Murder at the Mayfair Hotel

by C. J. Archer

  “Why do you need to see Sir Ronald?” Mr. Armitage asked as we entered the foyer. “If it’s because of me, I meant it the other day. I won’t accept my old position back, even if he begs me.”

  “Oh,” I said on a breath. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

  I turned around to take in all of the decorations in the foyer. A half dozen potted large ferns added some greenery, while garlands of fresh flowers and leaves brightened up the front of the counters and above doorways. A closer inspection revealed a string of small lightbulbs woven through each of the garlands. It would look marvelous as darkness fell.

  “Isn’t it wonderful, Mr. Armitage?” I said again.

  But he’d moved away. He was talking with Mr. Hobart near the entrance to the vestibule. I went to join them but was waylaid by Goliath.

  “Is Mr. Armitage back permanently?” he asked.

  “It’s just a brief visit,” I said. “Have you seen Mrs. Kettering? Is she in her office?”

  “I think so.”

  “It doesn’t look terribly busy here anymore.” There were several gentlemen chatting to one another but few ladies. “Has everyone arrived who is going to stay overnight for the ball?”

  “Most. The women have retired to their rooms to get ready.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why it takes you ladies so long to put on a frock.”

  Mr. Armitage crossed the foyer and joined us. “Goliath, go and help Mr. Hobart. He needs someone tall in the dining room.”

  “It’s the ballroom for today, sir.” Goliath grinned. “Nice to have you back, sir.”

  “I’m not,” Mr. Armitage said as Goliath walked off.

  “Mrs. Kettering is in her office,” I told him. “Shall we speak to her first then go in search of Edith?”

  “I just checked with my uncle,” he said as we headed towards the senior staff corridor. “He’s adamant his spare set of keys weren’t touched that night or any other night. They’re kept in a locked drawer and he and I are the only ones with a key to the drawer. Mine didn’t go missing and he keeps his on his person. The drawer’s lock hasn’t been tampered with.”

  “Did you tell him we’re investigating the murder?”

  “No. He didn’t ask why I was asking about the keys. He’s under a lot of pressure right now and his mind is focused on the ball going smoothly.”

  We found Mrs. Kettering enjoying a cup of tea at her desk while she looked over some paperwork. The clashing of her eyebrows suggested she was cross. Or perhaps that was their usual position. I didn’t know her well enough to know if she ever looked anything other than cross.

  “We need to ask you questions about your set of room keys,” Mr. Armitage began. “Is it possible that one went missing on the night of Mrs. Warrick’s murder?”

  She blinked rapidly. “Why are you asking questions about the murder? You are not the police.”

  “We’re helping them,” he said.

  “Nonsense. Scotland Yard don’t enlist the help of the public.” She picked up a pencil. “I don’t have to answer your questions, Mr. Armitage. You are no longer assistant manager.”

  I opened my mouth to invoke the name of Uncle Ronald, but Mr. Armitage got in first. “I’m working here as a private detective, at Mr. Hobart’s behest. You can ask him, if you like. He’s in the vestibule. Be quick, however. He’s very busy, as you can imagine.”

  Her nostrils flared. “My keys did not go missing on that night or any other. I am not in the habit of losing them.”

  “Could someone have stolen one and returned it without your knowledge?”

  “No,” she ground out.

  “Where are your keys kept?” I asked.

  Her nostrils flared again. “Is Sir Ronald aware that you’re interrogating staff, Miss Fox?”

  “This isn’t an interrogation,” I said evenly. “We’re simply trying to get to the bottom of a mystery. There’s no need for you to be so defensive. Unless you have something to hide, of course.” I hoped that honesty and directness would get through to her. She seemed like someone who appreciated frankness.

  Or she might throw us out.

  “They’re kept in that locked box at all times.” She pointed to a wooden box on the shelf behind her. “I keep the key to it on my person.” She picked through the bunch of keys attached to the chatelaine at her hip until she found the one she needed and proceeded to use it to unlock the box. “These keys remain with me in my room overnight and I lock my door while I’m asleep.” She slammed the box lid shut. “Satisfied?”

