Murder at the Mayfair Hotel (Cleopatra Fox Mysteries #1)- C.J. Archer Page 0,83
if he had to resort to selling gossip about the hotel to the gutter press.”
“I thought he might have also sold gossip about his friends, perhaps even about her, but that would give her motive to kill him, not the other way around. I suspected she’d simply known about his reduced circumstances and wondered how he could stay at an expensive hotel, if she was referring to him at all.”
“He’s probably hunting for a wealthy wife at the ball,” he said.
“Mr. Hobart thinks so too. It makes sense, since Mr. Duffield didn’t stay for dessert after he spoke to Mr. Chapman about me.”
“You dined with Mr. Duffield? Why?”
“To learn more about him, of course.”
“By flirting with him,” he said flatly.
“I didn’t need to flirt. He feigned interest only until he learned from Mr. Chapman that I was living at the hotel because I, too, am experiencing reduced circumstances.”
“Reduced?” He grunted.
I ignored him and pressed on. “I discovered that Mr. Duffield’s family had sold off his family estate and he moved into a cottage. As humiliating as that must be for him, I didn’t think it enough of a reason to kill someone to keep them quiet about it.”
“Agreed. And what about the second guest you think Mrs. Warrick could have recognized that afternoon?”
“My Hookly.”
“Hookly?” He chuckled. “Do you mean to tell me you were flirting with him in the smoking room to get information from him?”
“Again, I was not flirting,” I said tightly.
“I’m sure he’d see it differently.”
I bristled. “I was only in the smoking room for one reason—so I could talk to him.”
“So you weren’t attempting a rebellion against your uncle?”
“No! I’m twenty-three, Mr. Armitage, not fifteen. Anyway, through subtle questioning—not flirting—I discovered that Mr. Hookly has recently returned from southern Africa after he’d sold his mine.”
“I know all that.”
“But you don’t know that Mr. Hookly is dead. The real Hookly, that is.”
It was immensely satisfying to see the shock on his face. “How did you discover that?”
“Through clever deduction.”
“You telephoned the address in the reservations register, didn’t you? Remind me to have a chat to Peter about—” He cut himself short. He’d forgotten that he no longer worked at the hotel. “It doesn’t matter if Mrs. Warrick knew the real Mr. Hookly was dead,” he went on. “She would have been surprised to see him if his ghost had shown up, but she couldn’t have recognized his imposter.”
“Unless she did. Perhaps she knew he wasn’t the type to stay at luxury hotels. Or perhaps she knew he should still be in Africa, not here in London. He might be telling the truth about his mine there, but lying about some other aspect of his life.”
He rubbed his forehead. “It doesn’t quite add up. It almost does, but there are holes.”
I sighed. “I know. I do think he’s not at all as well off as he claims and he’s using Lord Addlington’s letter to order expensive clothes and jewelry on credit.”
“He does have a lot of parcels delivered.”
“Lord Addlington’s letter is real, however. Your uncle checked the handwriting against a letter from his lordship on file.”
Mr. Armitage nodded slowly. “The imposter could have stolen it off the dead Mr. Hookly. I do know the fake Mr. Hookly wants to attend the ball to speak to another guest who will also be attending. He asked me about him a number of times, making sure he was still coming.”
“Who?”
“A banker known for giving loans to his friends, at generous rates, for their business ventures.”
“Is he a friend of Lord Addlington’s?”
Mr. Armitage’s lips curved with his triumphant smile. “I think you’ve just found your motive. Lord Addlington is friends with everyone who matters. It’s conceivable the fake Mr. Hookly will show the banker the letter tonight at the ball and ask for a loan.”
“A loan which he wouldn’t have to pay back because the banker would never be able to find him again, seeing as Mr. Hookly is deceased.”
He shot to his feet and put out his hand to me. “We have to return to the hotel.”
I hesitated, surprised at the offered hand. Had he forgiven me already or merely forgotten in his excitement in solving the case? Perhaps politeness was so ingrained in him too that it was merely an act of a well-brought up man.
My hesitation cost me and he withdrew his hand before I could accept it. He left and I could hear him speaking to his mother in another room.