Murder and the Missing Treasure (Cleopatra Fox Mysteries #12)

Chapter 1

Harmony Cotton was a picture of competent efficiency as she left Uncle Ronald’s office on the fourth floor of the Mayfair Hotel, clipboard under her arm and a wooden pencil box in hand.

Coupling a sensible navy skirt with a white blouse adorned with a navy bow at the collar, she could have been mistaken for a lady’s companion, housekeeper, or a guest who preferred sensible daywear.

She was none of those. Usually, she wore a maid’s apron over a black uniform, but when she was acting as assistant to my cousin, Floyd, she always looked the part.

She joined me in the corridor near the lift. “Welcome home, Cleo. How was the countryside?”

“It rained the entire time, Flossy had her heart broken by a gentleman who shouldn’t be allowed in public when he’s drunk, and I missed Harry.

” I glanced around as I said his name, but no one was within earshot.

“The ball was splendid, though, and I like my aunt’s friends, so it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant two days.

Oh, and Miss Hessing was there. Mrs. Liddicoat,” I corrected myself.

The American had been a guest at the Mayfair with her domineering mother over the summer, and we’d struck up a friendship that had continued after she moved into her marital home.

“She and Mr. Liddicoat are very happy.” I didn’t tell Harmony that seeing the newlyweds’ happiness had made me miss Harry more.

“I’m pleased for her,” Harmony said. “She deserved a good man after spending a lifetime with her horrid mother.”

“I think part of their happiness stems from the fact her mother lives in America.”

Harmony flashed me a sudden smile, proving she wasn’t going to attempt to maintain the efficient facade entirely.

As my best friend, I hoped she would be herself when we were together, but as she tried to prove herself worthy of being a full-time assistant, I worried she’d want to put distance between us.

I indicated my uncle’s office door. “Is the hotel hosting another event?”

She nodded. “Just a dinner, but an important one.”

“Who are the diners?”

“I don’t know. Apparently they want privacy and secrecy, so much so that I’m not allowed to know who they are.”

“That seems rather extreme. How many will attend?”

“Eighteen. We’ll usher them in via the back entrance directly into the private dining room, so the patrons in the restaurant won’t see them.”

“How very cloak-and-dagger. Was Floyd in the meeting with you?” Floyd and Uncle Ronald had not come to the Druitt-Poore’s country ball with Aunt Lilian, Flossy and me.

Both claimed they had to be at the hotel, but in my cousin’s case, I suspected he would rather spend the time with his latest mistress than be steered in the direction of eligible young ladies of good breeding.

My cousin wasn’t ready to settle down. Sometimes I wondered if he ever would be.

“Mr. Bainbridge is still with Sir Ronald, discussing an important guest arriving today,” Harmony said as the lift door opened. “My presence wasn’t required.”

John the lift operator smiled politely at us. “Good morning, Miss Fox, Miss Cotton. Which floor would you like?”

“Ground for me, please.” I stepped into the spacious lift, which was as elegantly appointed as every space in the Mayfair Hotel with its mirrored walls and velvet-covered bench seat at the back.

“And me too please, John,” Harmony said.

Floyd emerged from his father’s office. “Cleo! A word!”

I stepped out again and suppressed a sigh. Seeing Harry would have to wait a few more minutes. “Go on without me, John.”

The operator touched the brim of his red hat. “Right you are, Miss Fox.”

Before the lift door closed completely, Harmony peered through the gap at me. “I should warn you, they were discussing a potential suitor for you when I arrived at the meeting.”

Ugh. “A little more warning next time,” I said to the closed lift door. I tugged on my jacket hem, drew in a fortifying breath, and turned to greet my cousin. “Good morning, Floyd. You’re up early. Or haven’t you gone to bed yet?”

“Very droll, Cousin. How was the Druitt-Bores’ country ball?”

“The Druitt-Poores are not bores, Floyd. The girls are sweet and rather amusing. Silly, but amusing. You ought to consider Cora, the eldest, as a prospect.”

He made a face. “I’m not ready for marriage.”

“That’s probably just as well.”

He narrowed his gaze. “Why?”

“I like Cora.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” I blinked innocently back at him. “What did you want to discuss with me?”

He cleared his throat. “I saw you with Harmony just now. Did she tell you about the important dinner?”

“She did. Who is it for?”

“I can’t tell you that. They want utmost secrecy.”

I tilted my head to the side. “Come now, Floyd. You can trust me.”

