by C. J. Archer
I hissed in pain and clasped his wrist in an attempt to ease the burn across my scalp.
“Miss Fox?” came the voice outside. “Mr. Armitage, I think she’s in here!”
I went to call out again but Mr. Hookly’s hand clamped over my mouth. He pulled me back against his body.
“Don’t say a word,” he growled.
Someone banged on the door. “Miss Fox!” It was Mr. Armitage. “Miss Fox, are you in there?”
My heart pounded, trying to burst out of my chest. I closed my eyes. Not that it mattered. I still couldn’t see in the dark.
“Get a key!” Mr. Armitage shouted. “Someone get a damned key off Chapman!”
Something cold and hard pressed against my throat. “I’ve got a knife!” he called out. “Let me go or I’ll kill her!”
The doorknob stopped rattling. The voices outside lowered. Beyond them, I could hear the music playing in the ballroom. Inside the storeroom, the only sound was Mr. Hookly’s and my hard breaths and the scent of his sweat. The edge of the knife scraped my skin.
My body was up against Mr. Hookly’s, my back against his chest, the heel of my shoe against the toe of his. It was unpleasant to be so close to this disgusting man, but it gave me the advantage I needed. I tightened my grip on the shard of vase I’d picked up when I’d been crouching, and stabbed it into his thigh.
He cried out, but more importantly, he relaxed his grip enough for me to slip free. I lunged for the door and fumbled for the lock. The precious second it took to find it cost me. He caught me and shoved me back against the shelves.
But I’d managed to flick the lock back.
The door opened and enough light filled the storeroom for me to make out Mr. Armitage charging in. Mr. Hookly swiped at him with the knife, but Mr. Armitage blocked the strike by grabbing Hooky’s wrist. He pinned Mr. Hookly to the shelves.
The storeroom light went on, revealing Detective Inspector Hobart standing in the doorway, a constable behind him. My uncle peered over his shoulder.
The knife clattered to the floor near my feet. Mr. Hookly bared his teeth in a snarl at Mr. Armitage. Mr. Armitage gave him such a cold look in return that I shivered.
“Cleo?” Uncle Ronald pushed past the inspector. “Cleo, are you hurt?”
“I’m all right,” I said. “Just a little shaken.”
He patted my shoulder. “Take him away, Hobart.”
The constable escorted Mr. Hookly, or whatever his name was, and my uncle ushered me out of the storeroom. The ball sounded like it was still going strongly and I sensed Uncle Ronald wanted to return to his guests.
“Go,” I told him. “I can talk to the inspector alone.”
He looked over my head at the inspector. “You can speak to her tomorrow. She should rest. She’s had an ordeal.”
“Of course,” Inspector Hobart said. “Tomorrow, Miss Fox.”
“I prefer to speak to you now,” I said. “While it’s still fresh in my mind.”
“Is there somewhere we can go?”
“My office,” Mr. Hobart said. I hadn’t noticed the manager there. He gave me a gentle smile. “I’ll have someone bring you tea.”
“And something stronger,” I added.
They all looked at me.
“For Mr. Armitage,” I said. “He looks as though he needs it more than me.”
Mr. Armitage’s chest expanded with his deep breath. My attempted joke fell flat. His features didn’t so much as twitch with mirth. His face was all hard, angular planes and his eyes darker than ever.
My uncle glanced towards the ballroom again then back at me. “I would send your aunt to be with you, but she just retired, taking Flossy with her.”
“It’s all right,” I assured him. “I’ll speak to the inspector then make my way to my rooms.”
“Someone should escort you.” He looked to Mr. Hobart and Mr. Hobart nodded.
After another pat on my shoulder, Uncle Ronald bade me goodnight and went to rejoin his guests.
Mr. Hobart handed his keys to Mr. Armitage then departed for the service rooms. Mr. Armitage led his father and me to his uncle’s office. The inspector sat in Mr. Hobart’s chair while Mr. Armitage stood by the door.
