Flora emerged into the hallway in time to hear Ed thank a woman in a severe black gown for her help. She carried a thick ledger and wore a chain at her waist from which hung several keys. Something about her struck Flora as familiar, but before she could work out what it was, the woman hurried away.
Ed must have sensed Flora’s presence behind him because he swung round. ‘There you are.’ He stood with his head tilted and arms held out at his sides. ‘You were gone for so long, I came to look for you. What are you doing back here?’
‘I took a wrong turning.’ She cocked her chin at the departing figure. ‘Who was that woman you were speaking to?’
‘I’ve no idea. She must work here as I heard her giving instructions to a kitchen maid. Why?’
‘I’m not sure. She looked familiar, but I doubt we’ve ever met.’
‘You probably saw her when you came here with Bunny.’
‘Possibly. Have you ordered our coffee?’ she asked, dismissing the woman from her mind.
‘Er…no, I didn’t, sorry. But I haven’t been idle. I located a very talkative maid.
‘The one who gave Leonard his alibi?’ She cast a sideways look at the meeting room door, visualising William pacing back and forth behind it.
‘Not her, the one Timms spoke to, Libby. She told me the chambermaid who cleaned Leonard’s room that day was called Maisie Cook. Libby’s going to arrange for me to talk to her.’
‘How much did that cost you? If I recall, Timms paid quite handsomely for Libby’s co-operation.’
‘Nothing, yet.’ He revealed his teeth in a sheepish grimace. ‘I don’t have any cash on me, so I said you’d pay her.’
Flora halted mid-step. ‘Did you indeed?’
‘On come on, what’s a few shillings?’ He had carried on a few paces and stopped, forced to retrace his steps to where she stood. ‘You know you would have done the same thing. This is a real chance to clear my name. You can’t ask me to pass it up.’
‘All right.’ Flora sighed and resumed walking. ‘How do we find Maisie?’
‘Libby said to meet her by the kitchens and she’ll take us to her.’ Ed led her through a green baize door into a space more shabbily appointed than the last. The clatter of metal pans and shouts could be heard behind a double door with porthole windows; a savoury smell of cooked meat made her mouth water.
A few feet beyond the kitchen door stood a fair-haired girl in a white apron complete with bib and frilled shoulder straps. She leaned against the wall, her arms folded and one foot tapping to a rhythm inside her head. When she saw them, she pushed away from the wall with a deep sigh. ‘Hurry up, I ain’t got all day.’
Flora raised an eyebrow at the girl she assumed must be Libby, but before she got any closer, the kitchen door swung open sending her a pace backwards. A waiter with a loaded tray balanced on his shoulder crashed through.
‘Have a care, Reg,’ Libby tutted, grimacing.
Reg gave Flora and Ed a swift, bemused look and Libby a longer one before he swept along the corridor and out of sight.
‘This way.’ Libby gestured for them to follow her to another double door farther along the hall, which opened on silent hinges, releasing a wave of hot, humid air which could only be the laundry. Two metal vats belched clouds of white steam, where young girls in pinafores and caps heaved dirty linens from waist high wicker baskets. A row of smoothing irons strung from leads hung from the ceiling were being wielded by similar maids over snowy white bedsheets laid out on tables.
Libby halted beside the open door of a cupboard lined from floor to ceiling with wooden shelves, where a dark-haired girl crouched on her knees arranging piles of bedsheets onto the bottom shelves.
‘This is Maisie.’ Libby’s voice held an air of triumph at a job well done.
The girl sat back on her knees and stared up at Flora and Ed. Her mob cap spilled black curls onto her forehead above wide green eyes, her angelic features marred by a suspicious scowl. ‘Who are they?’
‘No need ter get all uppity, Maisie.’ Libby flicked a look behind her, though no one in the bustling laundry paid them any attention. ‘The lady and gent jest want ta talk to yer about Mr Leonard.’
‘What ’bout him?’ Maisie rose slowly from her crouch, drawing herself up to her full height, but barely reached Flora’s chin. She heaved a pile of dirty linens from the floor and tossed them into the nearest basket.
‘Good day to you, Maisie,’ Flora began, unsure how she might question this girl without accusing her of lying. ‘I believe you spoke to the police the other day.’
‘S’right.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘What of it?’
