Death of a Mad Hatter (A Hat Shop Mystery) (6 page)

“That’s the call to start the silent auction.” Tina scanned the crowd and then frowned. “I don’t see Geoffrey, do you?”

“No, I haven’t seen him,” I said. “And his hat is hard to miss.”

Viv had outdone herself on Geoffrey’s hat. She had made an extralarge top hat in a plush electric blue. As a compromise, she had kept the polka dots to the wide ribbon around the crown. She had chosen the color perfectly, as Geoffrey’s usual sallow skin appeared robust under the brim of blue and even he had noted it when he came in to pick it up. Since we had been bracing ourselves for him to pitch a fit, it was a pleasant surprise that he had been agreeable.

“It really is a spectacular hat,” Tina agreed. “He has quite embraced the role of the Mad Hatter.”

I thought about the moment in the shop where he looked as if he was going to hit her. I didn’t care what sort of personal crisis he was dealing with; that was unacceptable.

“Just so long as none of his madness is directed at you,” I said.

Tina gave me a small smile. “Very diplomatic of you, but don’t worry, I wouldn’t tolerate any sort of abuse.”

“Glad to hear it,” I said. I glanced up at the terrace and saw Marilyn scanning the crowd. “Marilyn’s looking irritated. Should we split up and look for Geoffrey?”

“We’d better,” Tina said. “Marilyn will get Dotty all riled if he’s late.”

“I’ll go this way,” I said, pointing toward the garden. Tina nodded and headed in the opposite direction.

I took the first graveled path that led through the tall, shapely hedges. It went straight and then opened up around a large rectangular fishpond.

I tried not to get sidetracked but there were some lovely long-finned koi swimming under the lily pads that caught my eye, and I promised myself I’d come back later if I had time.

The path led onward through a vine-covered portico where colorful rosebushes lined each side of the path. The smell was heavenly. Beyond that the garden opened up to a large section full of shallow garden beds. Hand-painted wooden signs labeled each one and I saw dill, thyme, rosemary, and my favorite, lavender.

The rich scent of earth and newly mown grass seasoned with the scent of the herb garden made me take in great big gulping breaths as if I could suck in enough to keep those lovely smells inside of me.

A giggle interrupted my moment, and I frowned. I turned and realized how easy it would be to get lost in this garden, as the large hedges separated each section, making every twist and turn a new treasure to be discovered.

Focus, Scarlett, focus
, I chastised myself. The giggle sounded again and I had a bad feeling that I might be interrupting some lovey-dovey couple amidst the forsythia. Ah well, I was doing them a favor if they were going to miss the tea, right? Per usual, I was dead wrong.

I left the herb garden and made my way around a large statue of a lady in a toga with her hair swept up at the crown of her head and carrying a large basket of flowers. She had a serene expression and seemed content with her lot to oversee the gardens.

Past a trellis supporting pink roses, I rounded another corner and saw a familiar bright-blue top hat. The head underneath it was nuzzling the neck of a woman dressed in an exotic sheath in hues of orange and yellow with a sweep of jet-black hair topped by a bright-orange fascinator that looked askew.

Well, I’d found Geoffrey, but that was not his wife. I wondered if this was the secretary I had heard Tina mention. I quickly stepped back out of sight.

The idea of toppling the large female statue nearby on them was sorely tempting, but I decided to channel my better nature. Given our location, I figured an allergy-driven sneezing fit would alert them to my presence, and then I could announce the beginning of the festivities.

Achoo! Achoo! Achoo!
I faked three quick sneezes and waited three seconds before I stepped forward. When I did, I found Geoffrey proselytizing on the importance of a good head gardener.

“As you can see, you must maintain stringent standards for your gardeners,” he said. The woman with him was nodding as she tried to straighten her dress and fix her hat.

“Oh, hello there,” I said. I hoped I looked the picture of innocence. It was very hard to squelch the urge to blast him with a good shot of stink eye. “Mr. Grisby, I do believe the festivities are about to start and they need you to host the auction.”

He made a great show of checking the ultraslim gold watch on his wrist. “Oh, would you look at that. Excuse me, ladies, I must be off.”

He left us in a streak of blue hat and orange wig. Yes, he had insisted upon wearing a wig like Johnny Depp’s despite our attempts to stop him. I was, however, quite impressed with the speed he managed in his escape from us.

