Murder at the Mayfair Hotel (Cleopatra Fox Mysteries #1)- C.J. Archer Page 0,42

Fox. I suggest you be careful and not sneak about.” He opened the door and waited for me to leave.

I brushed past him, only to stop. We were mere inches apart. I was very aware of his superior height and those broad shoulders, the strong cheekbones and jaw. Despite our close proximity, I felt braver, most likely because we were now in full view of Peter, the guests and porters in the foyer.

“I wasn’t the one sneaking, Mr. Armitage. Good day.”

Chapter 6

My dramatic exit from the smoking room lost steam when I realized Mr. Armitage didn’t follow me. My pace slowed, and I looked around the foyer for inspiration in how to proceed with the investigation. Peter stood alone at the front desk and I was about to approach him and ask if he’d learned anything about the addresses of Mr. Duffield and Mr. Hookly when an errand boy arrived carrying a rectangular box of considerable size.

“Delivery for Mr. Hookly,” he told the post desk attendant named Terence.

“Another one?” Terence said. “Mr. Hookly must be your best customer.”

“My master salivates when he sees Mr. Hookly coming through the door.”

I waited for the errand boy to leave then I approached the counter.

“Good morning, Miss Fox,” said Terence. “Have you more letters this morning?”

“Not today. I couldn’t help but overhear. Is that package for Mr. Hookly?”

“It is.”

“How fortuitous. I’m on my way to see him now, as it happens. May I deliver it for you?”

He looked as though he would protest but thought better of it. I suspected he didn’t want to tell me it was against hotel policy to give mail into the wrong hands. Being the owner’s niece had some advantages. “It’s very irregular, but I’m sure you can be trusted to deliver it safely.”

He passed me the box and I hurried off with it, taking the stairs rather than the lift to avoid awkward questions from John. The parcel wasn’t heavy but it was large, and by the time I reached my room, I was eager to set it down.

At my desk, I studied the return address. It was from Bentley and Sons on Saville Row. I untied the string then carefully opened the box, making sure not to damage it. Beneath the paper was a gray silk waistcoat with silver buttons and matching tie. Beneath those was a formal frock coat. The card accompanying the items stated the shirt and trousers would arrive soon, and that payment of the account was due at Mr. Hookly’s earliest convenience. The figure was a staggering amount. It must be for more than this suit. Although well made from the finest fabrics, it wouldn’t cost one tenth of the figure on the card.

I returned the items and card to the box, retied the string, and headed downstairs again. “He wasn’t in his room, after all,” I told Terence.

He gave me an uncertain look as he accepted the parcel.

I was about to return upstairs when Peter hailed me from the front desk. “I found the addresses for you, Miss Fox.”

“Excellent. Thank you, Peter.”

He handed me a piece of paper with three addresses written on it. He pointed to the first one. “This is the address Mrs. Warrick wrote in the reservation book. The next one is for Mr. Hookly. He lives in Berkshire.”

“That matches what he told me.”

“The last one is for Mr. Duffield, and look. It’s also in Lincolnshire.”

“The same as Mrs. Warrick.” They could very well know each other if they were neighbors. I didn’t know the county, however. The two addresses could be nowhere near one another. I said as much to Peter.

“That’s what I wondered too, so I took the liberty of consulting with Terry.” He nodded at Terence, sorting letters into the mail slots behind the post desk. “He has postal directories and maps from all over the country. It turns out that Mr. Duffield lives twenty-five miles from Mrs. Warrick, just outside of Grantham.”

“Thank you, Peter. You’ve been most helpful.”

“Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.”

“There is, as it happens. May I use your telephone?” I pointed to the brass device at the edge of the desk.

He looked uneasy. “It’s supposed to be for receiving reservations only.”

I spotted Mr. Hobart heading away from his office. “Never mind.”

I intercepted the manager and asked if I could use the telephone in his office. “My friend in Cambridge is supposed to be sending my other trunk, but it hasn’t arrived yet. I want to ask