Page 69 of Murder at the Mayfair Hotel

“He calls the detective inspector his father and you his uncle.”

“We’re his family.”

I blinked back tears. “It’s good to have family.”

His gaze softened. “It is.”

“You jeopardized your own position here by hiring him.”

“Family must take care of one another. Harry needed work or he would have gone mad. He wanted to join the police force and follow in my brother’s footsteps. He would have made a good policeman, but unfortunately they don’t accept felons, even reformed ones.”

My fingers ached and I realized I’d been gripping the chair arm too tightly. I released it. “You must be very busy,” I said, rising. “I just wanted to tell you how very glad I am that you’re back.”

He smiled. “So am I. I don’t know what you said to Sir Ronald but it worked.”

“Why do you think it was me?”

“Because you have the right amount of courage and persistence.”

“Actually, I’m a terrible coward. I didn’t want to face you and Mr. Armitage after you were dismissed.”

“But you did it anyway. Thank you.”

Perhaps it was his forgiveness that bolstered my confidence, or his thanks, but I had a sudden thought that I couldn’t shake. I wanted to see Mr. Armitage. Ineededto see him. “Can you tell me where I can find your nephew now?”

He sat back and did not answer for some time. I thought he would tell me it was a terrible idea, but instead, he drew a piece of paper towards him and scribbled down an address. “I should warn you, he’s still very angry with you.”

“All the more reason to apologize to him again.”

“He won’t be kind. In fact, I expect him to say things he wouldn’t usually say to a lady—or to anyone.”

“It can’t be worse than the things he’s already said.”

He handed me the piece of paper. “You really are quite courageous, Miss Fox.”

“No, Mr. Hobart. I just don’t like living with guilt.”

Chapter 10

The address Mr. Hobart had given me belonged to a semi-detached house in Ealing, a short walk from the station. It would have been a more pleasant walk if not for the incessant rain and my anxiety at seeing Mr. Armitage again. That anxiety grew worse when I saw the family sized house. Mr. Armitage must have moved back in with his parents.

Not only had he lost his job yesterday, he’d also lost his home.

I huddled beneath my umbrella on the small porch as I knocked, but the near-horizontal angle of the rain meant I still got thoroughly wet. The door was answered by a woman with gray hair and slightly protruding teeth with smiling eyes. This must be Mrs. Hobart, the detective inspector’s wife and Mr. Armitage’s mother.

“Good morning,” I said. “My name is Cleopatra Fox. Is Mr. Armitage—?”

“Miss Fox!” Her features hardened. “What do you want with my son?”

I swallowed. “I want to talk to him.”

“Did Alfred Hobart give you this address?”

I nodded.

She clicked her tongue. “He shouldn’t have. Harry doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“Please don’t close the door!”