I smiled at the lady who looked very guilt ridden as she hurried after him. Of course, that could just be my imagination but it made me feel better to think she was shame filled. In a fair world, she’d trip and land in a stinky compost pile. Sadly, these gardens seemed too well kept for that sort of thing.

I made my way back to the terrace, sad to leave the serenity of the garden behind. As I soaked in the beauty, again, I marveled at the idea that anyone would willingly leave such a beautiful home.

I took my time getting back to the party. Partly because I just wanted to see more of the garden and partly because I really didn’t want to watch Geoffrey posing as a benevolent host and all-around good guy when I knew how badly he was treating his wife.

Yes, it was all very personal for me, having inadvertently been the other woman. At least I didn’t know that the rat bastard I was seeing was still married. This woman had no excuse.

By the time I rejoined the party, I found Viv standing in the shade of a leafy red maple on the perimeter of the festivities and I wondered if she was hiding from Liam or if she was assessing the hats of the assembled guests.

“Whoever let that woman walk out of her house in that hideous yellow, well, ‘kayak’ is the only word that comes to mind, did not do her a kindness,” Viv said when she saw me.

So, it was the hats. I didn’t have to scan far to see the woman she was talking about. Wearing a bright-yellow hat that came to narrow points in front and back, she was hard to miss.

“I think it looks more like a banana,” I said.

Viv snorted.

A great cheer went up in the tent as Geoffrey announced the winner of the first auction item, a sweet Rolls-Royce. Now I was glad I hadn’t gone to look at the items in the tent because not being able to afford anything would have depressed me. Not that I wanted any of the trappings of the superwealthy, but still.

I had noted while working in the hotel industry that the ultra-affluent were seldom happy and in fact because their money couldn’t buy them happiness, they were crankier than most. Given how much they could have done to alleviate poverty worldwide and maybe find happiness in a greater purpose, I found the uber-rich pretty pathetic, actually.

“Strike a pose, ladies,” a voice instructed.

I glanced up to see Andre approaching with his camera at the ready. Viv went into a perfect starlet pose while I floundered, not knowing what to do with my hands and feet. Have I mentioned that I am the most unphotogenic person in the world? Honestly, I look in the mirror and I see a fairly pretty redhead then I see a picture of myself and I look like a pasty, apple-cheeked dork whose eyes are too close together.

“Scarlett, what are you doing, some sort of tribal dance?” Andre asked. He was laughing at me.

“I don’t know.” I waved my hands. “I’m much better when I don’t know a picture is being taken. Still not attractive, but at least I’m not awkward.”

“Look at Viv,” he said. “Lean in like you’re whispering some gossip.”

“Oh, I do have gossip,” I said.

Viv turned her head and raised one eyebrow in a perfect arch. I leaned in and blocked my mouth with my hand.

“I just caught Geoffrey canoodling his secretary,” I said. I could hear Andre taking pictures but I was too focused on Viv’s reaction to pay attention.

“That sounds very dirty,” Viv whispered.

“It’s like snogging,” I said.

“Oh.” She sounded disappointed.

“Well, it’s not like I wanted to see him with his pants down,” I said.

Andre had joined us and he looked at me and asked, “You’re talking about me, aren’t you?”

I started to laugh. “No! I’ll tell you later when we’re out of the crowd. I promise.”

The noise from the tent had ceased. It took me a second to notice but when I did my attention turned toward the area and I saw that the people between us and the tent were standing on their tiptoes and craning their necks to get a look at someone.

“Uh-oh, do you suppose Daphne is clashing with Geoffrey?” I asked.

“No.” Viv shook her head. “Daphne is over there with Liam.”

I followed the direction of her gaze and saw the mother and son standing off to the side. They had a perfect view of the tent and their heads were bent together as Daphne whispered something to Liam, who frowned.

“Stop! You have no right to auction off my property!” a voice, female, shrieked.

Andre jumped up, springing up and down like a kangaroo, trying to see over the heads of the people between us and the tent.

“Bloody hats!” he cried. “I can’t see!”

He jumped three more times and then landed with a gasp of surprise.

“What is it?” I asked. “What did you see?”

“A woman in pink who I swear is Cara Whittles,” he said.

“The deceased Grisby’s mistress!” I said.

“Well, that’s bad form,” Viv said. Then she frowned. “I don’t think Dotty is up to that.”

She began to push her way through the crowd. Viv has some talented elbows because despite everyone’s obvious interest in the scene unfolding before us, they moved aside to let her through. Andre and I quickly followed in her wake.

