Death of a Mad Hatter (A Hat Shop Mystery) (8 page)

He shouldered his way through the crowd toward us, looking every inch the man in charge, from his perfectly tailored charcoal-gray suit to his shiny black shoes. For some reason, I found this particularly annoying.

I turned to Viv. “Did you call him?”

“Yes.” She didn’t add it, but I could hear the unspoken “duh” in her answer.

“But why?” I asked.

Viv gestured to Andre. “He is in no shape to drive us home. Did you want to try and take the tube?”

I glanced back at Andre, who was enthusiastically shaking Harrison’s hand. “Thanks for coming out, mate.”

“No trouble,” Harrison said. “What’s happened? Your text message was quite cryptic, Viv.”

“Geoffrey Grisby was found dead in the garden,” Viv said.

“What?” he asked. He glanced at the three of us and then his eyes narrowed on me. “Who found him?”

“I did,” I said. I tipped my chin up in defiance. I wasn’t really sure what I was being defiant about, but I didn’t like the way he was looking at me as if he had suspected that I would be the one to find the body, so up my chin went and I crossed my arms over my chest for good measure.

“Oh, Ginger,” he said. The sympathy in his eyes almost had me walking right into his arms for a comforting hug. I shook it off.

“I’m fine, Harry, completely fine,” I said.

He raised his brows at my use of his childhood nickname.

“Well, I’m not,” Andre said. He shuddered. “Gah, I am going to be sick.”

“Come with me,” Viv said and she grabbed his hand. “I know where the loo is.”

Together they hurried through the crowd. I watched until they were inside, hoping Andre wouldn’t get sick on anyone along the way.

I turned back to Harrison to find him watching me. Still, he looked like he wanted to give me a hug. It would have been nice, too nice, so I forced myself to think of something else.

“I’m surprised you didn’t bring Fee with you,” I said.

He frowned.

“Why would I do that?” he asked.

“Well, you two seem awfully chummy lately,” I said.

He tipped his head to the side then a small smile tipped the corner of his mouth up.

“Nice of you to notice,” he said.

“I did not—” I began to protest, but I was interrupted by Buckley.

“Excuse me, Ms. Parker, but the police are here and they’d like to ask you a few questions,” he said.

“I’ll come with you,” Harrison said.

I would have refused, but given that I wasn’t sure what the police wanted to ask me, I couldn’t refuse the backup, especially when Harrison was looking so respectable and all.

We followed Buckley into the main house. He led us down a richly carpeted hall.

Halfway down, I turned to Harrison and asked, “Do you think it will be Detective Inspector Franks this time?”

“No, he’s in the Kensington Borough. We’re a bit north, in the Barnet Borough, so it will likely be someone else.”

“Oh,” I said. I figured the odds were slim, but I had grown fond of inspectors Franks and Simms when they’d investigated the murder of one of our clients.

Buckley rapped his knuckles on a thick white door. A murmur from inside bade us to enter.

Buckley pushed open the door and stepped aside to let Harrison and me pass into a small parlor. The room had east-facing windows and was done in pale yellows. It overlooked the garden, and I felt my insides clench when I recognized the bushes sculpted into running horses. Had I just been admiring them without a care when Geoffrey Grisby had been struck by a heart attack or some other life-threatening condition with no one there to help him?

A uniformed constable stood talking to another man in a blue suit coat and tie. They looked up when we entered, and I felt Harrison take my elbow to guide me toward them. What, did he think I was going to run?

“Detective Inspector Finchley,” Buckley greeted the plainclothes man, “this is Scarlett Parker and Harrison Wentworth.”

I saw Finchley’s eyebrows rise just a fraction at the mention of Harrison’s name. Interesting.

“Thank you, Wolcott,” Finchley said to the constable, dismissing him.

The constable nodded to us and departed from the room. I got the feeling he was on assignment.

“Ms. Parker. Mr. Wentworth.” Finchley extended his hand and we shook.

“Inspector,” Harrison returned, and I muttered the same when it was my turn.

