Like it or not, I felt a closeness to Harrison that defied any past experience I’d shared with a man. Usually, if I liked a guy, I started dating him immediately. The passion tended to burn out pretty quickly when I discovered his inability to use a hamper or wash his dishes, or, you know, actually divorce his wife, and so the relationship would fizzle after a few months.
But Harrison was different. By consciously not dating him, despite finding him extremely attractive, I was forced to build a different sort of relationship with him, a friendship with sizzle, if you will.
Call me crazy but it felt infinitely more dangerous than any of the relationships I’d thrown myself into after ten minutes of thinking the boy was cute. I wasn’t entirely sure this was such a good thing, but I’d set my course and I was determined to stay it.
At the front door, Harrison paused and turned to face me. It felt too cozy in here with the lights mostly out and the room warm against the chilly air outside. I pretended to be scanning the room to see that every hat was in its place, but I could feel Harrison’s gaze on my face.
“Ginger.” He said my name, his voice a deep gruff growl with his very precise British accent making the “r” disappear in the most delightful way. It positively made me dizzy.
“Hmm, yes?” I said, still checking out the shop.
“Are you going to be all right?” he asked.
“Me? Oh, yeah, I’ll be fine,” I lied.
“I don’t believe you,” he said. “You can always call me, you know, anytime, day or night.”
“Good to know.” I looked over his shoulder at the shelves on the far wall. Nope, nothing out of place.
He captured my chin with his hand and gently turned my face toward his. He stared at me for a long moment while I felt the blood rush to my ears and my breath stall in my lungs. It was dangerous, being this close to him. I closed my eyes, thinking it might be best if I didn’t look at him.
When I felt his mouth brush ever so gently against my cheek, I almost turned toward him like a sunflower turning its face to the sun, but I resisted even though it about killed me.
I felt him move in closer, the heat of his body pressing and mingling against the heat of mine. He was so close, so wonderfully, magically close, I actually trembled.
The soft pulse of his breath brushed against my ear when he whispered, “Good night, beautiful.”
Hard to say how long I stood in that same spot—seconds, hours or a few blissed-out weeks, I have no idea. The man hadn’t even kissed me properly and I was completely undone. It had to be the accent, I assured myself. How could a girl not feel stirred by such charming elocution?
I shook myself out of my trance and glanced at the door. Not only was it shut, but he had also locked it. I crossed the floor into the kitchen to check all of the windows and doors, and on my way back, I passed the wardrobe. I glanced at Ferd and I was pretty sure he was smirking at me.
“Don’t say it,” I said to him. “Don’t even think it.”
Maybe it was the events of the day making me see things, but I was pretty sure he bobbed his head in a silent laughing fit.
I stomped up the stairs to our flat. Viv’s door was shut and her light was off. I took that as a sign that she didn’t want to be disturbed. That was fine with me—I was pretty sure I wasn’t up to conversing with anyone, and I definitely didn’t want to answer any questions even indirectly about Harrison’s departure. In fact, I didn’t even want to think about it.
As I tugged on my flannel jammies and climbed into bed, I resolutely shoved aside any thought of Harrison and whatever the heck that, wow, was between us at the door. Instead, I thought about Ariana. How must she be feeling being arrested for the murder of her boss? She had to be terrified.
I sifted through the events of the day. Russo dead. The police station. Even then, the police had been looking closely at Ariana. I tried to make it work in my head. She had said she wanted her boss dead. Was it a confession? No, it hadn’t felt like it. Instead it had sounded as if she knew she was going to be a suspect and felt that wishing ill of her boss made her culpable.
Ariana Jackson, a murderess. I couldn’t see it. I couldn’t believe it. There was something so refined and orderly about Ariana. In a nutshell, she seemed too smart to be a killer. Besides, what could she possibly have to gain by killing her boss? She’d be out of a job—how was that a good thing when she was about to be married?
Tomorrow, I promised myself as I began to fall into the sweet abyss of sleep, tomorrow I would find out as much as I could about Ariana Jackson and Anthony Russo.
* * *
“I don’t think Harrison is going to like this idea,” Viv said.
We were standing in the shop putting on our jackets. I glanced outside to see if I needed my umbrella or not. It was pale gray and chilly looking. I supposed I’d better bring it just in case.
“Why should he like it?” I asked. I could feel my face get warm at the mere mention of his name. Gah, this would not do! I had to get a grip on myself. “It has nothing to do with him so I don’t know why he’d have any say about it one way or another.”
“You really think he isn’t going to find out that we went to see Ariana?” Viv asked.
“Oh, no, I’m sure he’ll find out,” I said. “But since it’s about the business, I don’t really see that he can complain.”
“About the business?” Viv laughed. “That’s a stretch, isn’t it?”
“Not if we inquire about the hat, it isn’t,” I insisted. “I mean, we don’t know what to do with it or what she wants us to do or even if she’s going to forge ahead with the wedding.”
“Perhaps we shouldn’t mention that part of it,” Viv said. “Awfully depressing to have to postpone your wedding because you’ve been arrested for murder, and if she did kill her boss—”
“She didn’t,” I interrupted.
