Page 115 of Murder at the Debutante Ballby

“What about other family members?” I asked. “Is there anyone else who could lay claim to an inheritance?”

D.I. Hobart accepted another biscuit as his wife passed around the plate. “I don’t know. Plumtree’s background is largely unknown. If this was deemed a murder case by Scotland Yard, someone would be digging into it, but nobody is.” He shook his head at the biscuit. “Shame.” He popped the morsel into his mouth.

“He’s a self-made man,” Harry said, proving he knew more about Mr. Plumtree than he’d originally let on. “He came up from the slums here in London.”

“Whereabouts?”

“I don’t know. Plumtree wasn’t directly part of my investigation.”

“No, but Gooding was,” I said, thinking out loud. “And if Gooding was but not Plumtree, then your investigation isn’t about the business or you’d be investigating both. So it’s a private matter, relating to Gooding alone.”

Harry’s lips twisted. “Nice deduction, Cleo. Care to be more specific?”

“Not yet, but Iwillfind out why the Salt King hired you.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he said softly.

Mrs. Hobart thrust the plate of biscuits at me. “Your family are friends with the Massies, I suppose.”

I had an inkling as to where her line of questioning was going, but I pretended ignorance. “I’ve met his daughter.”

“Your friends are very different to Harry’s. Their paths would never cross socially.”

Harry sprang off the sofa and picked up the teapot. “More tea, Cleo?”

I rose. “I should go. Thank you for the tea and biscuits, Mrs. Hobart. I could have eaten the entire plate, but I must watch my waistline.”

Her lips flattened as her gaze dropped to my waist. “Hmmm.”

D.I. Hobart stood. “Where will you start your investigation?”

“At the Crown and Anchor.”

“Then you’ll need the address.” He fished into his jacket pocket and removed a notepad. He flipped the pages until he found the one he wanted and tore it out. He handed it to me. “This is the address of the inn, as well as Plumtree’s home address—you should speak to the widow—and the office of Gooding and Plumtree.”

“You can’t go alone to the Crown and Anchor,” Harry said. “I’ll accompany you.”

Mrs. Hobart’s lips flattened further.

“I’ll be perfectly fine at a pub during the day, Harry. I’ve visited them as part of our investigations before.”

“Not ones at the docks. You’ll stand out like a mermaid on a rock.”

“I’ll wear this dress.”

“And yet you’ll still attract attention. I’m going with you. I insist.”

His mother stamped her hand on her hip. “But you can’t! You’re busy.”

“I can spare half a day.”

She clicked her tongue. “Harry, think of…your particular friend. She won’t like it.”

“She’ll understand.”

Mrs. Hobart opened her mouth to protest again but closed it when her husband rested his hand on her lower back. “I think it’s a good idea for Harry to go. The inns near the docks are not suitable for ladies.”

“Then perhaps she shouldn’t go at all.” Mrs. Hobart pulled away and gathered up the teacups and saucers with China-rattling vigor.