Page 77 of Murder at the Mayfair Hotel

“I could deliver messages to the staff for you.”

“Thank you, but there’s no need. We can manage.” He spotted some newly arrived guests and went to greet them, smiling all the way.

I sighed and headed to the parlor where I found Harmony and Edith sitting with four other maids, drinking tea. They separated from the group and joined me in the corner.

“Shouldn’t you be helping with preparations?” I asked.

“We’ve been scrubbing the dining room and foyer since dawn,” Harmony said. “We’re just having a quick fifteen minutes to ourselves before we clean rooms.”

Edith pressed a hand to her lower back and winced. “I’ll be glad when this is all over.”

“Sorry about your hair,” Harmony said to me.

I touched my hair. “It’s not as elegant as one of your arrangements, but I have been doing it for many years now.”

She smiled. “I’ll fix it later for tonight.”

“I’m not going to the ball.”

“Don’t tell me it’s because you have nothing to wear. If you’d made your mind up days ago, you would have something by now.”

“I was going to say that I don’t feel like joining in the revelries,” I said defensively. “I’m still in mourning.”

Her lips flattened but her eyes were sympathetic.

Edith poured a cup of tea and handed it to me. “Harmony says Goliath is acting strange this morning. He says there’s been a development in the murder case but he can’t say more until you’ve spoken to the police.”

“He’s got a nerve not telling me,” Harmony said into her teacup. “I’m the one who got you involved in the investigation in the first place.”

Victor pushed open the door and entered with two other young cooks. Harmony straightened, as did several of the other maids. Where they smiled flirtatiously, however, Harmony pursed her lips and pretended not to see them.

“Good morning, ladies,” Victor said, joining us. “So what’s this I hear about Peter calling the police?” he asked me.

It would seem I wasn’t going to get away with keeping silent any longer. I told them about Mr. Hookly dining with a second person on the night of the murder, and then Peter’s telephone call to the police station nearest Mr. Hookly’s address.

“According to them, Mr. Hookly is dead,” I said.

Harmony gasped. “Then who’s our Mr. Hookly?”

“Maybe he killed the real Mr. Hookly,” Victor said, sitting on the edge of the table.

Edith put a hand to her throat. Her eyes were huge as they stared back at me, full of worry.

“Don’t be afraid,” I told her gently. “He died of natural causes. But the man we know as Mr. Hookly is impersonating him, for some unknown reason.”

“To kill people,” Victor said.

Harmony scowled at him. “Do stop it, Victor. You’re frightening Edith and not making any sense whatsoever.”

“Or I’m the only sensible one here.”

She rolled her eyes. “It was a good idea to contact the police, Miss Fox. Why haven’t they come yet? Did Peter stress how important it was?”

I hadn’t heard Peter’s call so I couldn’t be sure.

“There must be a mistake,” Edith said, frowning into her teacup. “If Mr. Hookly were dead, why does he have a letter of recommendation from that lord?”

“You know about the letter?” I asked.