Murder at the Mayfair Hotel (Cleopatra Fox Mysteries #1)- C.J. Archer Page 0,50

help. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.” I left, feeling pleased with my efforts. Now that he’d seen what I could do, perhaps he’d consider me for a more permanent role within the hotel.

Flossy wanted to go shopping again, but I declined, claiming tiredness. I had no plans to rest, however. I wanted to think about the investigation so far, and how to proceed. While I’d learned some interesting things about my suspects, I needed to know more, particularly how they were connected to Mrs. Warrick, if at all. I would have liked to discuss it with Harmony, but one of the footmen said the maids had all finished. Some would return later to assist ladies who hadn’t brought their own maid, but he didn’t know if Harmony was one of them.

I had a good collection of notes beside both Mr. Hookly and Mr. Duffield’s names, but very little against Mr. Armitage. All I knew was that he was adopted as a teen. I considered asking Mr. Hobart about his nephew but discarded the idea. It would be too obvious.

I also considered telling Mr. Armitage about my own parents’ deaths as a way of getting him to open up about becoming an orphan, but discarded that idea just as quickly. Not only would it dredge up my painful memories, it was also a low act to use my misfortune as a tool to encourage him to trust me. I’d rather rummage through his office for clues. His bedchamber might reveal evidence of a more personal nature, but I couldn’t bring myself to break into it. Not only was it also a low act, but I’d have no excuse if I was caught. At least if I was discovered in his office I could claim I was looking for some hotel stationery.

I ventured downstairs in the hope of seeing Mr. Armitage leave his office. I was rewarded after only a few minutes. But instead of speaking to a guest or staff member as he usually did, he left the hotel altogether.

After a quick word with Frank and Goliath at the front door, he strode off along Piccadilly. I made up my mind in an instant. Despite having no coat, hat or gloves, I decided to follow. I’d been rewarded with answers when I followed Mr. Duffield; hopefully I’d have equal good fortune by following Mr. Armitage.

“Miss Fox, you have no coat!” Frank cried as I passed him.

“It’s not too cold and I won’t be gone long,” I assured him without stopping.

I kept Mr. Armitage in sight but did not get too close. He walked at a steady, unhurried pace into the chaotic throng of Piccadilly Circus. I dodged pedestrians, carts and conveyances of all shapes and sizes, and despite being almost run down, I managed to spot him heading along Shaftsbury Avenue. If he hadn’t been so tall, I might have lost him altogether.

From there he entered Dean Street and stopped outside a handsome building. He entered without knocking.

According to the bronze plaque beside the door, it was St Andrew’s Home and Club for Working Boys, and its patron was a lord. Could Mr. Armitage have lived at this institution when he was younger? Had it given him a roof over his head when he’d needed it most? If so, it could provide me with answers about my suspect.

I continued on until I reached a lamp post where I waited and watched. The walk had been brisk enough to keep me warm, but now that I’d stopped, the cold seeped through my clothing to my skin. I blew into my hands but it did little to thaw them.

I had no watch and lost track of the time. Mr. Armitage could have been inside for fifteen minutes or forty-five. I was immeasurably glad when he emerged and walked off in the other direction to me, back the way we’d come. I was also very glad to enter the building. There was no fireplace or heating grate in the hall but at least it was warmer than outside.

I’d had between fifteen and forty-five minutes to think of something to say, but even so, I found myself hesitating when a vicar greeted me. I hadn’t expected to lie to a man of God. I wasn’t sure I could go through with it.

“May I help you?” he asked.

He had a friendly face with small round spectacles that drew attention to his kind eyes. I cringed just thinking about what I was