Murder at the Mayfair Hotel (Cleopatra Fox Mysteries #1)- C.J. Archer Page 0,45
our guests will read The Evening News.”
Floyd stood. “Come with me. We’ll check his schedule in his office and see where he’s having lunch.”
“Thank you, Mr. Bainbridge.”
Flossy sighed heavily as she watched them go. “This is terrible, Cleo. It’s so cruel and so unfair. Who would go to the newspapers and spread rumors about us?” She picked up a napkin only to screw it up into a ball. “I’ll wager it was one of the other hoteliers. They’re always trying to be better than us, and it wouldn’t surprise me if they’d stoop to talking to the newspapers.”
I wasn’t so sure it was a rival. Indeed, it could be worse. The information about begging invitations and calling in favors could only have come from one of the recipients of those invitations or calls—a guest.
Unless it was a senior staff member with knowledge of them.
Flossy placed a headpiece made of jet and set with several small diamonds against her hair. It was very becoming, but it wouldn’t suit her ball gown. It must also be very expensive. “I thought your gown has seed pearls sewn into it,” I said. “I don’t think the jet is quite right.”
She pursed her lips as she studied her reflection in the mirror held by the Harrods’ jewelry counter attendant. “I’m not sure. Come closer, Cleo. I need to see how it looks on someone else.”
She positioned the headpiece in my hair then stepped back and studied the effect. She smiled. “You’re right. Pearls are a better choice.”
We spent some time choosing a headpiece for her and waited as the assistant packaged it up along with a matching necklace. It would seem Flossy wasn’t going to heed her brother’s advice and curb her spending. The two pieces would have cost a fortune.
“Would you like to take the items with you now, Miss Bainbridge?” the saleswoman asked.
“Have them sent to the hotel,” Flossy said.
“Very good, Miss Bainbridge.”
The staff at every counter we’d visited in Harrods’ department store knew Flossy by name. Flossy hadn’t paid for anything yet, so I assumed an account would be sent to the hotel along with the items she purchased.
“Now, gloves,” Flossy declared, striding off.
I dutifully followed. I couldn’t have left even if I wanted to. I didn’t know which way was out. The lights were bright, the counters numerous, and there were smiling attendants dressed in black everywhere. Perhaps the intention was to trap shoppers inside for as long as possible, to encourage them to spend more.
“Are we going anywhere near Saville Row later?” I asked, stepping alongside her.
“It’s not far from the hotel. Why?”
“My grandfather used to get his suits made at a tailor there. Bentley and Sons. I want to see it for nostalgic reasons.” An idea had struck me as Flossy had gone from department to department in Harrods, sending her purchases back to the hotel. Now that we were coming to the end of our shopping expedition, it was time to act.
“Your grandfather had his suits made in London?” she asked. “I suppose Cambridge tailors aren’t as good as ours. We’ll look for gloves then head home via Saville Row.”
She didn’t buy gloves, in the end, despite trying on several pairs and having me do the same. We climbed into the hotel carriage that had waited for us outside Harrods and Flossy directed the coachman to take us to Bentley and Sons on Saville Row.
“There’s no need for you to come in,” I told her. “Stay warm and dry in here.”
I dashed into the shop as the drizzling rain came down. The tailor looked up from the counter where he was writing something down in a ledger, and arched his brows. He seemed surprised to see a woman in his shop. At the moment, there were no customers so I had his full attention.
“I work for The Mayfair Hotel and have been charged with collecting Mr. Hookly’s dinner suit. Is it ready?”
“There must be some mistake. The jacket was delivered this morning and the shirt and trousers are on the way there now.” The tailor turned his ledger around and pointed at an entry. “Has it gone astray? Dear, dear me, this is a worry.”
“Please, don’t be concerned. Perhaps Mr. Hookly hadn’t checked with the post desk when he sent me on this errand. I’m sure it’s there waiting for him.”
“Do check as soon as you return and let me know immediately if it has gone astray. I can’t have one of Mr. Hookly’s orders disappearing.”