Page 12 of Murder on the Brighton Express
“What a ghastly woman.”
“She also approached both Mrs. and Miss Hessing, but Mrs. Hessing realized she was insinuating the same thing and sent her away before Miss Hessing caught on.”
It wouldn’t matter if she had. Miss Hessing wouldn’t believe it. She was sure of Mr. Liddicoat’s love for her now. Even so, the gossip columnist was wretched for stooping to such a tactic. “Why does Mrs. Hessing believe she’s staying at the hotel?”
“She saw the same woman at the reservation desk the day before yesterday. When Mrs. Hessing demanded Uncle Alfred find out what she wanted, he discovered she’d made a reservation for tonight and tomorrow night. She hired me to thwart the woman’s attempts to gather information after my uncle and yours refused to cancel the reservation without knowing for certain she was the gossip columnist.”
“What name is the reservation under?”
“Mrs. Blaine. She hasn’t checked in yet.”
We both looked toward the check-in counter. The clerk passed a gentleman the key to his room, and the guest went on his way. There was no one waiting to be served.
“I’ll watch for her,” I said to Harry. “You should go before Uncle Ronald sees you.”
“It’ll be fine.”
“Because you’re working for Mrs. Hessing? Harry, she won’t be staying here forever. Once she’s gone, my uncle will remember that you sat here for hours after he expressly told you not to come back. I wouldn’t put it past him to…” I waved my hand in the air, not quite sure what my uncle would do to Harry.
He took my hand as I lowered it to my lap. “Cleo, I like that you’re worried about me, but you don’t have to be.”
I slipped my hand free and rose. “I’ll keep an eye out for your suspect, but if you don’t want me to replace you, I should go so as not to draw attention.” I turned away before he noticed my face heating.
Peter approached after having a brief discussion with the check-in clerk. He had a message for me. “A Detective Sergeant Forrester called and has asked you to telephone him as soon as possible.”
I turned to Harry. “I’ll do what I can to help, but if my uncle throws you out, don’t blame me. I did try to warn you.”
I walked off to ask the check-in clerk if I could use his telephone. I’d just lifted the earpiece off the hook when the lift door opened, and Uncle Ronald and Mr. Hobart stepped out. Mr. Hobart tucked a clipboard under his arm and headed to his office. Uncle Ronald, however, stopped. As if he sensed an intruder in his domain, he suddenly turned toward the armchair where Harry sat.
Their gazes met.
My uncle’s back stiffened.
Harry nodded at him.
To my surprise, Uncle Ronald nodded back. Then he went on his way without a word to anyone.
Harry smirked at me, wiggled his fingers in a wave, then raised the newspaper to obscure his face again. He must have already had a word with my uncle. Or Mrs. Hessing had. Either way, Uncle Ronald wasn’t surprised or cross to see him there. Harry would probably have admitted it if I hadn’t cut him off when I became flustered that he’d held my hand, so I only had myself to blame.
When Monty came on the line, I turned my back to the foyer to avoid distractions. I wanted to give him my undivided attention. I was glad I did.
“I need your help, Cleo,” he began. “You could be right about the woman you saw—or didn’t see—leaving the train. A man reported his sister missing late yesterday. He was told to call back if she still hadn’t appeared this morning, which he did. He claims his sister was supposed to be on the ten-thirty express from Brighton. At Victoria Station, she should have caught a taxicab home, but she never arrived. As the day wore on, he checked with her employer and she hadn’t gone there, either. The case was assigned to one of the other detectives, but he’s disinclined to investigate because he thinks she’s run off with a fellow and will turn up. It sounded like your missing woman, so I thought you might want to look into it while my colleague drags his feet. Time is of the essence with missing person cases, but my hands are tied.”
“Thank you, Monty. I’ll begin an investigation immediately. Did you look into the uncollected luggage at the station?”
“I did, but there was none. According to the brother, she only took a carry bag with her anyway, not a trunk.”
“What was her name?”
“Ruth Price.” He then gave me the description given by the brother. It matched the woman I’d met in Brighton and seen get on the train but not get off.
I pressed a hand to my stomach. I had a terrible feeling that Ruth Price had met her end on the express to London.
Chapter4
Monty’s voice crackled down the line. “The missing woman is an assistant to a journalist.”
“Does the journalist work forThe Evening Bulletin?” I asked.
