Murder at the Mayfair Hotel Read online

  Not only had he lost his job yesterday, he’d also lost his home.

  I huddled beneath my umbrella on the small porch as I knocked, but the near-horizontal angle of the rain meant I still got thoroughly wet. The door was answered by a woman with gray hair and slightly protruding teeth with smiling eyes. This must be Mrs. Hobart, the detective inspector’s wife and Mr. Armitage’s mother.

  “Good morning,” I said. “My name is Cleopatra Fox. Is Mr. Armitage—?”

  “Miss Fox!” Her features hardened. “What do you want with my son?”

  I swallowed. “I want to talk to him.”

  “Did Alfred Hobart give you this address?”

  I nodded.

  She clicked her tongue. “He shouldn’t have. Harry doesn’t want to talk to you.”

  “Please don’t close the door!”

  She slammed it in my face.

  I supposed I deserved that. I knocked again. “You can’t make me feel worse than I already do,” I called out through the door. With the rain starting to come down harder, she could certainly make me feel colder and wetter, however. “I’ll keep knocking until you open up! Your neighbors are already peering out of their windows, Mrs. Hobart.”

  The door suddenly opened and I almost knocked her on the nose. She scowled at me, arms crossed.

  “Haven’t you done enough damage, Miss Fox?”

  “You’re right, I have done quite a lot of damage to your family, and I’m very sorry for it. I know nothing I can say will make it up to Mr. Armitage, but perhaps there’s something he can say to me that will help.”

  She frowned. “I don’t follow.”

  “Let him get some things off his chest. If there’s a small chance that it will help, I’d like to try.” She seemed to consider this, so I pressed on. “If nothing else, you’ll get to listen to him cut me down to size.”

  “You’re stubborn, I’ll give you that.”

  “Mr. Hobart calls me persistent.”

  Her lips flattened. “My brother-in-law has always been too kind for his own good.” She retreated inside. She did not invite me across the threshold.

  A few moments later, Mr. Armitage appeared at the door. He opened it wider, but also didn’t invite me in. He wore no jacket and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to the elbows. He held a spanner in a grease-stained hand and his hair looked as though it hadn’t been combed. He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, crossed his arms and glared at me.

  “Let me begin by saying again how sorry I am for costing you your position at the hotel,” I said.

  “You’ve already apologized.”

  “I wasn’t sure you heard me yesterday.”

  “I heard you.”

  I cleared my throat. “What I did to you and your uncle was horrid, but I want you to know that I did it because I truly did think you were the murderer.”

  His glare hardened. “I feel so much better knowing you think I’m capable of poisoning people.”

  I adjusted my grip on the umbrella. Despite wearing gloves my fingers were going numb from the cold. “I’ve been told my imagination is too vivid sometimes. My grandmother warned me it would get me into trouble one day.”

  “It’s not your imagination that’s the problem, it’s your eagerness to insert your nose into other people’s business.”

  “Yes, you’re right.”

  “Is there anything else, Miss Fox? I’m very busy.”

  I nodded at the spanner. “So I see.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I was about to go out to look for work.”

  I swallowed and lowered my gaze. “Oh. Yes, of course. If I hear of any opportunities, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

  “I don’t want your help.”

  I bit my lower lip and the silence stretched. I ought to walk away, but I hated leaving with him still angry. “I could try speaking to my uncle again on your behalf.”

  He barked a harsh laugh. “He could have re-hired me yesterday when he visited Uncle Alfred.” He pointed the spanner at the house next door. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll find something, even if I have to muck out stalls or join the army.”

  “But there’s a war on!”

  “I hear the weather’s pleasant in Africa at this time of year.”

  I stared at him. “Don’t join the army. I’ll find you a position somewhere you won’t get shot at.”

  He crossed his arms again. “Your concern for my wellbeing is a little late, Miss Fox. But don’t worry. It seems the army don’t like convicted felons either.”

