Murder at the Mayfair Hotel (Cleopatra Fox Mysteries #1)- C.J. Archer Page 0,30

young woman who’d endured a scolding from Mrs. Kettering in the stairwell. She paused when she saw me and bobbed a hasty curtsy. Harmony introduced her as Edith.

“I really shouldn’t be in here,” I said, rising. “I don’t want to get in your way.”

“You ain’t in the way,” Victor said, pushing a spare chair towards Edith.

She slid onto it, her head bowed, hands in her lap.

“Miss Fox is helping solve the murder,” Harmony explained.

I winced. I wished she’d stop announcing it.

“Edith discovered Mrs. Warrick’s body this morning.”

“How awful for you,” I said. “Shouldn’t you go home and rest? You’ve endured quite a shock.”

Edith looked up, her eyes huge. They were her best feature, particularly when she blinked innocently like that. If it weren’t for her big blue-gray eyes she’d be a little plain. I’d thought her young, but now that I got a proper look at her face, I could see the telltale signs of age at the corners of her mouth and eyes. She must be near thirty.

“I’m all right, thank you, Miss Fox. I’d rather be working. So you don’t think Danny did it?”

“No,” chimed several voices as one.

“I’m so glad you’re going to help him,” she told me. “But who do you think poisoned Mrs. Warrick?”

“I’m not sure. But we need to keep this investigation between ourselves,” I told them all. “Don’t tell the senior staff, or any other staff, unless it will help us find answers. Edith, are you up to talking about the body? It’s all right if you’re not.”

“Do you think it will help free Danny?”

“It might.”

She drew in a fortifying breath and let it out slowly. “What do you want to know?”

“Tell me what you told the detective inspector about your movements before and after discovering Mrs. Warrick.”

“I was delivering her tea at seven this morning, as I have done ever since she arrived. She has a regular order, you see; tea delivered at seven by a maid, not a footman. She doesn’t want men seeing her in her nightgown.”

“A regular order, just like her cup of hot chocolate,” I said.

Edith nodded. “I knocked on her door, but there was no answer. I’m sure I knocked loudly enough because I awoke the gentleman in the room directly across the corridor. He came out and picked up the newspaper that had been left by his door. I knocked on Mrs. Warrick’s door again, then when there was still no answer, I used my key.”

“Is it usual for you to enter with your own key?”

“Not very, but I just thought she was in a deep sleep. I didn’t want to leave the tea at the door because I know she likes it hot. It was only in a cup with a cloth cover, not a pot and it would have gone cold very quickly.”

“Do you always carry keys to all the rooms you deliver tea to in the mornings?”

“Just for the rooms I clean.”

“Tell me what happened after you stepped into her room.”

“I put the cup down on the table beside the empty pot of chocolate, opened the curtains, and turned around to greet Mrs. Warrick. That’s when I saw her…covered in her own sick.” She shuddered and clutched her throat. “It was awful. I’ll never sleep tonight with the memory of her ghastly face in my mind.”

Harmony touched Edith’s hand, and Goliath squeezed her shoulder.

“I came straight outside and told the other guest still reading his paper that Mrs. Warrick looked dead. He went into her room to check while I ran to tell Mrs. Kettering.”

The poor girl. No wonder her hands still shook. I wasn’t sure I’d still be able to work if I’d discovered a dead body just that morning.

“You mentioned you have a key to the rooms you clean,” I said. “Who else has access to room keys?”

“Mr. Hobart and Mrs. Kettering each have a master set of keys,” Peter said. “If a guest loses their room key, I have to ask one of them to unlock the door. It doesn’t happen often.”

“Mr. Armitage doesn’t have keys?”

“He uses Mr. Hobart’s set if the need arises.”

“Who do you think could have murdered her?” Goliath asked. “She was at the hotel alone, wasn’t she?”

Peter nodded. “She checked in two days ago. I recall her saying she was looking forward to the ball and seeing old friends.”

“Had any of those old friends arrived yet?” I asked him.

“I don’t know.”

“Peter, do you recall yesterday afternoon when Mr. Armitage spoke to a gentleman beside the Christmas