Page 10 of Murder on the Brighton Express
“Flossy said you went every day. Did you miss me?”
“Of course.”
“Truly?” He sounded surprised yet pleased.
I finished attaching one cuff link and he handed me the other. “Hopefully you can join us next year.”
He made a face. “No thanks. My favorite time of the year is when everyone leaves London and I’m left to fend for myself.”
I laughed, thinking he was joking, but he looked quite serious. “Floyd, you haven’t fended for yourself a day in your life.”
Flossy called out from the sitting room. “He just likes the freedom that comes with our parents not peering over his shoulder.”
“It must have put a dent in your plans when your father returned after only a week,” I said.
Hehumphed. “Unannounced, too.”
I finished with his cuff and fixed his tie for him. “Don’t you have a valet to do this?”
“I do, but he’s hopeless. I think he must have slept in today.”
“Why do you keep him on?”
“Because he’s discreet.”
“Ah. You mean he doesn’t spy on you for your father.”
He winked at me. “I’d better run. Harmony wants to see me about something, and she’s a stickler for punctuality. If I arrive late to a meeting, she gives me the meanest look.”
Flossy joined us from the sitting room, carrying the magazines. “Pass these on to her for me. She might like to browse them for ideas.”
Floyd wouldn’t take them. “It’s too late to change anything now. Anyway, those are English.”
“So?”
“Harmony felt an American style of wedding would be more to Mrs. Hessing’s taste.”
“What is an American style of wedding and how is it different to an English one?”
Floyd shrugged. “Harmony spoke to some of our American guests, and they gave her the society pages of their magazines and newspapers. She claims the articles and photographs of the weddings of wealthy American families gave her a lot of inspiration, but I’m not privy to the details. I’m more of a higher-level manager. She takes care of the minutiae.” He thanked me for my assistance with the cuff links and let himself out.
Flossy caught the door before it closed and watched him stride off along the corridor to the lift. “My brother is finally maturing.”
“Why do you think that? Because he’s up before midday?”
“Because he hasn’t teased me about the last time I went for a paddle in Brighton.”
“What happened the last time?”
Flossy hugged the magazines to her chest and hurried from my suite.
With little to do forthe rest of the day, I planned to join my friends in the staff parlor that afternoon for a chat. I wanted to gauge their thoughts on the missing R.P., and whether I was overreacting. Harmony might not be there, but I hoped to see Goliath, Frank, Peter and Victor, one of the cooks. They sometimes helped me in my investigations. They were also good company.
I didn’t reach the parlor, however. I’d barely set foot in the foyer when Peter drew my attention to a guest sitting on one of the burgundy leather armchairs, reading a newspaper. The long-legged man held the paper up so that it obscured his face, but it was oddly angled, as if he were peering past it in the direction of the check-in desk.
“It’s Harry Armitage,” Peter told me. “He came in thirty minutes ago and hasn’t moved.”
I quickly scanned the area, looking for my uncle. Thankfully he wasn’t there. “What’s he doing here?”