I shivered, partly because the office was cool but also because my blood no longer pumped through my veins. Mr. Armitage removed his jacket and settled it around my shoulders before stepping back to stand by the door.
“Thank you,” I said. “Did you capture Mrs. Kettering?”
He simply nodded.
“My men have already taken her away,” Inspector Hobart said. “It was fortuitous that Harry caught her in the act of removing the stolen goods when we arrived at the hotel. We met him in the foyer as he confronted her.”
I congratulated them. “It’s been a good night’s work all around.”
“We then went looking for you in the ballroom,” the inspector went on. “Sir Ronald was none too happy about us mingling with his guests, although I felt we were very discreet. Don’t you agree, Harry?”
“We stood out like nuns at a Tattersalls bloodstock auction,” Mr. Armitage said.
“Very amusing, Harry. Now, come and sit down.” The inspector indicated the chair next to me. “There’s no need to stand sentinel by the door. All the bad eggs have been arrested.”
Mr. Armitage did as his father directed, but he didn’t sit comfortably. He held himself like a tightly coiled spring, ready to leap into action at any moment. “We arrived in the ballroom just before the midnight countdown,” he told me. “When we couldn’t see you, we made inquiries of Sir Ronald and the footmen on duty then went in search of you. It was an age before one of the footmen overheard you in the storeroom.”
“Not an age,” the inspector said. “A minute or two at the most. How did you find yourself in the storeroom with Mr. Hookly, Miss Fox?”
Harmony arrived with a tray of tea things as well as a silver flask marked with the hotel’s emblem. “I’m so glad to see you!” She set the tray down and closed her hands into fists at her sides. She bit her lip.
I put out my hand to her and smiled. She took it and squeezed. “I think I need a dash of whatever you’ve got in that flask,” I said.
“Mr. Hobart said you might.” She poured the tea then tipped a small measure of the flask’s contents into the cup. She handed it to me. “So what happened?”
I started at the beginning for the inspector’s sake, explaining how I’d suspected Mr. Hookly then discovered he wasn’t the real Mr. Hookly. “I still don’t know his name. He told me he was a footman in Mr. Hookly’s household, but Mrs. Warrick recognized him from his previous employment.”
“And how did he get into and out of her room without breaking in?” the inspector asked. He did not take down notes, but merely sipped his tea and listened.
“Edith, one of the maids, gave him hers. Either that or she delivered the poison herself. I’m afraid he manipulated her by pretending he loved her.”
“It’s not her fault,” Harmony added.
“Has she been found?” Mr. Armitage asked.
Harmony shook her head. “I’m very worried about her. What if he…” She swallowed.
“I’ll make inquiries,” the inspector said. “I’ll do my best to locate her.”
He drained his teacup and set it down on the tray. “I must return to the Yard and question Hookly, or whatever his name is.”
“It can’t wait for morning?” I asked. “It’s New Year’s Eve. Your wife would probably want you at home.”
“Mrs. Hobart is used to me being out at all hours. She was going to enjoy a quiet evening with her sister-in-law and should be fast asleep now. Tomorrow is a busy day for her, with calls to make.”
He left with a promise to keep us informed of his progress in the search for Edith. I was glad he didn’t lecture me about investigating the murder. I wasn’t up for it. I was suddenly rather tired.
Harmony offered to see me settled in my room before she retired for the n
ight.
I shrugged off Mr. Armitage’s jacket and handed it back to him. “Thank you again. For the jacket and…everything. If you hadn’t come when you had…” I blew out a ragged breath.
He offered me a weak smile. “You seemed to be doing quite well on your own. I only came in at the end to take the glory.”
I returned his smile, although we both knew if he hadn’t tackled Mr. Hookly I would have been stabbed. “We make a good team, Mr. Armitage.”
“Goodnight, Miss Fox. And happy new year.” He strode out of the office, throwing his jacket on as he walked.
Harmony gathered the teacups on the tray, only to leave it on the desk. She picked up the flask instead.
“I don’t need any more,” I told her. “I’ve warmed up and calmed down.”