Flora sighed. They had hardly begun and the girl was already defensive. Would they get anything of use out of her?
‘You told the police you saw Mr Leonard on Tuesday,’ Ed interjected. ‘That he was asleep in bed when you cleaned his room.’
Her green gaze slid over Flora and settled on Ed. Her face instantly softened and she peered up at him through dark lashes. ‘Might have done.’
Flora bit back a sharp retort and left him to do the questioning. Maisie might look sweet and innocent, but she knew exactly what her attractions were, and how to use them.
‘Did you actually see Mr Leonard in his room on Tuesday?’ Ed asked.
‘He were in bed,’ she folded her arms across her diminutive chest. ‘Like I told the copper.’
‘You’re sure?’ Flora urged. ‘Did you see his face?’
‘What choo implyin’?’ Maisie’s eyes glittered, the look of someone used to being on the defensive.
‘We’re not accusing you,’ Ed said quickly. ‘But might someone else have been in the bed pretending to be Mr Leonard?’
She shrugged. ‘Dunno. I only stayed long enough to clean the washroom and change the towels.’ She split a hard look between them. ‘Look, what’s this all about? Who are youse two anyway?’
‘Watch your cheek, Maisie.’ Libby nudged her with an elbow. ‘They’ll pay yer for the truth. Long as it is the truth, mind.’
‘Flora.’ Ed nudged her with an elbow, his hand held out, palm upwards.
Flora tutted, resigned, slid a hand inside her bag and located a handful of silver coins which she handed to Ed.
‘I can’t change me story,’ Maisie eyed the coins greedily. ‘Not now I’ve told the filth. They’ll ’ave me for purging.’
‘I think you mean perjury,’ Flora corrected her.
‘They’ll do that anyway, if they find out you was lying,’ Libby said, her voice lowered. ‘Think about it, Maisie, we get blokes here all the time who drink all night and sleep till teatime. It could easily have been one o’ them. Well? What do you say? Wrong room and a quid, or right one and get done for purging?’
‘Perjury,’ Ed and Flora said together.
Maisie hesitated, her mouth puckered as she thought it over.
‘Ed, put the money away, we’re wasting our time here.’ Flora started to leave, pulling Ed with her.
‘No wait!’ Maisie halted them.
‘Well? Flora prompted. ‘Was Mr Leonard Hunter-Griggs in that room all day on Tuesday, or not?’
‘He weren’t,’ Maisie mumbled, reddening. ‘He paid me five shillings to say he was, but I didn’t know it was the coppers who would be asking. I figured he wanted to keep outta the way of one of his gambling friends. I didn’t mean no ’arm. When the constable came asking questions and said I had to make a statement, it scared me rigid.’
‘Then that’s what you tell them.’ Flora plucked the coins from Ed’s hand and slipped them into Maisie’s apron pocket, where they made a satisfying clink. ‘That you were too afraid of losing your job to defy Mr Leonard so said what he told you to.’
‘I ain’t going to no police station.’ Maisie slid a hand into her pocket and fingered the coins. ‘If they come back, I’ll tell them, but not otherwise.’
‘Then we’ll have to ensure they do come back,’ Flora said, confident Inspector Maddox was too much the professional to ignore the girl’s story. She was willing to bet he had left her questioning to one of his younger officers. Maddox would have seen right through her flimsy lies.
‘’Ere. What about me?’ Libby cocked her chin at Ed. ‘He promised me five shillings.’
‘Of course, he did.’ Flora sliced a look at Ed and slid a crown into Libby’s hand from her diminishing pile. ‘And thank you for your help.’
‘Pleasure.’ Libby pocketed the coin. ‘I’d show you out, but I’m behind with me work already. Go back the way you came and turn right at the end.’ Without waiting for a response, she hurried away, leaving Maisie to return to the linen cupboard.
‘We’ll let Maddox know Mr Leonard’s alibi is no good and make sure he comes back to question Maisie,’ Ed chattered happily as they retraced their steps along the dingy hallway. ‘If she does what she promised, I’ll be safe.’
‘If she does,’ Flora muttered. ‘I hope the fact we paid her won’t count against us when this gets to court.’