  “Oh. You were being sarcastic about joining.” I scrambled for something more to say, something to dissolve his anger, even just a little bit. But I could think of nothing. His glare was leaving me discombobulated.

  A strong wind hit me from the side, almost ripping the umbrella out of my hand. Mr. Armitage grabbed it and helped me hold it until the wind died down again.

  He blew out a breath as if resigning himself. “If you’re not going to leave, you should come in. You’re getting wet.”

  “I’ll stay here, thanks. It’s colder inside.”

  “Now who’s being sarcastic?”

  I smiled, and for a very brief moment I thought he returned it. But the moment was so fleeting that I instantly doubted myself when his scowl returned with extra ferocity.

  “I won’t keep you any longer,” I said. “Goodbye, Mr. Armitage.”

  I descended the front steps, tears once again burning my eyes. This meeting had achieved nothing. He was still angry with me, and I was still feeling guilty. Even worse, I could think of nothing to say or do to make the situation better.

  “Miss Fox?” he called out.

  I spun around. “Yes?”

  He leaned a forearm against the doorframe and tapped the spanner with his finger. After a moment, he simply said, “Goodbye,” and closed the door.

  At least he didn’t slam it. That was one positive thing to take away from the meeting.

  There were no others, however, and I spent the journey back to the hotel feeling more miserable than I had on the journey there.

  “Detective Inspector Hobart was here again while you were out,” Harmony said as she entered my suite behind me. I had the distinct feeling she’d been lurking on the fourth floor waiting for my return. “He spoke with Sir Ronald.”

  I pulled a face as I removed my damp coat and flung it over the back of the armchair in the corner. “Do you know how that went?”

  “I wasn’t listening in, if that’s what you mean,” she said, snippy.

  I smiled, despite myself. “It’s not. Was Floyd in the meeting? Perhaps he can tell me how it went.”

  “I believe Mr. Bainbridge was out. He’s back now, playing billiards downstairs with some gentlemen.”

  I removed my gloves and set them down on the dressing table in the bedroom. “Did the inspector speak to anyone else?”

  “Some guests on the third floor nearest Mrs. Warrick’s room.”

  “He must have wanted to know if any of them heard noises coming from her room during the night.”

  “Or saw anyone lurking about who shouldn’t be there.” Harmony picked up a pillow from the bed and fluffed it. “I wonder if he learned anything important.”

  I unpinned my hat and touched my hair to see if it had gotten wet. Then I suddenly straightened and turned to her. “Do you think he was asking those questions because there was no poison found in the tonic, toothpaste or face cream?”

  “And he wants to find out if someone delivered the poison in something else during the night?” Harmony shrugged. “After he spoke to the guests, he sought out the footmen who were working that night so you are probably right.” She frowned. “But he already asked the footman a few days ago and no one delivered anything further to Mrs. Warrick’s room that night between Danny taking her the hot chocolate and Edith taking her the tea the following morning.”

  “But what if they delivered something to another guest’s room and the guest added the poison there
before taking it to Mrs. Warrick? If he or she was known to Mrs. Warrick, she might have invited them in. The poisoner then offered her the poisoned drink or food, waited for her to die after she ate or drank it, then took the leftovers away with them.”

  Harmony continued to fluff the pillow although I suspected she’d forgotten she was holding it. Her clear gaze met mine. “Which is why the police can’t find any traces of poison in anything that was left in the room. Miss Fox, I think you might be right. It explains why the inspector is continuing to interview guests now.”

  “My uncle would not like that. He was against the guests being questioned.” It seemed the inspector had overruled him, and quite rightly, too.

  “I’m glad he thinks it’s a guest and not a staff member,” she said. “I’ve been so worried that he’d arrest someone else, ever since he released Danny.”

  “You can’t know all of the staff that well, Harmony. Perhaps one of them is the poisoner. You should prepare yourself for that possibility.”

  She sighed. “So what will you do next? Do you want me to ask the footmen questions too? Or would you rather do it?”

