Copy Cap Murder (9 page)

I choked on a bit of crust and Viv thumped me hard on the back. I waved her off and took a sip of my coffee to dislodge the crumb.

“How did you know we were following you?” I asked. It seemed pointless to deny it.

“Oh, please,” she said. “You two are as subtle as a kick to the shins. I saw you as soon as I left Harrison's.”

“How is he?” Viv asked.

I figured that like me she thought Harrison might be more forthcoming with Tuesday since they were colleagues and Tuesday had known Win as well.

“Fine,” Tuesday said with a shrug. “He expects the police will have it sorted in no time.”

“You don't agree with him?” I asked.

Tuesday turned to look at me. It was clear that it pained
her to give me her full attention. That she didn't like me was obvious in the tiny curl of her upper lip which was almost a sneer but sheer politeness kept it from bursting into full bloom.

“You care about him,” she said. She tossed her head and her black bob fell perfectly about her face.

The embarrassed heat that warmed my face outed me, making any sort of denial useless.

“He's our business manager,” I said with a shrug. So lame.

She narrowed her eyes. “He says you two aren't dating.”

“We're not,” I said. Why it bothered me that Harrison had told her we weren't a couple, I can't say, but it did. A lot.

“I'm not dating him either,” Viv said. She took another bite of her pasty and gave us a bland look.

“Look, I'm sorry I came on so strong at the party,” Tuesday said. The crinkle in her nose made it clear that these words did not pass her lips without some internal strain. Good.

“Apology accepted,” I said because I can be very gracious like that.

“Whatever it is that you and Harrison are or are not . . .” Tuesday paused and I noticed that she emphasized the
not
. “The fact is Harrison is in deep trouble and I'm in a much better position to help him than you.”

“How do you figure?” I asked. I bit a mushroom in half like it was her head and ground it between my molars.

“I work with him,” she said as if I were too stupid to live. “I can keep an eye on him and anyone around him all day long.”

I took a slow sip of my coffee, hoping it would keep me
from slapping her smug face when she dragged out the words “all day long.”

“That seems reasonable,” I said. Viv cast me a curious look, but I ignored her while I brushed some pasty crumbs off my lap. “Since we'll be watching him all night long.”

Tuesday drew in a sharp breath. One point to me or maybe two since that was a particularly good hit.

“But I thought you weren't a couple,” she said.

“We aren't, but we are business associates and neighbors and our social circle is pretty tight,” I said. “We frequently spend our evenings together.”

“It's true,” Viv said. “In fact, aren't we all going to Andre and Nick's for a nosh tonight?”

“Yes,” I said. “Oh, I hope he makes his stuffed mushrooms again.”

“And his canapés,” Viv said. She looked at Tuesday. “Nick's a fabulous cook.” And then she glanced back at me and said, “We should bring wine.”

“Definitely,” I agreed. “Unless it's Harrison's turn for wine, we should text him to be sure.”

“On it,” Viv said. She pulled her phone out of her purse and began to type.

“Don't mention that I'm with you . . . please,” Tuesday said.

I was encouraged to see that she looked a bit panicked. Maybe she and Harrison were not as close as she wanted us to believe and Harrison wouldn't be too keen to have her talking to us. I held up my hand at Viv and she lowered her phone.

“Tuesday, can we let go of the posturing?” I asked.
“Obviously, we're all worried about him. Tell us what you know so we can help.”

“How are two little hatmakers going to help?” she scoffed.

“Was that nice?” I asked.

“Like following me was nice?” she countered.

I pursed my lips. I really wanted to tell her to shove off but that wouldn't help the situation at all.

“Who hated Winthrop enough to want him dead?” I asked. I was done being coy. She needed to either put up or shut up.

“You mean other than Harrison?” she asked.

“He didn't want Win dead,” Viv argued. “Sure, they were office rivals but he certainly wasn't angry enough to kill Dashavoy over business.”

“Maybe it wasn't business,” Tuesday said. She turned a vicious glance my way. “What exactly happened between you and Win anyway?”

“Me? Nothing,” I said. “How am I involved in this?”