  “Thank you for your co-operation,” I said. “We have to check all the keys, as I’m sure you understand.”

  She pressed her lips together.

  “Was Edith the only maid with a key to Mrs. Warrick’s room?” Mr. Armitage asked.

  “Yes. Are you going to question her now?”

  Neither Mr. Armitage nor I responded.

  “If you happen to find her, tell her she’s supposed to be assisting Lady Royston with her hair.”

  “She’s missing?” I asked.

  “Not missing, just not where she’s supposed to be. Typical of girls like her,” she added in a mutter.

  I was glad to leave the dragon’s lair behind, but it seemed as though we were about to come to a dead end in our investigation if we couldn’t find Edith. It worried me more that it was her key that might have been stolen. When Mrs. Kettering and Mr. Hobart found out, she’d lose her position, even though it wasn’t her fault.

  “We’ll start in the staff parlor,” Mr. Armitage said in answer to the unspoken question of where to look for Edith.

  The parlor was empty, however. Considering all the maids would be busy helping ladies prepare for the ball, and the porters were assisting new arrivals with their luggage, it wasn’t surprising. But it left us uncertain where to look for Edith next. She could be anywhere. She might not be in the hotel at all.

  Mr. Armitage touched the side of a teapot that had been left behind. “It’s still warm.”

  I fetched two cups from the cupboard and he poured. I accepted a cup and sat. “Something Mrs. Kettering said got me thinking. She said girls like Edith. I suppose she meant shy, nervous girls.”

  Mr. Armitage shrugged. “Go on.”

  “Edith’s nature would make her easier to bully than someone like Mrs. Kettering. The killer may not have had to steal the key from her. He could simply have bullied her into giving it to him.”

  He nodded thoughtfully.

  Now that I’d said it out loud, I doubted my own theory, however. “But Edith has friends among the other staff, if a guest bullied her into giving up the key, she would have told one of the other maids. She seemed to trust Harmony.”

  “True,” he said. “Knowing Harmony, she would have encouraged Edith to tell Mrs. Kettering immediately.”

  “If not immediately, she would have come forward after the murder. She might be timid, but she’s not a fool. So we’re back to the stolen key theory.”

  Mr. Armitage’s teacup clanked back into the saucer. “Unless Edith was in love with him.”

  “With the murderer? Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “It’s feasible, particularly when you know what I know.”

  I arched my brows. “Go on.”

  “We both assumed Mrs. Kettering was referring to Edith’s timidity when she said girls like that. But if she’s the maid Mrs. Kettering suspected of having a lover among the guests, then her comment takes on a different meaning.”

  “Edith have a lover? One of the guests?” I scoffed. “Come now, Mr. Armitage, you know her. She’s a shy little thing. She finds it difficult to even make eye contact with me, and I’m a woman. I hate to say it, but men don’t usually notice girls like that.”

  “Just because she’s a mouse, doesn’t mean she’s not capable of taking a lover,” he said.

  The more I thought about it, the more I liked his theory, but for different reasons. “He seduced her precisely because he knew a girl like Edith would welcome the attent
ion. Indeed, she probably craved it. If he paid her pretty compliments and promised her a future life out of servitude, she would have taken the bait along with the entire hook. It’s a sad fact that shy girls are easy prey for unscrupulous men.”

  “Which Hookly clearly is.”

  “Are you sure Edith is the maid Mrs. Kettering suspected of having a lover?” I asked.

  “She never named her to me, but we can ask her now.”

  We set down our teacups at the same time and hurried out of the parlor, across the foyer to Mrs. Kettering’s office. She wasn’t there.

  Mr. Armitage thumped the doorframe. “Damn.”

  I sighed. “Now we have two people to find.”

  “I remember when Mrs. Kettering told me about the maid she caught on the wrong floor once, and how she suspected she was having a liaison with one of the guests. I told her the maid probably made a mistake and went to the wrong floor, but she insisted it meant more.”

  I frowned, recalling a conversation between the two women I’d overheard. “What floor is Mr. Hookly on again?”

  “The fifth. Why?”

