Chapter 3
The fourth floor of the hotel had the largest suites and was used by the Bainbridge family and important guests. Lord Rumford’s suite resembled mine, with a sitting room and adjoining bedroom. The only difference was the view over Green Park. His was from a more easterly perspective.
He indicated we should sit on the sofa. I sat but Harmony hung back, keeping her distance while being close enough to overhear us.
“I’m sorry for your loss, my lord,” I began.
“Thank you. It’s come as a shock. I only saw her early yesterday afternoon. It must have been shortly before…” He passed a hand over his jaw and drew in a shuddery breath.
I hesitated. I hadn’t expected such grief. I’d assumed Pearl Westwood was the latest mistress in a long line that stretched back decades and would soon be replaced. It seemed as though he truly cared for her. It was no wonder he wanted to find her killer. “Why do you think she was murdered?”
“When I saw her before Christmas, she was happy. She was typical Pearl—lively, fun, not a care in the world. Then, when I returned to London two days ago, she’d changed. She was troubled.”
“Forgive me for saying this, but whatever caused the change could be the reason she committed suicide.”
“She was troubled but not sad. Not desperately so that she would end it all. She asked for money, you see. She didn’t say why, just that it was important. She was dreadfully apologetic about it.”
I hesitated, not sure if I ought to ask the question that was on my mind. It was terribly impolite. Thankfully Lord Rumford guessed anyway.
“You want to know the details of our arrangement,” he said.
I nodded.
“I paid for her flat and gave her gifts from time to time. No money passed between us. It was all quite dignified.”
Sometimes it amazed me how people justified their actions to themselves.
If he thought not giving Pearl money meant she was not a prostitute, and he wasn’t her customer, he was wrong.
It was precisely that. Neither his intentions nor his feelings towards her mattered.
I would have liked to know what she’d felt about him.
Had she cared for him? Or was he a means to an end?
“Did you give her the money when she asked?”
He looked down at his hand, resting on the chair arm. “I hadn’t got around to it.”
“Did she know that you planned to give it to her?”
“I hadn’t got around to telling her.” The hand on the chair arm fisted. “The point is, she needed money and she wouldn’t say why. I believe someone was blackmailing her.”
“About her arrangement with you?”
“Yes.”
“Then wouldn’t she tell you?”
“She’s very proud. Was very proud.” He swallowed heavily. “Knowing her, she would try to deal with it on her own. Pearl was like that. Very independent. She didn’t like relying on me to rescue her, you see.”
“Are you aware of anyone in her life who might blackmail her about your relationship?”
“No.”
“Who else knew about you two?”
He shrugged. “I’m not sure. We were very discreet, but those close to us knew. There is a sister, but I can’t recall her name. The other actors and theater staff knew too. Ask the manager. She was close to him. Culpepper, his name is. Good fellow. He introduced us.”
I rose to leave. “Thank you, my lord. Can you give me the address of Miss Westwood’s flat?”
He wrote down an address on a piece of paper at the desk and handed it to me along with two keys. “Thank you, Miss Fox. I appreciate you doing this.”
I bit my tongue. I ought to ask if he was going to pay me but refrained. I would investigate regardless. Harmony was right; I had nothing better to do with my time.
Harmony and I emerged into the corridor. Just as the door closed behind us, Harry Armitage stepped out of the stairwell.
“Good morning, Harmony. Miss Fox, we meet again.” He looked past me at the door labeled four-fifteen. Time seemed to slow. His lips parted in surprise then pressed together. Hard. His face darkened. “You stole my client.”
I stiffened. “I did no such thing!”
He grabbed my elbow and marched me away from the door. “Are you investigating Pearl Westwood’s murder?”
I shook my arm free. “Yes.”
“Then I repeat: you stole my client. I can’t believe this. I trusted you!” He dragged his hand through his hair and shook his head.
I was about to protest again when Harmony mumbled something about work and hurried off. It would seem I’d get no help from her.
“You sent me on a wild goose chase about some mysterious beak-nosed fellow just so you could distract me from your real quarry.”
“What?” I blurted out.
He jutted his chin at room four-fifteen. “Don’t deny it. I saw you leaving.”
“I’m not denying I was inside speaking to Lord Rumford. But I will deny that I sent you on a wild goose chase to deliberately distract you. First of all, it isn’t a wild goose chase. I think there is something going on with Mr. Hirst and that fellow, whoever he is. Probably.”
