Copy Cap Murder (6 page)

“Good evening,” Tyler called out to the crowd. “Welcome to the Carson and Evers bonfire night party.”

Cheers sounded and I took a moment to study the crowd while Tyler droned on about the business and customer loyalty, blah, blah, blah. He seemed nice enough but mixing in a joke would have helped. I noted that Ava looked to be holding in a yawn and judging by the buzz of conversation in the crowd he wasn't holding everyone's attention.

“He's a lovely host, truly, but I think he needs some new material,” Nick said.

“Tyler's gift is economics not public speaking,” Harrison agreed.

“And now, before the fireworks start, we will add our Guy Fawkes to the fire. Together let us burn this effigy to represent all of the distrust and misplaced loyalty in our lives and like a mythical phoenix let us rise out of the ashes and forge a new and stronger relationship out of the old.”

“Whoa, that's a heavy request for a straw man on a bonfire, don't you think?” Fee asked.

I glanced at Harrison and noted that he was frowning at Tyler.

“You don't think he heard about your scuffle with Win, do you?” I asked.

“I can't imagine he would devote a speech just to that,” Harrison said. “No, I think there must be something more going on, but I have no idea what; probably he's trying to win over a new client or fluff up an old one.”

Tyler gestured to two men in service uniforms. They wheeled a handcart out from the side of the terrace. It had a big black cloth draped over it.

Tyler followed the men as they awkwardly moved the handcart down the stone steps to the fire pit. He shook hands and clapped some of the guests on the shoulder, smiling as he went with Reese doing the same and Ava looking as if she'd rather be anywhere but here.

The crowd began to ripple with excitement. The energy was almost palpable. I supposed Tyler was right about the symbolism of burning up distrust and discord and forging a new beginning. It reminded me of how I felt on New Year's Eve when I made my resolution for the coming year. I stood on my toes to get a better look over the heads of the others as the draped effigy passed.

On the last step, one of the men tripped and dropped his side of the handcart. It wobbled precariously for a moment and then tipped over. The draped cargo on the cart lurched to the side and then fell to the ground. I heard Ava yell, “No!”

But it was too late. The effigy rolled onto the ground and the black cloth covering it fell away. Instead of the anticipated straw man wearing a creepy Guy Fawkes mask
with the standard pencil mustache, large nose and pointy chin, however, this effigy was an actual man whose Guy Fawkes mask was dangling by a thread around his neck. With a shock of blond hair and an eye that had recently been punched, I recognized Winthrop Dashavoy in an instant.

Reese Evers was the first to react. She screamed and ran down the steps to Win. She knelt beside him and grabbed his shirtfront.

“Win, darling, are you all right?” she asked.

He didn't respond. The crowd stood frozen in place, waiting to see if he was hurt.

“Let me through, I'm a surgeon.” A man pushed his way through the people. He was short and stout with an abrupt manner and a forceful look that had everyone stepping out of his way. He knelt down beside Reese and began to examine Win.

He checked his pulse, his heartbeat, the rise and fall of his chest. He ran his hands over him, pausing at his eye and then he moved Win's head to the side and examined his neck. The doctor sat back on his heels.

He glanced up at Tyler. I could see Tyler's jaw was tight and he'd gone a pasty shade of gray even in the warm firelight.

“I'm sorry, Tyler, he's dead,” the doctor said.

Reese emitted a scream that made the marrow in my bones shiver. It was the most mournful sound I'd ever heard as if Win had been forcefully ripped away from her, but then, I suppose he had.

Harrison went to step forward but Alistair grabbed him by the arm, stopping him. “I don't think that's a good idea, mate, for either of us.”

“I don't care,” Harrison said. Bright red splotches appeared on his cheeks and I could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest. “If I did this—”

“No!” Alistair said. “Absolutely not. He was fine when I turned him over to the girls in the kitchen for some ice, I swear. He was still pissed from too much drink and angry that I'd halted the fight, but that's it. I promise you he was fine.”

“Still, he was my colleague,” Harrison said. “I have to help however I can.”

He turned and pushed his way through the crowd. I didn't want him to face this alone, so I hurried after him.