“I wasn’t aware that you were attending the tea, Mr. Wentworth,” Finchley said.

“I wasn’t,” Harrison said. “I was called to come and collect Ms. Parker and her cousin Ms. Tremont. The person whom they came with is not in a state to drive just yet.”

“And who would that be?” Finchley asked.

The Inspector had some impressive jowls, I noticed. They wobbled when he talked and gave a droopy look to his face. It was a face that didn’t look as if it laughed very much. I thought that was unfortunate, but then again, in his line of work, I didn’t suppose there was much to yuck it up about.

“His name is Andre Eisel,” I said. “He’s a photographer and has a studio just down the street from our hat shop. He’s a bit sensitive.”

Finchley’s gaze moved from Harrison to me. His deep-brown eyes looked sympathetic and he said, “You were the one to find the body, Ms. Parker?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Could you tell me exactly what happened?” he asked.

“Of course,” I said. I started with the tea beginning and our hostess not being present. I said that after I talked to Buckley, I decided to go around the outside of the house so as not to get lost, and that’s when I found Geoffrey. I described exactly how I saw the hat first right up until I realized he was dead and called for help.

Finchley nodded slowly and his jowls wagged at me. “Did you see anyone else in the garden when you were walking through it?”

“No,” I said. “It was empty.”

Again, he nodded. He seemed to be turning over my words in his mind. I could hear the carriage clock on the mantel ticking, and I began to get nervous as if there was something I had missed.

“Did you know that Geoffrey Grisby wasn’t at his table when you went to look for his wife?” Finchley asked.

“Yes, I did mention it to Buckley,” I said. “We assumed after the scene with Cara Whittles that they were freshening up.”

He seemed to mull that over for a minute. He didn’t ask me about Cara Whittles, so I assumed he’d already been brought up to speed.

“Is there anything else that you saw that could be important?” he asked. “Any behavior that struck you as odd or out of character by any of the family members or guests, other than Ms. Whittles, of course?”

“You mean other than seeing Geoffrey Grisby in a passionate clinch with his secretary?” I asked.

Finchley’s jowls flapped, and I felt Harrison stiffen beside me.

“You’re quite certain?” he asked.

“Oh yeah,” I said. I wandered over to the window that overlooked the terrace where the guests were still gathered. “See that woman there? In the orange? That’s her. I came upon them in the garden earlier when both Mrs. Grisby, Tina that is, and I went to look for him to start the auction.”

Finchley and Harrison both followed me to the window. They each glanced over my shoulders out the window. The woman I pointed to was sobbing into a handkerchief. I noticed that no one was standing near her and I wondered if it was her copious weeping or the status of her relationship with Geoffrey Grisby that caused her to be shunned.

“You’re quite sure it was a passionate clinch?” Finchley asked.

“Positive,” I said.

“Is there anything else that you can think of that might be important?” he asked.

I reviewed the events of the day. No, interrupting a passionate embrace and then finding a body pretty much capped out the tea for me.

“Nothing comes to mind,” I said.

“Is Scarlett free to go?” Harrison asked.

“Yes,” Finchley said. Then he fished a card out of his jacket pocket and handed it to me. It was white with an embossed Metropolitan Police Service emblem of a shield with a knight’s helmet over it with a lion on each side. His name and number were at the bottom of the card. “If you think of anything else, please contact me at the number listed.”

“Absolutely,” I said.

We watched as he left the room. I wondered what Harrison was thinking about all of this. Not surprisingly, it didn’t take him long to weigh in with an opinion.

“How is it you happened to stumble upon Geoffrey and his secretary?” he asked.

“I’m lucky like that,” I said.

I could feel his gaze on the side of my face, but I refused to engage.

“‘Lucky’ is not the word I would choose,” he said.

Now I did turn to face him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Why do you suppose you’re always in the wrong place at the wrong time?” he asked.

I did not like the direction this was going. I began to walk to the door.

“We should gather Viv and Andre,” I said. “What are we going to do about his car?”

“I’ll drive it,” he said.