  I returned to the sitting room and picked up one of the books I’d borrowed from the hotel library. “I’m not doing anything next. I’ve given up.”

  She followed me, my damp coat slung over her arm. “If you’ve given up, why did you just ask all these questions about the inspector’s visit?”

  I paused then said, “Habit.”

  She regarded me with her one eyebrow raised. “I know you have suspects.”

  I sat and opened the book. As curious as I was to know if either Mr. Hookly or Mr. Duffield had asked for something from the kitchen during the night, I wasn’t prepared to step on the inspector’s toes. With Mr. Armitage no longer a suspect, I was quite sure Detective Inspector Hobart would discover the poisoner. Everyone would be better off if I stayed out of his way.

  “Fine,” she said, snippy again. “If that’s how you want to be, I won’t bother you until later.”

  “Later?”

  “I’ll return to do your hair for dinner.”

  “I’m having dinner in my room tonight. I don’t feel like seeing anyone.”

  She sighed again and left, taking my coat with her.

  “Harmony!” came the shrill voice of Mrs. Kettering. “What are you doing in Miss Fox’s room at this hour?”

  “I was cleaning it, ma’am.”

  “Without your linen cart, cleaning products, sponges, or duster?”

  “I, um…”

  “Put that coat back this instance then come with me to my office.”

  “I’m not stealing it! Miss Fox asked me to dry it for her by the fire.”

  “Miss Fox is not here. I saw her leave.”

  I hurried to the door, book in hand. “I am here.”

  The housekeeper stiffened. “My apologies, Miss Fox. I thought Harmony was in your room uninvited. She claims to be cleaning it, when clearly she is not.”

  “She was in my room because I asked her to come in,” I snapped. “Her other duties are finished and we were simply talking.”

  “Talking?” Mrs. Kettering’s nostrils flared. “Be careful, Miss Fox. She has always been strange, this one, with a busy tongue which she doesn’t know when to hold still.”

  A well of emotions within me surged, fierce and hot. They were not all the result of Mrs. Kettering’s nastiness, but she was going to bear the brunt of them. “You had better hold your tongue, Mrs. Kettering, or my uncle will hear of this.”

  She huffed a breath through her nose and her lips stretched into a thin gash with her defiant smile. “I have been here years, Miss Fox. You have been here five minutes. Which of us do you think he will listen to?”

  “The reasonable one who also happens to be his niece. Good day, Mrs. Kettering. I have no need of your services at this moment.”

  The housekeeper looked very much like a bull about to charge with her flaring nostrils and heavy breathing. “Get back to work,” she snapped at Harmony. Then she marched off, back ramrod straight, the keys at her hip jangling with every stride.

  Harmony blew out a breath. “Thank you. But don’t think this means I’ve forgiven you for giving up on the investigation.” She winked at me.

  I watched her go, glad to have done one good deed since my arrival at the hotel.

  Flossy flounced onto the sofa in my sitting room, picked up the book I’d been reading and put it down again, screwing up her nose. “You simply must dine with me tonight, Cleo. I’m so bored.”

  “I don’t feel like dining out,” I said.

  “It’s not out. It’s just downstairs.”

  If it required the effort of dressing elegantly, doing my hair, and smiling at the other guests and the waiters, then it was out. “I’d rather stay in my room.”

  She flopped back into the corner of the sofa. “I’m so restless tonight. I need a distraction. I think it’s because the ball is tomorrow night and I simply cannot wait.” She sat up again and clapped her hands lightly. “It’s going to be wonderful, Cleo. There’ll be over a hundred glamorous ladies and handsome gentlemen. Father said there’ll be two famous actresses in attendance, and one opera soprano, but he won’t tell me which ones, the devil. Floyd is thrilled, of course. He hopes one of them is Marie Lloyd.”

  “Speaking of Floyd, can’t you dine with him tonight?”

  “He’s going out.”

  “He dines out a lot.”

