Page 20 of Murder at the Dinner Party
“Because we can’t let it happen again.”
“Can’t we?” he asked idly. “Why not, if we both enjoyed it?”
“I didn’t say I enjoyed it.Yousaid I did.” I smoothed my hands down my skirt, over my thighs. My palms felt sweaty within my gloves, and my collar too tight. “Before we visit your father, I ought to tell you about yesterday’s afternoon tea.”
“Youmight want to pretend the kiss never happened, but I’m not going to.”
“Stop changing the subject.”
“You changed it first, Cleo. Very well. We don’t have to talk about the kiss or how you’ve been avoiding me ever since.”
“I have not! I’ve been too busy to call on you. Besides, there hasn’t been a reason to see you until now.”
With a smile playing at his lips, he pressed a hand to his chest. “Ouch.”
“If you don’t stop, Harry, I’ll continue this investigation alone.”
He stopped.
I spent the next few minutes telling him what I’d heard and seen at afternoon tea the day before. When I’d finished, we traveled in silence to his parents’ home in Ealing.
His mother greeted us at the door with a hug and a big smile for Harry. The smile she gave me was less enthusiastic and I received no hug, just a cool welcome that wasn’t quite as frosty as her usual greetings. I hadn’t called on the Hobarts often, but when I did, Mrs. Hobart always made it clear that she hadn’t forgiven me for getting Harry dismissed from his position at the hotel. She was fiercely protective of him, as most mothers would be. Even though she only became his mother when he was thirteen, she was no less protective of him than a natural mother would be. She and D.I. Hobart were wonderful parents to their adopted son.
A moment of melancholy welled within me as I thought of my own parents, both killed in an accident when I was ten. I didn’t think of them as much as a daughter ought to, and that only made the melancholy worse. I loved my parents, and they’d loved me, but their marriage had been volatile. My paternal grandparents, who’d taken me in, blamed my other grandparents for not accepting their son, placing a strain on the marriage from the outset. I used to believe that, too, but as I grew older and saw more marriages, both good and bad, I began to realize the truth was more complicated. My mother’s family’s rejection of my father certainly hadn’t helped, though.
Harry touched my elbow. “Are you all right?”
“Fine, thank you.”
“If it’s about the conversation in the cab on the way here, I’m sorry. I was just trying to clear the air. It was clumsy.”
“It was.”
“And a little childish.”
“True, but it’s all right.”
He gave me a flat smile and indicated I should walk ahead of him into the parlor where his father rose from an armchair to greet us. D.I. Hobart—I still couldn’t think of him as anything other than Detective Inspector, even though he was retired—shook my hand and indicated I should sit with a flap of the papers he held in his other hand.
“Good to see you again, Miss Fox. Harry tells me you have another murder to investigate.”
Mrs. Hobart clicked her tongue. “Stephen,” she chided. “You’ve forgotten your manners.”
D.I. Hobart looked sheepish. “My apologies, Miss Fox. How have you been?”
Satisfied that the formality of exchanging pleasantries was being observed, Mrs. Hobart left.
The moment he gauged she was out of earshot, D.I. Hobart asked me to tell him everything about the investigation so far. He knew most of it, so I simply updated him on what I’d learned at afternoon tea.
As I finished, Mrs. Hobart bustled in carrying a tray. She poured tea and offered me a cup. While she didn’t smile, she didn’t scowl at me either. It was an improvement.
D.I. Hobart sipped his tea thoughtfully. “I’ll get to the disappearance of the older Whitchurch brother in a moment, but first, I think you should find out why Chapman spoke to Lady Campbell. It may have no bearing on the case, but you never know what will lead to the unearthing of a clue.” He pointed the teacup at me, then Harry. “Not that I need to tell either of you that.”
“Did any of your cases for Scotland Yard involve hyoscine poisoning?” I asked.
“One, although there could have been others that I or my fellow detectives attributed to natural causes, just as yours has been. While a body can be tested for hyoscine, if no one suspects murder, the coroner won't order a test. The symptoms don’t obviously point to poisoning.”
“It’s a pity we can’t dig up the body.”
