Murder at the Mayfair Hotel Read online

“Is there something I can do for you, Miss Fox?” He peered down his nose at me, as if I were one of his waiters who’d been found somewhere he ought not to be. It would seem he’d also heard the gossip about by nocturnal adventure, but had not yet been told whatever reason Goliath had made up to explain it.

  “I wanted to talk to you about Mr. Armitage.”

  His superior demeanor shattered with his surprise. “What about him?”

  I didn’t want to be specific, but I did want answers. I needed to tell him something that would get him confiding in me. I leaned forward and lowered my voice. “I’ve seen him acting suspiciously.”

  “In what way?” he asked, voice also lowered.

  “I’d rather not say at this point. It might be nothing, and I don’t want to get him into trouble. But I do want to talk to someone who knows him. Someone from the senior staff. Naturally, I can’t go to Mr. Hobart, and I prefer to speak to you rather than Mrs. Kettering.”

  Although his mouth didn’t move, this last comment seemed to please him. He was a handsome man, tall and slim, with dark-hair and a cleanly shaved jaw and upper lip. His snobbish superiority did him no favors, however. It instantly put me off.

  “What do you know about Mr. Armitage’s past?” I asked. “Before he came to work here.”

  A small crease appeared between his eyebrows. “Very little. He was taken in by Mr. Hobart’s brother, and Mr. Hobart found him a position here. He was promoted to assistant manager over some more eligible candidates.” He sniffed. “No doubt Mr. Hobart wants to keep the line of succession in his family.”

  His jealousy took me by surprise. While it was interesting, it wasn’t relevant to the investigation. Except that it might give Mr. Chapman a reason to divulge more than he ought about his rival.

  “Has Mr. Armitage ever used his position here to his advantage?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” he said. “I have to admit he’s very good at what he does. He takes a great load off Mr. Hobart’s shoulders.” So much for jealousy.

  I needed to be even more direct if I was going to establish a connection between Mr. Armitage’s past and Mrs. Warrick. “Has Mr. Armitage ever been seen somewhere he shouldn’t be? In the office of one of the other senior staff without them being present, or in a guest’s room, perhaps?”

  He glanced past me towards the door then bent his head to mine. “What do you think he has done?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Then why the questions?”

  “So he has never abused his authority?”

  He gasped. “Is this about Mrs. Warrick’s murder? Do you suspect him?”

  “Everyone is a suspect at this point in time.” I’d gone too far to back away now. Mr. Chapman wasn’t a fool and wouldn’t believe me if I pretended my questions weren’t related to the murder.

  “Do you know, it did occur to me that he might have done it,” Mr. Chapman said. “But I dismissed the notion. He’s not the type to poison someone.”

  The detective inspector’s words about all types being capable of murder rang in my head like a bell.

  “And I didn’t think it a strong enough reason,” Mr. Chapman went on.

  “What reason?”

  He glanced behind me at the door again. “I overheard Mrs. Warrick having words with Mr. Hobart in his office. The door was closed but she spoke loudly and I could clearly hear her mention Mr. Armitage’s name.”

  I knew from experience that one had to press one’s ear to the door to overhear conversations coming from within. Accidentally overhearing something was impossible. “In what context?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. All I heard her say was that Mr. Armitage should be spoken to severely, that she expected better from The Mayfair.”

  If she had recognized Mr. Armitage and remembered his past as a thief, the first person she’d tell would be his immediate superior. Not knowing Mr. Hobart was his uncle, she would have told him everything. She expected better from The Mayfair because she did not expect a thief to be employed at a luxury hotel.

  It fit neatly. Very neatly. Perhaps Mr. Hobart had tried to deny it or brush it off, and she had then threatened to speak to my uncle. That would have worried Mr. Hobart and Mr. Armitage greatly. With Mr. Hobart knowing Mr. Armitage’s past, he should never have hired him at the hotel. Their subterfuge would be exposed and they would both be ordered to leave the hotel immediately.

  That night, before she had a chance to speak to my uncle, one or both of them had silenced her.

