Page 15 of Murder on Harley Street
“But—"
“Your aunt has made her decision, Cleopatra,” Uncle Ronald said. Although his words were stern, his tone held a hint of apology. I suspected he felt more conflicted about continuing to host the event than she did.
Aunt Lilian winced and pressed her fingers to her temple. “I have a headache and won’t be joining you for dinner tonight, but if Mr. Lombardi is dining alone, then I’ve asked Ronald to invite him to join you. If not tonight, then another night. You will all be polite to him. No one is to mention the Nerve Elixir and my…condition in his presence. Is that clear?”
Flossy and Floyd both murmured their assent.
“Is that clear, Cleopatra?”
“Quite.” I rose. “If you’ll excuse me, I must dress for dinner.”
I filed out of the suite along with my cousins, but didn’t stay to talk to them. I marched off to my room where one of the housemaids was laying out a dress for me to change into. I’d momentarily forgotten that Harmony wouldn’t be assisting me, since she was working on the event. Her ladies’ maid duties had been temporarily handed to Jane.
My nerves were still on edge when I entered the restaurant. I didn’t head for the family table directly but stopped to speak to Mr. Chapman. “Does Mr. Lombardi have a reservation for tonight?”
The steward raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow. “No, Miss Fox. Apparently, he is dining elsewhere.”
I released a held breath. “Good.”
“You’re not the first member of the family to ask that question.” He looked in the direction of Uncle Ronald and Floyd, both seated at our usual table, chatting amiably to some guests at the adjacent table. “Nor the first member to seem relieved with my answer. Is there a problem?”
“That’s none of your concern,” I snipped off. He could be quite the nosy busybody. I’d caught him listening at doors on more than one occasion.
Instead of apologizing for his nosiness, he simply leaned a little closer, giving me a strong whiff of the cologne he used. It was an expensive brand. “Do I need to alert you when Mr. Lombardi does have a reservation with us?”
“Of course not.” I went to walk off but stopped. “On second thoughts, perhaps that’s a good idea. Thank you, Mr. Chapman.”
I was gratified that he was being so agreeable after he and I had clashed on occasion. That was until I noticed the slight change in his handsome features. They’d taken on a slyness that I was more familiar with.
“I’m happy to do you thisfavor, Miss Fox.”
Now I understood. He was being agreeable so that I would grant him a favor in turn. I was about to retract my response to his offer, but decided to let it stand. That favor would probably come in the form of me keeping his secret to myself—Mr. Chapman’s proclivities leaned toward men, not women—which was something I was happy to grant anyway.
Flossy arrived and took my hand. She scanned the faces of the other diners in the restaurant. “Is he here?”
“Not tonight,” I said as Mr. Chapman politely melted away.
“Good. We can enjoy our meal.”
I doubted I could enjoy my food until the week was over and Mr. Lombardi had left the hotel. My appetite vanished at the thought of being agreeable to the man who profited from something that made vulnerable people even more ill.
Chapter4
Harry was on the telephone when I arrived at his office the following morning. The recently installed device was a boon to his business, saving him a great deal of time, but it was also a testament to his agency’s success since installing it must have been expensive. Although I suspected he could afford new furniture now, I was glad he hadn’t replaced the secondhand desk, or the old leather armchair worn smooth from years of use. They gave the office—and therefore his business—an air of comfort and steadiness, both desirable traits for a detective agency.
He hung up the receiver as I placed two coffee cups on the desk. I’d stopped in at the Roma Café downstairs where Luigi, the owner, informed me that Harry had guessed I’d do just that and prepaid for the coffees. I slotted my umbrella into the holder by the door and hung up my coat on the stand then took a seat at the desk opposite him.
He sipped his coffee before telling me he’d just had a conversation with D.S. Forrester. “He’s refusing to allow me to see Dr. Iverson.”
“Why?”
“He didn’t say, but he seemed cross.”
I lowered my cup without taking a sip. “Do you think he’s punishing us because I chose you over him?”
“I don’t think he’s that petty.”
I hadn’t thought so either, but why else would he be blocking Harry’s investigation? “So you haven’t had a chance to ask the doctor why he didn’t tell us about his affair with the victim?”
