Murder at the Mayfair Hotel Read online

  “There seem to be a good number of people here,” I said to Flossy over the music.

  “It’s a success, Cleo! Father is so pleased, and Mother too. Look, there they are. They asked me to bring you to them when I found you.”

  Somewhat reluctantly, I approached my uncle and aunt. I was suddenly too aware of everything about my person. They would think I showed too much décolletage for a woman in mourning. Or they wouldn’t like that I wore Flossy’s dress. And what if they knew the headpiece had been bought at their expense?

  But their welcoming smiles banished my reservations.

  “You look lovely, my dear,” said Aunt Lilian as she kissed my cheek.

  Uncle Ronald kissed my other cheek. “Your mother would be immensely proud,” he said quietly.

  I drew in some deep breaths to banish the tears welling in my eyes. Harmony had given me strict instructions not to cry or the coal and beeswax mixture on my lashes would run.

  My aunt whisked me away to introduce me to several of her friends, dragging a reluctant Flossy along with us. Meeting so many people in a short space of time proved to be confusing, but it gave me an opportunity to find Mr. Hookly. I spotted him talking to a group of gentleman near the clock. I wondered if one of them was the banking friend of Lord Addlington’s.

  “Mother, I was in the middle of a conversation,” Flossy whined when Aunt Lilian moved us along to speak to friends she’d just spotted. “Can we not stay in one place longer than five minutes?”

  “Cleo must meet everyone, and as you can see, there are quite a lot of people here.” Aunt Lilian beamed at a lady with two young women of almost identical appearance on either side of her.

  Flossy was soon rescued by a gentleman who asked her to dance while I chatted to the young women. When others joined us, I searched for Mr. Hookly again. I couldn’t find him.

  I did, however, glimpse Mr. Armitage standing in the shadowy exit to the service area. He was watching me. When he realized I’d seen him, he quickly looked away.

  He would know which fellow was the banker. I gave my excuses and headed towards him, only to be waylaid by Floyd and two of his friends.

  “Dearest cousin!” Floyd clasped my gloved hand and kissed it. “Meet my closest companions, Jonathon and Arthur. We met at Oxford.”

  “And he’s been leading us astray ever since,” said the blond-haired, blue-eyed Jonathon, bowing over my hand. Of the three of them, he was the most handsome. A small scar on his cheek added interest to a face that could have otherwise been considered delicate.

  Arthur looked positively ragged beside him, although I suspected he’d spent quite some time trying to conjure the right amount of raggedness for tonight. His dark hair fell across his forehead, but did not quite hide the receding hairline.

  Uncle Ronald joined us and shook the hands of both men. He was then pressed with questions by Floyd about the actresses and opera singer.

  “Hopefully they’ll arrive soon,” his father said with a worried glance towards the door. He turned back to Floyd’s friends with a smile. “You know what these ladies are like. They love to make a spectacular entrance. But never mind them when there’s a beautiful jewel right in front of you.” He gave me a light push towards Jonathon before going on his way.

  Jonathon’s eyes shone as he smiled at me. “What actresses?” he said.

  I laughed softly.

  “The ones who’re supposed to be coming tonight,” Arthur said. “Idiot,” he added in a mutter.” He bowed to me. “I’d be delighted if you’d dance with me, Miss Fox.”

  He swept me onto the dance floor for a quadrille. He would have been quite a good dancer if his gaze didn’t constantly drop to my décolletage.

  Jonathon intercepted us before I could dance a second dance with Arthur, and we enjoyed a pleasant waltz while we chatted amiably. He was a good conversationalist and dancer, and I enjoyed my time with him. So much so that I forgot to look for Mr. Hookly.

  I danced twice more with Jonathon during the night. My dance card became quite full, something for which I blamed my uncle, aunt and cousins. Every time I saw them they were pointing me out to someone new. Indeed, I gathered so much interest that it became too obvious what was going on. Everyone must think I was an heiress. Aunt Lilian had inherited a fortune, after all, and my mother had been her sister. It was natural to assume the fortune had been equally split between them and that I had inherited it upon my mother’s death.