  I wasn’t sure what bothered me more. That Mr. Hobart was complicit in the crime, or that Mr. Armitage had murdered someone. I’d liked them upon first meeting them. Not to mention that my uncle trusted them implicitly. To think them capable of poisoning Mrs. Warrick to ensure her silence was sickening.

  Mr. Armitage had proved to be someone other than what he pretended, however. His coldness towards me could be indicative of something even colder, darker, within him.

  “I see I’ve done the right thing in telling you,” Mr. Chapman said, straightening.

  My mind reeled and my stomach rolled. The implications of this were enormous. I needed to be very careful and very sure before proceeding.

  “Thank you,” I said, my voice thin. “You will be discreet about this, won’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  I left the dining room and caught the lift to the fourth floor. I hardly heard John as he chatted about the weather. There was just too much to think about. Too much at stake. I needed to be absolutely certain of my theory.

  But how?

  I stepped out of the lift and saw my uncle about to enter his office. He greeted me warmly.

  “How have you settled into the hotel so far, Cleo?”

  “Very well, thank you.”

  “Flossy and Floyd treating you well?”

  “Like a sibling,” I said, meaning it.

  “God, I hope not.” He chuckled, but it vanished suddenly. “The death of Mrs. Warrick has dampened the mood here, somewhat. Usually at this time of year everyone’s excited about the New Year’s Eve ball.” He sighed heavily. “Nasty business, and the police aren’t being helpful. The detective refuses to tell me what he’s uncovered so far. Wish he was more like his brother, our Hobart. Good fellow, Hobart.”

  I bit my lower lip.

  “At least the newspapers haven’t reported any vicious rumors today. Hobart sent Armitage down to the office of that rag, The Evening News, and he threatened legal action on behalf of the hotel. Seems to have done the trick. Can’t have The Mayfair’s good name dragged through the mud, and the Bainbridge name along with it.”

  He opened his office door and stepped over the threshold. I stood there, wanting very much to confide in him and yet not wanting to at the same time.

  “Is there something else, Cleo? Is it about your allowance?”

  “No, it’s not that.” I bit my lip again.

  “You’d better tell me or you’ll do yourself some damage.” He smiled as he indicated my lip.

  Perhaps there was a compromise, a way of finding out more but not naming names. If he didn’t know about Mr. Armitage’s past, then my theory was viable. If he did know then there was no reason for Mr. Armitage to kill Mrs. Warrick.

  “I do have a question for you, as it happens. Would you ever hire someone who’d been arrested in the past?”

  “Arrested! Who has been arrested?”

  “Nobody. At least, not at the moment. I was simply asking if you’d ever hire someone who had a criminal record. For example, someone who was arrested as a child for theft.”

  “Of course not. Can’t have thieves roaming about the hotel with guests’ valuables lying about. Even if they were a reformed character, can you imagine the damage it would do to our reputation if the press got wind of it? I’m sorry, Cleo, if you have a friend in mind for a position here, but I simply can’t take them on.”

  “A friend? Oh.”

  “Not a friend?” He frowned. “Cleo, what are you
trying to tell me?”

  I put my hands up and backed away. “Nothing. It was just a silly question.” So much for thinking I could be discreet. “I’m sorry to bother you.”

  “Cleo!” Flossy called out.

  I was so relieved to be rescued that I almost ran to her. She stood beside her door, arms crossed. “What were you talking to Father about? He looks troubled.”

  “Nothing. It was nothing. Are you heading out for a walk?”

  “Yes, and then luncheon. Care to join me?”

  “Gladly.”

  Floyd joined us for luncheon in the dining room. I studiously avoided Mr. Chapman’s gaze the entire time, and that of as many staff as possible. With the turn the investigation had taken, I was glad for some frivolous conversation for a change.

  “There’s only three more days to go until the ball, not counting today,” Flossy said after the waiter deposited a bowl of soup in front of her. “You must have made a decision about attending by now, Cleo.”

  “I haven’t had time to think,” I said.

  “Haven’t had time?” Floyd echoed. “What do you ladies do all day that takes your mind off important things like balls?”

