it harder to find people to agree to do the work…”
Her voice trailed away, as she flashed Lacey a hopeful, puppy-dog look.
Lacey felt even less certain than she had before. Not being paid in advance would be risky, since she’d have to source a bunch of merchandise that would run into the tens of thousands of pounds. And taking on such a big project when the turnaround time was so tight, and when she had her own business to think about, may be unwise. But on the other hand, she’d really enjoyed the tour, and could picture how the place would look filled up with antique pieces. She’d also enjoyed accessing her old expertise over interior design, and combining it with her new talents for antiquing. Suzy was presenting her with a unique opportunity, and the B&B was absolutely certain to turn a profit very quickly, indeed. Yes, it would be a huge financial risk, and a massive drain of her time and energy, but when would Lacey get a chance like this again?
Not quite ready to give Suzy a definitive answer, Lacey said, “Hold that thought.”
She went out to her car and fetched the flintlock in its case and carried it back into the estate.
“The rifle!” Suzy beamed, grinning at the sight of it. She looked just as thrilled to see it as she had the first time Lacey had shown it to her yesterday at the store. “You brought it? For me?”
“Yup,” Lacey told her.
She placed it on the reception desk and clicked open the latches.
Suzy reached in and took it out, running her fingers over the barrel lovingly. “Can I pick it up?”
“Sure,” Lacey said.
Suzy lifted it and adopted a shooting stance. She looked like something of a pro, so much so that Lacey was about to ask her if she’d ever been hunting herself. But before she got the chance, there came the sound of the automatic foyer doors swishing open behind them.
Lacey turned to see a man in a dark suit striding in through the doors. Following behind him was a woman in a presidential-looking dark crimson skirt-suit. Lacey recognized the woman from town meetings. It was Councilor Muir, their local MP.
Suzy swirled too, rifle still in hand.
At the sight of it, the man in the suit barreled into Councilor Muir protectively.
“Suzy!” Lacey squealed. “Put the rifle down!”
“Oh!” Suzy said, her cheeks flaming red.
“It’s just an antique!” Lacey told the security man, who was still protectively huddling his arms around Councilor Muir.
Finally, a little hesitantly, he released her.
The councilwoman straightened out her suit and patted down her hair. “Thank you, Benson,” she said stiffly to the aide who’d been about to take a bullet for her. She looked embarrassed more than anything.
“Sorry, Joanie,” Suzy said. “For pointing a gun in your face.”
Joanie? Lacey thought. That was a very familiar way to address the woman. Did the two know one another on a personal level?
Councilor Muir said nothing. Her gaze flicked to Lacey. “Who’s this?”
“This is my friend Lacey,” Suzy said. “She’s going to decorate the B&B. Hopefully.”
Lacey stepped forward and proffered her hand to the councilor. She’d never actually seen her up close, just speaking from the town hall’s podium, or on the occasional flyer that was posted through the store’s letterbox. She was in her fifties, older than in her PR photo; the lines around her eyes gave her away. She looked tired and stressed, and didn’t take Lacey’s outstretched hand, since her arms were full