  How sorry they’d all be when they discovered the truth. The men would wish they hadn’t spent so much time with me, and their parents would wish they’d asked more questions of Uncle Ronald and Aunt Lilian.

  All of the attention came to an end when a flurry of activity near the entrance had heads turning in that direction. The names of the actresses and opera singer were passed between guests in loud whispers. Gentlemen craned their necks and women nudged their way through to get a better look.

  I took the opportunity to speak to Mr. Armitage. I searched the service rooms, even heading down to the kitchen, before being shooed away by one of the chefs. I finally found Mr. Armitage standing near a palm in the hotel foyer.

  His eyes widened when he saw me. “What are you doing here?” he whispered.

  “Looking for you.”

  He grabbed my elbow and pulled me behind the palm. When he let me go, I found I was standing very close to him. I did not move away. I didn’t want to, not when he gazed down at me with those smoldering eyes of his. It suddenly became very warm in the foyer.

  “Why are you looking for me?” he asked in a low, rumbling voice.

  “I, er…” I lowered my gaze and stared at his cheek instead. “I wanted to ask you if that banker is here, and what he looks like. I want to see if our theory is correct and Mr. Hookly is trying to speak to him.”

  He glanced towards the senior staff corridor. “Come with me. It’s easier to point him out to you.”

  “Are you still watching Mrs. Kettering?” I asked as we crossed the foyer.

  He nodded. “She’s in her room. I don’t think she’s planning on moving the stolen silverware tonight, after all. Why are you here, anyway? I thought you weren’t coming to the ball.”

  “I changed my mind.”

  “Stay away from Hookly,” he said as we walked along the red carpet in the vestibule.

  “I will. I’ve been waiting for your father to arrive. He should have been here by now.”

  “I just telephoned. He’s on his way.”

  “Why has it taken so long?”

  “He hasn’t been at the Yard all afternoon. He’s been following up information about the mercuric cyanide. I telephoned him at home. He wasn’t aware you’d been trying to reach him.”

  “Scotland Yard need to review their messaging system.”

  We skirted the edge of the ballroom until Mr. Armitage found the man he was looking for. “The short fellow with the monocle,” he said with a nod towards a group of gentlemen that included Mr. Hookly. “It looks like Hookly found him.”

  “Should we warn the banker not to promise him a loan?”

  “We say nothing. My father will take care of Hookly when he gets here.”

  “At least he’s still here,” I said. “Thank goodness he hasn’t got wind of our suspicions. Speaking of which, I’m very worried about Edith. She’s still missing.”

  “I’m worried about her too.” He touched my elbow and I looked up to see him staring down at me. “Don’t leave the ballroom until the ball is over, then only return to your room when your family retires. We don’t know what Edith has told Hookly.”

  “As far as either of them are aware, we don’t have any solid evidence against them.”

  He dragged his hand through his hair. If any other man in the room had done that, he’d have a palm slicked with hair oil. The lack of it made Mr. Armitage stand out from them. Indeed, he looked out of place compared to the gentlemen with their formal eveningwear of white tie and stiff shirt. Instead of making him seem
less than them, however the difference highlighted his masculinity. More than one female’s gaze followed him and it wasn’t because she was horrified by his casual attire.

  “I have to go,” he said. “I don’t want to lose Mrs. Kettering.”

  “You don’t want to see the actresses and opera singer before you go? They’re here somewhere.”

  He smiled. “I can meet an actress or opera singer whenever I want.” He walked off and was quickly swallowed up by the crowd.

  His confident smile stayed with me for quite some time.

  I watched the banker and Mr. Hookly until the banker moved away. Mr. Hookly watched him go, looking pleased.

  A woman bumped me and apologized, her words slurring. The gentleman with her laughed as he led her onto the dance floor. I glanced at the large clock. Fifteen minutes until midnight. The excitement for the countdown to the new century had started to build in my absence. The dancing was more vigorous, the music seemed louder, and the chatter too. A woman nearby squealed with delight over something her companion said, and a couple twirled past me on their way to the dance floor without looking where they were going. Guests had to quickly step out of their way or be barreled over. Girls without partners danced with one another and drunken men watched on from the sidelines.