“They fought over you,” Tuesday said. She made it sound as preposterous as polar bears sunbathing in Hawaii.

“No, they didn't,” I said. “Win got grabby and Harrison checked his behavior; that was all.”

“Why did Win grab you?” she persisted.

“Probably to get a rise out of Harrison,” I said.

“But why?” Tuesday persisted.

“Why don't you ask Harrison?” Viv asked.

“I did but he seems to think it was just Win being his usual annoying self.”

“But you don't?” I asked.

“Win is . . . was always sneaky,” Tuesday said. There was a bitterness in her tone that made me suspect that she'd had more than her share of run-ins with Winthrop Dashavoy. “It was not in his nature to be so flagrant with his bad behavior unless it suited his purpose.”

“He was drunk,” I said. I remembered the reek of alcohol on his breath and I shivered. Bleh.

“He was always drunk,” Tuesday said. “Even at work he was known for cornering the new girls in the mailroom for a quick grope but he was always very careful about it. He wasn't careful at the party. Why?”

We were all silent and Viv and I exchanged a look. I knew Viv and I were thinking the same thing. Tuesday had been a new girl once and she'd probably had to put up with Win's grabby hands at the time.

“So you think there is a reason that he was particularly awful that night,” Viv said.

“Yes,” Tuesday said. “Win was a mean, manipulative, deceitful prat, and no one liked him, and believe me no one is really mourning his absence from the office now.”

“Except for Reese,” I said. “She seemed distraught at his death. Harrison said Win was her husband's protégé and that she felt quite maternal toward him.”

“‘Maternal' isn't the word that leaps to my mind,” Tuesday said.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I walked into Reese's office once and Win was already there,” Tuesday said. Then she paused as if recalling the moment in great detail. She shook her head and her silky bob brushed her cheeks, drawing my gaze to her striking cheekbones. Annoying.

“And?” I prompted.

“It was not a mother-son vibe in that room,” Tuesday said. “More like a cougar stalking a deer.”

“I'm going out on a limb here and guessing that Reese is the cougar,” I said.

She gave me a
duh
look. Gah, I didn't like Tuesday Blount, not even a little.

“That doesn't mean that they had anything going,” Viv pointed out. “It could have all been wishful thinking on Reese's part.”

“No, Win would use any advantage he had,” Tuesday said. “And sleeping with the woman who owned almost half of the company would be quite the advantage.”

“It would certainly be job security,” I said.

Tuesday grunted an acknowledgment.

“The problem is that Harrison had a very public row with him right before he was killed,” Viv said.

“And they've been rivals since boarding school,” I added.

Tuesday's eyes narrowed. “Harrison told you about that?”

“How else would I know?” I asked. I tried not to sound smug, really I did. Okay, not my best effort.

“Harrison doesn't usually share that information,” Tuesday said. She gave me a considering look as if I warranted more serious attention now.

“If he was this difficult with his co-workers, how was he in his personal life?” Viv asked. “For that matter, what about his clients? He can't have stayed on everyone's good side.”

“Oh, he didn't,” Tuesday said. “The list of people who
had a beef with Winthrop Dashavoy is as long as the phone book.”

I blew out a breath. I didn't like this. It would be too easy for Harrison to become the readymade target. Not that I thought the Metropolitan Police were like that but still there was no denying that Harrison had inadvertently made himself a fabulous person of interest for the investigation and I couldn't help feeling as if it was all my fault.

As if reading my mind, Viv said, “I am quite sure that the detective inspectors will find the culprit. There has to be some sort of evidence, a witness, something, that will tell them who really killed Winthrop.”

“What about Tyler Carson?” I asked Tuesday.

Her eyes went wide and then shuttered as if she was hiding something. “What about him?” she asked.

“What was his relationship with Win?”

“I don't know,” Tuesday said. She spoke quickly and didn't meet my eyes.

“That's it,” Viv said. She stood and gathered her purse, cinching her scarf about her neck. “This is pointless.”

“What? Why?” Tuesday asked.

“You, my dear, are a terrible liar,” Viv said.

Viv's blue eyes, the same shape and shade as mine, snapped and sparked with frustration as she leaned over the table and got in Tuesday's face.

