Page 67 of Murder at the Dinner Party
“He was working the dinner shift, and I was in bed by the time he finished, so I didn’t see him. Even if we did make plans, it would only be to discuss the Hessing-Liddicoat wedding. Unfortunately, I don’t think I’ll be given the opportunity to organize it, unless Mr. Bainbridge is handed the task, but it seems Mr. Chapman has a tight grip on managing the preparations, despite how poorly he handled the engagement dinner.”
“The reception will be here and not at the Savoy, after all? What a relief!” Miss Hessing must have spoken to her mother after all. “Mr. Chapman won’t give up control easily, it’s true, but I’m afraid it will be a disaster unless he starts listening to the bride’s mother. The wedding reception needs to please her, not Miss Hessing. She’s the one paying for it. She’s the one who will be returning to the hotel, year after year. It is noble of him to think that Miss Hessing’s wishes matter, but even she says he ought to do as her mother wants.”
“She should tell him that.”
“I told her to speak to him, but I don’t think she will. I think she wants to avoid conflict at all costs.” A lifetime of having her opinions disparaged by her mother had made her terrified of speaking up.
Harmony sighed. “Perhaps she’ll find some courage.”
“Or you could approach my uncle and suggestyouassist Mr. Chapman. Remind him that you did most of the work for the restaurant’s opening, not Floyd, and tell him everything we just discussed about Mr. Chapman’s reluctance to follow Mrs. Hessing’s directives. I’d go to him on your behalf, but you told me not to.” I watched her carefully for signs she secretly wanted me to. There were none.
Her answer didn’t encourage me, however. “Sir Ronald barely even knows I exist and won’t see me, anyway.” She cracked the shell of her boiled egg with the back of a spoon. “Let’s change the subject. What are you going to do today now that the investigation has stalled?”
“I’ll return Mr. Hardy’s belongings to Mrs. Turner for her to pass on to his next of kin, if any are found. They’re probably worth quite a bit, particularly the tiepin. The watch is rather plain, although still a handsome piece.”
“May I see the tiepin? You made it sound beautiful.”
I fetched my bag from the desk and dug through it for the pieces. They weren’t there. I tipped the contents out onto the desk. No tiepin or watch. I cursed under my breath.
Harmony came up behind me. “Did you leave them with the Whitchurches?”
“No. I remember returning them to my bag, because Lord Whitchurch wanted to keep the tiepin and I wouldn’t give it up. His father gave it to Mr. Hardy as thanks, so it no longer belonged to the family.” I closed my eyes and squeezed the bridge of my nose, trying to recall where I could have left the pieces.
But I’d not taken them out since leaving the Whitchurches, nor had I set the bag down anywhere until placing it on the desk upon my return. It wasn’t an evening bag to carry to dinner. I’d used a small, beaded purse last night. There were only two explanations. Someone had entered my room while I was at dinner and removed them from my bag, or the youth I’d bumped into on my way home was an excellent pickpocket and had fished them out when he picked my bag up off the pavement. He may have even had an accomplice. I’d not really taken much notice at the time. I’d been distracted by the lateness of the hour. The spare hotel room keys were kept secure when the maids weren’t cleaning, and we rarely had a problem with thieving staff, so I was inclined to think the youth was the culprit.
Either way, the pieces were gone.
* * *
Davey answeredmy knock on the basement service door, but didn’t immediately let me in. He glanced over his shoulder, along the corridor. “I’d leave if I were you, Miss Fox. Mrs. Turner’s in a right mood today. She was yesterday, too, after you were here. Don’t know what happened, but she was suddenly real angry with me.”
“Does it have something to do with you leaving them in the lurch?”
“Don’t you start. I’ve had enough of that from the others.”
“Sorry, your employment is none of my business. When is your last day?”
“Friday.” He stepped aside. “Enter at your own risk.”
Mrs. Turner emerged from her office before I reached it. Davey was right to warn me. She crossed her arms under her bosom and looked at me as though she already knew I’d lost Mr. Hardy’s valuables. She couldn’t possibly know, however. Nor could she be in a bad mood because of me.
“Good morning, Mrs. Turner. May I speak to you in private, please?”
She hesitated before inviting me into her office. She closed the door, but didn’t offer me a chair. “I see you didn’t receive my message yet. I asked my sister to pass it on.”
“I haven’t seen Mrs. Short this morning. Is everything all right?”
“We—the other staff and me—don’t want you to continue with the investigation.”
“Why not?”
“You said yourself there’s no evidence Mr. Hardy was murdered. There doesn’t seem any point in continuing.”
“But you were so sure, Mrs. Turner.”
“I no longer am.”
She must have heard about my confrontation with the Whitchurches, and learned Mr. Hardy was indeed known to them, as she suspected, but they didn’t have enough motive to kill him. “Were the Whitchurches here last night? Did Davey overhear them informing the Campbells of their innocence?”
