Page 93 of Murder at the Dinner Party
“Please, call me Monty.”
“Then you must call me Cleo.”
Harry cleared his throat. “Forrester telephoned me to give me some news. I thought you should hear it, since it’s about your investigation.” He indicated that Monty should take over.
The detective removed a notepad from his inside jacket pocket and flipped it to a page with a series of notes written in an untidy hand. “I haven’t yet heard back from the New York police, but I did receive a telegram from a Pinkerton agent, after I sent the agency a message. This particular agent was hired by the Dowager Lady Whitchurch to find her son, Rupert. The agent confirmed that his investigation led him to discover that a man named Rupert Whitby died after being struck by a train on April twenty-ninth this year. Witnesses claimed he was drunk and fell off the station platform. At the dowager’s request, the Pinkerton agent made further inquiries and discovered that Rupert Whitby had indeed sent letters to England on a regular basis from his local post office. He also had a photograph in his possession of a younger version of himself standing beside a horse in front of an English country manor. Someone had written ‘Rupert and Midnight at Deensbury House’ on the reverse of the photograph.” Monty closed the notebook. “Deensbury is the name of the Whitchurch’s country estate.”
“So Rupertisdead,” I murmured.
“The dowager spoke the truth,” Harry said. “I wasn’t sure I believed her until now.”
“It certainly draws a line under that mystery. Thank you, Monty. What will happen now?”
“I’ve sent a report to my superior. He’ll most likely officially close the case without making further inquiries. I also have news about the death of Hardy, the Campbells’ butler. Based on your evidence and the capture of Davey, the investigation has been re-opened. Yesterday, the body was exhumed, and tests were run on it, as well as the bottle of Cure-All tonic you gave me. The tonic contained hyoscine hydrobromide. Traces of the substance were also found in the body, more than should be there if he’d simply taken a normal dose. His heart also showed early signs of disease. The excessive dose of hyoscine most likely caused it to fail altogether.”
“Then Davey may have told the truth when he said he didn’t want to kill Mr. Hardy, merely frighten him by making him unwell.”
“It might be enough to save Davey from the noose,” Harry said. “Although he’ll spend a number of years in prison. That’s two cases solved, Cleo. Well done.” He rose and extended his hand to the detective. “Thank you, Forrester.”
“I should be the one thanking Miss Fox. I mean Cleo.” He smiled sheepishly at me. “You make me look good to my superiors.”
Harry had been about to open the office door, but paused. “Cleo should be credited with solving those cases.”
“She is! I do credit her! Sir.” Poor Monty hastily said his goodbyes and hurried out of the office under Harry’s watchful gaze.
“Harry,” I chided. “Did you have to come across quite so gruff? You frightened him.”
“He’s a policeman. He shouldn’t be so easily frightened.” I went to exit the office, but he put his hand out to stop me. “I haven’t finished with you yet.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and arched my brows pointedly at the doorway. He stepped aside so that I could pass if I wanted to. I ought to leave without listening to him. What if he kissed me again? But I got the feeling he wanted to speak to me, not kiss me. “Go on then.”
“Why didn’t you tell me Davey was here?”
“Oh. You heard about that. There was no point. He was apprehended quickly and taken to Scotland Yard by Victor and that was the end of it.”
“You should have told me.”
“Why? What would it have achieved?”
“Nothing, but I’d still like to know. I was involved in the investigation, for one thing. But mostly because we’re friends and, as your friend, I want to hear about things that happen to you. We are friends, aren’t we, Cleo?”
Was it a trap? Would I somehow stumble into admitting that I had feelings for him if I answered him truthfully? I spent so long considering my answer that he gave up with a shake of his head. He stormed out of the office only to return a moment later before I’d had a chance to move.
His temper had gone off the boil, but it still simmered as he regarded me with a searing intensity that had my insides melting. “When I heard, I was worried. That’s why I wanted to know.”
“And that’s precisely why I didn’t tell you. I knew you’d worry and it would have been needless because it was over quickly and I was in no danger.”
“Even so, Iwantto know, and I want to hear it from you, not third hand from Forrester. Fromyou, Cleo, face to face, where I can see that you’re fine. It will ease the worry.”
“That makes sense, I suppose. I’m sorry. Next time, I’ll tell you in person or telephone you.”
“Good.” He frowned. “But don’t let there be a next time.” He made no move to go. I could tell he was warring with himself about something else. Perhaps now the kiss would come.
My stomach fluttered, part in panic, part with desire. Each emotion grappled with the other until panic came out on top. “You should leave via the front door.”
“I plan to.” He still didn’t move, however. He did not attempt to touch me, but the look he gave me was as thrilling and terrifying as any touch or kiss. “I am a patient man, Cleo.”
He walked off before I could say another word, leaving me staring at his straight back and broad shoulders, my nerves shredded.
