by C. J. Archer
We parted ways at the staircase. He headed up and I went to my suite. But I didn’t stay inside for long. I couldn’t stop thinking about the murder and Edith’s involvement. Had she been complicit? Did she willingly hand over the key to her lover so that he could poison Mrs. Warrick in the night? Or had he stolen it from her? Had she known Hookly intended to kill Mrs. Warrick, or had it come as a shock?
Despite promising I wouldn’t investigate, I felt compelled to. After all, there was someone close by who could give me a clue as to Edith’s reaction on the morning she discovered the body. The guest opposite Mrs. Warrick had seen her both before she went in and immediately after. If anyone could speak about her initial reactions, it would be him. And he was just one floor below.
Mr. and Mrs. Sellen didn’t have a suite with a sitting room, and since Mrs. Sellen was getting ready for the ball inside, her husband agreed to talk to me in the corridor, but only after I introduced myself and explained that I was assisting hotel management and Scotland Yard to find the murderer. Mr. Sellen said he was happy to help as he was worried the murderer had not yet been caught. He and Mrs. Sellen had decided to stay on for the ball because Sir Ronald spoke to them personally and offered them a free night’s accommodation.
“It was definitely seven,” Mr. Sellen said in answer to my question. “I checked the clock as I got out of bed.” I was pleased to see he wasn’t an old man, nor did he wear glasses. He should have been able to see the clock face as well as Edith’s expression.
“You told the police that you saw the maid with the cup of tea for Mrs. Warrick as you collected your newspaper,” I said, recalling what Edith herself had told me. “Is that true?”
“Yes. She was standing right there.” He nodded at the door numbered three-two-four. The room had remained unoccupied ever since the police removed Mrs. Warrick’s body. “She saw me, nodded, and turned away.”
“Did she seem nervous to you?”
“In what way?”
“Did her gaze meet or avoid yours? Did her hands shake or did she seem pale?”
“Nothing that can’t be attributed to shyness.”
That sounded like Edith. As much as I wanted to solve this crime, I didn’t want to find out that Edith was involved. She had certainly played a role in the murder, but I dearly wanted it to be an unwilling part.
“Did you see anyone else in the corridor?” I asked.
He shook his head. “It was too early for most, I suspect. I’m not usually up at seven, but a noise awoke me that morning.”
“What kind of noise?”
“A bang, like something knocking the door or wall.” He indicated the closed door behind him. “It must have been loud to wake me. I sleep like the d—” He cleared his throat. “I sleep heavily. My wife does too. The knocking woke her as well.”
“So it wasn’t a scraping sound? Or voices?”
“It was definitely a knock or bump. Is that important?”
“It might be,” I said, thinking it through.
It was odd for there to be a bump at that time. Edith hadn’t mentioned it. She’d been alone, carrying a cup of tea. She didn’t carry anything that could make a knocking sound if dropped, and there was no reason she’d walk into the wall along a straight corridor. The knock was out of place.
Unless it was done on purpose.
The only reason to make the sound was to encourage Mr. Sellen to come out of his room to investigate, and thereby be a witness to Edith delivering a cup of tea at seven AM, a full hour or more after Mrs. Warrick had been poisoned.
Oh lord. Edith had made the sound that woke Mr. Sellen. She had knowingly been involved in the murder after all.
I thanked Mr. Sellen and raced off, my mind reeling. It was sickening to think that I’d been completely wrong about Edith. I thought back to all the times I’d spoken to her. I didn’t think the mousy act was entirely false. She couldn’t have duped all of the staff so thoroughly. But she’d lied numerous times, and tried to learn what I knew about the police investigation at every turn.
I cursed myself for discussing theories in front of her. Had she passed them on to Hookly?
I paused at the stairs, not sure whether to go up to the fifth floor and find Mr. Armitage or down to the foyer and once again ask Peter to call the police. In the end, I did neither. I stopped the maid coming towards me carrying a dress.
“Do you know where Edith is?” I asked.
