Murder at the Mayfair Hotel (Cleopatra Fox Mysteries #1)- C.J. Archer Page 0,79
found in the jar of face cream, or the tube of toothpaste, or the bottle of tonic. There was no poison found anywhere in Mrs. Warrick’s room. Since she died in her nightclothes in bed, it’s very unlikely that she consumed the poison elsewhere, and as I already told you, there was enough mercuric cyanide in her body to kill her quickly.”
“Meaning she couldn’t have consumed it elsewhere then returned to her room and gone about her usual nighttime routine. She would have been in great pain, wouldn’t she?”
“Absolute agony.”
Mr. Hobart made a small sound of horror in his throat. “Poor Mrs. Warrick.”
“So the poisoned substance was removed from her room,” I said. “The poisoner took it away with them when they left. And since the door was locked…” Oh God. No.
“The poisoner is a member of staff,” Mr. Hobart muttered, his face draining of color. “Stephen, why haven’t you told me this?”
“The test results only came back yesterday. Since then, I’ve been sifting through the staff statements again. There are a lot of them.”
“There aren’t many with a key to Mrs. Warrick’s room.”
“Can other staff members get access to the keys easily?”
“It’s possible.” Mr. Hobart sighed. “Unfortunately it wouldn’t be all that difficult. I don’t think Mrs. Kettering would pass her key out, and I have spare keys to each room locked in the bottom drawer of my desk. The maids also have keys to the rooms they clean and are under strict instructions not to give them to anyone else.”
“That doesn’t mean they don’t,” the inspector said.
“Or that someone didn’t steal Mrs. Warrick’s key,” I added.
Mr. Hobart rubbed his forehead. “This is dreadful.”
“Nothing can be done about it today,” the inspector assured him. “I’m still reading through interviews and gathering other evidence.”
“Is that wise?” I asked. “Shouldn’t you act as quickly as possible? Perhaps you could round up all of the suspects and keep them at Scotland Yard while you interview them.”
“I can’t keep them there unless I arrest them, and I won’t arrest anyone until I have evidence. That’s not my way. At the moment, what I do have is more than a hundred statements to re-read as well as men out making inquiries to local suppliers of mercuric cyanide. Is there something else you’d like me to do, Miss Fox?”
“That sounds like enough to me,” I said, sheepish.
“I can’t believe it’s a staff member,” Mr. Hobart muttered. “They have to be exceptional to work here, the best of the best. I check all their references thoroughly, and Harry interviewed every one of them personally.”
“They duped him and forged their references,” the inspector said, matter-of-factly. “Harry might be a good judge of character but if one of them set out to be deceitful, he wouldn’t know, particularly if he’s not on the lookout for duplicity.”
“Speaking of forgeries,” I said. “Mr. Hookly must have falsified the letter from Lord Addlington. Are you going to confront him about that, Mr. Hobart?”
“No one will confront anyone about anything,” the inspector said.
“Not today,” Mr. Hobart said, gentler. “But I don’t see how the letter can be forged. I checked it against another from Lord Addlington that we have on file and the handwriting matched.”
I frowned. “Why do that when you didn’t suspect Mr. Hookly of wrongdoing?”
“A jeweler came to me asking about him. He’d become worried that Mr. Hookly was going to leave London and not settle his very substantial account. The jeweler had extended credit to Mr. Hookly based on Lord Addlington’s letter, you see. The jeweler knew Lord Addlington well too. He’s a good customer, apparently, so the jeweler had no difficulty extending credit. But as time wore on and more items were ordered, he became concerned. Since the items were sent here, he came to me and asked if I could vouch for Mr. Hookly’s character. I couldn’t, of course. Not personally, but I mentioned Lord Addlington’s letter. I came to the same conclusion as you, Miss Fox, that perhaps Mr. Hookly wrote a message on our stationery and signed it with Lord Addlington’s signature. I asked Mr. Hookly for the letter again, checked it against the letter I had on file, and saw that the handwriting and signature matched. I was relieved, to be honest. A measure of doubt crept in after the jeweler’s visit. Mr. Hookly has ordered a lot from some very expensive shops. It’s unusual.”
“What excuse did you give Hookly for borrowing the letter?” the inspector asked.