  I met his gaze. “Because Mrs. Kettering confronted Edith in the stairwell as they were both leaving level five on the day of the murder. Mrs. Kettering told Edith she was supposed to be on the second floor turning down the beds. Edith offered a poor excuse, saying she lost count of the levels. She was clearly lying.”

  Mr. Armitage frowned back at me. “Are you sure Mrs. Kettering told her it was time to turn down the beds? And this was Christmas Eve?”

  “Yes, the day I arrived. Why?”

  “Because Mrs. Kettering should have been checking the linen supplies in the dining room all afternoon on Christmas Eve to make sure there were enough clean napkins and tablecloths for luncheon the following day.”

  “You think she was having a rendezvous with Mr. Hookly?” I pulled a face. “It’s not inconceivable, I suppose. She was also very close to Mrs. Warrick’s room on the morning of the murder. Edith says she came across her quickly. She could be the murderer and have stayed close by to watch the aftermath.” I shook my head. “But I can’t believe that old dragon took a lover.”

  “Not Mrs. Kettering. I think Edith was having the liaison with Hookly. I think Mrs. Kettering is the silverware thief and she’s hiding the stolen items somewhere on the fifth floor before she smuggles them out of the hotel.”

  Chapter 13

  “I suspected either Mrs. Kettering or Mr. Chapman was the thief,” Mr. Armitage said. “But I admit I favored Chapman. He has more access to the silverware than Mrs. Kettering, and he’s never liked me.”

  It was such an odd conclusion to make that I couldn’t help a bubble of laughter escaping. “Do you suspect everyone who doesn’t like you of theft?”

  His gaze narrowed. “It was a reference to his character. Everyone likes me. I’m very likeable.”

  “When you want to be.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Can we focus on the task at hand? Namely the murder?”

  “I think the theft should become our task. We’ve hit a brick wall with the murder since we don’t know where to find Edith. We’ll telephone my father and tell him what we know about her and her possible relationship with Hookly.” He strode off in the direction of the foyer.

  I picked up my skirts and raced after him. “I don’t think she had any knowledge of the murder.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because Edith was outside Mrs. Warrick’s door at seven AM with a cup of tea in hand. If she’d known Mr. Hookly murdered her during the night, would she have gone there at all the following morning?”

  “If she wanted to appear innocent, she’d keep to her routine.”

  “But the guest in the room opposite who saw her didn’t comment that she acted nervously. Not as far as we know, anyway. We’ve already established that she has a nervous constitution.”

  “Perhaps he didn’t comment about her behavior because he wasn’t asked. Or perhaps he did mention it to my father.” He strode into the vestibule, only to be shouted at to step aside. He just managed to dodge a red carpet being rolled out from one end to the other.

  “We could ask the witness staying opposite,” I went on.

  Mr. Armitage turned to me. “Trust my father, Miss Fox. Ask Peter to call him and tell him what we know about Edith.” He walked around the carpet to speak to Mr. Hobart who’d been watching the unrolling from the other end.

  I asked Peter at the front desk to call Scotland Yard and leave a message for Detective Inspector Hobart to come to the hotel. “Also, do you know the name of the guest staying opposite Mrs. Warrick’s room?” I asked when he hung up the receiver.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Sellen.” He leaned over the counter. “You haven’t given up, have you?”

  “Not yet, Peter. Not yet.”

  I met Mr. Armitage at the stairwell after he gave up waiting for the lift to arrive at the ground floor. “You’re coming with me?” he asked.

  “Yes, of course.” After a moment, I said, “Where are you going?”

  He eyed me sideways. “To tell Sir Ronald I solved the silverware theft. My uncle is too busy to leave the dining room at the moment, so he asked me to do it.”

  “I believe I solved it too,” I said. “Without my eyewitness account of Mrs. Kettering on the fifth floor that afternoon, you would still be in the dark.”

  “I would have worked it out.”

  “How, when you no longer work here?”

  “So why are you heading this way, Miss Fox?”

  “To join you. I want to see the confrontation between you and my uncle.”

