Page 72 of Murder at the Debutante Ballby

He ignored me and sat on the armchair opposite. “So, what’s going on between you and Armitage?”

I clicked my tongue and rolled my eyes.

“Tired of hearing the question?” he went on. “Then perhaps you shouldn’t see him so much.”

“I’m not tired of it. You and Jonathon are the only ones asking it.”

“Others would, if they knew you saw him most days.”

“As I explained to Jonathon, we investigate together from time to time. This is one of those occasions. It means nothing. There is nothinggoing on, as you put it. And if you value our relationship, you’ll not ask again.”

He put up his hands in surrender, making the liquid slosh in the glass. “Jonathon made out that there’s more than the investigation. And, to be perfectly honest, I wasn’t sure. I know how women are.”

I arched a brow. “And how are we?”

“I’ve seen the female guests with him, Cleo, so don’t pretend to be offended. They would flirt and flutter their eyelashes at him. It wasn’t just the young women, either. I still get asked which hotel he now works at. We’re lucky he didn’t take a position with one of our rivals or we’d lose a third of our regulars.” He laughed softly, so I wasn’t sure if he was joking or not.

“There is nothing between Harry and me,” I said again, this time with emphasis. “Nor will there be. So stop acting like the protective older cousin and more like the lazy good for nothing everyone else believes you to be, but I know is just a ruse.”

He stared at me for a moment then chuckled again. Perhaps he was already halfway to being drunk. “I like you, Cleo. You’re more fun than Flossy.”

“You might change your mind when you hear what I have to say. Tell me, why did you see Harry last night?”

He lowered his glass to his lap. “Ah. You know about that.”

I hadn’t, not for certain, but now I did. “I know he met you outside the Druitt-Poores’ house. Was that an arranged meeting or did he just show up?”

“I can’t tell you. We have a gentleman’s agreement to remain silent.”

“You made an agreement?”

He nodded. “Armitage thought you might find out we met and ask why, so we agreed not to tell you anything. Seems he knows you rather well. Better than me. I said you’d never know. Howdidyou find out?”

I drummed my fingers on the sofa arm and stared at the decanter. Perhaps if I got him drunker, he’d tell me what Harry was up to.

“That won’t work.” He pointedly set the glass down on the table beside him.

“Very well. I understand some things between gentlemen are sacred. But your agreement was only about last night. It doesn’t cover tonight. Are you meeting Harry again?”

He crossed his arms, tucking his hands away under his armpits. He tilted his chin up and turned to give me his profile. He might be acting like a ten-year-old, but it was a stubborn ten-year-old.

I sighed and stood. “Have it your way.”

He whipped around to face me again. “You won’t get answers from Armitage.”

“I never said I would try.”

“But I know you will. He won’t give in either. He’s as stubborn as a mule. Trust me on that,” he added in a mutter.

I let myself out and closed the door, just as the lift door opened and Jonathon stepped out. He stopped upon seeing me. With his head tilted and the blond mop of hair dripping over his eyes, he looked unsure of himself. Considering he was usually so arrogant, it endeared me to him a little.

“It’s all right,” I assured him. “I don’t hold a grudge. We are friends again.”

He looked relieved. “Good. I don’t like arguing with you, Cleo.”

“Nor I with you.” I glanced at Floyd’s door then signaled for Jonathon to step a few paces away from it with me. I didn’t take him all the way to my suite, however. I would never willingly be alone in the same room with him again, just in case he misread the situation.

“Is something the matter?” he asked. “You have a curious look on your face.”