“How can you possibly know that?” Viv asked.
“I just do,” I said. And no, I didn’t mention the part about Ariana telling me she had wished him dead. I wanted to talk to Ariana first.
“All right,” Viv said. She had that tone she used when she thought I was being bullheaded. Normally, I would balk and argue that I wasn’t, but I had a feeling this time she might be right.
“Let me know how it goes, yeah?” Fee asked from the front counter of the shop.
“We won’t be long,” Viv said. “Please tell Mrs. Hodges that I’m sorry I couldn’t be here, but I know you’ll do an excellent job with her.”
Fee looked pleased with the praise. “I’ll call you if there’s a problem.”
Together Viv and I pushed through the door out onto Portobello Road. Despite the gloomy weather, there was a fair amount of foot traffic. I saw the white-breasted flash of a black-headed magpie as it winged overhead with something snazzy in its beak. It looked quite pleased with itself and I smiled.
I knew some people considered the magpie to be a pest, but I’d always thought they had a lot of personality. Plus, that whole attraction to shiny things, well, I thought it made them quite smart, but that could be my own attraction to shiny things doing the talking.
The fastest way to get to the Notting Hill Police Station was to walk through the neighborhood. It was a solid half-mile hike down Ladbroke Grove, and Viv and I had both dressed warm to ward off the early autumn chill. We crossed Ladbroke Road and approached the imposing weatherworn brick building that I had first gone into to report Viv missing several months before. I could have lived without a repeat visit.
Viv strode forward as if she stormed police stations every day. I was trying to be a little less conspicuous. I didn’t particularly want to be noticed, especially by Inspectors Franks and Simms if they happened to be around.
It was too much to hope that the station would be quiet and we would be able to slink on in and ask the constable at the front desk i
f we could visit with Ariana. Oh, no.
A frothing pit of reporters and photographers filled the lobby to bursting. Viv and I were pushed back against the wall as the reporters fired questions at the woman behind the desk. She wore a black-and-white-checked cravat with a white shirt and dark pants. From the tight expression on her face, I could see she was feeling harassed.
“What should we do?” Viv asked. “I don’t see how we can get through this.”
“We’ll have to pull rank. Follow me,” I said. I pushed my way through the crowd. It took a few shoves and one sharp elbow, but I finally made it to the desk.
Chapter 12
“When will the inspector be available to answer questions?” a female reporter asked the constable.
“I haven’t received a schedule from him,” the constable answered. “But I’ll let you know when I do.”
She glanced at me and her expression changed from one of annoyance to one of concern. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, could you let Inspector Franks know that Scarlett Parker is here to see him,” I said.
“What’s it regarding?” she asked.
I leaned close so that the reporters couldn’t hear me and whispered, “The Russo murder. I was on the scene.”
The constable straightened up. She gestured for me and Viv to follow her. Protests sounded from the reporters behind us, but the officer didn’t show any interest in their whining. Instead, she led us through a door into a waiting area.
“Have a seat,” she said. “I’ll tell him you’re here.”
Viv sat next to me, looking as if she was afraid to touch anything. I couldn’t blame her. Although the place seemed clean, it wasn’t the cream of society passing through here, was it?
“What do you suppose he’s in here for?” Viv whispered.
I followed the line of her gaze toward a man down the hall sitting on a hard wooden bench like ours. He was talking to himself and would occasionally give himself a good slap across the face. The cheek being smacked was a vibrant shade of red, so whichever one of his personalities was doing the slapping, it really didn’t pull any punches.
“Domestic violence,” I said. “Or does it not count if you’re smacking yourself?”
“Well, if you feel you deserve it, I don’t think it can be considered abuse,” she said.
We watched as the man rocked back and forth and then hugged himself.
“Oh, that’s nice,” Viv said. “They’ve made up; maybe now he’ll get to go home.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it,” I said.
“Scarlett!”
I turned at the sound of my name to see Alistair Turner striding down the short hallway toward us. Today he was wearing an impeccable navy blue suit with a crimson necktie. It was definitely a power suit.
“Alistair,” I said as I rose to my feet. “Good to see you. Is Ariana still here? Is there any way we can go and see her?”
Alistair had stopped in front of me, but his attention was one hundred percent captured by Vivian. He looked like he’d been frozen in place and I was pretty sure he hadn’t heard a word I’d said. I sighed. Viv was known to have this effect on men.
Wearing a darling knee-length pale blue Jenny Packham day dress, with her long blond curls hanging down past her shoulders and her makeup applied lightly but effectively, Viv was stunning. Alistair looked like he’d swallowed his tongue.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. “Alistair, this is my cousin Vivian Tremont. Viv, this is Alistair, a friend of Harrison’s and Ariana’s barrister.”
“Nice to meet you,” Viv said. She glanced at him briefly and then away as if she was uncomfortable under his scrutiny.
“I assure you, Ms. Tremont, the pleasure is mine,” he said. I glanced between them. Alistair looked like a dog shaking water off his coat when he turned back to face me. “I’m sorry, Scarlett, I was preoccupied, what was that you said?”