  His tone was teasing, but Flossy gave me a serious look. “Yes, Cleo, what else could you possibly have to think about? You don’t know anyone in London except us, so you haven’t got any gossip to mull over. You don’t like to shop, so I know you’re not reading fashion periodicals from the library. What do you do when you’re not with me?”

  “Perhaps she likes to improve her mind with books,” Floyd said as he scooped up a spoonful of soup. “Our cousin is a bit of a scholar, you know.”

  “Don’t be absurd. She attended lectures and read books in Cambridge because there’s nothing else to do in a university city. Now that she’s in London, there’s so many other, more exciting things available to her.”

  “Like shopping?”

  “Yes, and the theater, the opera, dances. She could even go to museums and galleries if she wishes to continue to improve her mind.”

  “I’m quite sure they have all of those things in Cambridge too, Sis.”

  “But inferior, surely.”

  Mr. Armitage entered the dining room and I found my gaze following him as he passed Mr. Chapman and surveyed the room. Mr. Chapman watched him too, then his gaze met mine.

  I looked away, but not before Floyd and Flossy noticed. “Why are you watching Armitage?” Floyd asked.

  “I’m curious about him,” I said. “What do you know of him? His past, I mean.”

  “Hobart’s brother the detective took him in when he became an orphan,” Floyd said with a shrug. “He came to work here a few years later. That’s the extent of my knowledge. Why the interest in Armitage?”

  Flossy dropped her spoon in her bowl and gasped. “Cleo,” she scolded.

  I stared at her. Oh God, she’d guessed. Of all people, Flossy had worked out that I suspected him of the murder.

  “You’re not interested in Mr. Armitage in that way, I hope.”

  Floyd set down his spoon too and regarded me from beneath a frown. “Cleo? Are you?”

  I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or worried that I’d opened up another Pandora’s box. “No, of course not.”

  “Good.” Flossy patted my arm.

  “Why?” I pressed. “Is there something wrong with him?”

  Flossy dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “Dearest Cleo, you are so terribly provincial. There’s nothing wrong with Mr. Armitage. He’s a perfectly fine fellow. But you can do better.”

  I blew out a measured breath. She didn’t know about his previous conviction then. I glanced at Floyd, who was nodding along with his sister’s judgement. Neither of them knew. I wasn’t sure why I thought they might, when their father didn’t.

  Mr. Hobart entered the dining room and had a quiet word in his nephew’s ear. He looked worried. No, not worried. Terrified. Both men left.

  I waited a few moments before making my excuses and leaving too. I caught sight of both men stepping into the lift and giving John instructions to stop at the fourth floor. I picked up my skirts and raced up the stairs, pausing on the fourth-floor landing to catch my breath. I peeked around the corner and spotted them entering Uncle Ronald’s office. I could not see their faces, but a sense of dread washed over me.

  My uncle was going to confront them about Mr. Armitage’s prior conviction, the very thing they’d killed Mrs. Warrick for. He could be in grave danger.

  The door closed and I tiptoed closer, placing my ear to it. I had no trouble discerning what my uncle was saying. His booming voice could have blasted a hole in the door.

  “I trusted you, Hobart! How could you do this to me?”

  “Do what?” came Mr. Armitage’s voice, loud but not shouting.

  “Lie to me!”

  “Mr. Hobart would never lie to you, sir. He’s an honest man.”

  “He is not honest! He has been lying to me for years. Years!”

  “Perhaps if you tell me—”

  “Stop! Enough! Get out, both of you. You are both dismissed.”

  My stomach plunged. I’d expected it but hoped it wouldn’t happen. Not yet. Not until we knew for certain whether they were murderers. I rested my hand on the doorknob but didn’t open it. I was a coward. To walk in now and tell them my theory would draw their ire to me, and that could prove very dangerous indeed. But my uncle was alone with them.

  “Dismissed?” Mr. Armitage said. “From the hotel?”

  “You will receive what you’re owed and not a penny more. Get your things and get out of my sight. Both of you.”

  I could hear a quieter voice which I guessed to be that of Mr. Hobart, but I couldn’t discern what he was saying.

  “Cleo?”

