Page 102 of Murder at the Mayfair Hotel

I slept wellbut lay in bed for some time in the morning after waking. The events of the night before continued to swirl through my head. I finally rose late-morning when Harmony arrived with breakfast. I’d been too busy to pre-order it the day before, however.

“Did you pilfer another guest’s breakfast?” I asked, inviting her in.

“There’s plenty in the kitchen. No need to steal anything.” She set the tray down on the table in the sitting room and lifted the lid. It smelled delicious. “I wasn’t sure what you’d want so I got a little of everything.”

She certainly had. I could never eat it all. “You’d better join me or it’ll go to waste.”

“I can’t do that. I’ve got to work.”

“We’ll say you’re tidying up my room.” I patted the chair. “Besides, who will care? Mrs. Kettering no longer works here.”

“Mr. Hobart will care.”

“I’m sure he’s far too busy taking down decorations and restoring the hotel to its usual state to worry about you spending twenty minutes with me.”

She poured coffee and I gratefully took the cup off her hands and sipped. The bitter taste was just what I needed. “How are things among the staff today?”

“We hardly slept a wink last night. Most worked late and had to get up again early today, but in between we were all a-twitter. Between Mrs. Kettering’s arrest and Mr. Hookly’s too, and Edith’s disappearance, and of course all the gossip from the ball, nobody wanted to sleep.”

“Any news on Edith from Scotland Yard?”

She shrugged as she plucked off a strip of bacon from the platter. “Not that I’ve been told. Poor thing. I hope she’s not…you know.”

“I know,” I said darkly. “I hope so too.”

Flossy arrived after Harmony departed and invited me to afternoon tea in the hotel’s main sitting room with her mother and several friends who’d come for the ball and were staying on.

“Everyone’s so relieved the murderer has been caught,” she said.

“Your father spread the news?”

“It’s all over the hotel.” She frowned. “He says you had a part in discovering the murderer. Is that true?”

“Yes.”

Her eyes widened. “Cleo, you’re so brave and clever.”

“Not really. I’m just curious to a fault.”

She patted my knee. “Father asked me to tell you not to tell anyone. He doesn’t want Mother knowing.”

“I understand.” I didn’t want Aunt Lilian knowing the full story either. I didn’t want to be responsible for a further decline in her nervous state.

“And don’t let any of the guests know, or our friends. It’ll just be between you, me, Floyd and Father.”

“And the staff.”

“Yes, them too. We don’t want any ugly gossip about the Bainbridges in the newspapers.”

I refrained from pointing out that I was not a Bainbridge and I didn’t consider catching murderers to be “ugly gossip.” But my relationship with my relatives was still very new and I didn’t want to have a disagreement over something that I had no intention of discussing with their friends or journalists anyway.

I sat through a pleasant afternoon tea with Flossy, Aunt Lilian and a room full of their female friends. Despite her gaunt features and hollow eyes, Aunt Lilian held court in the sitting room like a queen, and she even made a speech thanking them all for attending the most successful New Year’s Eve ball in all of London. The enthusiastic applause widened my aunt’s and cousin’s smiles, and mine too. I was immensely relieved that my tussle with Mr. Hookly hadn’t ruined the evening.

My aunt didn’t dine with us that night, but I ate with my cousins and uncle in the dining room. All the tables and chairs were back in place, and there was no evidence of the previous night’s revelries. The dining room was rather full, and a stream of guests constantly came up to my uncle to congratulate him on a wonderful ball.

“Did you enjoy it?” Floyd asked me while Uncle Ronald was engaged with a guest. “Aside from your little adventure late in the evening, I mean.”

Flossy glared at her brother. “It was hardly an adventure.”