Page 92 of Murder at the Dinner Party
It took a great effort, but I managed to refrain from rolling my eyes. “You know I didn’t investigate, Uncle, and as much as I’d like to take your money for doing nothing, I can’t.”
“Your morals do you credit. You may not have investigated Hobart, but you did help. You encouraged me to speak to him. We just had a good chat, as it happens.”
“Wonderful! I’m so pleased. So… is everything all right?”
“Quite well, for now, and a little while longer. He was considering retiring, but changed his mind.”
What a relief! I’d been so worried imagining all the terrible things that could be causing Mr. Hobart’s absences, illness being chief among them. “That is good news.”
“Indeed. He was spending his lunches and some evenings talking to his bank manager and lawyers about selling his house and moving to the seaside.”
“That sounds very pleasant. Why did he change his mind?”
“His wife decided against the idea. She said she didn’t want him under her feet just yet, and that he’d be bored away from the hotel. Apparently, her sister-in-law had something to do with it. Her husband has recently retired and he’s trying his wife’s patience.”
I couldn’t help laughing. I could picture Harry’s mother getting annoyed with D.I. Hobart for getting in her way. He was a man who needed to be active, and being at home all the time was going to be a trial for them both.
“I told Hobart that he can’t retire until Peter is ready.” Uncle Ronald gazed out to the foyer where Peter stood chatting with a guest. “He’s some way off from that, I’m afraid. If only Armitage hadn’t left. He could step into Hobart’s shoes at a moment’s notice.” He sighed, then shrugged. “I told Hobart to take a holiday instead.”
It seemed he’d conveniently overlooked the fact that he’d dismissed Harry. It was pointless to correct him. “That’s an excellent idea. I’m sure a week or two will do him wonders.”
“Just as long as he waits until after we return from our family holiday in Brighton. The hotel will need him in my absence.” He patted my arm and headed off to speak to some guests he recognized in the foyer.
I was considering whether to follow him or speak to Mr. Hobart when my mind was made up for me. My name was whispered from behind.
“Cleo, a word.”
I spun around to see Harry standing there with Detective Sergeant Forrester. They must have arrived in the senior staff corridor via the service lift at the end. “Did you come in through the kitchen entrance?”
“I thought it best to avoid the front door.”
“Very wise.” I eyed D.S. Forrester, who was looking guilty for sneaking in. “You haven’t been banned, only Harry.”
“I feel conspicuous,” he said, indicating his plain suit.
“You grow accustomed to it,” Harry told him. “Don’t worry, we’re just going to my uncle’s office. Is he in there, Cleo?”
“I believe so. Wait here.” I knocked on the door then, when Mr. Hobart invited me in, I signaled to Harry and D.S. Forrester to follow me.
We slipped inside before anyone saw and closed the door.
Mr. Hobart blinked in surprise. “Harry! What are you doing here?”
Harry introduced D.S. Forrester. “We need to speak to Cleo. Can we use your office?”
Mr. Hobart stood and indicated his chair. “Please do. I’ll walk the floor for a little while.”
Harry took the chair his uncle vacated, while the detective and I occupied the guest chairs. Harry looked comfortable in the manager’s seat. It ought to have been his one day. It would have been, if I hadn’t changed the course of his life. Sometimes, when I allowed myself to dwell on my mistakes, the magnitude of that one haunted me.
“Are you all right, Cleo?” Harry asked. “You look a little peaky.”
“I’m fine.”
Even so, D.S. Forrester poured a glass of water for me from the jug on the sideboard. He handed it to me with a smile.
Harry narrowed his gaze as he watched on.
“Thank you, Detective,” I said, returning the smile.