Entering the lobby felt like stepping from a dark cupboard into a fairyland of bright lights in a grand hall where elegant ladies in large hats and uniformed staff swept by. She half expected the conversations to pause and everyone turn to stare, but no one appeared to notice them. In her eagerness, she almost ran into the woman she had seen talking to Ed earlier.
‘Oh, do excuse me.’ Her apologetic smile faded at the woman’s hard, penetrating look as she swept past without a backward look. Flora stared after her. ‘If she is staff, then she ought to change her attitude to customers.’
‘Never mind her,’ Ed said, irritated. ‘Aren’t you pleased we now know Leonard Hunter-Griggs wasn’t in the hotel the day Leo was killed?’
‘I am, Ed, honestly.’ She didn’t like to remind him that Maisie’s story didn’t put Leonard’s imposter on the train. Nor could she banish her uneasiness about the woman in the black dress. Where had she seen her before?
*
‘Where were you earlier by the way?’ Ed asked her as they traversed the lobby arm-in-arm. ‘The woman I spoke to in the corridor told me the facilities are nowhere near the function rooms. She couldn’t think why you were there.’
‘Really, Ed, what an inappropriate question to ask a lady.’ Flora avoided his gaze. ‘I’ve already explained I took a wrong turn.’
‘Don’t tell me then.’ Ed huffed a breath but dropped the subject, much to her relief as they entered the crowded lobby where patrons sat drinking coffee and chatting. ‘I meant to say hello to Dr Grace this morning,’ Ed continued as they paused beneath the curve of the staircase, complete with its white marble treads and black wrought-iron balusters. ‘But she had gone by the time I had finished breakfast.’
‘She couldn’t stay long, she had a meeting to attend.’ Flora searched for a recognisable face amongst the crowd.
‘Did she have anything new to add about what happened to Leo’s mother?’
‘Not so loud, Ed. And no, not really. She confirmed most of what we already knew, although there was one thing. She mentioned Lady Egerton.’
‘I know that name. Her nephew went to school with me. Sebastian, I think his name was. What about her?’
‘Were Leo and Sebastian friends, do you know?’
‘What? Yes, I suppose so. They were in the same year. Why do you ask?’
‘It might mean nothing at all, but the name keeps cropping up.’ Flora stiffened at the sight of the young man she had seen on her first visit. ‘Ed.’ She pulled him into the overhang of the stairs. ‘Leonard Hunter-Griggs is heading for the porter’s desk.’ She nodded to where a young man shoved a guest abruptly aside and took his place. The porter ducked his head in apology to the guest, before reluctantly addressing the interloper.
‘That fellow?’ Ed pursed his lips. ‘I suppose he has a look of Leo, but that garish blue suit is a giveaway. No one educated at Marlborough College would wear their tie like that either. He’s giving that porter quite a set-down too. No manners obviously.’
‘He behaved similarly the first time I was here. Take a good look at him. Have you seen him before?’
‘No, I haven’t. But I didn’t see everyone who was on the train that day. He might have been there.’
The altercation with the porter came to an abrupt halt when Leonard Hunter-Griggs pounded the desk with a fist, then swivelled on an angry heel before disappearing through a door on the other side of the lobby.
‘I wonder what that was about?’ Ed mused.
‘I’ve no idea, but we got what we came for, so perhaps we shouldn’t tempt fate and leave now. Inspector Maddox can follow up on Maisie’s story.’
‘It’s Miss Harrington, isn’t it?’ A masculine voice said at her elbow.
Flora spun round to where a handsome man in a black frock coat and perfectly tied cravat stood. ‘Er… yes, it is, I…’ She swallowed nervously, unsure which of the Hunter-Griggs twins stood before her, and certain she had not given her name on her previous visit. ‘It’s Mrs Harrington, actually.’
‘Mrs Harrington.’ He shook her hand in both of his. ‘My father described you perfectly. He said a charming lady journalist by the name of Harrington called on him at Albany requesting an interview.’
‘The Colonel… uh, mentioned me?’ Flora squirmed. He had not released her hand and she debated how to withdraw it without offending him.
‘He did. And I’m glad to have an opportunity to thank you. You brightened up the old boy’s day. He isn’t in the best of health and doesn’t get about as he used to, so he becomes easily bored. Actually,’ his eyebrows rose into his low hairline. ‘Haven’t we met before?’