“It’s not for you, it’s for me,” she said. “My nerves are as jangly as a jester’s bells.”
I slept well but lay in bed for some time in the morning after waking. The events of the night before continued to swirl through my head. I finally rose late-morning when Harmony arrived with breakfast. I’d been too busy to pre-order it the day before, however.
“Did you pilfer another guest’s breakfast?” I asked, inviting her in.
“There’s plenty in the kitchen. No need to steal anything.” She set the tray down on the table in the sitting room and lifted the lid. It smelled delicious. “I wasn’t sure what you’d want so I got a little of everything.”
She certainly had. I could never eat it all. “You’d better join me or it’ll go to waste.”
“I can’t do that. I’ve got to work.”
“We’ll say you’re tidying up my room.” I patted the chair. “Besides, who will care? Mrs. Kettering no longer works here.”
“Mr. Hobart will care.”
“I’m sure he’s far too busy taking down decorations and restoring the hotel to its usual state to worry about you spending twenty minutes with me.”
She poured coffee and I gratefully took the cup off her hands and sipped. The bitter taste was just what I needed. “How are things among the staff today?”
“We hardly slept a wink last night. Most worked late and had to get up again early today, but in between we were all a-twitter. Between Mrs. Kettering’s arrest and Mr. Hookly’s too, and Edith’s disappearance, and of course all the gossip from the ball, nobody wanted to sleep.”
“Any news on Edith from Scotland Yard?”
She shrugged as she plucked off a strip of bacon from the platter. “Not that I’ve been told. Poor thing. I hope she’s not…you know.”
“I know,” I said darkly. “I hope so too.”
Flossy arrived after Harmony departed and invited me to afternoon tea in the hotel’s main sitting room with her mother and several friends who’d come for the ball and were staying on.
“Everyone’s so relieved the murderer has been caught,” she said.
“Your father spread the news?”
“It’s all over the hotel.” She frowned. “He says you had a part in discovering the murderer. Is that true?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes widened. “Cleo, you’re so brave and clever.”
“Not really. I’m just curious to a fault.”
She patted my knee. “Father asked me to tell you not to tell anyone. He doesn’t want Mother knowing.”
“I understand.” I didn’t want Aunt Lilian knowing the full story either. I didn’t want to be responsible for a further decline in her nervous state.
“And don’t let any of the guests know, or our friends. It’ll just be between you, me, Floyd and Father.”
“And the staff.”
“Yes, them too. We don’t want any ugly gossip about the Bainbridges in the newspapers.”
I refrained from pointing out that I was not a Bainbridge and I didn’t consider catching murderers to be “ugly gossip.” But my relationship with my relatives was still very new and I didn’t want to have a disagreement over something that I had no intention of discussing with their friends or journalists anyway.
I sat through a pleasant afternoon tea with Flossy, Aunt Lilian and a room full of their female friends. Despite her gaunt features and hollow eyes, Aunt Lilian held court in the sitting room like a queen, and she even made a speech thanking them all for attending the most successful New Year’s Eve ball in all of London. The enthusiastic applause widened my aunt’s and cousin’s smiles, and mine too. I was immensely relieved that my tussle with Mr. Hookly hadn’t ruined the evening.
My aunt didn’t dine with us that night, but I ate with my cousins and uncle in the dining room. All the tables and chairs were back in place, and there was no evidence of the previous night’s revelries. The dining room was rather full, and a stream of guests constantly came up to my uncle to congratulate him on a wonderful ball.
“Did you enjoy it?” Floyd asked me while Uncle Ronald was engaged with a guest. “Aside from your little adventure late in the evening, I mean.”
Flossy glared at her brother. “It was hardly an adventure.”
“My apologies, you’re right, Floss. Cleo, how did you enjoy the evening before you were almost killed by a murderer in the storeroom?”
Flossy choked on her salad.
Floyd passed her a glass of wine.
“I enjoyed it immensely,” I said, although it wasn’t quite true. I’d been too intent on watching Mr. Hookly to truly enjoy myself. “I met some lovely people.”