Tyler was on his phone to the police. Price, the butler, and more uniformed house staff were keeping the crowd back. Reese was sobbing on Win's still form, while Ava stared off into space as if mentally removing herself from the chaos around her.

“Price, let me through,” Harrison ordered.

The butler looked at him and Harrison gave him a look that said he would pick up the smaller man and bodily move
him if necessary. He gave Harrison a curt nod and Harrison strode forward. I was about to follow when I was hip checked from the side and sent sprawling into the crowd.

“Oh, I'm so sorry,” I said.

I pushed myself off the poor old man in the bright green jacket that I'd crashed into, and he gave me a bolstering smile that told me I hadn't harmed any vital parts.

“Not at all, my dear,” he said. “That was the most fun I've had in years.”

“Uncle Alvie!” The middle-aged woman beside him shook her head at me as if to say he was incorrigible.

I gave them a weak smile and turned back to join Harrison. It was then that I realized who exactly had bumped me into the crowd. Standing beside Harrison with her arm around him while she sobbed into his handkerchief was Tuesday Blount.

Normally, I am a very even-tempered sort of girl, but if you cross me, I can be very grumpy and a little mean. At the moment, the desire to shove my way into their little group and stomp Tuesday's skinny little behind was fierce and almost impossible to resist.

“No,” a voice whispered in my ear. “Not now.”

I turned and found Viv beside me. She looped her arm through mine and dragged me through the crowd and back to our cluster of friends.

Andre, who never handles the sight of a corpse well, was doubled over with his head in his hands while Nick had an arm around him whispering soothing words in his ear.

Fee and Alistair were standing up on a concrete garden bench trying to see what was happening.

“Harrison is talking to Tyler,” Alistair reported.

“A woman with dark hair is standing beside him,” Fee said. “She looks upset, very very upset.”

Tuesday. I had no idea what her current relationship with Win was, but I knew exactly what her plans for Harrison's future were and, boy, didn't a fallen colleague give her a lot of wiggle room to get back into his life?

“Reese Evers is refusing to get up,” Alistair said. His tone sounded grim. “She's clutching Win's jacket. Oh, she just took a swing at the butler when he tried to pull her off.”

“Harrison is helping with her now,” Fee said. “Oh, that's not good.”

Fee didn't need to say any more. Reese's voice carried across the now silent crowd of people.

“This is your fault!” she wailed.

I rose up on my tiptoes and saw her shrieking at Harrison. He was holding her by the arms but I couldn't tell if it was to hold her up or to keep her from hitting him.

“You always had to be better than him, always had to be smarter, faster, more successful, it was killing him!” Reese cried. “Couldn't you see that? Didn't you care? It's your fault he's dead. Your fault!” Harrison opened his mouth to speak but she wrenched herself away from him, clearly not wanting to hear what he had to say. I could just see over the heads in front of me enough to see that Tuesday was right there wrapping an arm around Harrison and whispering to him in a speech that I was sure was designed to comfort.

I supposed I should be glad that she was there for him, but I wasn't. I didn't trust Tuesday and I didn't like her and I really didn't want her to be his source of solace. We were his friends, he needed us not her. Okay, more accurately, he needed me.

“The ambulance has arrived,” Fee announced.

Sure enough, two men and one woman were jogging down the steps toward Win's body. As they began to work, the crowd was pushed even farther back toward the warmth of the bonfire.

A whistling sound pierced the air and it took me a moment to realize that fireworks were going off. I turned around and looked over the roofs of the neighboring houses and saw a burst of red spark up the sky.

I was torn between thinking it was Winthrop Dashavoy's essence bursting up into the heavens, melodramatic I suppose but I was stressed, and thinking it was in very poor taste to be looking at fireworks when a man lay dead just fifty feet away.

Several booms sounded and the rest of the crowd turned to watch the fireworks. It was surreal to say the least. I glanced back at Harrison. All of the outside terrace lights had been switched on, illuminating the scene, and I could see that he looked haggard in a way I had never seen before.

