Page 88 of Murder at the Mayfair Hotel

“It’s the ballroom for today, sir.” Goliath grinned. “Nice to have you back, sir.”

“I’m not,” Mr. Armitage said as Goliath walked off.

“Mrs. Kettering is in her office,” I told him. “Shall we speak to her first then go in search of Edith?”

“I just checked with my uncle,” he said as we headed towards the senior staff corridor. “He’s adamant his spare set of keys weren’t touched that night or any other night. They’re kept in a locked drawer and he and I are the only ones with a key to the drawer. Mine didn’t go missing and he keeps his on his person. The drawer’s lock hasn’t been tampered with.”

“Did you tell him we’re investigating the murder?”

“No. He didn’t ask why I was asking about the keys. He’s under a lot of pressure right now and his mind is focused on the ball going smoothly.”

We found Mrs. Kettering enjoying a cup of tea at her desk while she looked over some paperwork. The clashing of her eyebrows suggested she was cross. Or perhaps that was their usual position. I didn’t know her well enough to know if she ever looked anything other than cross.

“We need to ask you questions about your set of room keys,” Mr. Armitage began. “Is it possible that one went missing on the night of Mrs. Warrick’s murder?”

She blinked rapidly. “Why are you asking questions about the murder? You are not the police.”

“We’re helping them,” he said.

“Nonsense. Scotland Yard don’t enlist the help of the public.” She picked up a pencil. “I don’t have to answer your questions, Mr. Armitage. You are no longer assistant manager.”

I opened my mouth to invoke the name of Uncle Ronald, but Mr. Armitage got in first. “I’m working here as a private detective, at Mr. Hobart’s behest. You can ask him, if you like. He’s in the vestibule. Be quick, however. He’s very busy, as you can imagine.”

Her nostrils flared. “My keys did not go missing on that night or any other. I am not in the habit of losing them.”

“Could someone have stolen one and returned it without your knowledge?”

“No,” she ground out.

“Where are your keys kept?” I asked.

Her nostrils flared again. “Is Sir Ronald aware that you’re interrogating staff, Miss Fox?”

“This isn’t an interrogation,” I said evenly. “We’re simply trying to get to the bottom of a mystery. There’s no need for you to be so defensive. Unless you have something to hide, of course.” I hoped that honesty and directness would get through to her. She seemed like someone who appreciated frankness.

Or she might throw us out.

“They’re kept in that locked box at all times.” She pointed to a wooden box on the shelf behind her. “I keep the key to it on my person.” She picked through the bunch of keys attached to the chatelaine at her hip until she found the one she needed and proceeded to use it to unlock the box. “These keys remain with me in my room overnight and I lock my door while I’m asleep.” She slammed the box lid shut. “Satisfied?”

“Thank you for your co-operation,” I said. “We have to check all the keys, as I’m sure you understand.”

She pressed her lips together.

“Was Edith the only maid with a key to Mrs. Warrick’s room?” Mr. Armitage asked.

“Yes. Are you going to question her now?”

Neither Mr. Armitage nor I responded.

“If you happen to find her, tell her she’s supposed to be assisting Lady Royston with her hair.”

“She’s missing?” I asked.

“Not missing, just not where she’s supposed to be. Typical of girls like her,” she added in a mutter.

I was glad to leave the dragon’s lair behind, but it seemed as though we were about to come to a dead end in our investigation if we couldn’t find Edith. It worried me more that it was her key that might have been stolen. When Mrs. Kettering and Mr. Hobart found out, she’d lose her position, even though it wasn’t her fault.

“We’ll start in the staff parlor,” Mr. Armitage said in answer to the unspoken question of where to look for Edith.