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He shot me a wicked grin over his shoulder as he continued climbing the stairs. “Nobody mentioned marriage. On your mind, is it?”
I gathered up my skirts and raced after him. “Floyd, don’t. If you encourage him, I won’t be responsible for hurt feelings when he discovers I’m not interested in courtship. That’ll be your fault.”
He finally stopped and waited for me to catch up. “I’m just saying that he seems like a better match for you, that’s all. Let fate decide what happens next.”
“A better match for me?” I echoed. “Better than whom?”
He continued on, taking two steps at a time. I couldn’t keep up even if I tried. I knew the answer anyway. He meant Mr. Miller was a more suitable match for me than Harry.
I’d told Floyd numerous times that I had no intention of marrying anyone, yet he didn’t seem to believe me. I liked Harry very much, but marriage wasn’t for me. I’d seen enough married couples to know that it wasn’t what I wanted for my future. One of these days, Floyd and the others would realize I was serious. Until then, I would have to put up with their matchmaking attempts.
I had no intention of discussing the murder investigation with Harry. There was no client and therefore no payment. We worked well together, but he couldn’t afford to spend time on something that would cost money, not earn it.
That all changed the following morning when Mr. Hobart said Harry had called and asked me to visit him at his Soho office.
Chapter3
The door to Harry’s office stood open, a sure sign that he knew I’d respond to his summons the moment I received his message. With coffee cups from the Roma Café in hand, and a parasol tucked under my arm, I was grateful he knew me so well.
I set the cups down on the desk beside a brass candlestick telephone. “What a smart addition to the office. It looks very professional.”
Harry reached for one of the cups. “It was installed yesterday. The call I placed to Uncle Alfred was the first. Thanks for coming. Did any of your family see you leave the hotel?”
“No, but it’s all right if they do. Uncle Ronald hasn’t retracted his permission allowing me to investigate with you.” While his permission had come as a surprise, I’d realized it had been given because I’d told him Harry was courting someone. He’d seemed to think that put an end to any interest we may have in one another. I hadn’t told him Harry and Miss Morris had since parted ways. Nor would I. I didn’t want him changing his mind.
“Good. Good. Have you been well, Cleo?” He sipped, watching me over the rim of the cup with his velvety eyes. The moment may have been brief, but my pulse quickened nevertheless. My body’s reaction to his attention never ceased to amaze me. It unnerved me, too.
“Yes, thank you. You?”
“Yes. Keeping busy.”
We both sipped our coffees.
The awkward exchange wasn’t unusual for us. Whenever we saw one another after time apart our conversations always started the same way. It seemed to take a while before we became comfortable in each other’s presence again. A murder helped to break the ice.
“How is your investigation into Mr. Liddicoat coming along?” I asked.
“That’s what I wanted to speak to you about.” He set down the cup and picked up a slim folder, removing two sheets of paper. “I’d written my report and was ready to give it to Mrs. Hessing when she came to see me late yesterday. She told me about the murder and tasked me with looking into it.”
I sighed. “She wants to know if Mr. Broadman is the murderer, because if he is, his cousin won’t be a suitable match for her daughter.”
He opened the folder and removed two sheets of paper. “This is the sum total of information I have on Liddicoat. As you can see, it amounts to very little. He comes from a good family. There are no prior engagements, no scandals, and no suggestion of anything problematic associated with his name or that of his close acquaintances.”
“Until now, with Mr. Broadman stumbling across the dead body.”
“While holding the bloody mallet, I believe.” The raise of his brows indicated he wasn’t quite sure of the facts. “Since you were there, I wanted to hear your opinion. Do you think he did it?”
“I’d hate to jump to conclusions again, so I can’t say either way.”
“You’re still smarting about getting me dismissed from the hotel? Cleo, it’s long forgotten. Don’t worry about it.”
“Actually, I was talking about something that happened last night at dinner. I was very rude to the American guest seated beside me because I thought he was disparaging me. Once he explained, it was all right between us, but it was a good reminder that I should never assume. I must only deal with facts and evidence, not assumptions or instinct.”
“Your instincts are usually very good. Perhaps the Americanwasinsulting you but backpedaled after you admonished him. What sort of man is he?”
“He’s a gentleman who works for his wealthy uncle. We got along very well once I apologized.” I smiled, remembering Mr. Miller’s little joke that had helped clear the air. “He turned out to be charming and funny.”
Harry flicked his hand over Mr. Liddicoat’s file as if dusting it off. I thought him preoccupied with the task until he said, “When does he leave?”
