Copy Cap Murder (4 page)

“Scarlett Parker, this is Tyler Carson,” Harrison said. He, too, was looking at me with a smile tucked into his cheek. I dropped his arm and ignored him.

“It's nice to meet you,” I said. Tyler Carson took my hand in his and patted it as if to reassure me that my social gaffe was just fine.

“Likewise,” he said. “And this is Reese Evers, my partner in crime.”

“More accurately your late partner's wife, but I do appreciate you keeping me around,” Reese teased. She was short and sturdy with stylishly cut and colored dark hair and a rose-colored sweater dress under a perfectly tailored black winter coat that I was sure cost the equivalent of my parents' new car.

“A pleasure,” Reese said when she shook my hand.

The two of them glanced between me and Harrison as if trying to figure out our relationship. I felt like saying “good luck” since I had no idea what our relationship was myself, but I didn't. Remarkable restraint, I know.

“You really pulled out all the stops,” Harrison said. “It's incredible.”

“It was all Ava,” Tyler said. An expression of sadness passed over his face. “She has her moments.”

I wasn't sure what to say to that and clearly neither did Harrison or Reese. Tyler stared out across the throng of people and then visibly shook himself loose from whatever was on his mind.

“Yes, well, make sure you get some of the mulled wine,” he said. “Reese, I do believe I see Jeremy Hinton across the way. We should probably go butter up the old goat.”

“Ah, yes, duty calls.” Reese sighed as she followed in Tyler's wake, giving us a small wave.

I glanced at Harrison and saw worry lines form in between his brows.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“Hard to say,” he said. “I think it is one of those things that only time will—”

“Harrison Wentworth, I have been looking all over for you!”

A woman about my age, wearing ridiculously high heels, a tiny skirt and a puffy jacket, tripped across the patio toward us. She had black hair cut in a severe bob, overly plucked arching eyebrows and the reddest pillow lips I'd ever seen.

“Tuesday,” Harrison greeted her.

He looked uneasy, and I felt my left eyebrow arch
inquisitively. Upon closer inspection, I realized Harry looked downright nervous. I had a feeling I was about to find out what I had suspected he was hiding when he'd invited all of us as his guests. Another woman!

“Scarlett, this is Tuesday Blount,” he said. “We work at Carson and Evers together.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said. I held out my hand but she shook her head.

“Sorry,” she said. “I forgot my gloves.”

What the heck was that supposed to mean? I had to give her a ten on the rudeness scale for that one, but then I thought maybe she was a germaphobe and I should let it slide. She licked her red lips and looked at Harrison like he was a snack. Okay, so I was not going to let her slide on the rudeness.

“Harry, be a love and get us some wine,” she ordered.

“It's Harrison,” he and I said together.

He looked at me and I looked at him. He grinned and I shrugged as if it were no big deal. Of course, it was a very big deal. No one is supposed to call him Harry except for me.

“Harrison, then,” Tuesday said. She rolled her eyes. “Please go get us some wine. I'm simply dying of thirst.”

I had a hard time figuring why that was a bad thing. Okay, that was mean, but I really, really, really did not like this woman.

“I'll be right back,” Harrison said. Then he leaned close to me and whispered, “Behave.”

I would have protested, but I didn't want to give Miss Bats for Eyebrows any reason to think I had just been reined in. I had a feeling she would enjoy that entirely too much.

“Of course I will,” I said. I gave him my brightest and falsest smile.

He frowned at me, and I noticed when he left he was moving at a speedy pace, so the man was not a complete idiot.

As soon as he was gone, Tuesday looked me over as if she were considering a purchase. I returned the scrutiny, and I'm pleased to report that she had knobby knees.

“So, you and Harrison, eh?” she asked.

“I'm sorry,” I said. “I'm not sure what you mean.”

“You two are a couple?” she asked. “I've been wondering how long it would take him to move on after our breakup.”

Despite myself, I made a sputtering noise. Yes, that's the sound I make when I'm trying not to swallow my tongue.

“Oh, he didn't tell you about me?” she asked. “It's not too surprising. He took our breakup very hard.”

“Oh, no,” I lied. “He's mentioned you.” Judging by Tuesday's style, I figured she was the sort who liked attention,
all
the attention. In a nanosecond, I knew exactly how to shut her down. “In fact, I think he said something about the boredom getting to him, but I couldn't really say because he seemed to think it wasn't even worth talking about.”

BA-BAM. Direct hit. Tuesday's face became a mottled shade of maroon, clashing quite horribly with her lipstick, and now she made a sputtering noise. Her turn to swallow her tongue, I imagined. Too bad it couldn't be a permanent condition.

“You . . . he . . . it . . .” she stammered.

I gave her my most benign expression. “Yes?”

“Harrison and I belong together,” she said. “We work together, we enjoy the same things, and we are intellectual
equals.” She paused as if I were slow-witted and she needed to give me a moment to let that sink in. I don't think I have ever wanted to kick anyone quite so much as I wanted to kick her at that moment.

“He and I will get back together,” she continued. “We're soul mates. Whatever it is you think the two of you have, it won't last. Mark my words.”

“
Tsk, tsk, tsk
, always so dramatic, Tuesday.” A man crashed our party of two and Tuesday turned toward him as he continued. “What's the matter? Afraid your affair with the boss ruined your chances with Wentworth?”

