Copy Cap Murder: A Hat Shop Mystery Part 5

"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 relations.h.i.+p 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."

Chapter 7.

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 doc.u.mented 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 b.u.mped 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 ma.s.s 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 pa.s.sed 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 G.o.d, 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 pa.s.sed 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 protege and all."