  “Yes, but this time it’s on Father’s orders. He wants Floyd to make sure his friend the duke’s son is coming.”

  “Floyd is friends with the son of a duke?”

  “They’re not terribly close, but they do move in the same circles. The duke’s son’s set is very fast. Father doesn’t always like Floyd going out, but he makes an exception for him. Sometimes Floyd tells Father he’s meeting him when he’s actually not.” She put a finger to her lips. “Don’t tell Father.”

  “What about your parents? Are they dining out tonight?”

  She sighed. “They are, also in a last ditch effort to secure attendees for tomorrow night.”

  “I don’t understand. Haven’t people said whether or not they’re coming?”

  “The hotel guests have. That’s why they’re still here. It’s the invitees who aren’t staying here who are more difficult to pin down, particularly this year, given the murder. Those people don’t need to stay in hotels as they own townhouses in the city.”

  “They must be very wealthy.”

  “Extremely. Father needs to court them, so he accepted an invitation to a dinner where he expects many of them to be.”

  “Aunt Lilian is also going?”

  Flossy’s face fell. “I wish she wouldn’t. She’ll be out late tonight and late again tomorrow night. It might be too much for her.”

  “I’m sure your father will take care of her and return home if she feels unwell.”

  She picked at the sofa cushion seam with her fingernail.

  “Flossy, what’s wrong with her? Is she ill?”

  “She has suffered from melancholia for years. Her doctor prescribed a new medicine which lifts her spirits greatly, albeit temporarily.” She waved a hand. “Let’s not worry about Mother. I’ve got an idea. You don’t want to dine in the dining room, but you have to eat, so let’s dine in my room, just the two of us.”

  “That would be lovely.”

  “We’ll order something expensive. Oh, and let’s have champagne too.”

  “I don’t feel like celebrating.”

  “We’re not celebrating. We’re indulging.”

  We sent our order down to the kitchen via the speaking tube in Flossy’s room. “Luckily the room delivery orders are only sent to Mr. Hobart at the end of the day and not Father,” she told me as she settled on the sofa again. “Father wouldn’t like me having champagne, but Mr. Hobart will overlook it.” She giggled. “I hope he doesn’t think I’m having the entire bottle myself.”

 
“He’ll see the rest of the order is for two meals,” I said. “I’m sure Mr. Hobart will realize I dined with you.”

  I sat bolt upright and stared at the brass speaking tube. Two meals, but only one delivery to one room… Mrs. Warrick did not dine in the dining room on the night of her death, nor can the doormen remember her leaving the hotel. I had assumed she’d not eaten at all, but what if she dined in another guest’s room?

  What if that guest was her killer?

  She had recognized either Mr. Hookly or Mr. Duffield that afternoon. Perhaps she’d confronted one of them and he’d subsequently invited her to dinner to discuss whatever it was that bothered her. While it was scandalous to think of her meeting a gentleman in private in his room, Mrs. Warrick was hardly an innocent debutante. Perhaps she’d even accepted the invitation in the hope something more than a discussion would eventuate.

  It seemed to take a long time for our meals to arrive, but according to the clock on Flossy’s desk, it was only forty-five minutes. I ate quickly, consumed only one glass of champagne, and made my excuses, much to Flossy’s disappointment. I convinced her that she needed to have an early night so that she would be fresh for the ball.

  I headed downstairs, where Goliath pushed off the front desk where he’d been leaning as he chatted to Peter. He intercepted me as I passed.

  “Harmony says you’re no longer investigating the murder.” He glanced around. There was no one in the foyer, although I could hear voices coming from the billiards room.

  “I wasn’t, but I think I have a clue. I just need to verify it before I pass it on to Detective Inspector Hobart.”

  That lifted his spirits. He’d been looking rather glum. “Can I help?”

  “Shouldn’t you be outside waiting for guests with luggage?”

  “There are no guests arriving at this time, and the doorman’s in a bad mood.”

  “Then you can come with me to Mr. Hobart’s office.”