Death of a Mad Hatter (A Hat Shop Mystery) (11 page)

“Poison?” Viv, Fee and I all asked together.

Finchley took a moment to study all three of us. He handed me a sheaf of legal-looking papers. Sadly, I’d been on the receiving end of these before, and I knew it was a warrant allowing them to search the shop.

“All right, team, you know what to look for,” he said.

The man put his phone away and the woman looked up from where she was examining the ruffled tulle on the edge of a fascinator.

“Excuse me, Detective Inspector Finchley,” Viv said. “But why would I have poison in my shop? And why are you here, anyway?”

“Geoffrey Grisby was poisoned and traces were found on the hat you made for him,” Finchley said.

“But I have no reason to have killed Mr. Grisby,” Viv said.

“Possibly,” he said. “But what of your employees?”

“I had no reason to murder him,” Fee said. “I wasn’t even at the tea.”

“Why not?” Finchley asked.

“Because I was here working,” Fee said. Her brown eyes were wide, and she looked worried.

“Can anyone verify that?” Finchley asked.

Fee looked alarmed. “I’m sure I had customers who could.”

“That’ll do,” Finchley said.

“Well, I had no reason to murder him either,” I chimed in. “And whatever I did in the States is not relevant and you know it.”

Finchley studied me from under a pair of bushy eyebrows. “How do I know someone in the family didn’t hire you to do it for them?”

“Oh, please,” Viv said. Her exasperation was showing. “Do you really think we run a hat shop with a little murder business on the side? Honestly.”

Finchley shoved his hands in his pockets and scowled. “Scoff if you want, but you are connected to the murder whether you like it or not. Besides, hatters are known for being mad, aren’t they? Why couldn’t it be you?”

“I am getting bloody tired of people telling me I’m mad!” Viv snapped.

“I didn’t say you were,” Finchley corrected. “I said hatters are known for it, but since you brought it up, who else has called you mad and why?”

I glanced at Viv. This was not good. The last person I knew who had called hatters mad was Geoffrey Grisby.

“It is a social stigma,” Viv said, not answering his question. “And if you had done your research before coming here, you would know that the origin of the term ‘mad hatter’ comes from the hat-making industry in the 1800s. A mercury solution was used during the process of turning fur into felt.”

“Mercury?” Finchley asked. “But that’s poisonous.”

“We know that now,” Viv said. “They didn’t then, and it caused the hatters to have symptoms such as trembling, loosening of teeth, memory loss, depression,
irritability
”—she dragged that word out for impact—“loss of coordination, slurred speech and anxiety. It was called Mad Hatter Syndrome.”

Finchley stared at Viv and I could tell she’d made an impression upon him. I just couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. Finally, he nodded at her and said, “Fascinating.”

Amazingly, Viv seemed mollified by this.

“Excuse me.”

I was leaning against the cupboard when the forensic woman with Finchley gestured that she needed to get in there. I moved. The forensic man did the same to Viv and Fee as he swabbed the table and then carefully put the swabs into a plastic kit that he put in his bag.

“Oh, this is ridiculous. How are we supposed to work like this?” Viv asked, and she strode to the front of the shop.

“Go check on her, would you?” I asked Fee. She hurried after Viv and I turned to Inspector Finchley. “What sort of poison was it?”

He looked like he wasn’t going to say. I crossed my arms over my chest and tipped my chin up. He considered me for a moment. I don’t know if it was the sheer stubbornness of my stance or the fact that he was beginning to believe that we had nothing to do with it, but he gave me a brisk nod.

“Formaldehyde,” he said. “Mr. Grisby died of acute exposure to formaldehyde.”

I frowned. I don’t know why, but I had expected it to be arsenic or cyanide or even a bad mushroom. Formaldehyde threw me for a loop.

“But we don’t use anything like that here,” I said.

“Then you should be in the clear shortly,” Finchley said. “If you’ll excuse me. This shouldn’t take very long. Am I correct in assuming you live above the shop?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Excellent. I’ll let you know when we’re ready to go up there.”

He did not leave it open to discussion. I left the room, feeling somewhat like I’d just been run over by a semi.

I found Viv and Fee sitting in the shop, which was quiet. Viv had picked up the copy of the
Mirror
—see, it’s like a train wreck: you just can’t look away—and was flipping through it and muttering to herself.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m having flashbacks of the last time the police wanted to search the place,” Fee said to me.

“A little bit,” I agreed.

The bells on the door chimed and in walked Andre and Nick. They were looking very dapper in jackets over dress pants with crisp shirts, open at the collar, underneath.

“You two are looking disgustingly respectable,” I said. “What gives?”

“Off to the bank,” Nick said. “We’re going to go for a loan to refurbish the studio a bit.”

“The opening went well, did it?” Viv asked.

“Better than I could have imagined,” Andre said. He looked amazed at his own good fortune and I couldn’t help but be happy for him.

“Well, you might want to clear out of here so that our bad luck doesn’t rub off on you,” I said.

“You could never be unlucky,” Nick protested.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I said. I jerked a thumb at the door behind me that led to the workroom. “Inspector Finchley is here looking for traces of formaldehyde.”

“Formaldehyde?” Viv slapped the tabloid onto the table. “But that stuff smells disgusting. I would never let that in my shop.”

Fee wrinkled her nose. “I do think we would have noticed, yeah?”