“You’ll only blab to Armitage, and probably Harmony.”

“First of all, Harmony ought to know since she’s organizing it.

Secondly, you can trust both her and Harry not to tell a soul.

Does mentioning Harry mean you’ve accepted our friendship?

” It was more than a friendship nowadays, but Floyd didn’t know that for certain, although I suspected he’d guessed.

When he and my uncle came to accept Harry as worthy of me, then we’d announce we were a couple.

For now, both Harry and I were content to keep it to ourselves and enjoy the privacy the secret afforded us.

Floyd crossed his arms, his green eyes still narrowed. “I don’t want to talk about Armitage.”

“You were the one who mentioned him. So, what do you want to talk to me about?”

“A guest checked in yesterday who we want you to pay particular attention to. He’s the son of an industrialist by the name of Janson. If you see him, make him feel welcome in your usual way.”

“My usual way?”

“Be charming, witty, and…” He waved his hand in the general direction of my face. “Be pretty.”

I arched my brows.

“Don’t be too intelligent, though,” Floyd hurtled on. “Men don’t like girls who are smarter than them.”

I arched my brows further.

“And don’t attempt one of your so-called jokes until you know whether he would appreciate them. Not everyone understands your sense of humor, Cleo.”

“Why do you want me to pay particular attention to him?”

“I think you’ll be well matched.”

“But why?”

“Instinct.”

Clearly this was the man Harmony was referring to.

Knowing the way my family operated, Mr. Janson most likely came from an influential and wealthy family.

The man’s character had nothing to do with his suitability.

Yet both Uncle Ronald and Floyd knew that influence and wealth meant little to me, so why did they think this particular man was worth my attention?

What was different about Mr. Janson compared with the other eligible bachelors who stayed at the hotel?

My curiosity was piqued enough to go along with Floyd’s scheme, to a point. “I’ll be happy to speak with him if we are introduced. It wouldn’t be appropriate to just walk up to him.”

“I’ll introduce you now. His room is on this floor.”

I caught his arm as he went to walk off. “Floyd! You can’t just knock on his door and push me forward.”

“You’re right. I’ll think of a way to engineer a meeting.”

“Try to be subtle about it.”

He grinned. “I’m always subtle.” He set off along the corridor in the direction of his suite, before turning back to me. “By the way, Cora Druitt-Poore would be fortunate to have me. I’m a catch.”

I cupped my hand behind my ear. “What did you say? You’re a cad?”

“You heard me, Cleo, and I know you adore me, too.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help laughing lightly. I did adore my immature and somewhat hopeless cousin. But I did pity the poor girl who ended up marrying him. Considering I liked Cora Druitt-Poore, I wouldn’t wish him on her.

I took the stairs instead of calling for the lift again.

As I crossed the hotel foyer, I buttoned up my coat, nodding at Peter Leyland, the assistant manager.

It was the tall man with broad shoulders and dark hair beyond him that caught my eye, however.

Harry was here. His visit saved me a journey to his office. But why was he at the hotel?

I diverted my course toward him, only to stop as he turned.

It wasn’t Harry. While there was a superficial similarity, the hotel guest had thinner lips and nose, and a deeper set to his eyes.

Still, he was very handsome. Clearly the two young ladies with him thought so, as they gazed wide-eyed up at him.

One giggled behind her hand at something the guest said, while the other lightly touched his arm, smiling.

The man placed his hand over hers, trapping it, which pleased the woman considerably.

The other one’s gaze dropped to the connected hands.

Her mouth turned down with her pout, until the man offered her his other arm.

She hesitated a moment before taking it.

The man walked toward the exit flanked by his pretty companions.

As Frank the doorman opened the door for them, I went to follow, but Goliath, one of the porters, caught my attention as he pushed a luggage trolley piled high with an unusual collection of items. Usually guests checked in with trunks, valises, and bags, not a table lamp, a velvet brocade armchair and matching footstool.

“Good morning, Goliath. Where are you going with all of that?”

“You’ll never guess, Miss Fox.”

“Is it for a guest who doesn’t think we have proper lighting and furniture?”

“Louis Arkwright.” Goliath seemed to think I should know the name, but when I merely shrugged, he added, “The author who wrote the biography about William Blackheart Watson.”

“The pirate? I know the book you mean. Didn’t the author claim he met Blackheart when the pirate was an old man? That book was written fifty or sixty years ago, so Arkwright must be an old man himself now.”

“He is. He’s come here to die.”