Page 58 of Murder at the Mayfair Hotel
“I do have a question for you, as it happens. Would you ever hire someone who’d been arrested in the past?”
“Arrested! Who has been arrested?”
“Nobody. At least, not at the moment. I was simply asking if you’d ever hire someone who had a criminal record. For example, someone who was arrested as a child for theft.”
“Of course not. Can’t have thieves roaming about the hotel with guests’ valuables lying about. Even if they were a reformed character, can you imagine the damage it would do to our reputation if the press got wind of it? I’m sorry, Cleo, if you have a friend in mind for a position here, but I simply can’t take them on.”
“A friend? Oh.”
“Not a friend?” He frowned. “Cleo, what are you trying to tell me?”
I put my hands up and backed away. “Nothing. It was just a silly question.” So much for thinking I could be discreet. “I’m sorry to bother you.”
“Cleo!” Flossy called out.
I was so relieved to be rescued that I almost ran to her. She stood beside her door, arms crossed. “What were you talking to Father about? He looks troubled.”
“Nothing. It was nothing. Are you heading out for a walk?”
“Yes, and then luncheon. Care to join me?”
“Gladly.”
* * *
Floyd joinedus for luncheon in the dining room. I studiously avoided Mr. Chapman’s gaze the entire time, and that of as many staff as possible. With the turn the investigation had taken, I was glad for some frivolous conversation for a change.
“There’s only three more days to go until the ball, not counting today,” Flossy said after the waiter deposited a bowl of soup in front of her. “You must have made a decision about attending by now, Cleo.”
“I haven’t had time to think,” I said.
“Haven’t had time?” Floyd echoed. “What do you ladies do all day that takes your mind off important things like balls?”
His tone was teasing, but Flossy gave me a serious look. “Yes, Cleo, what else could you possibly have to think about? You don’t know anyone in London except us, so you haven’t got any gossip to mull over. You don’t like to shop, so I know you’re not reading fashion periodicals from the library. What do you do when you’re not with me?”
“Perhaps she likes to improve her mind with books,” Floyd said as he scooped up a spoonful of soup. “Our cousin is a bit of a scholar, you know.”
“Don’t be absurd. She attended lectures and read books in Cambridge because there’s nothing else to do in a university city. Now that she’s in London, there’s so many other, more exciting things available to her.”
“Like shopping?”
“Yes, and the theater, the opera, dances. She could even go to museums and galleries if she wishes to continue to improve her mind.”
“I’m quite sure they have all of those things in Cambridge too, Sis.”
“But inferior, surely.”
Mr. Armitage entered the dining room and I found my gaze following him as he passed Mr. Chapman and surveyed the room. Mr. Chapman watched him too, then his gaze met mine.
I looked away, but not before Floyd and Flossy noticed. “Why are you watching Armitage?” Floyd asked.
“I’m curious about him,” I said. “What do you know of him? His past, I mean.”
“Hobart’s brother the detective took him in when he became an orphan,” Floyd said with a shrug. “He came to work here a few years later. That’s the extent of my knowledge. Why the interest in Armitage?”
Flossy dropped her spoon in her bowl and gasped. “Cleo,” she scolded.
I stared at her. Oh God, she’d guessed. Of all people, Flossy had worked out that I suspected him of the murder.