I sighed. “They’re saying that’s what Geoffrey died from and there were trace amounts on the hat you made for him. Thus, they’re looking here.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Andre said. “Have you called Harrison? He’ll get it sorted.”

“I don’t think—” I began but Viv interrupted.

“Already done,” she said. “He’s on his way over.”

“What?” I cried. I glanced at a standing mirror nearby. Why had I chosen to wear my most unflattering top today? I wondered if I had time to change. Then I mentally smacked myself. What did I care if Harrison saw me in a blousy peach shirt that made me look ten pounds heavier than I was? I didn’t.

I glanced away from the mirror and saw Nick smiling at me. I scowled.

“So, how did your chat go with Marilyn Tofts?” I asked. “The two of you seemed awfully chummy.”

“I know,” Nick preened. “I can really turn on the charm when I want some dish.”

“You mean she’s not your new BFF?” I asked.

“Oh, ick, no. Andre invited her just for promotion,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“You invited her?” I asked Andre.

He shrugged, which I took as a yes.

“So that’s what you weren’t telling me that day at the tea. There I was going on about how I loathed her and you had already invited her to the opening,” I said.

“Guilty,” Andre said and hung his head.

“She’s a horrible woman,” Nick said. “But she is seriously connected, and you know how I love the gossip. Hey, is that a copy of the
Mirror
? Can I have it?”

He snatched up the magazine Viv had smacked down on the table.

“Time, Nick—we have to go,” Andre said, checking his cell phone. “Wish us luck.”

The three of us waved as they left the shop. The door had barely closed behind them when Finchley reappeared from the workroom with his minions.

“We’re ready to examine your living quarters,” he said.

Viv looked like she was going to growl, so I cut her off before she could cause any more suspicion to rain down upon us.

“I’ll take you up,” I said. “Viv, why don’t you get back to work. Fee, would you mind watching the shop?”

I turned away before they could balk. Sometimes, I think sharks have it right: stay in constant motion and nothing bad can catch you.

The bells on the door rang again, and I glanced over my shoulder to see Harrison stride into the shop. So much for my shark theory.

Harrison shook hands with Finchley in quite the courteous, nothing-suspicious-here manner. Finchley indicated that I had the paperwork, so I handed it to Harrison before leading the way upstairs.

“Go ahead with Ms. Parker,” Finchley instructed. “I’ll follow shortly.”

“Hi, Fee, how are you?”

I heard Harrison greet Fee but I refused to look to see if they were giving each other goofy grins. I pulled open the door that led upstairs and turned to see if the two detectives were following me. Now, I can’t help it if I happened to glance behind them and saw Harrison watching me.

We held each other’s gaze for just a moment before he gave me a small smile and turned back to Detective Inspector Finchley. Now what was I supposed to make of that?

I led the way up the stairs. I toured the two detectives around our apartment, where they continued their snooping. You can call it whatever you like, but I’m going with “snooping,” especially when I caught the male portion of the twosome sniffing all of my hair products.

“Scarlett!” a voice called to me from the living room. I gave the male a look until he put down my very expensive conditioner.

“Coming!” I called back. I hurried down the stairs.

I moved across the flat, feeling weird about leaving the two detectives in our rooms, but saw no alternative. When I got to the sitting room, Viv was there, looking agitated.

“What is it, Viv?” I asked.

“I think you should tell Finchley about Tina,” she said in a hushed tone.

I glanced at her. “What do you mean?”

“You should tell him how they were, how mean Grisby was and how you were afraid for her,” Viv said.

“I already told him about running into Geoffrey and his secretary, and I found the body,” I said. “He’s going to think I’m some sort of crazy stalker.”

“Oh, here you are,” Harrison said as he stepped through the door from downstairs with Finchley on his heels.

Viv gave me a meaningful look, but I shook her off like a pitcher rejecting a catcher’s signal. Maybe it was because Tina had just been here pleading her case, or maybe it was because I didn’t want to look like I was trying to steer the investigation away from us, but I thought that I would wait for another opportunity to mention the baby dilemma Tina and Geoffrey had been having.

“Your detectives are finishing their search upstairs,” I said.

“Thank you, Ms. Parker; sorry for the intrusion,” he said. He moved past us to join the others.

When he was out of earshot, Viv hissed, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Not now,” I said and tipped my head in Harrison’s direction.

“Not now what?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said.

“This is definitely not nothing,” Viv argued.

“It might be nothing,” I said. “When Tina was here the other day—”

That was as far as I got before Viv interrupted.

“Tina Grisby was here? The other day? In our shop?” she cried. “And you’re only mentioning it now?”

“Oh, good grief, don’t have a cow,” I snapped. “It was no big deal.”

“Look, Scarlett, in case you haven’t noticed, our premises are being searched because the police think we’ve poisoned someone. I can assure you, it is a big deal.”

“No, it isn’t!” I argued. I turned so Viv and I were face-to-face. We didn’t fight much, but when we did, it went from a lit match to volcanic fairly quickly. “We’ve been searched before. Oh, wait, that’s right, you weren’t here for that because you were off chasing down feathers in Africa.”

“Oh, pick a new instrument already,” Viv cried. “Because you’ve been playing the pity harp ever since I got back and it’s getting old.”

“Ah!” I gasped.

“Girls,” Harrison said as he tried to wedge himself in between us. “Let’s all just calm down.”

“We are calm!” Viv and I both yelled.

“Is there a problem here?” Finchley asked from the doorway.