Page 41 of Murder at the Dinner Party
He grunted.
“Uncle, there is nothing wrong with taking his full allocated lunch hour.”
He grunted again. “I heard the Carlton is close to filling the position of manager.”
“That is good news. Then we won’t have to worry about Mr. Hobart taking it.”
He looked at me like I was a fool.
“Oh,” I said quietly. “Unless they’re close to filling it because Mr. Hobart has almost accepted.”
He fidgeted with the hat in his hands, lightly skimming his fingers along the brim. “I know you told Floyd that you wouldn’t investigate Hobart’s change of attitude, but you didn’t refusemeoutright.” He gave a hopeful lift of his brows.
I stared at him, trying to think of a delicate way to escape the conversation.
“It will give you something to do, Cleopatra, and you do want to be a detective.”
“I am a detective already. I’m in the middle of an investigation now, as it happens.”
He looked genuinely interested. “Is that so? What are you investigating?”
He wouldn’t like me being involved in another murder. He thought a lady detective should only investigate gentle crimes. Death, divorce and violent crimes were all unpalatable topics.
So I skirted the truth, just a little. “I’m looking for a man who went missing more than twenty years ago.”
“That’s very noble, Cleopatra. I’m sure the family will be grateful to you, whether you find him or not. Make sure they pay you well.”
I smiled as he put his hat on his head. It was a relief when he finally left the hotel. I was about to make my way to the kitchen exit when Miss Hessing and her fiancé, Mr. Liddicoat, emerged from the lift. She spotted me, said something to Mr. Liddicoat, then approached.
He continued on, greeting me as he passed before leaving the hotel.
“I’m so glad I caught you, Miss Fox,” she said. “We’ve just been discussing wedding plans with my mother.”
“How pleasant.” At her frown, I changed my opinion. “Or not. Is something the matter, Miss Hessing?”
“Mother has booked my wedding reception at the Savoy.”
I clasped her hands. “Oh, no. This is a disaster! Did you tell her you wanted it here?”
“We tried, but she says Mr. Chapman isn’t listening to her.”
The situation was grave indeed. Mrs. Hessing would rather trip over her own feet in the street than have no one notice her. “Mr. Chapman believes the reception to celebrate your wedding should suityourtastes, not your mother’s.”
“He doesn’t understand,” she moaned. “The wedding ceremony is for me, the reception is for Mother.” She clutched my hands. “Miss Fox, will you talk to him?”
“It has to come from you.” I squeezed her hands. “I must dash, but you must be strong, Miss Hessing. Go to Mr. Chapman and tell him to listen to your mother. Then go to your mother and tell her to cancel the Savoy, that you want your wedding reception here.”
She assured me she would, but I wasn’t convinced. For one thing, she did not go to Mr. Chapman even though she saw him emerge from the senior staff corridor. Instead, she hurried to catch the lift.
Mr. Chapman’s gaze shifted from her to me. Then, with a tug on each of his cuffs and a tilt of his chin, he strode past me to the sitting room to prepare for afternoon tea.
I left the hotel via the service entrance and found Harry in the lane, chatting with Harmony and Victor. He already wore the maintenance engineer’s overalls over his clothes and carried a clipboard.
Harmony, holding his jacket and hat, stepped back to study him. “You’ll do. Just remember not to look so…” She wiggled her fingers at him.
He arched his brows. “So…what?”
“Polished.”
