“And no one else has mentioned any missing keys?”
“No, sir.”
“And do you recall assigning anyone besides Mary Hinton to Mr. Oliver’s room?”
“I do not. But that does not mean it might not have happened. The girls sometimes help each other out in a pinch. It is not forbidden.”
Frederick nodded. “And who would Mary most likely ask for help, if the need arose?”
“Millie, I suppose. Although it could have been Lydia as well.”
Frederick noted their names. “May I speak with them next?”
Mrs. Somerton obliged him, going to fetch the chambermaids. Mr. Brixton came in while he waited and sat down to join him.
When the maids arrived, Frederick asked them if they had delivered anything to Mr. Oliver’s room. Both answered in the negative.
Strange. So perhaps Mr. George had been mistaken. But then, why had Mary Hinton seemed so nervous when he’d asked her about it?
Perhaps he should question her again.
But when he asked the helpful Mrs. Somerton, her mouth tightened and her chin gave an obstinate lift.
“Mary has already been questioned by the coroner. It’s a busy time of morning. So if it’s not absolutely necessary, I hate to call her away from her work just now.”
Frederick consulted his pocket watch. The inquest would soon reconvene. He decided it was probably not important, since the murder did not occur until the next day. But for some reason, it troubled him.
“Very well. Who is left?”
The day clerk came in next, Mrs. Somerton taking his place at the desk for the time being.
Raymond said he had met Mr. Oliver briefly when he first arrived, but had not seen him afterward.
Frederick asked, “Did you notice anything out of the ordinary the morning he was found dead? Anyone asking for Mr. Oliver’s room number or loitering about?”
“No, sir. Though I did see a man leave the hotel that morning.”
“Oh? What time?”
“Just before you followed that young woman from thirteen into the blue parlour.”
“Ah.” Sweat prickled at the back of his neck.So not Mr. Dodge ...Frederick felt Brixton’s gaze on his profile but kept his on the clerk. “That would have been a little before nine.”
“Who was the man?” Brixton asked.
“Don’t know. Didn’t see his face.”
Frederick asked a few more questions, each as fruitless as the last.
He almost didn’t bring in the youngest member of staff, the new page, but with a sigh, decided to finish what he’d started.
“Your name?”
“Billy Jackson.”
“And how long have you worked here, Billy?”
“A whole month now, sir. Mrs. Somerton made mention of that fact just last night.”
