Murder at the Mayfair Hotel (Cleopatra Fox Mysteries #1)- C.J. Archer Page 0,21

familiar voice. I looked up to see Mr. Armitage striding towards me. “There aren’t too many smiles around the hotel this morning, despite it being Christmas Day.”

“You’re right, it’s insensitive of me. Poor Mrs. Warrick.”

“That’s not what I meant. There’s no need for you to stop smiling. You didn’t know her.”

“Did you?”

He looked taken aback by my earnest question. “I met her when she checked in, and again when there was an incident with one of the footmen.”

“Danny, the one who is now the prime suspect?”

“Is he?” The sudden change from friendly to steely wasn’t lost on me. “Has the detective inspector confided in you?”

Despite being disappointed with the change my questions had produced in him, I forged on. Answers were more important than flirting. “Your father confide in me? No, of course he hasn’t. But I’ve heard from one of the maids that Danny delivered the poisoned cup of hot chocolate to Mrs. Warrick and that she had a prior grievance with him.”

“That grievance was resolved before her murder, and there was no poison residue left in that cup, I believe.”

It seemed the detective had confided more to his son than he had to me. Mr. Armitage realized he’d said too much. He crossed his arms. “Leave the detecting to the police, Miss Fox.”

“I’d be glad to.”

Mr. Armitage’s gaze narrowed. “My father is very thorough.”

“I’m sure he is.”

His gaze narrowed further. “You’re agreeing with me too readily.”

“I’m sorry. Do you want me to disagree with you?”

He sucked in a breath between his teeth. It seemed to dissolve his frustration with me somewhat. His smooth smile returned again, but his eyes held none of their earlier warmth. “Enjoy your morning, Miss Fox. Please don’t hesitate to ask one of the staff if you require something.” He bowed and walked off.

I sighed. I had enjoyed seeing a more relaxed side to Mr. Armitage before our little confrontation, but it would seem my questions were not welcome. Truly, I hadn’t thought I’d been attacking his father’s reputation, but it must have come across that way. Perhaps I ought to apologize.

Then again, I wasn’t sure I had anything to apologize for. Mr. Armitage had simply read more into my responses than had been there.

“Cleo! There you are.” Flossy hurried towards me from the direction of the lift. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Come with me. Mother is awake and wishes to see you.”

Finally, I would meet her. I followed Flossy back into the lift and we headed up to level four. She knocked on the door to her parents’ suite and a voice inside bade us enter.

A thin woman sitting on the sofa smiled and held out a bony hand to me and another to Flossy. “You must be Cleopatra. Merry Christmas, my dear.”

She inspected me, giving me an opportunity to inspect her in turn. Instinctively, tears welled in my eyes. There was a remarkable resemblance to my mother, despite Aunt Lilian’s gaunt features and my memories of my mother being several years old. The sea-green eyes had been my mother’s most remarkable feature and were the same for my aunt. The gray streaks in her hair didn’t completely override the natural almond shade and her skin resembled the finest porcelain. Her high cheekbones would have given her a regal air if not for the hollows below. She was an older, thinner version of my mother.

“You look so much like her.” The words could have easily come from me but it was my aunt who whispered them. Her eyes shone as she patted the sofa beside her. “Come and sit with me, Cleopatra. Flossy, the gift.”

“She goes by Cleo,” Flossy said as she handed a small box to her mother.

Aunt Lilian gave it to me. “Merry Christmas.”

“Oh, I can’t accept it,” I said. “I’m afraid I didn’t get you anything.”

Aunt Lilian thrust the box into my hand. “It’s just a trinket. We were going to exchange gifts all together but your uncle informed me he’s too busy now, thanks to that poor woman’s murder. He might not even join us for luncheon.”

I opened the box to reveal a silver brooch in the shape of a butterfly, its wings made of blue enamel. I certainly wouldn’t describe it as a trinket. I pinned it to my dress. “Thank you. It’s lovely.”

She smiled. “It looks very fetching on you. Now, tell me everything about your life. I’ve missed so much of it. And you’ve missed so much of ours, too. Has Flossy been a