Page 76 of Murder at the Dinner Party
“If the father isn’t Mr. Hardy, who is it? Why doesn’t he marry you?”
She lowered her head even further. “I haven’t told him yet.”
The door to the kitchen suddenly flew open and Mrs. Turner stormed in, wagging a finger at me. “I told you Betty was too busy to talk to you. Off with you, Miss Fox! Or I’ll have Davey throw you out.”
While I would have liked the opportunity to speak to Davey, I relented. Causing a scene that alerted the Campbells to my presence wouldn’t help my cause. Besides, Harry looked at me apologetically over the top of Mrs. Turner’s head, and I didn’t want him to feel as though he’d failed. It was my fault for taking so long.
Mrs. Turner wagged her finger at him next. “I knew it was strange you informing me about the hotel’s staffing policies when my sister could do it.”
He attempted a smile, but it was too late. She was furious.
“Get out, the both of you! Go on! And you, Betty, get back to work.”
As I passed her, I pressed the bottle into Mrs. Turner’s palm. She would treat Betty kindly and advise her rather than blame her. Mrs. Turner frowned, but I didn’t stay to see her reaction when she sniffed the contents. I hurried along the corridor, Harry at my heels.
“Well?” he asked me as we walked away from the house. “Was it worth it?”
“It was. I learned that Betty is pregnant and doesn’t want to or can’t keep the child.”
“And Hardy’s the father, which is why she’s upset and can’t keep it? There’s no one to support her?”
I frowned as I shook my head. “She says he’s not the father, and I think I believe her.”
“Then who is it?”
“She didn’t say, but I think it’s Davey. I presume she’s hopelessly in love with him, but he’s leaving the Campbells’ employ to work elsewhere.”
“Meaning he isn’t in love with her.” He sighed. “Poor Betty.”
Poor Betty indeed. “She had an argument with Mr. Hardy before his murder. She claims he was scolding her about her condition and demanding to know who the father is. She denied killing him out of anger, but…”
“You don’t believe her?”
“It’s a very strong motive. She grew up in a religious household with a mother who is vehemently opposed to men and women having relations outside of marriage. Mrs. Hatch condemned Charlotte for it, and might be equally cruel toward her own daughter if she knew. She might desert her at a time when Betty needs her most.”
Harry turned to me, his face alight as an idea occurred to him. “What if Hardy threatened to tell Mrs. Hatch? He might think it was the right thing to do, but Betty knew it would destroy her relationship with her mother. Or worse, destroy Mrs. Hatch’s love for her. That gives Betty an even stronger motive to silence him.”
It did indeed. It would be another strong reason for her to consider getting rid of the baby.
CHAPTER15
Harry returned to his office, leaving me to visit Detective Sergeant Forrester on my own. He claimed he didn’t want to step on my toes, since it was my case. I hadn’t been sure the detective would meet with me without his former colleague’s son present, but Forrester listened intently to the entire story, and even came up with a better suggestion. He agreed the new information about Rupert’s escape was relevant, even though the case was an old one, but he would ask for assistance beyond the New York police. Given that the Pinkerton Agency were the ones who reported to the dowager that her son was indeed deceased, he said he’d go to the same source in the hope it would save time. He was a thorough and clever detective. It was no wonder he and D.I. Hobart had become friends, despite the generational age gap.
I returned home, feeling a little restless. Perhaps I’d suggest a picnic, since we had no luncheon engagement. The day was growing warm, however, and I didn’t expect Flossy to agree. She loathed the heat.
I smiled at Frank as he opened the door for me. He frowned, which was not unusual for Frank. His warning, however, was. “I’d look out if I were you, Miss Fox.”
“Look out for what?” I tried to think of all the things Uncle Ronald could be cross with me about, but gave up. There were quite a few.
Before Frank could respond, Mr. Chapman swooped on me. “A word, Miss Fox.”
Frank muttered an apology as he slipped back outside and closed the door.
“Have you been waiting for me?” As I asked it, I glanced behind Mr. Chapman to Peter, hovering not far away. He nodded grimly. “I can see you have something you’d like to get off your chest, so I think it’s best if we do this in private.”
Mr. Chapman led the way to the staff corridor, but didn’t get as far as his office before rounding on me. “What is the meaning of this?” he hissed.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