“Shut up, Dashavoy! You don't know anything,” she snapped. She spun on her heel and stormed off into the crowd.

I turned to the newcomer. He was handsome in a squeaky-clean, pressed pocket square sort of way. Of course, the smell of alcohol on his breath diminished that image, but still, I was pretty grateful for the rescue.

“Winthrop Dashavoy, at your service,” he said. He put his hand on his chest and gave me a half bow. He staggered a bit on rising but he managed to fight off the lure of gravity.

“Scarlett Parker,” I said. “You have excellent timing, Mr.—”

“Call me Win,” he interrupted. “Everyone does and it fits, because I always win.”

“At what?” I asked.

His gaze was bleary when it met mine, and I got the feeling he wasn't really seeing me or maybe it was more that he was seeing four of me and having a hard time picking the right one to talk to.

“Why, at whatever I choose,” he said. He took my arm
and led me down the steps out into the yard toward the fire pit.

I glanced over my shoulder, wondering where Harrison was and whether he'd be able to find me if I moved. I almost protested but Win had saved me from the horrible Tuesday so I didn't want to be impolite.

“Excuse us,” he said as he propelled me through the crowd. “Pardon us. Make way.”

We stopped in a clearing away from the fire. I could feel the cold creep in under my clothes without the warmth of the fire or the gas heaters that were scattered all over the back terrace.

I glanced back at the house, hoping to see Harrison or Viv and Fee or Nick and Andre, but no. In the crush of hats, coats and scarves, I didn't see anyone I recognized.

“You're quite lovely,” Win said. “I can see why Harrison is smitten. That's old Wentworth for you, though, biggest office, prettiest girls, largest salary. Yes, it must be bloody awful being Harrison Wentworth.”

“I'm pretty sure it's not all unicorns and glitter,” I said. I knew for a fact that just managing Viv and me caused Harrison more than a little heartburn.

Win made an impatient gesture. “You don't get it. Nothing bad ever happens to that bloke. It's like he was born under a charmed star. You probably fell out of the sky and right into his lap. Am I right?”

He reached out to touch my hair, I think. I dodged to the left, so I really have no idea what his intention was. I knew mine, however, was to get out of there.

“Harrison and I are just friends,” I said. I wasn't sure why I said it, but I got the impression Win was jealous of Harrison
and I didn't think it would do me any good for Win to suspect that we were more than we were at present.

“Bollocks! I saw the way you two were looking at each other,” he said. “It's clear that his intentions toward you, my dear, are sordid to say the least.”

I tried to walk around him and get back to the party. He blocked me. For a drunk, he was surprisingly agile.

“Whatever is between me and Harrison is our business,” I said as I stepped back. “I don't know what your issue is, but you can leave me out of it.”

I wanted to kick myself as my voice wobbled, making me sound either close to shouting angry words or on the verge of fearful tears when I was really just frustrated that I couldn't politely get away from him.

“Don't back away from me,” he snarled. “You're just like her. She thinks she can end things and just walk away from me, but she can't and neither can you.”

“What are you talking about?” I snapped. I don't have much patience for drunken ramblings. I'd had too many celebrity guests trash too many hotel rooms in artistic bouts of drunken stupidity during my years in the hotel industry. Frankly, I was tired of cleaning up messes and I damn well wasn't going to clean up after this guy even if he had saved me from Tuesday.

“Rich, beautiful ‘it' girls who use a man for his fortune and his connections and think they can tell him how to act, how to behave and to smile pretty for the camera, then they bin him like yesterday's rubbish,” he said. “I won't let her get away with it.”

He made a grab for me, but I ducked to the side. I glanced around to see if anyone was aware of my predicament,
but no, they were all gathered around the fire with their backs to us.

“Aw, don't be like that, love,” Win said. Gone was his previous rage and now he was oozing a sloppy sort of charm, or at least, I'm sure he thought he was being charming. Me? Not so much.

He hiccupped and then made a staggering lunge at me that ended up with the two of us grappling like basketball players over a loose ball.

My face was mashed against his throat and I had to force myself to mouth breathe so as not to take in too much of his aftershave, which might have been pleasant if he hadn't bathed in it, probably to cover up the stench of the booze. I felt the shirt button on his open collar press hard against my cheek as he tried to pull my body up against his. Oh, hell no!

I reared back and he clipped me on the chin with his elbow as I planted my heel on his instep. We both reeled back. Thankfully, a strong pair of arms grabbed me before I did a butt plant in the grass. When I glanced back to thank my rescuer, my eyes went wide. It was Harrison and I had never seen him look so angry before.

“All right, Ginger?” he asked. His voice was clipped, hitting like bullet points on a résumé of really pissed off.

“Yes, I'm fine,” I said. “Honestly, it's not what you think.”

“Yes, it is,” Win slurred and grinned. “Me and the little bit were having an amorous tussle. Why don't you go away so we can finish it up?”

Harrison shrugged off his jacket and thrust it at me.

“Harry, don't,” I said. I could feel the eyes of the crowd behind us turning to take in the scene.

“Don't what?” he asked. “Defend you? Sorry, I'm not made that way.”

Win grinned at him, and I realized from the malice that sparkled in his gaze that this was what he'd been hoping for all along. He wanted a fight with Harrison, which was why he'd led me to the edge of the crowd and behaved so horribly.