  I searched for a friendly face but couldn’t find Flossy, Floyd or their friends. I moved away from the wall into the throng where the air felt hotter, closer.

  “Dance with me, Miss Fox.”

  I turned to see Mr. Hookly standing very near, his hand extended. My heart leapt into my throat and beat a warning rhythm.

  “Dance with me,” he commanded. “I’ve been waiting for this moment all evening.” His lips might be smiling, but the cold gleam in his eyes told another story.

  He wrapped his fingers around mine and pulled me onto the dance floor, leaving me with no doubt.

  He knew.

  Chapter 14

  Mr. Hookly’s grip on my hand loosened as we settled into a waltz. I could have got away, but there seemed no point. We were in the middle of the dance floor. He couldn’t harm me here.

  I wasn’t sure he wanted to anyway. “I need to explain some things to you,” he said. “I think you have the wrong idea about me.”

  “What idea is that, Mr. Hookly? Or whatever your name is.”

  He looked unsurprised that I knew. “My name isn’t important. Truly, it’s not. It never has been. Not to me or to anyone else. Because I wasn’t important.” We twirled for a few steps before he continued. “I was a footman in Hookly’s household. That’s how I knew him.”

  “Is that where Mrs. Warrick recognized you from?”

  “No. She knew me from a prior engagement as the footman in the household of one of her friends. I was surprised to learn she recognized me. Usually people like her look right through the staff. We’re as insignificant as a chair or vase. I don’t expect someone like you to understand, Miss Fox.”

  I ignored the taunt. I didn’t care if he thought I was as wealthy as the Bainbridges. “Mrs. Warrick confronted you on Christmas Eve, didn’t she? She asked why you were in the hotel, and how you could afford a room here when you are a mere footman.”

  His fingers tightened at my hand and waist. “She could have ruined everything.”

  “You mean your plan to live off credit for as long as possible here at the hotel? To use the letter you stole from a dead man’s desk to secure the trust of a banker? You learned the banker was attending the ball so you needed to remain at the hotel even after you killed Mrs. Warrick so you could speak to him.”

  He smiled. It wasn’t cruel. It was the smile of a content man who thought himself safe. “You can’t jeopardize this opportunity, Miss Fox. Not now. He’s gone.”

  “The banker?”

  “He left early as he suffers from gout, but not before he promised to give me the loan. I have a signed agreement from him in my pocket. I can take that to any branch as soon as the banks re-open after the holiday.”

  “You won’t get away with this. The police are almost here and they know everything about you.” Well, they would once I told them.

  His smile widened. “I’ll be sure to set them straight at the first opportunity. You see, I didn’t kill Mrs. Warrick. My hands are clean. I don’t know who did it, although I have my suspicions. A word of advice, Miss Fox. Don’t trust the staff here. They’re a bad lot.”

  “I know all about Edith,” I said, just as benignly. “You needed someone with a key so you courted her. What did you promise her? A life out of servitude? Love?”

  A muscle in his jaw pulsed and his breathing quickened. He hadn’t known that I knew about Edith. He merely thought I suspected him, and he meant to shift the blame onto her as we danced. But I’d drawn a connection between them, and that worried him. It confirmed what I’d suspected—that Edith had gone to him after I’d spoken to her about my concerns. She’d told him that I suspected he was the murderer. At that point, I hadn’t suspected her.

  “Edith and I were together before Mrs. Warrick spoke a word to me,” he sneered. “So that destroys your theory.”

  “Not really. Did you initially court her because you planned to use her keys to break into rooms and steal valuables? But you changed your mind when you got a better idea after learning about the banker, didn’t you? Either way, you knew you needed keys, and Edith could get you some. She was the perfect victim.”

  “She’s not a victim,” he snarled. “She’s a murderer! She orchestrated everything.”