Once we arrived at the tent, it was to see Buckley and several uniformed men, approaching the hysterical woman in pink with their hands out as if they intended no harm but were quite determined to get her out of there.

“You’re not his widow,” the woman in pink shrieked, pointing at Dotty. “I am his one true love, me and me alone.”

“I’m sorry, dear, who are you?” Dotty asked. She looked genuinely bewildered.

“I am your husband’s mistress,” Cara declared.

A gasp went through the crowd. I stared at Dotty, worried about her reaction. She could pretend her husband had been away on business all she liked, but when confronted with the woman he’d actually been living with for the past thirty years, could she deny the truth any longer?

“Oh my, is there a performance of which I am unaware?” Dotty asked Geoffrey. “I didn’t think we were having anything more than music. Did you plan a show as well?”

Geoffrey gave his mother a small sad smile and it occurred to me that no matter how beastly he was to his wife, he seemed to care about Dotty very much.

“No, Mother, this is just someone who has obviously turned up at the wrong address,” Geoffrey said gently. “Lily, take Mum for some refreshments whilst I get this sorted.”

Lily and Rose flanked their mother and led her out of the tent. Dotty looked wary until Viv stepped up and joined them. Viv smiled at Dotty to reassure her that all was well. Dotty returned her grin, and I saw Lily shoot Viv a look of gratitude.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Geoffrey turned on Cara Whittles with a snarl. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to demand what is mine,” she said with a dramatic head toss. “I am the rightful heir to the estate, not you or your sisters, and you have no right to sell off what is mine.”

“How did you get in here without an invitation?” Geoffrey asked.

His hat was askew and his eyes were mere slits. The menace coming off of him was as tangible as the scent of the flowers from the garden.

“What does it matter?” Cara asked. “I want what I deserve and I am not leaving until I get it.”

She was a beautiful woman, not much older than Geoffrey, with long auburn hair, large brown eyes and a figure that retained a perfect hourglass shape.

Geoffrey was visibly trying to control his temper. “This is neither the time nor the place to have this discussion, Cara. You will leave now or I will have you arrested.”

She strode forward, swiveling her hips as she went, with an air of oversexed she-devil in every step she took.

Geoffrey was riveted, watching her stalk him. She stopped right in front of him and leaned forward, giving him quite the front-row seat to her cleavage.

“Do it,” she whispered. Her mouth was a lipsticked invitation to utter debauchery, and Geoffrey had to visibly shake himself loose.

He stepped back and gave a jerky nod to Buckley, who took the woman by the elbow and began to lead her away.

“Turn her over to the police,” Geoffrey said.

I glanced at the crowd, everyone was watching the scene before them as if it was a reality show on TV.

Cara dug her heels into the grass, yanked her arm out of Buckley’s grip and turned to hiss at Geoffrey.

“I was your father’s real wife. I took care of him right up until he drew his last breath. I deserve more than to be cast aside with nothing, not even a home to call my own.”

She sobbed, obviously going for the sympathy play. It didn’t work. Geoffrey merely glared at her. She glanced at him from under her long eyelashes. When she realized that pity wasn’t in Geoffrey’s personal makeup, she lashed out.

“I’ll have what’s mine!” she cried. Her face turned a hot shade of red as her temper ignited. “Even if it’s over your dead body!”

Geoffrey blinked at her in surprise. I imagined he didn’t get threatened very much. Buckley stepped forward and grabbed Cara’s arm again. This time another valet grabbed her other arm and together they marched her from the premises.

Whispers began to fill the tent, and Geoffrey looked like he wanted to choke someone.

He made a curt announcement that the rest of the winners for the silent auction would be notified personally later in the day, and he strode from the tent.

“Well, that was something, wasn’t it?” Andre asked.

“I’ll say,” I said. “I’m really glad Viv ran interference for Dotty, poor thing. She really didn’t seem to get it, did she?”

“And thank goodness for that,” Andre said. “Can you imagine how she would have reacted, having her delusions of thirty years shattered?”

“It would not have been pretty,” I agreed.

A plume of glittery purple was working her way through the crowd. She was stopping at clusters of guests armed with waiters bearing trays of sparkling cider and wine. With just a short conversation, she smoothed over the social awkwardness like a fairy godmother waving a wand. In fifteen minutes the guests seemed to have regained their equilibrium.

“Even though I don’t like Marilyn Tofts, I have to admit she’s quite talented,” I said.

“Hmm.” Andre made a noncommittal humming noise in his throat.