“No, Miss. She hasn’t been seen for hours. Mrs. Kettering is furious.”
“What about Harmony? Have you seen her?”
“She’s with Miss Bainbridge in her rooms.”
I thanked her and raced up the stairs. Harmony answered Flossy’s door when I knocked.
“I knew you’d change your mind at the last moment,” she said, smiling. “That’s why I waited here.”
I blinked at her. “I don’t understand.”
“I knew if you changed your mind, you’d come straight to your cousin’s room and ask about a dress. I thought if I waited for you here, I wouldn’t miss you. Everything’s all ready. I’ll get the dress while you tell Miss Bainbridge. She’ll be so pleased.”
I stared at her. “What are you talking about, Harmony?” I shook my head. “Never mind. Just tell me, have you seen Edith this afternoon?”
She frowned. “She seems to have disappeared after she cleaned her rooms. She’s supposed to be helping one of the ladies get ready. I hope she has a good excuse because Mrs. Kettering’ll dismiss her if she can’t give a reason for being absent.”
I swore under my breath, earning a blink of surprise from Harmony. “Sorry,” I muttered. “Now what is all this talk about a dress?”
“Harmony, who is it?” came Flossy’s voice from beyond.
“It’s Miss Fox,” Harmony said over her shoulder.
Flossy emitted a squeal of delight. “Oh, Cleo, do come in! I’m so thrilled you’ve changed your mind.”
Harmony took my hand and pulled me into the bedroom where Flossy sat at the dressing table, a maid behind her, arranging Flossy’s hair.
My cousin put out her hand to me. “We are going to have such fun tonight.”
“I can’t go,” I told them. “I have nothing to wear.”
For the first time since hearing about the ball, I actually wished to attend. Not for the festivities. I wouldn’t enjoy dancing so soon after my grandmother’s death; I couldn’t enjoy it. But Mr. Hookly was going to be there to speak to the banker friend of Lord Addlington’s, and I wanted to observe him. I also wanted to see the police pull him aside to speak to him about his involvement in Mrs. Warrick’s murder after I informed the inspector how he’d manipulated Edith into giving him the key.
Flossy and Harmony exchanged glances in the mirror’s reflection. They smiled.
“You do have something to wear,” Flossy said. “Harmony and I have been conspiring to make sure you had a suitable gown.”
I stared at her. “When? How?”
“These last few days. I gave her one of mine and she’s been altering it to fit you.”
“We can make some last-minute adjustments if we need to,” Harmony said as she headed for Flossy’s wardrobe. “But I think it should be about right.”
“And don’t worry about the style or color,” Flossy went on. “It’s gray, which I think is entirely appropriate for a young lady in mourning. The hairpiece is jet, as you know.”
I gasped. “You bought that hairpiece from Harrods’? Flossy, that must have cost a fortune!”
“Shhh. Don’t tell Father.”
“I’m not wearing it. You will return it tomorrow.”
“The shops aren’t open tomorrow.” She sniffed. “Besides, I’m Florence Bainbridge. I don’t return things. If I change my mind, I simply give it away.” She suddenly smiled. “Now go and get ready. I’ll see you in the ballroom in an hour and a half. Don’t forget the matching gloves, Harmony!”
Harmony insisted that I eat something while she did my hair so I ord
ered a salad down the speaking tube. While we waited, she played with different arrangements, but couldn’t settle on one thing. I was acutely aware of the clock ticking.
“We need to do something with your face,” she said, frowning at my reflection in the dressing table mirror.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing, really, but you could be prettier with a little color on your cheeks and lips, and perhaps a dash of powder on your nose and brow for the shine.”
“My face will have to stay as it is. I don’t have any powders of rouges.”
Grandmama wouldn’t have approved of me wearing makeup. According to her, only a certain type of woman used it. Times had changed, however, and this was London. I’d noticed some of the younger ladies with a little color on their cheeks and lips, and Flossy had some pots on her dressing table.
“I don’t have anything for your coloring,” Harmony said. “I’m sure Miss Bainbridge will let you use hers.”