  “Nonsense. She’s not devious. More importantly, she wanted attention. She craved to be noticed by a man, and you sensed that the way a hound senses a hare’s fear. You told her what she wanted to hear and she fell in love with you. She was prepared to do anything for you. You took advantage of her and manipulated her; you made her give you the key so you could enter Mrs. Warrick’s room and poison her.”

  His eyes hardened. His mouth set firm and his grip became bruising. There was no shock or horror on his face, only cold acceptance. I needed no other confirmation of his guilt than that.

  “Where’s Edith?” I asked. “What have you done with her?” When he didn’t answer, I stopped dancing. “Let me go.”

  His grip tightened. I tried to jerk free but he held on. I tilted my chin, determined not to show fear. This man thrived on it. He used it to his own advantage, just like he’d used Edith’s nervousness.

  The music stopped and the crowd counted down the last ten seconds until the new year. I glanced around and found we were near the edge of the dance floor, close to the service area. But no servants came and went. They were probably counting down the seconds to midnight in the kitchen, their attention focused on a clock, just as the revelers in the ballroom directed their gazes forward, not back to us.

  “Let me go!” My shout was drowned out by the counting. Nobody took any notice of us.

  “SEVEN! SIX!”

  Mr. Hookly glared at me. He did not move. He did not try to hurt me, except for his firm grip on my wrist.

  “FOUR! THREE!”

  “Let me go!” I shouted again.

  He did not, and nobody paid me any attention. The new century was almost upon us and they didn’t want to miss a moment of the celebration.

  “TWO! ONE! Happy new year!”

  The musicians struck up the tune of Auld Lang Syne as revelers clapped. Applause soon turned to gasps and squeals of delight as the ribbons above their heads gave way and the silver balloons rained down.

  Mr. Hookly continued to smile at me as I continued to try to break free. I even called out for help, but the applause, music and loud chatter drowned me out. And then the slowly sinking balloons reached us. In the moment before they drifted past our faces, Mr. Hookly’s smile thinned.

  “Let me go!” I shouted in a last ditch effort to be heard.

  “Who’s that?” came a gentleman’s voice nearby. “Everyone all right?”

  He couldn’t see me and I couldn’t see him with t
he hundreds of balloons floating to the floor. A balloon burst, then another and another. Guests squealed in fright and delight.

  I opened my mouth to scream, but Mr. Hookly pulled me against him and clamped his hand over my mouth. Before the balloons had completely sunk out of the way, he ushered me out of the ballroom.

  We were in the service area. There would be footmen coming this way very soon with more champagne and food. They would see me struggling with Mr. Hookly and come to my rescue.

  But before we’d got far, he opened a door and shoved me through.

  My back slammed into shelves, rattling what sounded like crockery and cutlery. Mr. Hookly had let me go to lock the door, but he hadn’t turned on the light. It was so dark I couldn’t even make out his silhouette.

  He couldn’t see me either.

  I crouched low, and just in time too. The contents of the shelves rattled again, louder this time, and something fell, breaking on the floor. He must have lunged in my direction but missed.

  I reached out and realized how small the storeroom was. My fingers brushed shards of a broken vase or bowl. The fingers of my other hand touched Mr. Hookly’s leg, alerting him to my position.

  I scampered away just as his hand swiped down, knocking my cheek.

  “I’ll get you, Miss Fox. There’s no way you can get out.”

  That meant he stood between me and the door now. But he couldn’t hurt me if he couldn’t capture me. And he couldn’t capture me if he couldn’t find me.

  I had to remain silent long enough to draw him away from the door to come looking. I remained low to the floor, cursing the tight bodice. I held my breath, but it might not have mattered. His own breathing would have drowned mine out. His breath came hard, as if he’d just run up and down all of the hotel’s stairs. The sound filled the small space, as well as my ears along with the thumping of my blood in my veins.

  The door handle rattled. “Is someone in there?” came a man’s voice.

  “Yes!” I cried. “Help!”

  My voice gave away my position. Mr. Hookly reached out and grabbed my hair. He pulled me up, dislodging my headpiece and Harmony’s elegant arrangement.