Page 32 of Murder on Harley Street
He pointed his top hat, which he held in his hand, at the exit. “So I won’t see Armitage waiting for you outside?”
“It’s his investigation, so he is out there. He was hired by Dr. Iverson to find out who murdered a patient in his consulting suite. Harry asked for my help, since I am familiar with the doctor and his somewhat dubious methods.”
“You shouldn’t have told him about Mother. That’s a private family matter.”
“He won’t splash it about.”
“Besides, I fail to see how you can be of any help to him. It’s not as though you can offer any insights about the doctor that he can’t glean from other sources.” He pointed the hat at me. “This is a ruse so he can get closer to you, Cleo.”
Should I deny it? Give in and admit that Harry and I were together?”
Before I could answer, he added, “Don’t fall for it. You must be strong and look past the charming manner, the handsome face, and see him for what he really is.”
I bit down on my tongue before I rattled off all of Harry’s good qualities.
“He’s off-limits, Cleo, that’s what he is. Understand? If you must have a dalliance, choose someone else. Someone who isn’t a former employee of the hotel who has feelings for you.”
“Such a vast pool to choose from,” I bit back. “Thank you for approving of me having dalliances, Floyd. That’s very progressive of you.”
The muscles in his cheeks bunched as he ground his back teeth together. “That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Speaking of dalliances, I have noticed that you didn’t answer my question about where you were going tonight. Is that because you’re meeting a woman? Perhaps auditioning for a new mistress?” My cousin had kept a mistress until a few months ago. As far as I was aware, he’d not found himself a new one in the meantime.
“How did you know?” he asked, his tone somewhere between incredulous and impressed.
“You’re wearing an expensive cologne and your favorite waistcoat with the gold thread that you think impresses women. Also, you’ve done the front of your hair in an elaborate sweep, which will be ruined once you put your hat on, hence you’re holding it. Added to which, you didn’t answer me immediately when I asked, which meant you hadn’t yet thought of a story to explain where you were going. For future reference, when a woman asks, just say you’re going to your club. It’s not as though we can check.”
He gave in with a sigh. “Is the cologne too much? I accidentally spilled it as I was applying a dab.”
I sniffed in his general direction. “It’s not too potent.”
“By the way, one does notauditionfor mistresses. I’m not filling a role in a play.”
“Aren’t you?”
He scowled. “You’re exhausting, Cleo.”
“Then give in and let’s walk out together. You can say hello to Harry.” I flipped up my hood then took his arm.
He didn’t move. “I’m not condoning you seeing him in the middle of the night.”
“It isn’t the middle of the night; it’s only eight-thirty. And youwillcondone it, otherwise I’ll be forced to blackmail you and I would rather I didn’t have to.” He still didn’t move, although he no longer glared at me. That was a good sign that he was wavering. A little more encouragement ought to have him giving in completely. “Floyd, please don’t do this. You know Harry will be the perfect gentleman. You also know this is for an investigation, nothing else.”
He grunted. “I’m not happy about it.”
“I’m not asking you to be.”
Floyd delivered me to Harry, standing one streetlamp away from the front entrance of the hotel. “Armitage,” he said flatly.
“Bainbridge,” Harry replied, equally monotone.
“I trust you’ll be careful.”
“Cleo is safe with me, both physically and reputationally.”
“Unless someone sees you together.”
“My hood covers my face,” I pointed out. “Go, Floyd. Don’t make your candidate wait.”
