Page 33 of Murder on Harley Street
Floyd finally put his hat on. “Good evening to you both.” He returned to the hotel entrance where he climbed into a waiting hansom.
Harry offered me his arm. “Does your cousin know he’s wearing too much cologne?”
“I decided not to tell him. Some women like it that strong.”
“Has he been keeping out of trouble lately?”
“I believe so. Nothing has reached my ears, and he does seem content. He still goes out regularly and stays out all night, which irks my uncle because it means he’s too tired the next day to be of any use. But at least he’s not gambling anymore. Speaking of my uncle, did you tell him about Mr. Pierce?”
“I did.”
I waited for more, but he offered nothing.
“How was Uncle Ronald with you?”
“Professional, polite. Did you expect him to throw me out on sight?”
“I expected him to offer you your old job back. Perhaps it wasn’t the right time.”
Harry chuckled. “Perhaps not.”
As we turned the corner onto Regent Street, we both stopped. A short man with a thin moustache stood outside number fifty-nine. I didn’t recognize him, but when he saw us watching him, he hurried away in the opposite direction.
“That was suspicious,” I said.
We walked past number fifty-nine and stopped a few doors down outside a draper’s shop. There were no lights on inside the shop, and the nearest streetlamp was broken, so we felt somewhat invisible in the shadows with our dark clothing. Although we weren’t far from the theater district, it was rather quiet on our side of the street. On the other, piano music, voices and laughter spilled out of the Café Royal every time the door opened. It was a lively venue.
“Have you ever been inside?” I asked Harry.
“A few times, but not for a while. It’s popular with the artistic set. As the former assistant manager of a hotel and now private detective I never felt like I fit in there.”
It was hard to imagine Harry not fitting in anywhere. He got along with everyone and was generally well-liked.
Although I couldn’t see the dial of my watch in the dark, I was quite sure nine PM came and went. No one stopped at the jewelry shop at number fifty-nine or even slowed their pace as they passed it. The longer we waited, the cooler the night air became. It nipped at my nose and cheeks and, despite wearing gloves, I had to tuck my hands under my arms for warmth.
Harry began to undo his coat buttons. “Put this around your shoulders.”
“Then you’ll get cold.” I snuggled into him and rested my head against his chest. I sighed into his warmth. “That’s better.”
He went quite still for a moment, then gave in and circled his arms around me and rested his chin on the top of my head. “I told your cousin I’d be careful with your reputation, and we’re quite close to the hotel here.”
I hugged him tightly, enjoying the purr of his deep voice in my ear. “No one can see my face.”
“Even so, I think it’s best if I take you home. The person who wrote that letter isn’t coming.”
“I agree. But not until I’ve done one thing.”
He drew away and looked down at me. “Should I be worried?”
“Very.”
I ushered him back into the recessed doorway where it was even darker than the pavement, and kissed him. He offered no resistance.
After breakfastingwith Harmony in my suite the following morning, I met Uncle Ronald waiting at the fourth floor lift. My heart fluttered wildly in panic before I realized Floyd wouldn’t have informed his father that I met Harry the previous night. For one thing, Floyd would still be in bed, and for another, he couldn’t afford for me to follow through on my threat to reveal his secrets. Besides, I was quite sure he didn’t think I was serious about Harry. Because I’d been vocal about not wanting to get married, Floyd believed Harry would never be more than a mere dalliance. The day would come when I would disabuse him of that notion. Until then, I was happy for him to continue to be wrong.
“Good morning, Cleo.” There was no cheer in Uncle Ronald’s tone, but neither was there anger or censure.
“Good morning, Uncle. Do you have a busy day ahead?”