The instinct to be with him overrode all common sense. I left my friends and pushed through the crowd. I dodged an old lady and knocked against a young man. I was bullish in my need to get through the crowd. Finally, I broke into the inner circle around Win's body.

My momentum was such that I couldn't slow myself down and I fell into the middle of things with a lurch and a groan. A strong arm plucked me up before I hit the ground and I grabbed at it. The sleeve was navy blue wool, scratchy but warm.

When I was set onto my feet, I turned to thank my
rescuer and found myself staring into the direct gaze of Detective Inspector Simms.

“Ms. Parker, Scarlett,” he said. “Why am I not surprised to see you here?”

“Uh,” I began but ran out of gas before forming a single coherent word.

“She's my guest,” Harrison said as he joined us. “It's a party for our clients, so it's not at all surprising that she'd be here since she is a client.”

Simms looked at Harrison with a considering look. Even I could see that Harrison's demeanor was defensive when there was no need for it to be.

“Sorry,” I said. I put my arm around Harrison and hugged him hard. I was relieved when he put his arm on my shoulders and did the same. A united front is always better to present, don't you think?

“I'm sorry, too,” Harrison said. He extended his free hand to Inspector Simms, who shook it. “It's good to see you, Inspector. We're all a bit rattled by the events.”

“Understandable,” Simms said.

I glanced at the other safety officers who had arrived and asked, “Is DI Franks with you?”

“No, he's on vacation up in York,” Simms said. “He goes this time of year every year. I'll be taking the lead on this investigation.”

“Investigation?” I asked.

Simms nodded. “It doesn't take a medical examiner to see that this man was murdered.”

“But he was terribly drunk,” I said. “And he fell down those steps hard. Couldn't that have killed him?”

Simms shook his head. “The marks on his face and neck indicate otherwise. Clearly, he was in an altercation.”

Harrison and I exchanged a glance. I knew we were both thinking that it was best to get this over with now.

“Actually,” Harrison said on an exhale. “I put those marks on his face, but I never touched his neck.”

From there the night became increasingly awful. The police interviewed everyone. Most were let go but not us. Harrison and I were questioned and then they asked Harrison to come to the station to make a formal statement. I volunteered to go with him, but he wouldn't hear of it and neither would Inspector Simms.

Alistair insisted on going with Harrison so that made me feel somewhat better. It was a somber affair when the crime scene people had documented the area and the remaining guests were finally allowed to leave, including us.

Nick and Andre escorted Viv, Fee, and me home. On the way, I told them all about Harrison's history with Win. By the time we arrived at Notting Hill Gate, we were a grim-looking party for certain.

“You don't think they'll arrest Harrison, do you?” I asked Nick as we straggled at the back of the pack.

He gave me a worried glance, which I took to mean that he didn't want to give me false hope. I should have told him that was okay. I was fine with someone lying to me right now if it would make me feel better about the situation.

Nick was about to answer when we were bumped from behind. I staggered forward but he caught me about the waist and then turned around to glare at the people at our back.

“Oy, watch yourself,” he snapped.

The woman was a big-haired blonde in a tiny jacket, UGG boots and a miniskirt. She was puffing on a cigarette and I could tell by the way she wobbled that she was a little worse for the wear in the alcohol department.

“Who are you talking to, you mangy clot?” she asked.

“You, you daft cow,” Nick snapped.

The woman staggered forward, waving her cigarette at Nick like it was a weapon. I swiftly stepped between them.

“Sorry!” I cried. “He didn't mean it. He's just had a bit of a shock is all.”

“I don't care if he just buried his mum. Danny!” the woman cried. “Come here and defend me!”

I glanced over her shoulder to see the male version of her coming at us, except he was a big hulking mass of muscle, who looked like he power-lifted cars just for fun.

“Nick,” I hissed his name.

“What?” he asked.

“Run!” I ordered.

Together we turned and started to run. I could hear shouts behind us but I didn't slow down and neither did
Nick. When we passed the others, I shouted, “Knees to chest, people, knees to chest!”

Andre looked over our shoulders and let out a yip. He grabbed Viv's and Fee's hands in his and dragged them along with him. We didn't stop running until we were sure Danny had been left in the dust.