The knock on the door signaled the arrival of my salad, carried in by Danny. He deposited the tray on the dressing table as directed and regarded me with a critical eye.
“She needs something to bring out her eyes,” he told Harmony.
She agreed. “Can you fetch some makeup from Miss Bainbridge’s room?”
He returned a few minutes later with seven small pots which he laid on the table in front of me, and some blotting papers. “Miss Bainbridge didn’t know which would suit Miss Fox’s complexion best so she gave me all the ones she had.” He left us to return to his duties, although he seemed disappointed to be going.
Harmony insisted I try on the dress before we finished hair and makeup. She assisted me into the gown then stepped back to study it. “I think it fits well enough. How does it feel?”
I fidgeted with the low-cut neckline, but nothing I did would cover more of my décolletage. “It’s very low and a little tight.”
“Can you breathe?”
“Yes.”
“Then it’s perfect.”
I turned to the mirror and had to agree with her. The gown was indeed lovely. The dove-gray silk would have been plain on its own, but the black beading drew the eye. The beads were sewn into a vine-like pattern growing up from swirls at the hem to a denser canopy across my breasts. The capped sleeves clung to the very edges of my shoulders. Coupled with the low neckline, there was quite a lot of skin on display. I’d never worn anything so daring.
Harmony pulled my hand away as I once again tried to tug it higher. “Don’t touch. It makes you look self-conscious.”
“I am self-conscious.”
“Don’t let on that you are. That’s the key.”
“The key to what?”
“To being a sensation.”
I laughed. “I am hardly that. Anyway, the rest of us will look drab next to the two actresses and opera singer.”
She snorted. “I’d like to see them look at you and not feel jealousy.”
“Besides, I’m not going to the ball to dance and flirt. I’m going to watch the police arrest Mr. Hookly for murder.”
Her eyes widened. “You continued to investigate?”
“Yes, and I have some things to tell you. Some of them are quite troubling.”
“Then you’d better sit down and tell me while I do your hair and face.”
Harmony listened in horror to the evidence against Edith, and the theories Mr. Armitage and I had developed that indicated she was involved in the murder, to some extent.
But when I finished, she rejected the notion that Edith was the killer. “I think you’re right when you say Hookly manipulated her into giving him the key and covering up the crime. She’s a mouse, and if someone like him paid her attention, she’d do almost anything for him. Not murder, mind. She wouldn’t do that.”
“If she helped him, it’s as good as doing it herself. Harmony,” I said gently, “she showed no remorse those times we talked about our theories in the staff parlor. She is involved. There’s no doubt in my mind.”
Her lips flattened. “It would seem so.” She closed her eyes and a look of pain crossed her face. It was still there when she opened her eyes and her gaze connected with mine in the mirror. “I should have looked out for her. I shouldn’t have let Hookly take advantage of her.”
I caught her hand. “It’s not your fault.”
“I knew she was having a liaison with a guest, but I didn’t know who.”
“And you didn’t know it could lead to this.”
She sighed. “She needed guidance from a friend, and I failed to give it to her.” She continued with my hair, only to stop and frown. “I’m worried about her, Miss Fox. I haven’t seen her for a while. No one has. She’s not at the hotel or the residence hall.”
I nodded gravely. Edith could very well be in danger if Hookly thought she knew too much and might talk. “The inspector’s men will find her.”
He ought to have arrived by now, yet he had not come searching for me. Perhaps Mr. Armitage had spoken to him so there’d been no need to seek me out. I would check with Peter before I entered the ballroom, and ask him to telephone Scotland Yard again if the police hadn’t arrived.
Harmony finished doing my hair and face then stood back. The frown that had settled onto her pretty features when I’d told her about Edith smoothed away. She smiled. “There. You look lovely.”
She had done very well with my hair, sweeping it up high on my head with a few artfully placed curled strands at the sides. The jet and diamond headpiece went perfectly with the dress and there was just enough color contrast with my light brown hair.