“What about your car?” I asked.

“I had a colleague drop me off,” he said as he fell into step beside me.

“Oh,” I said. “That was thinking.”

“It’s been known to happen.”

The dryness of his tone made me smile.

“That’s better,” he said.

“What is?” I asked. His gaze was focused on my face.

“Your smile,” he said. He reached up as if he was going to touch my face but then he didn’t. “You looked rather rattled when I got here.”

“A dead body will do that to a girl,” I said.

“Are you two ready?” Viv appeared in the door with Andre in tow. He still looked pasty and shaky.

“Yes,” I said. “Let’s get Andre home.”

Viv and Andre led the way while Harrison and I fell into step behind them.

“Just so you know, I did notice,” Harrison leaned close and whispered in my ear.

“Notice what?” I asked. My first thought was that he meant my dress, my hat or my hair, but he ruthlessly squashed my vanity like a bug under a rock.

“That you didn’t answer my question,” he said. “Why are you always in the wrong place at the wrong time? It positively mystifies.”

I said nothing, knowing I really couldn’t argue the point.

We were a subdued crew at the shop over the next few days. Fee was fretting over the Butler-Coates wedding. The bride hadn’t liked any of the hats she’d come up with and Fee had refused Viv’s offer to help. She wanted to do it alone. As she banged around in the back room grumbling to herself, I decided to hide out in the front of the shop while Viv worked on her own projects beside Fee.

With summer’s arrival, our sun hats were fairly flying off the shelves. Viv had fashioned a number of hats in an ecru sinamay and then finished them with denim hatbands and trim along the brim. They had a delicate yet sporty look about them, and I noted that they seemed to be most popular with the mothers of small sticky-jam-fingered children.

I was just restocking the window display when I saw Tina Grisby hurrying down Portobello Road toward the shop. When she saw me in the window, she blinked and then waved. I waved back.

The bells on the door chimed when she entered and I climbed out of the window to greet her.

“Tina, how are you?” I asked. I wanted to pepper her with questions, but it seemed rude, so instead, I asked, “Can I get you a cup of tea?”

“Thank you, no,” she said. “I can’t stay long.”

“Of course. I’m sure you’re needed at home,” I said.

“Oh no, we’re not staying at the house,” she said. “We’ve all moved into suites at the Savoy. No one could bear to stay after . . .”

I nodded. I noticed she was wearing a conservative navy-blue dress with matching pumps. She was a widow now. It hit me like a slap upside the head. No matter what I thought of Geoffrey Grisby personally, she was his wife and had to be struggling with his loss.

“Honestly, Scarlett, I came to ask you a favor,” she said.

“Of course,” I agreed. One would think I would have learned to wait until the specifics were stated before I agreed, but no, I had yet to apply caution to my helpfulness.

She twisted her fingers together and then looked me square in the eye and said, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about the conversation you overheard between me and Geoffrey.”

“You mean about you getting pregnant?” I asked.

“Yes.”

I took a deep breath. I couldn’t imagine that I would have a need to tell anyone about that conversation, but then I remembered Detective Inspector Finchley. Would that conversation be of interest to him? I had a feeling it might.

As if she could tell where my thoughts were going, Tina stepped forward and clutched my hands in hers. Her fingers were cold, and I felt my skin shrink as if recoiling from her touch.

“Please,” she said. “I’m begging you not to tell anyone.”

“Tina, what happened to Geoffrey?” I asked. Suddenly, nothing about this seemed normal.

She dropped my hands. “I don’t know, I swear. But if there was— If someone— I just can’t risk it.”

“Risk what?” I asked.

The bells on the door jangled again and I glanced over to see three ladies enter the shop. I glanced around but both Viv and Fee were in back, working.

“I’ll be right with you,” I called to the ladies.

They smiled at me and began to peruse the shelves. I noticed they were looking at the sun hats, so I figured they were looking to buy off the rack, which was a lucky break.

“I’d better let you get back—” Tina began, but I grabbed her elbow and guided her to the far corner.

