Page 44 of Murder at the Mayfair Hotel
“He looks troubled,” Flossy said.
Floyd signaled to Mr. Hobart. “Something wrong?” he asked when the manager joined us.
“I was looking for Sir Ronald,” Mr. Hobart said. “Have you seen him?”
“I believe he went out for lunch. Why the grave face? Has something happened?”
Mr. Hobart swallowed and glanced at me.
“It’s all right,” Floyd said. “Cleo is family. If it’s something that affects the hotel then you can say it in front of her.”
Mr. Hobart moved closer. “I just received a telephone call from an acquaintance atThe Evening News. He wanted to warn me of an article they’re going to run about the hotel. I’m afraid it won’t be a favorable article.”
Flossy gasped. “Is it about poor Mrs. Warrick?”
“Yes, and the implications of her murder. My contact informed me that the front page article will mention the lengthy measures Sir Ronald is going to in order to ensure the ball goes ahead.”
“What measures?” Flossy asked.
“Telephone calls to invited guests begging them to come, calling in favors, that sort of thing.”
“Begging? Calling in favors?” Floyd spluttered a laugh. “Ridiculous. Father wouldn’t stoop that low. Things aren’t that desperate yet.”
Mr. Hobart stood quite still.
Floyd’s smile vanished. His face fell. “Why didn’t he tell me it was that bad?”
“I suspect he didn’t want to worry you, Mr. Bainbridge.”
Floyd rubbed a hand over his jaw and mouth, shaking his head. Mr. Hobart looked sorry for telling him now.
“Can you ask your friend at the newspaper not to run the article?” I asked the manager.
“Unfortunately he does not have enough authority to stop it.”
“Does Father have a friend with that power?” Flossy asked. “One who owes him a favor?”
Floyd looked up, hopeful. “Is that why you want to see him?”
Mr. Hobart seemed a little pained as he shook his head. “I simply came to warn him. He’ll want to know so that he can be prepared with a response. Some of our guests will readThe 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 placeda 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.”
