Murder at the Mayfair Hotel (Cleopatra Fox Mysteries #1)- C.J. Archer Page 0,70

the umbrella out of my hand. Mr. Armitage grabbed it and helped me hold it until the wind died down again.

He blew out a breath as if resigning himself. “If you’re not going to leave, you should come in. You’re getting wet.”

“I’ll stay here, thanks. It’s colder inside.”

“Now who’s being sarcastic?”

I smiled, and for a very brief moment I thought he returned it. But the moment was so fleeting that I instantly doubted myself when his scowl returned with extra ferocity.

“I won’t keep you any longer,” I said. “Goodbye, Mr. Armitage.”

I descended the front steps, tears once again burning my eyes. This meeting had achieved nothing. He was still angry with me, and I was still feeling guilty. Even worse, I could think of nothing to say or do to make the situation better.

“Miss Fox?” he called out.

I spun around. “Yes?”

He leaned a forearm against the doorframe and tapped the spanner with his finger. After a moment, he simply said, “Goodbye,” and closed the door.

At least he didn’t slam it. That was one positive thing to take away from the meeting.

There were no others, however, and I spent the journey back to the hotel feeling more miserable than I had on the journey there.

“Detective Inspector Hobart was here again while you were out,” Harmony said as she entered my suite behind me. I had the distinct feeling she’d been lurking on the fourth floor waiting for my return. “He spoke with Sir Ronald.”

I pulled a face as I removed my damp coat and flung it over the back of the armchair in the corner. “Do you know how that went?”

“I wasn’t listening in, if that’s what you mean,” she said, snippy.

I smiled, despite myself. “It’s not. Was Floyd in the meeting? Perhaps he can tell me how it went.”

“I believe Mr. Bainbridge was out. He’s back now, playing billiards downstairs with some gentlemen.”

I removed my gloves and set them down on the dressing table in the bedroom. “Did the inspector speak to anyone else?”

“Some guests on the third floor nearest Mrs. Warrick’s room.”

“He must have wanted to know if any of them heard noises coming from her room during the night.”

“Or saw anyone lurking about who shouldn’t be there.” Harmony picked up a pillow from the bed and fluffed it. “I wonder if he learned anything important.”

I unpinned my hat and touched my hair to see if it had gotten wet. Then I suddenly straightened and turned to her. “Do you think he was asking those questions because there was no poison found in the tonic, toothpaste or face cream?”

“And he wants to find out if someone delivered the poison in something else during the night?” Harmony shrugged. “After he spoke to the guests, he sought out the footmen who were working that night so you are probably right.” She frowned. “But he already asked the footman a few days ago and no one delivered anything further to Mrs. Warrick’s room that night between Danny taking her the hot chocolate and Edith taking her the tea the following morning.”

“But what if they delivered something to another guest’s room and the guest added the poison there before taking it to Mrs. Warrick? If he or she was known to Mrs. Warrick, she might have invited them in. The poisoner then offered her the poisoned drink or food, waited for her to die after she ate or drank it, then took the leftovers away with them.”

Harmony continued to fluff the pillow although I suspected she’d forgotten she was holding it. Her clear gaze met mine. “Which is why the police can’t find any traces of poison in anything that was left in the room. Miss Fox, I think you might be right. It explains why the inspector is continuing to interview guests now.”

“My uncle would not like that. He was against the guests being questioned.” It seemed the inspector had overruled him, and quite rightly, too.

“I’m glad he thinks it’s a guest and not a staff member,” she said. “I’ve been so worried that he’d arrest someone else, ever since he released Danny.”

“You can’t know all of the staff that well, Harmony. Perhaps one of them is the poisoner. You should prepare yourself for that possibility.”

She sighed. “So what will you do next? Do you want me to ask the footmen questions too? Or would you rather do it?”

I returned to the sitting room and picked up one of the books I’d borrowed from the hotel library. “I’m not doing anything next.