“What was that all about?” Andre asked as he gasped for breath.

“I inadvertently called a chavette a big cow,” Nick wheezed. “Her boyfriend took offense.”

“Oh, my god, that thug chasing us was her boyfriend?” Fee asked. “If he'd caught us, he'd have knotted us up like pretzels, yeah?”

We leaned against a nearby building as we caught our breath. When I could speak, I asked Andre, “What's a chavette?”

“Oh, how to explain,” he said. He panted while he mulled it over.

“They're bottle blondes with enormous earrings and no brains,” Fee said.

“They like short skirts and designer or faux designer tops,” Viv added.

“They smoke,” Nick said with a disgusted face.

“And they usually have a baby or five,” Andre said.

“Oh, and they like to wave with their middle finger at you and it isn't to point you in the right direction,” Nick said.

“Trashy mean girls,” Viv said. “I think that would be the American equivalent.”

“Ah,” I said. “Got it.”

We began walking again. During the chase, I had
managed to forget about Harrison for a few seconds but now the worry crept back in and I found myself thinking about what he had told me about Winthrop Dashavoy.

“Do any of you know the Dashavoy family?” I asked.

I didn't think it was my imagination when it seemed like everyone was avoiding making eye contact with me.

“Well . . .” Nick began but then seemed to run out of words, which for Nick is cause for concern.

“They're a bunch of toffs,” Fee said.

My American brain did a quick translation. So the Dashavoys were rich. Okay, that pretty much fell in with what Harrison had told me about their private school education and always bailing Win out of trouble.

“Rich isn't necessarily bad, though, is it?” I asked.

“Well, there's nice rich and there's not so nice rich,” Nick said.

“I take it they're not so nice,” I said with a sigh.

“Let's put it this way, if the police arrest Harrison for killing Winthrop, it will take everything Alistair has and then some to get him off,” Andre said.

“But why?” I asked. I could feel my heart pound in my chest as my panic ratcheted up.

“Because Winthrop Dashavoy Senior owns everyone in this town and he won't hesitate to call in every marker he's got to see Harrison put behind bars for life,” Nick said.

Viv unlocked the front door and switched off the alarm. We all trooped into the back workroom, where we had a small kitchenette full of tea and snacks. You know, what the Brits call crisps and cakes, the sort of stuff that gets you through the workday and does a nice job on stressed-out moments like right now as well.

“We all know it wasn't Harrison,” I said.

Fee plated some Hoppers Jam Tarts and Cadbury Chocolate Mini Rolls. I knew I'd be walking it off tomorrow, but for now the comfort food was welcome. I kept my eye on the black currant tart, since that's my favorite, but passed around plates for everyone else first.

“Of course it wasn't,” Andre said. “He was with you the entire time, wasn't he?”

“Yes, absolutely,” I lied.

Thankfully, the electric kettle began to whistle and everyone's attention was diverted. What I didn't say was that Harrison had left me by the fire to go retrieve our wine. Now I knew he hadn't done anything but get the wine, and I had kept my eye on him most of the time, but I hadn't told Simms that. I had told Simms that Harrison was with me the entire time, which I'm pretty sure put me in the category of big-nosed Pinocchio liar and quite possibly impeding an investigation. I didn't tell my friends this, because I didn't want them to worry. Yeah, and I didn't want to be lectured either.

“Winthrop Dashavoy was not well regarded,” Nick said. “That much is clear from the mutterings I heard after his body was revealed.”

“Given his
winning
personality, I'm sure there were plenty of people at the party who wished him dead,” I said. They all turned to look at me. “What? Too soon?”

“Well, you're not going to win any friends with that clumsy wordplay,” Andre chided me.

“I don't know, winners never quit,” Nick said. “And quitters never win and Scarlett certainly never knows when to quit.”

I stuck my tongue out at him.

“Clearly, it's a no-win situation,” Viv said.

“And it's Viv for the win,” Fee cheered.

We were all laughing now. I think it was equal parts post-trauma nerves and exhaustion; either way the puns from a dead man's name did not speak very well of us.