  “I see. That’s interesting, since I only just told you where I’m going. You’re not still investigating the murder alone after I suggested you telephone my father, are you?” He gave me a look that implied he knew I was doing precisely that.

  “Peter left a message with Scotland Yard for your father. I really am coming with you to see my uncle. There ought to be a witness present.”

  He grunted. “I would prefer an impartial one, but you’ll have to do.”

  Uncle Ronald looked up from his desk when we entered and scowled. “What are you doing here, Armitage?”

  “I know who the silverware thief is.”

  Uncle Ronald paused then returned the pen to the inkstand. “And you want your position back in exchange for telling me, is that it? You’re manipulating me?”

  Mr. Armitage’s eyes darkened. “I don’t want my position back. I have no interest in working at the hotel again. It’s time I moved on. In fact, I should thank you for giving me the push I needed, although your timing could have been better. My uncle is run off his feet.”

  “He brought that on himself.” Uncle Ronald looked to me. “Cleo, why are you here?”

  “I want to hear what Mr. Armitage has to say.”

  He indicated we should sit. I did, Mr. Armitage didn’t. “So who is the thief?” Uncle Ronald asked.

  “Mrs. Kettering,” Mr. Armitage said. “She’s been hiding the silverware somewhere on the fifth floor until she can smuggle it safely out of the hotel. All we have to do is catch her in the act.”

  Uncle Ronald smoothed his moustache with his thumb and forefinger. “Are you sure it’s her?”

  “Almost, but I prefer to catch her in the act of moving the stolen goods before I accuse her.”

  Uncle Ronald nodded. “And I suppose you want me to hire you to catch her?”

  “I’ll do this task for you gratis, if you stop punishing my uncle.”

  “I’m not punishing him.”

  “Then let him know you forgive him.”

  “But I don’t.”

  “Pretend,” Mr. Armitage all but growled.

  Uncle Ronald stroked his moustache again. “I can order one of the staff to watch Mrs. Kettering. I don’t need to hire you, gratis or not.”

  Mr. Armitage blew out an exasperated breath.

  “He is the best choice,” I said to
Uncle Ronald. “All the staff are currently too busy to be taken away from their regular duties. Besides, Mr. Armitage is very good at talking his way out of tricky situations. If Mrs. Kettering spots him following her, he’ll think of something to deflect her suspicions.”

  Uncle Ronald’s gaze shifted to Mr. Armitage. “He is very good at lying.”

  Mr. Armitage bristled. “Do you want to catch her or not?”

  Uncle Ronald hesitated then nodded. “She’ll probably act tonight while the hotel is busy and everyone’s attention is focused on the ballroom. If anyone asks, say I’ve hired you back for the evening. That will give you a legitimate excuse to be here.”

  “Thank you for your faith in my abilities, sir.”

  “I never doubted your abilities, Armitage. You could have been manager one day.”

  “He still can be,” I said, hopeful.

  “No,” both men said at the same time.

  I could say something about stubborn men, but it wouldn’t have achieved anything. I simply sighed and rose to leave.

  “Did Cleo help you discover the culprit?” Uncle Ronald asked. “Is that why she’s here?”

  Mr. Armitage stared at him for a long moment. “She—”

  “No, I didn’t help,” I said before he could tell the truth. “Mr. Armitage returned to the hotel earlier and spoke to Mrs. Kettering alone. I saw him come out of her office with an odd look on his face, and that’s when he told me he’d solved the crime.”

  Mr. Armitage turned his glare onto me. I lifted my chin and glared back.

  “So how did you discover it was her?” Uncle Ronald asked Mr. Armitage.

  I opened the door and ushered Mr. Armitage out. “There’s no time to explain now. He has work to do.” I closed the door, but not before I noticed the amused gleam in my uncle’s eyes.

  “You can’t come with me,” Mr. Armitage said. “Two of us watching her will be too obvious.”

  “I don’t plan on coming with you. The theft is your mystery to solve, not mine.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You’re not going to attempt to solve the murder alone, are you?”

  “I believe we agreed to leave it to your father. Peter really did just telephone Scotland Yard.”