Page 34 of Murder on Harley Street
“Yes, as always. There’s a staff meeting today at five-thirty in the ballroom. I want you there to talk about the man threatening Lombardi’s presentation.”
“Certainly.”
The lift door opened and John the operator greeted us amiably.
As we rode the lift down, I asked my uncle if the preparations for Mr. Lombardi’s presentation were going smoothly, even though Harmony had already told me they were. I wanted his opinion.
“They are,” he said gruffly. “I’m eager for this entire thing to be over with.”
“I imagine so.” I didn’t want to say more in front of John. The staff weren’t aware of my aunt’s addiction to Mr. Lombardi’s tonic. “Events like these are hard work.”
“It’s not that. It’s Lombardi himself. He’s a demanding guest.”
“Oh?”
“He complained to Chapman after dinner last night that the food served in the restaurant is ordinary, the wine second-rate, and atmosphere too stuffy.”
“Poor Mrs. Poole.” The hotel’schef de cuisinetook her menu seriously. She’d received high praise since she took over the kitchen, so Mr. Lombardi’s criticism was unexpected.
“I’m not going to tell her, since I disagree with everything he said. Mrs. Poole is a magnificent chef. Everyone in London says so.” Uncle Ronald made a scoffing sound that had his jowls wobbling like one of Mrs. Poole’s jellies. “Lombardi just likes being obnoxious. Even Floyd complained about the way he was treating Miss Cotton, and you know Floyd, he’s rather untroubled by most things.”
I was glad Floyd had mentioned it. I wanted to ask my uncle if he was going to have a word with Mr. Lombardi about his behavior, but the lift door opened and there was no more privacy.
Uncle Ronald and I parted in the foyer, but I held my breath until the hotel door closed behind me. Although he’d given his consent for me to investigate alongside Harry—albeit reluctantly—I still expected him to forbid it, or to demand I take a chaperone with me when I leave. He did not, so it seemed I’d won that particular battle.
Harry had some work to conduct for another case, so I waited for him in the Roma Café below his office. I sat at the table in the window and read the newspaper, noting the time and venue of Isabel Kempsey’s funeral listed in the obituaries. I was surprised to see it being conducted already, considering there was a murder investigation going on.
“Another coffee, Miss Fox?” Luigi asked as he collected my used cup. Although he was of Italian descent, his accent was as Cockney as any Londoner’s.
“No, thank you. Do you have any other newspapers? I’ve finished this one.”
“Not in English.”
“You get Italian newspapers here?”
He indicated the two elderly men sitting on their stools at the counter. Every time I came into the café, they were there. I was beginning to think they’d glued themselves to the seats. “They like to read the news from back home, even if it is out of date by the time the papers arrive.”
“We have an Italian man staying at the hotel at the moment. I should send Mr. Lombardi here for some authentic food since he doesn’t like our restaurant’s offerings.”
“Lombardi? From the Bella Vita Company?”
“The same. Do you know him?”
“I knowofhim. I read he was in London.” He said something in Italian to the two regulars. The only word I picked up was Lombardi.
One reached for a nearby newspaper, flipped the pages until he found the article he wanted, then held it out for Luigi.
Luigi read the relevant part to me, translating into English. “The Bella Vita Company’s Nerve Elixir has come under fire from pharmacology researchers at the University of Bologna for its addictive qualities.’” He showed me the text, but I could only understand a few words. “They’re calling for a ban on its sale, as well as the sale of other medicines that contain cocaine, saying they cause addiction, which can lead to other health problems and eventually death.”
“Do you think they’ll ban it?”
Luigi repeated my question in Italian for the two men. They both shrugged and started speaking over each other. Even if they spoke in English, I doubted I’d be able to follow both at the same time, but Luigi seemed to have no trouble.
“They say it’s unlikely to happen soon,” Luigi said.
“That’s similar to what’s happening here in England. Despite some experts condemning cocaine, most doctors are still prescribing medicines that contain it. Some patients become addicted and their health actually gets worse.”
One of the men held out a second Italian newspaper and said a few words to Luigi. Luigi then interpreted for me. “This article says the Bella Vita Company has borrowed heavily and must increase sales internationally or face ruin.”