“We are horrible people,” I said.

“Agreed,” they all said.

Somehow acknowledging how awful we were made us seem not as awful. It reminded me of my first few years living in the Southern region of the United States. You could pretty much say anything bad about anyone so long as you added, “bless his/her heart,” like that made it okay. Nice to know a variation of it worked across the ocean as well.

“Reese Evers certainly seemed to take his death very hard,” Viv said. “She was quite distraught.”

“She never had children,” Nick said. “Perhaps she had maternal feelings for him. He was her husband's protégé and all.”

“How did you know that?” I asked.

“Ava told us,” Andre said. He and Nick exchanged a look and I could tell that Ava had told them quite a lot.

“Ava was pretty odd about the whole thing, don't you think?” I asked.

“She's very fragile,” Andre said.

“She has a nervous condition,” Nick said.

Viv poured the tea for everyone and we all fussed with our cups until we had them loaded just right. I tend to go heavy on the milk at night, thinking it helps me sleep.

“You like Ava,” I said to Nick and Andre.

As one, they nodded in agreement.

“She was very gracious about showing her art collection to us,” Andre said.

“But she looked utterly unsurprised when Win's body rolled out from under the tarp,” I said. “Don't you find that odd?”

I snagged the black currant tart and bit into it. Tarts always make things better. It's a fact.

“I thought it was odd,” Fee said. “She looked as stiff as a mannequin, yeah?”

“It's her medication,” Nick said. Andre hushed him but Nick shook him off. “We may as well tell them—if they think she had something to do with it, others will, too, and the police are bound to make it public.”

“Fine,” Andre said. He took a long sip of his tea but he was clearly unhappy about sharing what they knew.

“Ava has a prescription pill problem,” Nick said.

“And you know this how?” I asked.

“She told us in confidence,” Andre said. “Note that I am stressing
in confidence
.”

“Noted,” Viv said. “Do you think the medication could make her dangerous?”

“No,” Nick said. “She's taking an opioid analgesic. It tends to blank emotions, not cause mood swings or violence.”

“Why did she confide in you two?” I asked. They gave me a hurt look and I added, “I only meant that she just met you and that's pretty personal stuff.”

“When she found out I was in the medical profession—” Nick began but Fee interrupted.

“You're a dentist,” she said. “Did she know you were a dentist?”

Nick heaved a sigh and shoved chocolate roll in his mouth. Andre patted his arm.

“It's okay,” he said. “You are a very good dentist. It was all a misunderstanding. I called him ‘Doc' and she assumed, well, it was just too embarrassing to correct her especially after she assumed Nick could give her a prescription.”

“Oh, that would be awkward,” Viv said.

“We merely prevaricated so as to avoid any social unpleasantness,” Nick said.

“Meaning you let her think you were a doctor but one who didn't write prescriptions,” I said. “Surgeon?”

“Neuro,” Nick said. “I figured it's still the head. I told her I'd refer her to one of my colleagues.”

Nick looked so sheepish, I had to smile. “You know I love you just the way you are, don't you?”

He actually blushed a deeper shade of pink and looked a little choked up. Viv and Fee added their praise on top of mine and Nick lost it. He blew his nose into a napkin and waved at us to stop. I glanced at Andre, who was grinning at his mate.

“He's adorable when he's flustered, isn't he?” he asked me.

I nodded and then snagged the last black currant tart while no one was looking.

It was clear that Nick and Andre didn't think Ava had anything to do with Win's death. I could let it go then, although I still found her demeanor at the sight of Win's body very odd.

“What about Tuesday Blount?” I asked.

It was as if I'd hit them all with a freeze ray. Nick
paused with his cup halfway to his lips, Fee stopped chewing her chocolate roll, Viv wrapped her hands around the cozy on the teapot as if to warm them, and Andre hugged his middle as if trying to self-soothe.

Nick spoke first. “We have never met her. Right, Andre?”

“Nope never,” he said.

I looked at the two of them. “But you have heard of her.”

They looked at each other with mild expressions of panic. “Maybe once or twice in passing,” Andre said.

“Passing what?” I asked.