“We were wondering if we could see Ariana,” I said. “I imagine she could use the support.”
“That’s very kind of you,” he said. “They haven’t told me that she isn’t allowed visitors. In fact, Stephen is with her now.”
“Excellent,” I said. “Could you take us to her?”
I felt the need to get moving before Inspector Franks appeared and I had to admit that I had lied about wanting to see him.
“Certainly,” he said. “Follow me.”
We stopped at the custody desk, where they checked us over and made us turn in our personal belongings. I assumed it was so we couldn’t slip Ariana a hacksaw to file her way out. Viv looked less than pleased at leaving her purse in the gray plastic tub. Behind the desk, I saw another room through a glass window. The walls had six television screens and I realized the video feed was from the cells. Only four of the televisions showed occupants and I recognized Ariana’s dark hair in one of them.
I nudged Viv with an elbow and pointed. Her eyes went wide and then she looked horrified. I followed her gaze to a different monitor and saw that the person in one of the cells was throwing up.
“Oh, gross,” I said.
The uniformed officer in the monitor room didn’t look thrilled either.
We were buzzed through a security door and then led into another hallway that had several dark blue metal doors. I saw Stephen standing in the open door of the one nearest to us with an officer at his side.
“Come on,” I said to Viv, and we rushed past Alistair.
“Scarlett, Vivian, you’re here,” Ariana said. Her face was red and splotchy, her eyes puffy from crying and her nose chapped from blowing.
The custody sergeant held up his hands to slow us down. “There’s too many of you. Someone has to wait up front.”
“I’m her barrister,” Alistair said.
“I don’t care if you’re her sister,” the officer said. “Only two visitors at a time.”
“We’ll just be a moment,” I said to Stephen when he seemed reluctant to leave. He nodded.
Alistair jerked his head in the opposite direction to indicate that Stephen should follow him.
I watched as the two men walked away. Alistair’s voice was low and I couldn’t make out what he was saying over the din around us
“Hi, Ariana,” Viv said. “We thought you could use a little support.”
“Oh, that’s so nice of you,” she said. “I’d offer you a cup of tea or another beverage, but . . .”
I felt my heart pinch at her attempt at humor. The tiny closet-sized room behind her contained a steel commode in the corner with a sort of sink built into the top of it. Ew. The only place to sit was a hard-looking bed with a thin blanket and a pillow.
Viv put her hand over Ariana’s. “It’s going to be all right.”
The compassion made Ariana’s flip demeanor crack, and she bowed her head and nodded. I could tell she was fighting back tears so I went for a distraction.
“We wanted to check in with you about your wedding hat,” I said.
Ariana’s face lit up for just a second but then she frowned. “I don’t know that there’s much point in fixing it. I don’t know if I’m going to be released in time to get married.”
“Have they formally charged you?” I asked. “Or are they just holding you as a suspect?”
“No, there’s been no formal charges but Alistair said they can hold me up to ninety-six hours with a magistrate’s approval without formally charging me,” she said. “I suspect this will be the longest ninety-six hours of my life.”
“Ariana!”
We all turned to see a middle-aged woman bearing down on us. She was dressed in an ankle-length skirt that rode up a little bit higher in the back due to her rather large posterior. She paused to hug Stephen and thump him on the back but then kept on coming. Her intent to get to Ariana was clear, and both Viv and I backed up to give her room.
&
nbsp; “Oh, my dear, this is awful, just awful,” the woman cried. “How could this have happened? What can they be thinking? Who is in charge? I want to talk to them.”
“Trudy, it’s all right.” Ariana gave the woman a smile that was full of affection.
“All right? It bloody well is not all right,” the woman said. She had broad features and her gray hair was twisted up into a knot on the top of her head. Her hands were big and looked like they knew their way around a toolbox if need be. This was no shrinking violet. I liked her immediately.
She looked us up and down and frowned. I could tell she was the sort of person who did not tolerate screwups. “Beg pardon, that was rude of me. And who might you two be? You’re not detectives, are you?”
“No!” Viv and I said together. The anger in the woman’s glare demanded a quick response of the negative.
“We’re milliners,” Viv said.
The custody sergeant looked like he was about to step in and enforce his rule of two. Trudy froze him with a look before she turned back to us.
“Goodness gracious me, you don’t say,” Trudy exclaimed. “Whatever are you doing here?”
“Ariana commissioned a wedding hat from us so we came to make sure she still wanted it,” Viv said.
“You must be the girls from Mim’s Whims. Ariana was so excited to find someone to fix her mother’s hat,” Trudy said. She paused to sniffle a little bit into a tissue. “She is going to be such a lovely bride. But I have to say, coming here under the circumstances, well, that is impressive customer service.”
“Indeed. Ms. Tremont, Ms. Parker, a word, please.”
I turned around to see Inspector Franks standing right behind us. Uh-oh.
“Inspector Franks,” I said. “Just the man we were looking for. Right, Viv?”
“We were?” she asked. I stared hard. “Oh, yes, of course, we were about the . . . uh . . .”
At the Drop of a Hat Page 9