“Do you really think I don't know that you broke it off with Harrison because you were having an affair with Tyler?” she hissed.

I gasped.

Tuesday went a pasty shade of gray that reminded me of cold oatmeal.

“That is neither here nor there,” she said. Her voice was faint and I would have felt sorry for her if I'd liked her. Luckily, I didn't.

“I'd say it's very much there,” I said. “How many people knew you were sleeping with Carson?”

Tuesday looked at me and the loathing she had felt for
me before flamed into genuine hatred. “This is none of your business.”

I stood beside Vivian and glared down at her. “Harrison is our partner and friend. It is very much our business, because I am betting that if Win knew about your relationship with Tyler, he wouldn't hesitate to use it against both of you.”

I didn't think it was possible, but Tuesday went even paler and I wondered if she would soon be transparent. Either way, it confirmed what I suspected, which was that Win knew about the affair and he had used it as leverage.

“What happened?” Viv asked. “Did he go to Tyler's wife and tell on you or did he just threaten to do it?”

“Oh, please,” Tuesday snapped. “As if Ava the pill-popping paralytic would even care if her husband stepped out on her.”

We said nothing, just stared at her. She stood and faced us across the table. Her hands were shaking as she pulled on her gloves so I knew she was not nearly as blasé as she pretended to be.

“He did, didn't he?” I asked.

“Empty threats,” Tuesday said. “Any relationship that may or may not have existed between Tyler and me was over before it started. Good day.”

With a twirl of her coat, she stormed away, leaving Viv and me gaping after her. She disappeared into the crowd and a harried-looking couple with two small children crowded us for our table. Viv and I moved away so they could take it.

Viv glanced at the electronic board that posted arrivals and departures from the station as well as the current time.

“We'd best get back,” she said. “Fee's been on her own long enough.”

“Should we bring her something?” I asked.

“Let's get something closer to home,” Viv said.

We worked our way through the crowd to our platform. I kept glancing around for Tuesday, which was ridiculous because the financial district was in a different direction and there was no reason she'd be on our train, unless she was going back to visit Harrison again.

I shook the thought off. She wasn't going to go back to Harrison's. I was sure of it, mostly, but a little pinprick of jealousy kept jabbing my insides, making me surly and a little mean.

Viv and I found seats on the train and I turned to her and asked, “So you're the expert married one; how would you feel if your husband cheated on you?”

She turned and looked at me as if I had three heads, but I wasn't in the mood to play.

“Oh, come on,” I said. “Pretend you're Ava. How would you feel if your husband picked up with a woman at work?”

Viv's temper was beginning to heat. I could tell because she always fidgets when she is processing her ire and right now she was twisting the end of her scarf between her hands. I wondered if she was pretending it was my neck.

“I don't know,” she said. “Obviously, my marriage is different than the Carsons'.”

“Does Aunt Grace know you're married?” I asked. Viv's mother, my aunt Grace, lived up north in Yorkshire. She didn't like London and seldom came to visit, leaving the traveling to Viv. Although they were reasonably close,
I couldn't imagine Viv would have told her parents if she hadn't told me.

“No, I never told anyone,” she said.

“Except Harrison,” I said.

“I didn't tell him so much as he found out,” she said. “He's never known anything more than the fact that it happened. Why are you asking me about this now?”

“Because I'm cranky,” I said.

“Clearly,” she agreed.

“And because I kept thinking you were going to open up and tell me about it yourself when you were ready, but now I am thinking that you're never going to tell me anything and life is uncertain, look at Winthrop Dashavoy. I'll bet he didn't expect his own death to be the premier event at the Carson and Evers bonfire party, and if you don't tell me about your marriage and something bad happens, I may never know what possessed you to marry, I'm sorry, what's his name?”

“So all of this”—she paused and gestured at me with her hands—“is because you're afraid you're going to die before finding out who I'm married to?”

“Yes,” I said.

“But you'll be dead,” she said. “What will you care then?”

“You are a cold woman, Vivian Tremont, colder than cold in fact,” I said. “You're frozen solid.”

