Page 48 of Murder on the Brighton Express
He offered no answer to my question, and I didn’t ask again.
Flossy denied meetingRuth Price at the Grand Brighton Hotel on the day before we left. She claimed she spent a few minutes settling her mother in her suite then went in search of a copy of the latest edition ofThe Queenin the hotel’s library.
Aunt Lilian must have been the one to tell Ruth I was a private detective. I didn’t want to have another encounter like the last one with my aunt, but my desire for confirmation overrode my trepidation.
I found her dressing for a theater outing with the aid of her lady’s maid. Uncle Ronald was nowhere in sight, although he was due to go with her. She must have taken a dose of her tonic, because she was full of energy, her movements quick and jerky. Her gaze darted around, not settling on any one thing, and she had difficulty sitting still at her dressing table, much to her maid’s frustration as she attempted to arrange my aunt’s hair. While I despaired that she’d taken her tonic again, part of me was relieved. It meant she’d be in a better mood, and not snappy as she was when the effects of the cocaine wore off.
“Aunt, do you recall a woman named Ruth Price calling on you in your hotel room in Brighton the day before we left? She wore spectacles and carried a brown leather bag.”
Aunt Lilian toyed with the string of pearls that would adorn her neck when her maid finished with her hair. “Yes, my dear, I do.” She put down the pearls only to pick up her earrings and stare at them. “She wanted to know how we knew the Pridhursts. I told her we’d just met them the week before. She seemed to lose interest in the conversation after that until I mentioned you occasionally worked as a private investigator, but only on cases for the right sort of people, and nothing dangerous.” Her gaze met mine in the reflection of the dressing table mirror. Although my aunt knew I’d solved murder cases in the past, like my uncle she must hope that I’d put that behind me and only solved cases of a genteel nature now.
I tried following her train of thought, but failed to see the connection. “I’m sorry, I don’t follow. Why did you tell Miss Price I was a private investigator?”
“Because she was one, too. Well, I assume she was, with all the questions she asked me about the Pridhursts.” She flicked the pearl-drop earring with her finger, smiling at the way it swung back and forth like a pendulum.
Then she suddenly turned to face me, catching the maid unawares. The hairpiece she’d been pinning to Aunt Lilian’s hair detached, pulling out a few strands of my aunt’s hair along with the pins. The maid gasped in horror, but when my aunt didn’t react, she bit her lip and quickly removed the hair from the pins.
“Did I do the wrong thing, Cleopatra?” Aunt Lilian asked. “That young woman wasn’t one of us, you see, so I didn’t see the harm. Who would she tell your secret to? No one from our circle.” She shrugged as she turned back to face the mirror. “It didn’t matter if she knew about your detecting.” Her theory was born from snobbery, and was also faulty, but I didn’t want to get into a discussion about it with her.
My gaze connected with the maid’s in the mirror’s reflection. The poor woman seemed frustrated by the lack of progress with Aunt Lilian’s hair. I was a distraction, so I got up to leave.
Aunt Lilian’s hand whipped out and caught mine. “My sweet, sweet niece. You’ve become like a daughter to me. To Ronald, too.” She patted my hand. “But we worry about you, just as much as we worry about Florence and Floyd.”
“There’s no need to worry. I’m perfectly content.”
“Of course you’re content, my dear. You’re twenty-three. No! Twenty-four now. What possible problems can you have at your age? But if you don’t marry, you will be alone, and I don’t want that for you. You’re sopretty, Cleopatra, youwillfind a man to marry you.”
“Aunt—"
“But you must stop making it so difficult for them.”
“For who?”
“Suitors.” She gripped my hand, hard, but I doubted she was aware she was hurting me. “You spent an entire day at museums today, and while I do agree that a lady should improve her mind so she can hold a conversation with gentlemen, there is a point at which they lose interest. That point comes when she is smarter than they, and when she loses her looks. Both will happen to you one day, my darling girl. Mark my words.” She let me go and turned back to the mirror. She stretched out her neck and pushed up the softening skin at her jawline before releasing it. She repeated the move, over and over, as if to undo what time and gravity had inflicted. “You will wake up one day to find your looks have faded, and the gentlemen who once flirted with you have moved on. Where will you be then?”
Although I knew disagreeing with her would get me nowhere, I responded anyway. “I’ll be having conversations about the knowledge I’ve learned over the years from books and museums.” I bent and kissed her cheek. “I won’t be alone, Aunt. I will always have my family.”
“I am glad. For Florence and Floyd’s sakes, as much your own.” She picked up the string of pearls again and passed them through her fingers. “Have you finished yet?” she snapped at the maid.
I left them and returned to my suite, where I added more notes to the ones I’d jotted down at the beach. Ruth Price hadn’t been following me specifically from the West Pier that day. She’d not known I was a private detective until my aunt mentioned it. Deciding then and there to enlist my services, but being unable to pay me, Ruth had scrawled a note blackmailing me into meeting her.
That was one mystery solved. Now I needed to solve the bigger one. Who killed her?
Harry telephonedthe hotel the following morning and left a message with his uncle to let me know he couldn’t join me. “Apparently a new case came across his desk,” Mr. Hobart said when he waylaid me in the foyer. “He says you don’t require assistance for what you plan to do today, anyway.”
“Oh. Right.” I put on a smile for the manager. “Enjoy your day, Mr. Hobart.”
He glanced toward the hotel exit. “I’ll try, but the reporters are getting smarter. Yesterday, Frank let one in, thinking he was a guest. The fellow then almost made it inside the ballroom. Luckily the footman on guard duty realized and sent him on his way.”
“Only three more days, then it will all be over.”
As I strode toward the exit, I wondered if Harry truly did have a new case, or whether something I’d said on the train had made him want to avoid me. I was determined not to think about it, however. I would only think about the next stage of the investigation.
Frank opened the door for me. “You should take an umbrella, Miss Fox. It looks like it’ll rain.”
The clouds were light gray, not dark, and there were patches of blue sky. “Always the pessimist, Frank. I think it’ll stay clear.”
“I’m not a pessimist, I’m a realist. Unlike some,” he added in mutter.