  I jumped at Floyd’s voice, directly behind me. I hadn’t heard him approach.

  “What are you doing?”

  I put a finger to my lips as Mr. Armitage asked why they were being dismissed.

  “Dismissed?” Floyd asked, having heard it too. “What the devil?” He pushed open the door and I stumbled forward into the room. “Father, what’s going on?”

  “That’s what I want to know,” Mr. Armitage said with a scowl for Uncle Ronald. “What are we being dismissed for? What have we done wrong?”

  My uncle pointed a finger at Mr. Hobart. The manager shrank back. He wasn’t a big man, but now he seemed even smaller as he cowered beneath my uncle’s wrath. He knew what this was about, and he knew he’d done the wrong thing.

  “Your uncle lied to me when he employed you,” Uncle Ronald said darkly. “Don’t try to deny it. He already admitted it to me.”

  He must have confronted Mr. Hobart immediately after I told him.

  “I don’t understand,” Floyd said, shaking his head.

  “Quiet!” Uncle Ronald snapped without taking his gaze off Mr. Hobart. “Tell him, Hobart. Tell him that I would never have employed him if I’d known he was a thief.”

  Mr. Armitage dragged a hand down his face, muttering something into it. When his hand came away, he looked stricken. “I’ll leave immediately and quietly as long as my uncle is allowed to stay.”

  “No. He is disloyal.”

  “He has given his life to this hotel! He made one mistake in employing me, many years ago. Have some sympathy for your old friend, sir.”

  “He is not my friend. He is my employee. Now he is nobody to me.”

  “Please, sir, don’t act hastily. I will go, if that’s what you want, but let him stay.”

  “Get. Out.”

  Mr. Armitage put up his hands. “I’ve given years of loyal, honest service to this hotel. Despite that unfortunate situation when I was arrested, I’ve done nothing criminal before or since. My father the detective inspector will vouch—”

  “I said get out of my sight!” If I’d ever doubted my uncle had a temper, I knew it to be true now. His face had gone a deep red, ridged with purple veins. He was fierce
, and we all cowered before him.

  Everyone except Mr. Armitage. “Have some sympathy. I was just a boy then.”

  “Once a thief, always a thief!”

  “Thief?” Floyd echoed. “I don’t understand. What’s going on?”

  My uncle stabbed a finger at Mr. Hobart. “This man appointed his nephew to a position here knowing he was a convicted thief.”

  “He was just a child,” Mr. Hobart said, voice trembling. “The situation he found himself in was very difficult.”

  There was that familiar twist in my gut again, for the boy who’d been orphaned about the same age as me. I felt an affinity with him, and knew partly how lonely he must have felt.

  But I had to remember that he was most likely also a murderer.

  I remained near the door, not moving, hardly daring to breathe, hoping everyone had forgotten I was there.

  “I don’t care if he had to beg on the street for food,” Uncle Ronald snarled. “His very presence here could have destroyed this hotel. Our reputation hangs by a thread after the murder, and if this got out too, it would bury us beneath a pile of cancelled reservations.”

  “You’ve made your point,” Mr. Armitage said. “I’ll leave. But tell me, how did you find out?”

  “A loyal member of the family with a nose for ferreting out the truth made me suspicious that I’d hired a criminal. I asked Hobart if it was true, and which staff member it could be, and he admitted everything.”

  Mr. Armitage’s hard gaze settled on Floyd. Floyd quickly put up his hands in surrender. “It wasn’t me!”

  Uncle Ronald signaled to me to step forward. “It was Cleo.”

  I wanted the floor to swallow me up. I wanted to disappear and hide from their shocked and severe glares. But I found myself stepping closer as if a noose were tied around my neck and my uncle pulled the rope.

  Mr. Armitage huffed out an ominous, humorless laugh and shook his head.

  Mr. Hobart pressed a hand to his stomach. “Miss Fox? How…?”

  “It doesn’t matter how she discovered it,” Uncle Ronald growled. “Thank God she did. She’s got a brain, this one.” He looked directly at Floyd as he said it.

  Floyd crossed his arms and studied the floor at his feet.