“Oh no, you don’t,” I said. “What’s going on? Why are you worried about someone asking questions? What aren’t you telling me?”

Tina glanced over her shoulder at the other ladies to see if they were listening. They were giggling as they tried on hats and made ridiculous duck lips in the mirror. What was it with that duck-face thing?
I want to marry a girl who looks like a duck
, said no man ever.

“They can’t hear you,” I said. “Now tell me what is going on.”

“I don’t know,” she said. She fretted her lip between her teeth. “I just don’t want anyone to think I had something to do with Geoffrey’s death.”

“Why would anyone think that?” I asked. I tried to keep my voice from sounding speculative, but I couldn’t help but remember the streak of dirt on her dress and how she was missing until after Geoffrey’s body had been found.

“Because Geoffrey was poisoned,” she said. “They did a preliminary autopsy and found that—oh God—his insides were essentially corroded, which is indicative of being poisoned.”

I dropped her elbow. I felt my jaw go slack. Here I had just thought that he’d had a heart attack and died. Yes, it had been odd in a man so young but not completely out of the realm of possibility.

“How? Why? Who would do such a thing?” I asked.

Tina’s eyes were darting all over the shop. She looked as if she was afraid of being seen here, and I knew that she was hiding something from me.

“Tina, what’s going on?” I asked. “What do you know that you’re not telling me?”

“Nothing,” she said. “I swear. I don’t know who would have done that to him, but things are complicated, and I’m afraid—”

“Excuse me,” a voice called from across the shop. I glanced over to see the three women who had come in, standing at the register. They each had a hat in hand.

“Don’t move,” I said to Tina. Before I could get away, her cold fingers clamped on to my arm. “Please don’t say anything to anyone about Geoffrey and me,” she hissed. “It could put someone in danger.”

I stared at her for a second. Was she telling me that it would put me in danger if I blabbed? Was she threatening me?

I studied her face. There was no menace there, just desperation. No, I couldn’t imagine that she meant to do me harm. Still, she looked frantic.

“Don’t go anywhere,” I said. “I have more questions.”

With that I left her by the window and approached the ladies who were waiting for assistance. I felt as if my smile was forced, and I shook my head, trying to dig deeper to offer up a sincere greeting.

“I see you ladies were quite successful,” I said.

“Honestly, I had to restrain myself,” the one in the middle said. “They are all so lovely, and blue is my favorite color.”

“Did you want them boxed or were you planning to wear them out of the shop?” I asked.

“We’ll wear them, please,” The oldest of the three said. She had a head of tight curls. “We’re off for a stroll in Hyde Park and the sun is quite ferocious today.”

The other two nodded. I began to ring up the sale when I heard the bells on the door jangle. I glanced up just in time to see the door shut behind Tina as she hurried down the sidewalk away from the shop.

Damn. I still had so many questions. I debated calling Fee out to finish the sale while I raced out the door after Tina, but it seemed bad form. I consoled myself with the fact that I knew where she lived and if I had to trot on over to Bishops Avenue to talk to her, then I would, assuming she wasn’t still at the Savoy. I could always go there; in fact, that might be even better because it was a public place.

Geoffrey Grisby poisoned. It boggled. As I handed the third customer her credit card back and watched as they left the shop, I couldn’t help but think who would have the most to gain from Geoffrey’s death. There was no doubt about it, it was Liam, as he was the next in line to inherit the family fortune.

I tried to picture the jovial young man as a coldhearted killer, but it just didn’t work. Now, his mother, Daphne, on the other hand, she seemed to be up to playing the part without much difficulty.

Why was Tina worried about me telling everyone how Geoffrey had been treating her? That he had been pressuring her to have a baby? Surely, since she had nothing to gain by his death, she couldn’t be a suspect. Could she? Again, I thought of the dirt mark on her dress. Could she have seen Geoffrey with his secretary and killed him in a jealous rage?

I supposed anything was possible, but poison did not strike me as a crime of passion. No, it seemed more the sort of thing someone with an axe to grind would use to get rid of their enemy.

