Page 74 of Murder at the Mayfair Hotel
I sat bolt upright and stared at the brass speaking tube. Two meals, but only one delivery to one room… Mrs. Warrick did not dine in the dining room on the night of her death, nor can the doormen remember her leaving the hotel. I had assumed she’d not eaten at all, but what if she dined in another guest’s room?
What if that guest was her killer?
She had recognized either Mr. Hookly or Mr. Duffield that afternoon. Perhaps she’d confronted one of them and he’d subsequently invited her to dinner to discuss whatever it was that bothered her. While it was scandalous to think of her meeting a gentleman in private in his room, Mrs. Warrick was hardly an innocent debutante. Perhaps she’d even accepted the invitation in the hope something more than a discussion would eventuate.
It seemed to take a long time for our meals to arrive, but according to the clock on Flossy’s desk, it was only forty-five minutes. I ate quickly, consumed only one glass of champagne, and made my excuses, much to Flossy’s disappointment. I convinced her that she needed to have an early night so that she would be fresh for the ball.
I headed downstairs, where Goliath pushed off the front desk where he’d been leaning as he chatted to Peter. He intercepted me as I passed.
“Harmony says you’re no longer investigating the murder.” He glanced around. There was no one in the foyer, although I could hear voices coming from the billiards room.
“I wasn’t, but I think I have a clue. I just need to verify it before I pass it on to Detective Inspector Hobart.”
That lifted his spirits. He’d been looking rather glum. “Can I help?”
“Shouldn’t you be outside waiting for guests with luggage?”
“There are no guests arriving at this time, and the doorman’s in a bad mood.”
“Then you can come with me to Mr. Hobart’s office.”
“He’s gone home.”
I had expected as much. “Does he lock his office door at night?”
He shrugged. “Peter will know.”
The hard-working Peter looked just as bored as Goliath. He yawned before leaning both elbows on the front desk. “Only two more hours before the night porter takes over,” he said. “I’m that tired. Mr. Hobart’s had me going over the guest register for tomorrow, seeing as Mr. Armitage no longer works here. There’s going to be a lot of new arrivals in the afternoon.”
“Speaking of Mr. Hobart,” I said, “does he lock his office door when he goes home?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I need to look at the records of the room deliveries for the night of Mrs. Warrick’s murder. I want to see if one of my suspects ordered enough food for two people at dinner time.”
“You think she dined with her killer?”
“I’m not sure. It might amount to nothing, but I want to check before I pass on what I know to the inspector.”
“I know where you can find a key to Mr. Hobart’s office,” Peter said.
He ducked behind the counter. Goliath leaned over to see what he was doing, but Peter stood again, a set of keys on his palm.
“One of them is for Mr. Hobart’s office. Another is for Mr. Armitage’s office and his private chamber, and I’m not sure what the fourth one unlocks. They both handed in their keys to me when they left. I gave Mr. Hobart’s set to Mr. Chapman, who gave them back to Mr. Hobart when he returned. He told me to hold onto Mr. Armitage’s.” He held them up by the ring.
“Why didn’t he want you to give them to Mr. Chapman or Mrs. Kettering?” Goliath asked. “They’re more senior than you.”
“If we hold onto them here, then anyone can ask for them if they need something from Mr. Armitage’s office. This desk is always manned.”
I took the keys and promised to return them.
“I’d better come and keep watch for you,” Goliath said, following me into the senior staff corridor. “I’ll whistle if someone comes.”
I lowered my voice to a whisper. “If I close the door, it will be as it was before. Nobody will know I’m inside.”
“You have to turn the light on. Or can you see in the dark?”
“Very amusing. But you do have a point. Very well, whistle if someone approaches, and I’ll quickly switch off the light.”