“Lovely, eh? I’ll tell Jonathon you said that.”
Flossy set down her wine glass and shot him another glare. “Don’t go foisting your idiotic friends on Cleo.”
“Jonathon is not idiotic. He’s very intelligent, as it happens.”
“He can’t be or he wouldn’t be friends with you. Anyway, Cleo can do better than Jonathon.”
“Do better than a Hartly?” Floyd snorted. “You do know what he’s worth, don’t you?”
Flossy turned up her nose at him. “I don’t care. He’s a scoundrel.”
“The love of a good woman will tame him.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t listen to him, Cleo. Dance with Jonathan if you have to, but don’t believe a word he tells you. He’ll speak sweet things in your ear then repeat them into the ear of the next girl, and the next and next. He doesn’t mean a word.”
It reminded me of Mr. Hookly and Edith. She wasn’t the first girl in history to fall in love with a man who told her what she wanted to hear, and sadly she wouldn’t be the last.
I had decided to pay a call on Detective Inspector Hobart at Scotland Yard to learn if there’d been any progress in the search for Edith when a message arrived from him the following morning. It stated that she had been found and he wanted a woman to be present when he questioned her. I was to meet him at eleven at Westminster Hospital.
She was alive, thank God. It was an immense relief, and I made sure to let Harmony know too. We’d both been so worried.
“Why do you think he needs you to be at the hospital when he questions her?” she asked.
“I don’t know. But I’m glad he wants me there. I’m very keen to hear her side of the story.”
Chapter 15
Detective Inspector Hobart was waiting on the steps at the front of the hospital when I arrived. “There are a few things you ought to know before going in,” he told me. “First of all, I’d like you to ask Edith a series of questions. I wrote them down.”
“Me?” I said, accepting his list. “Shouldn’t a policeman ask them?”
“I’ve tried. She wasn’t very forthcoming. Some women naturally respond better to other women, and I suspect she is one of them. Usually I ask Mrs. Hobart to aid me in situations like this, but since Edith knows you, I think you are the better choice in this instance.”
I read over his questions and committed them to memory before returning the paper. “I’ll try my best. Is she badly hurt?”
“She has broken ribs and is bruised after being trampled by a horse. She was ex
tremely lucky that a passerby saw the incident as it was occurring and pulled her out of the way before the carriage wheels got her too. The witness said a man pushed her into its path.”
“Not knocked her accidentally?”
“Definitely pushed.”
“But Mr. Hookly has been in your custody since New Year’s Eve. It can’t be him.”
“It occurred that afternoon, before the ball, and the witness has since identified the man you know as Hookly. His name is Lawrence Conrad, by the way. Edith was brought here but seems to be suffering from the shock of her ordeal. She won’t say a word, not even give her name. The administration staff notified the police when she arrived but it took some time for word to reach me that a woman matching Edith’s description was here.”
“Shall we get started?”
“There’s one more thing you should know. Lawrence Conrad is married. His wife is on her way to London now.”
The nurse at the front desk nodded at the inspector in greeting and didn’t stop us from going through to the ward. Dozens upon dozens of beds were lined up in rows, some with curtains drawn all the way around. Only one had a constable standing guard.
“Is that necessary?” I asked.
“Until I think her innocent, I must treat her as guilty.” The inspector nodded at the constable who pulled the curtain aside for us. The constable removed a pencil and notepad from his pocket and waited.
Edith lay on her back, her swollen eyes closed. Although the inspector had told me she’d suffered bruising, it still came as quite a shock to see her face all black and blue.
I sat on the edge of the bed. “Edith,” I said gently. “It’s me, Cleo Fox. Can you hear me?”
Her eyes opened to mere slits before closing again. Tears slipped from the corners onto her pillow.
I went to touch her hand but they were both covered in bandages. I settled my hands on my lap. “Edith, I know you did some terrible things, but I also know what happened isn’t your fault. He manipulated you. You just have to tell Detective Inspector Hobart so he knows too.”