I touched the bare skin of my décolletage, still unused to being so exposed.
“A necklace with a large pendant would look nice nestled about there,” Harmony said, indicating where my fingers rested above my breasts.
I withdrew my hand. “I don’t have anything suitable.”
“Then you’ll just have to go to the ball without one.” She gave me an impudent smile. “Hopefully a rich gentleman agrees that a pendant would look very fetching and gives you a ruby necklace when he asks you to marry him.”
It was so ridiculous that I burst out laughing. Harmony did too. “Rubies?” I managed to scoff while still grinning. “I won’t accept anything less than diamonds.”
Harmony told me she planned to sneak a peek into the ballroom from the service corridor near the back of the dining room-turned-ballroom. She wanted to see what the other ladies wore, particularly the very modern and very fashionable actresses and opera singer, but she was reluctant to do anything until she’d found Edith. I warned her not to let on what we suspected about the maid’s involvement in the murder if she did happen to find her. She agreed, and wished me luck.
I wasn’t sure why I needed luck. I was simply going to find the inspector and tell him everything I could about Mr. Hookly and Edith. It was up to him what to do next. I doubted he would make an arrest tonight in the middle of the ball. He would want more evidence, something that left no doubt in his mind. At least by telling him our theories, he could make that judgement. It wasn’t up to me, and I couldn’t be more relieved. I could simply watch Mr. Hookly and gauge for myself whether he was acting guiltily or not.
I went immediately to the front desk when I stepped out of the lift. Peter was not on duty, however. He’d already left for the day. The night porter didn’t know anything about the detective inspector, and he hadn’t seen him arrive. He let me use his telephone to call Scotland Yard.
“Please tell Detective Inspector Hobart that it’s an emergency,” I said down the line. “He needs to come to The Mayfair Hotel at once and ask for Miss Fox or Mr. Armitage.” Hopefully by using Mr. Armitage’s name, the inspector wouldn’t dismiss the message lightly. He might think I was wasting his time, but he would pay attention to his son.
Music from the ballroom drifted into the foyer where some guests were chatting. According to the clock on the wall behind the front desk, the ball started an hour ago. F
lossy must be wondering where I was.
I rushed into the vestibule, only to slow down again. I’d already seen the red carpet, but the rest of the room looked quite different. As with the foyer, large potted palms had been brought in to flank the double doors leading to the dining room—now ballroom—and a floral garland hung above them. The lights woven through it sparkled in the otherwise dim room.
Two footmen stood on either side of the entrance with trays of champagne flutes. I didn’t recognize either of them but they both greeted me by name. I plucked off a gold-stemmed flute with the M enclosed in a circle within the stem, and admired my surroundings.
The room was unrecognizable as a dining room. There was no sight of the tables or chairs, except for a few lining the walls where older ladies sat chatting. The first thing to catch my eye was the enormous clock on a dais towards the front. That must have been what I’d seen the delivery men wheeling through the foyer that morning. It was the size of a small carriage.
The garlands of flowers and greenery continued in here. They were draped above windows and across doorways, their small lights sparkling. But even more spectacular was the ceiling. It was covered in swathes of ribbons in the hotel color of burgundy with touches of gold and black. There must have been hundreds of them. Each end was tied either to a chandelier or to a ribbon cluster, depending on where it finished on the ceiling, and the other end was fixed to the edge of the room, high up on the wall. I could clearly see silver balloons above them, trapped between the bed of ribbons and the ceiling.
“Cleo, you made it!” Flossy caught my hands and looked me over. “You look lovely.”
“So do you,” I said, and meant it. She wore a pink gown that suited her complexion, and the seed pearls sewn into it somehow caught the light so that she seemed to sparkle. She had more bosom showing than me, but that was because she had more to show off. The expanse of her décolletage was broken up by a necklace of pearls and amethysts.
Flossy led me further into the ballroom, chatting excitedly all the way. I searched for Mr. Hookly but could not see him. The crowd was rather thick and I wasn’t overly tall.