“Oy, Ginger, you in there?” a man’s voice said in my ear, and I jumped with a yelp.

I snapped my head to the right to find Harrison standing there. He looked amused.

I put my hand over my rioting heart and scowled at him. “You scared me!”

“Sorry, but you were practically in a trance,” he said. “You didn’t hear me come in, and when I said hello, three times, you didn’t answer. I thought you were in a stupor or something.”

“I was thinking,” I snapped.

“I hope you didn’t strain yourself,” he said.

I glowered.

Harrison rocked back on his heels with a smirk. He was wearing a black suit over a black shirt, which was open at the throat. He looked annoyingly handsome, like he belonged at an art show.

The art show! Ack!
I turned and ran into the back room. Viv and Fee were both seated at the big wooden table with a couple of open bags of Hula Hoops, sort of like a potato chip but in a ring shape, and half-empty glasses of pop.

“You guys are back here snacking?” I asked, although the answer was obvious.

“Well, we were going to call you in, but you were helping customers,” Viv said. She looked slightly shamefaced when she added, “And then we forgot.”

“Uh-huh,” I said. I stuck my hand in the bag of cheese-and-onion-flavored potato rings. They fit perfectly onto the ends of my fingers, and I munched on them to stave off the hunger I felt coming on strong.

“Don’t tell me you all lost track of time,” Harrison said as he walked into the room behind me.

Viv glanced at the clock. “Ah! Is that the time? Andre’s gallery opening! We have to hurry.”

Fee hopped off her seat and lifted a garment bag from where it was hanging on one of the supply closet doors.

“All right if I change upstairs?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” Viv said. “Use the guest bedroom.”

Fee hurried out of the room, brushing by Harrison as she went. They smiled at each other.

“Come on, Scarlett,” Viv said. “We can clean up the mess later.”

“I’ll get it sorted,” Harrison offered.

I was sipping out of Viv’s glass, which she took out of my hands. Apparently, I wasn’t moving fast enough for her, as she grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the door.

“Keep an eye on the shop, Harry!” I cried as we left the room. I saw him frown. I knew he hated that nickname, so naturally I used it as often as possible.

“Will do, Ginger!” he called back.

Unlike him, I liked my nickname, especially when he said it. I was relieved that I had my back to him, so he couldn’t see my face get warm.

As we hurried up the stairs, Viv glanced at me.

“Are you blushing?” she asked.

“Certainly not,” I said.

“Then why are your cheeks so pink?” she persisted.

“I’m allergic to potato rings,” I lied.

“Is that a euphemism for being allergic to Harrison?” she asked.

Her bright-blue eyes might as well have been laser beams. We crossed through the flat and paused by her door. I forced myself to meet her gaze with a bland look of my own. I refused to acknowledge her words on the grounds that I might incriminate myself.

“We’d better hurry,” I said. “We don’t want Andre to think we stood him up.”

I slipped through the door that led up the stairs to my room and the guest bedroom before Viv could say another word.

I closed my door and hurried over to my closet. I did not like Harrison that way I assured myself. Yes, he was handsome and charming when he wanted to be, but he was also insufferably bossy.

After my last relationship had caused me global humiliation—no, not exaggerating—I had promised myself that I would take a year off from dating men. As my mother had pointed out to me, the longest I had ever gone without a boyfriend was two weeks. She thought perhaps a relationship sabbatical would be good for me.

I was quite sure that if I was responding to Harrison at all, it was merely because I had not had a boyfriend in a few months, a personal best, and was therefore much more susceptible to any male presence. See? Perfectly reasonable.

Earlier, I had picked out the dress I was going to wear to the art opening. It was my classic little black dress: very flattering but also very unassuming. Suddenly, however, I felt the need for something with a little more zip zap. I shuffled through my closet until I found my Tadashi Shoji party dress. A formfitting aqua textured lace with sheer tulle trim, this was not a dress to be ignored. I slipped it on and then added a pair of beige open-toed pumps.