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We waited until we were in a cab before discussing Mr. Hardwick’s comments.
“Did you believe him?” I asked.
“I believe he’s upset over his friend’s death, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t do it himself. As to the rest, I’m not sure. What do you think?”
“I think he lied about the retirement issue. I think he was more upset than he let on. He looked angry when he stormed off after Rigg-Lyon announced his change of heart, not merely annoyed. The thing is, I can’t work out why he’d be furious about something like that. Upset, yes, and annoyed that his friend didn’t confide in him, but angry? It seems excessive.”
We agreed that I should put in an appearance at the hotel before heading out to luncheon with Aunt Lilian and Flossy. We would interview Rosa Rivera later when we could be sure she’d be at the opera house preparing for her evening performance.
I arrived at the Mayfair to see Uncle Ronald stopped at the front door by Frank. Although he kept his features schooled, it was clear my uncle was cross from the slicing motion of his hand cutting off Frank’s words. He strode inside, leaving Frank to glare after him.
“What was that about?” I asked.
“I tried to talk to him about Cobbit’s concerns. He wouldn’t listen.”
“Perhaps now isn’t the right time.”
“It never is.”
“Frank, are you sure this is the hill you want to die on?”
“You know I’m a Bainbridge man, Miss Fox. Always have been, always will be. But a man’s got to stand up for what’s right, and this is right.” He stabbed his finger into the palm of his hand. “First it’ll be automobiles taking over the stables and putting good men like Cobbit out of work, next it’ll be me.”
“All is not lost. Cobbit can retrain as a mechanic.”
“Cobbit’s an old dog like me. He ain’t got what it takes to learn a new trick.” He tapped his temple in case there was a misunderstanding.
A guest approached and Frank opened the door for him. I entered the hotel and smiled at Goliath, arranging luggage on a trolley for the couple standing at the check-in desk. My uncle chatted to two ladies, Mr. Hobart at his side. They laughed at something one of the women said, then Uncle Ronald made his excuses.
He joined me on the stairs and greeted me jovially. “I’ll walk up with you, Cleopatra.” I’d never seen him take the stairs all the way to the fourth floor. Given he was a thick-set man, whose enjoyment of food and wine was evident from the strain of his waistcoat, it was no surprise he preferred the elevator. “How are you today, my dear?”
“Very well, thank you, Uncle. And you?”
“Couldn’t be better. Are you going out to lunch with Florence and Lilian?”
“I am. Do you have plans?”
“I’m lunching at my club with a couple of hotel guests. I believe you know one of them rather well. Miller? American, uncle and nephew, in London for business.”
Now I understood why he was taking the stairs instead of the elevator. I picked up my pace. “The nephew and I sat together at dinner the other night.”
“Ah, yes, I thought so. Good man, young Miller. Good prospects. The uncle’s in construction in New York, and doing well, I hear.”
I suspected this was my uncle’s attempt at a subtle approach. Speak highly of a young gentleman, drop hints about his connections, but don’t push me in his direction. Going by the inept way he went about it, I suspected the approach was a new method for him. Subtle wasn’t a word I’d usually associate with my uncle.
I didn’t have to do anything more than smile and nod because we’d reached the second floor landing and Uncle Ronald was puffing like a steam engine. “I think I’ll take the lift the rest of the way,” he said between breaths.
Luncheon was mercifully short,but even so, it was three-thirty by the time I telephoned Harry from Mr. Hobart’s office and suggested we meet outside the Royal Albert Hall. The doorman let us in without question when Harry showed him his business card and explained our reason for needing to speak to Rosa Rivera.
We found her alone in her dressing room, practicing her vocal scales while she arranged a wig on a stand into an elaborate style.
“Put them with the others,” she said without turning around. Her accent was underpinned by a hint of Spanish, but it wasn’t strong. She pointed the comb she was holding at the two bouquets of flowers on the dressing table.
Harry cleared his throat and she spun around. “Our apologies for the interruption.”
Her gaze unashamedly took Harry in, ignoring me altogether. Being overlooked by women when in his presence was somewhat familiar to me now, but it was still not something I liked. She put out her hand, not for him to shake, but to kiss.
He lightly grasped it and performed a perfunctory bow. He was more accustomed to these uninvited flirtations than me. He’d been the object of them for years. “Good afternoon, Miss Rivera. My name is Harry Armitage, and this is my associate, Miss Fox. We’re private detectives.”
