Page 60 of Murder on the Brighton Express
“Or leave it,” I added, “if the murderer was Geraldine.”
Chapter13
After making arrangements with Harry to meet the following morning, I returned to the Mayfair Hotel in time to change for afternoon tea. I arrived early and sat at one of the tables at the far side, neither near the door nor the windows. I was somewhat obscured by a potted palm.
Mr. Chapman didn’t like my choice of tables. He left his position at the reservations desk and charged toward me with his nose in the air like a bloodhound catching the scent of its prey on the wind. “You must sit at the Bainbridge table, Miss Fox. It’s reserved for the family’s exclusive use, and neither Lady Bainbridge nor Miss Bainbridge are in attendance today.”
“I’d like to sit here, this once.” I waited, but he didn’t leave, so I looked past him toward the door. “Guests are starting to arrive.”
He spun around. “There’s no one there.”
“They walked out again, when they saw the desk unattended.”
He hurried away, his steps even quicker than before.
Mr. Chapman wasn’t the only one upset by my choice of a different table. The waiters got confused. Richard, the head waiter, always served the family, but I was seated in Gregory’s area. After whispering to one another and shooting odd looks at me, I called them both over.
“Don’t worry, Richard. Gregory may serve me today.”
“But it’s highly irregular, Miss Fox,” the head waiter said.
“I don’t mind. Truly.”
Richard glanced at Mr. Chapman, standing in the entrance greeting the first guests. “But if Sir Ronald finds out…”
“He won’t.”
Lady Pridhurst and Odette arrived, putting an end to the conversation. I greeted them with smiles.
They greeted me with scowls. In Odette’s case, it was accompanied by watery eyes and a handkerchief to her nose. When she lowered her hand, I could see that her nose was red and swollen from crying.
It wasn’t polite to point it out, so I did what all well brought up ladies do in such situations. I lied. “What a pleasant surprise it was to receive your invitation. You both look well.”
“Thank you, Miss Fox.” Lady Pridhurst glanced pointedly at her daughter when she didn’t respond.
“Thank you,” Odette repeated, her voice so soft I barely heard it.
Lady Pridhurst made a great show of admiring the sitting room with its crisp white tablecloths, shiny silverware, and dozens of potted palm trees. “This is a lovely room. The Coburg Hotel doesn’t have a sitting room quite as elegant as this one, or as large. Oh look, Odette, there’s a reading room and library tucked into the corner over there. Odette enjoys reading,” she told me. “Do you like to read, Miss Fox?”
We chatted like familiar acquaintances meeting again after happy times, but Odette’s miserable silence blanketed the first half hour with a sense of foreboding. It was a relief when Lady Pridhurst finally steered the conversation to the reason for their visit.
“My husband saw you in Hyde Park recently, Miss Fox. He thinks you overheard an interesting conversation he had with your friend about the journey home from Brighton.”
It would seem Lord Pridhurst had put two and two together and realized I’d been with Harry at Hyde Park. Whether he also realized I was a private detective remained to be seen.
“I was on the same train as you,” I said. “A young lady died on the journey, and Mr. Armitage and I are trying to get to the bottom of the mystery of how she died.”
Odette emitted a small sob into her handkerchief.
Her mother picked up her teacup. “What a terrible tragedy. To end one’s life like that… Most unfortunate.”
She sipped her tea before replacing the cup in the saucer. Watching her, it was as though nothing were amiss in her life. Yet her daughter was upset, her husband on the verge of losing his fortune and reputation, and she must know they were suspects in Ruth’s murder. I wondered if she was truly unaffected, or if it was merely a facade for the sake of appearances.
I was tired of politeness and circling the truth, so I got to the point. “Several people, including myself, don’t believe it was suicide. I’m sure Lord Pridhurst mentioned that to you, too.”
Her lips pinched into a grimace. “He seems to have misunderstood, Miss Fox. He thinks you blame Odette for pushing that girl out of the carriage.”
Odette’s attempt at smothering her sob failed. Several ladies at neighboring tables glanced at us. Lady Pridhurst hissed at her daughter, ordering her to be quiet.
