Page 75 of Murder at the Mayfair Hotel
Goliath positioned himself where he could see the foyer as well as along the corridor in both directions. Mr. Chapman should be in the dining room all evening, and as far as I was aware, Mrs. Kettering was in her private chambers or her office. If she happened to come out while I was inside Mr. Hobart’s office, I hoped I’d have enough time to turn off the light upon Goliath’s whistle before she noticed it.
As quietly as possible, I tried the keys until I found which of the three opened Mr. Hobart’s door and I slipped inside and turned on the light. His desk was neat; all the day’s paperwork had been safely stowed away. I searched the bookshelf of ledgers but found nothing relating to the kitchen except for some old renovation plans. I expected to see ledgers listing the supplies, but there were none. Perhaps they were in Mr. Armitage’s office or the head chef kept that information himself.
Nor could I find a ledger listing the room service orders taken through the speaking tubes. I checked the books again, pulling them off the shelf and checking inside, in case their spines had been mislabeled. They hadn’t. Perhaps it was kept in the kitchen.
But surely Mr. Hobart would need that information so he could add it to the guests’ expenses. He would also require it each day, to account for guests checking out. Either he took down notes for the guests, then handed the ledger back to the kitchen, or they simply used loose paper, starting afresh the next day.
I searched the stack of papers in Mr. Hobart’s tray then turned to the filing cabinet. I clicked my tongue in frustration as I tried to open some of the drawers only to find them locked. Thankfully, the bottom two weren’t. I pulled out the leather document wallets and rifled through the contents.
Success! One of them contained loose sheets of paper with neat columns ruled in ink. Each entry was written in pencil, and included the date, time, room number, guest name and their order. A tick had been placed in ink beside each entry, probably by Mr. Hobart after he’d transcribed the details over to the guest’s account.
There was one piece of paper for each day. The name of the staff member who’d taken the order was written beside it. Victor had been responsible for taking the room service orders on several occasions.
I flicked back through the papers until I found the one dated Christmas Eve and traced my finger down the entries. There it was, one of the names I’d been hoping to find. Now that I’d found it, I couldn’t quite believe it. I felt a little giddy as I read through what he’d ordered. It was two of everything.
Mr. Hookly was either a hungry man or he’d entertained a guest in his room.
I returned the sheet to the wallet and placed it back in the drawer and hurried for the door, only to suddenly stop.
Goliath whistled the Pirate King’s song, fromThe Pirates of Penzance, loudly and clearly. I switched off the light, hoping it hadn’t been visible beneath the door.
“Mr. Hobart asked me to check on Mr. Armitage’s office from time to time,” I heard Goliath say. “I’ve just come from there.”
There was a pause in which I could just make out Mrs. Kettering’s shrill tone, if not her words.
“Yes, I’ll move on. Goodnight, Mrs. Kettering.”
I waited a moment before opening the door a crack. The coast was clear. I slipped out of the office and quickly locked the door behind me, racing into the foyer.
I didn’t draw breath until I reached the front desk. “Thank you, Goliath,” I said to the porter as I handed the keys back to Peter.
“So?” Goliath asked. “What did you find?”
I could hardly contain my excitement. The stalemate in the case had finally been broken. “Mr. Hookly ordered enough for two on Christmas Eve, yet he’s here alone.”
“Hookly?” Peter echoed. “The gentleman just back from Africa? The one who gave his address as Berkshire?”
“I think Mrs. Warrick recognized him. I overheard her say as much that afternoon and comment that he shouldn’t be here.”
Goliath leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “So she confronted him, he got worried and decided he had to kill her to stop her telling someone that he shouldn’t be in the hotel. He invited her up to his room for dinner, poisoned her food, and she returned to her room where she died.”
It didn’t quite make sense. Apparently she was poisoned between three and six AM. Either the pathologist was wrong about the time of death or she took some food back to her room with her and consumed it later. But where was the evidence? There were no plates or cups that shouldn’t have been in her room, and no leftovers.
“Whydid she think he shouldn’t be here?” Peter asked.
Goliath rubbed his jaw. “What if she thought he should still be in Africa? Perhaps that’s why she was surprised to see him here.” He clicked his fingers. “What if he got into trouble there, maybe murdered someone, and came back to England to escape justice, and Mrs. Warrick knew it.”
And I thoughtmyimagination was vivid. “I like your theory, Goliath. It makes sense.”
Peter shook his head. “It’s a mad theory. You’re both mad.” He suddenly stopped and bit his lower lip. “Forgive me, Miss Fox, I don’t mean it.”
I leaned forward a little. “It’s quite all right, Peter. I’m not going to get you into trouble with my uncle when you’re simply being honest.”
He looked relieved. “In that case, I don’t think you’re right. It can’t be Hookly. He’s got a letter of recommendation from Lord Addlington.”
“It could be falsified.”
“It’s on our hotel stationery. How could he falsify it on our stationery if he hadn’t checked in yet?”