‘You have an excellent memory, Mr Hunter-Griggs.’ She relaxed, smiling as she realized he must be Mr Frederick. ‘On that occasion you were distracted by an awkward guest.’
‘A good memory for names and faces is an advantage in the hotel business. Is your husband not with you today?’ He aimed a vague, enquiring look towards Ed.
‘Er… not today. However, allow me to introduce my cousin.’ She tugged her hand firmly from his. ‘Edward, Viscount Trent. Viscount Trent, Mr Frederick Hunter-Griggs.’
‘Pleased to meet you.’ Ed thrust out his hand, which the older man took with a polite but bland inclination of his head showing the name meant nothing to him. ‘To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit today?’
‘We were on our way to the exhibition at the museum,’ Ed replied without missing a beat. ‘We stepped in here for some refreshment beforehand. I’m told it’s a fascinating display.
‘How interesting. I haven’t yet seen the exhibition, which is remiss of me being as it’s merely yards away.’ Mr Frederick nodded slowly. ‘Actually, there’s someone I would like you to meet. If you aren’t in a hurry to get to the museum, of course…’
‘Well, we really ought to—’ Flora stammered.
‘Oh, do say you can spare a few moments, ‘he cut across her vague protest. ‘My sister Francis would love to meet you.’
‘Your sister?’ Flora said weakly. Francis is a woman? Why didn’t she think of that before? Francis was also a woman’s name, and often spelled the same way.
‘My twin sister, yes.’ He stared round the crowded lobby, searching faces as he talked, oblivious to her growing disquiet. ‘As a woman of business herself, Francis expressed a keen wish to make your acquaintance. She’s interested to hear all about your journalistic ambitions. In fact, she should be back from her appointment any moment.’ His darting gaze finally shifted to a point past her shoulder. ‘Ah, there she is now.’
A striking young woman entered the hotel and paused to greet a guest, giving Flora time to study her. Tall, slender with dark hair swept into a loose arrangement of sausage curls beneath a pert burgundy felt hat with a vertical black feather. Her skin was flawless and porcelain pale, with symmetrical features in a face which drew all eyes towards her; a phenomenon of which she appeared unaware.
Her conversation came to an end and she swept the room with wide cat-like eyes, finally settling on her brother. Her perfect lips curled into a warm smile as she glided towards them.
‘Frederick.’ She greeted him with a brief press of her lips on his cheek before her gaze slid to Flora and Ed, with a look of enquiry, as she waited for an introduction.
Flora’s throat dried and found she was staring. However, it wasn’t Francis Hunter-Griggs’ classic looks which affected her, but the woman’s burgundy red coat with its row of black chevrons encircling the flared skirt below knee-level.
‘Francis, my dear.’ Frederick drew her closer. ‘This is the lady Father told us about. Mrs Flora Harrington, and her cousin, Viscount Trent.’
‘How wonderful you should be here.’ She clasped her gloved hands together, her lips parted displaying perfect white teeth. ‘When Papa told me he had been interviewed by a lady journalist, I was entranced. When he mentioned you were an admirer of Mrs Millicent Fawcett, I begged him to give me your name and address, but he seemed to know very little about you.’
‘Well, I’m not actually a journalist, er… not yet.’ Flora summoned a weak smile, while she resisted every nerve ending which told her to run.
‘Don’t be so modest,’ Francis placed a hand on Flora’s forearm. ‘A journalist and an advocate for women’s’ rights. I’m sure we will have so much to talk about.’ She gave the room a swift, critical sweep with her startling eyes. ‘But you don’t want to sit here with all these people coming and going. Why don’t we adjourn upstairs to my sitting room?’ Without waiting for a response, Francis placed a firm hand on Flora’s back and guided them both towards the ascending room.
‘Perhaps we might postpone this visit for another time?’ Flora halted in front of the gates. ‘I’m not fond of enclosed spaces, I’m afraid.’
‘I didn’t know you were claustrophobic?’ Ed rubbed his hands together, oblivious to her frantic eyebrow dance. ‘I’d love to try it out. I’ve never been in an ascending room, only those escalator things they have at Harrods, which aren’t the same at all.’
Had he not been so far away Flora would have stamped on his foot. Instead she groaned inwardly as the gates clanked open and she was ushered inside. That’s all she needed; to be trapped in a cage with a possible murderess.