A look of hurt flashed across Viv's face and she turned away from me. Instantly, I was filled with regret for my words, and I wanted to apologize but the part of me that was righteously injured because she hadn't confided in me about her marriage refused to knuckle under and apologize. I was beginning to think we'd never get past this.

The train rumbled through the dark underground. I glared at the passengers around us, the man on his smartphone, the businesswoman in the power suit, the hipster reading a book, the grandmother with two girls, who reminded me of Viv and Mim and me twenty years ago. I bet they didn't keep secrets from their best friends. Yes, I was in a full sulk.

I wondered what Mim would make of all this right now. Would she approve of Viv's secret marriage? Or would she say I was bang out of order, one of her favorite expressions, for pushing Viv so hard for answers?

Given that Mim had been the same creative free spirit as Viv, I had a feeling I wouldn't like the answer to my question. Knowing Mim, she'd say to give Viv time and that she'd come around when she was ready, even if it took years.

That line of thinking was fine if you were a patient person. Sadly, I am not. I want what I want when I want it. It's a flaw that I am working on, but when it came to finding out what was going on with Viv, the sister of my heart, I had even less patience than usual.

Perhaps it would be different if she were deliriously happy and flitting around like a magpie with a diamond, but she wasn't. She was quiet, withdrawn, aloof, and there was a pervasive sadness about her that wasn't natural at all for the Viv I had always known and loved.

Maybe it was selfish, but I just wanted my cousin back. I wanted her to be present in our shared business and our life. I didn't want any secrets between us, but until she told me exactly what was going on in her life, there was a chasm between us as wide as the Thames River and I had no idea how to bridge it.

“Viv—” I began but she interrupted me as the train pulled into High Street Kensington Station.

“Forget it,” she said as she stood and moved to the door.

“Where are you—” I didn't get a chance to finish.

Viv stepped off the train and I scrambled after her, jumping onto the platform just before the doors shut. We had been on the Circle Line headed back to Notting Hill Gate. This was a stop short of our destination and put us smack in the midst of Kensington.

As Viv pressed through the crowd toward the exit, I followed feeling like a sad little puppy. As we exited onto the street, I caught her elbow and brought her to a stop.

“What are we doing here?” I asked.

I expected her to rip me a new one for pressing her about her marriage. Instead she said, “We need to know more about the Carsons.”

I shook my head as if my ears were ringing and I couldn't have heard her right.

“You've lost me,” I said.

“From what Tuesday told us and didn't tell us, the Carsons seem awfully suspicious to me, especially Ava,” she said. “I just can't shake the feeling that she's got some sort of ulterior agenda happening. The way she swept off with Andre and Nick at the party almost as if she was planning to use them as an alibi.”

I stared at Viv. Truly, I couldn't have been more surprised if she'd announced she was giving up millinery to join the circus. Then again, this was Viv of the secret wedding, so actually the circus wouldn't surprise me at all.

“This is very sleuthy of you,” I said. “Have you been watching too much
Grantchester
?”

“Maybe,” she conceded. “Fee and I did do some binge watching the other night when you were out with Nick and Andre. I think Fee has a crush on the vicar.”

I nodded. I could see that. “So what's your plan?”

“Don't have one,” she said. “But it is a shame I lost my yellow cap at their party, isn't it? And just when Elise Stanford said she wanted to run a segment on winter hats.”

“You did?” I asked. “But I could have sworn . . .”

My voice trailed off as she stared at me.

“Oh,” I said. “Now I get it.”

“That's a relief,” she said. She turned and began to walk and I fell in beside her. “You were beginning to worry me.”

“In my defense, I thought you were angry with me for pressing you about your personal life,” I said.

“I'm not angry, I'm annoyed, there's a difference,” she said. “But Harrison is a bigger concern right now. Tuesday was right about one thing, with the hostile history between Winthrop Dashavoy and Harrison dating all the way back to their school days, Harrison makes a very tasty suspect and even the best copper would have a hard time looking away from that.”

I felt my hopes for Harrison's future fracture and fall into the toes of my shoes. Viv was right. Unless we could find another suspect, Harrison was doomed.