He crossed his arms and gave me a look as if he didn’t believe me.
“And secondly, I wasn’t going to investigate Miss Westwood’s death until Harmony suggested it to me after I returned from having coffee with you. It was she who said I should have a word with Lord Rumford after she overheard him say he suspected his mistress had been murdered.”
“And how did she hear that?” He arched his brows. “Let me guess. She was eavesdropping on Lord Rumford’s conversation with my uncle.”
“She didn’t say.”
He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Lord Rumford approached my uncle earlier asking for the name of someone discreet to look into Miss Westwood’s death.
My uncle didn’t give Lord Rumford my name, as he didn’t know if I had the time to dedicate to the case.
He told Rumford he’d send someone to his room if available, or a note if not.
When I showed up in his office a few minutes later, he told me all about it, and here I am.
” He watched me with a glare so icy I shivered.
“Why did it take you so long to come up here to speak to Lord Rumford?” I asked.
“Because I was talking to Uncle Alfred about Hirst and the guest named Clitheroe.”
“And?”
“And he doesn’t think there’s anything to worry about, hence the wild goose chase.”
“Oh.”
“My delay gave you just enough time to swoop in and take my client from under my nose.”
I was growing a little tired of his accusation.
He mustn’t hold me in very high esteem if he thought that of me.
Considering prior events, perhaps that was understandable, but it still hurt.
“I can see how it looks, but I assure you, my intentions are innocent. Harmony must have been eavesdropping on your uncle and Lord Rumford and decided to put me forward as an investigator. She wouldn’t have suggested it to me if she knew Mr. Hobart was going to ask you. ”
I wasn’t entirely sure of Harmony’s complete innocence in the matter, but I would try to defend her as best as I could. She was going to get a talking to from me later, however.
“Anyway, Lord Rumford is not my client,” I went on. “I don’t think he’s paying me.”
“Because you insisted you didn’t want to be paid.”
“No, because he didn’t offer.”
“He didn’t offer because discussing something as vulgar as money with Sir Ronald’s niece isn’t the gentlemanly thing to do to.” He put an ugly twist on the word vulgar which summed up perfectly what Lord Rumford and his ilk thought of any kind of financial discussion, particularly around ladies.
I sighed. I really hadn’t wanted to step on Mr. Armitage’s toes. “We’ll talk to him now and tell him you’re the official investigator and I’m just…” I sighed again. “Sir Ronald’s nosy, bored niece.”
I crossed the corridor to the door and raised my hand to knock.
Mr. Armitage closed his hand around my fist and drew it away. We stood so close my shoulder brushed his chest. When I looked up, his face filled my vision.
“Don’t,” he said softly.
“Why not?” I whispered.
He simply shook his head and let me go. He walked off, his long strides quickly taking him away from me.
I picked up my skirts and ran after him. “Mr. Armitage.”
He did not slow down.
I quickened my pace. “Mr. Armitage.”
He didn’t respond.
“Harry, stop!”
Finally he halted and turned to me. “You won the case. I won’t say fair and square, but I can’t say I would have been any less devious.”
“Harmony was the devious one, not me,” I pointed out.
“Keep the case. I don’t want your charity.”
“It’s not charity, it’s…sharing. We’ll share the case.”
He firmed his jaw and set off again.
I got the feeling I’d insulted him. Idiot men and their idiotic pride.
It served him right if he had to wait a while longer for his first case.
It wasn’t my fault. He wasn’t going to starve in the meantime anyway.
His mother would feed him every chance she got, and his father would lend him money if he needed it. Harry Armitage would be just fine.
And I had a murder to investigate.
Pearl Westwood’s flat was on the ground floor of a modern complex a mere ten minute walk from the Piccadilly Playhouse, which meant it was also within walking distance of the hotel.
Not that I could imagine Lord Rumford ever walking to his mistress’s place.
He was quite portly and very rich. He would be driven.
One of the keys Lord Rumford had given me fitted into the iron gate positioned within the archway that led from the street into the building’s hallway. The gate creaked as it swung closed then relocked itself.
I headed along the hallway to the twin doors at the end and was about to insert the other key into the lock of the one marked 1B when the door suddenly opened. The woman standing there emitted a small squeal then let out a breath.
“Goodness,” she said. “You surprised me. I wasn’t expecting anyone.”