At the Drop of a Hat

by Jenn McKinlay

  “You’d have to have one for me to harp,” I said. “And no, I was merely going to say that if there is something you care to share, I am one hundred percent nonjudgmental.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked. Clearly, she was not getting where I was going.

  I went for being blunt. “If you prefer girls, that’s okay with me.”

  Viv stopped walking and turned to stare at me. She looked at me as if I had three heads.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Are you asking if I’m a lesbian?” she asked.

  “I’m just saying it’s okay if you are,” I said.

  “Well, that’s rude,” she said.

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “I’m being nice and understanding.”

  “No, you’re not,” she said. “You’re being horribly nosy, and if I am a lesbian, it is certainly okay whether you say so or not.”

  “Well, of course it is,” I said. “You’re intentionally misunderstanding me.”

  “No, I’m not,” Viv said. “You think you get to approve of my lifestyle, well, you don’t. It is none of your business if I like boys or girls or—and here’s a shock for you—maybe I just like being alone.”

  “I just wanted you to know you could tell me anything and I would love and support you,” I said. It came out in a mumble as I examined the toes of my boots, feeling good and duly chastised.

  “I know that,” Viv said. “And you know I feel the same way about you. But here’s the thing: If you choose to keep your private life private, even from me, I’ll respect that and I expect you to do the same.”

  “Are you mad at me?” I asked.

  “Yes. No,” she said. “A little.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I just want to see you happy.”

  “I know that,” Viv said. She took my hand and gave it a squeeze. “But you need to stop thinking about my personal life, which is fine, and think about something else.”

  “But I can’t think about men for me,” I said. “So I transfer those thoughts to you.”

  “Well, stop,” she said. She began to walk down the sidewalk and then spun around to face me. “And don’t start thinking about women for me either. I’m fine just as I am.”

  She turned back around and followed the address numbers to Russo’s house. The feeling that Viv didn’t want to talk about her life for a specific reason was dogging me. I didn’t think she was fine the way she was; otherwise she’d be happy, right?

  I considered her back as I followed her. The stiff set of her shoulders could be due to anxiety given that we were about to enter a place we definitely shouldn’t and it might be because we hadn’t called Harrison like we said we would. I fully intended to text him on our way out of the building as a sort of cover-my-butt move, I’d already written the text, in fact, and it was just waiting to be sent, but I didn’t think that was it. I really felt that Viv was tense because she was hiding something.

  Trying to keep a secret or pretending things were a certain way just to save your pride never worked. I know because I lived it. When I look back at the years I dated the rat bastard, I remember that I always had a stomachache.

  He would dazzle me with a fancy dinner, a surprise weekend in Jamaica or a sparkly bauble, and I’d think I was crazy to have pangs of unease. I would push my anxiety way down deep, where it would fester into a bellyache that I would soothe with moon pies.

  Did Viv have comfort food like mine? That would be a tell, but I couldn’t think of anything specific. Was she imbibing more than she used to? Other than yesterday, I hadn’t noticed any significant increase, but it was definitely worth watching. How about spending splurges? Maybe she was compulsively shopping. Then again, the way she bought supplies, in bulk, for the hat shop, it would be hard to tell.

  “Hurry up,” Viv hissed as she reached Russo’s building.

  As soon as I stepped beside her, she slipped into the shadowy alley and crept along the wall of the building toward the back. Once there, we waited. We didn’t know if the police had assigned someone to watch the house or not, but since it was midnight, we knew most of the residents would be asleep while the pub crawlers wouldn’t be coming home for a while yet.

  From what Ariana had told us, Russo’s house was accessible from the back through a security keypad; she’d given us the code. Viv and I agreed that her willingness to help us look through the office just made her seem all the more innocent in our eyes. Of course, it could all be one giant setup and she was going to sic the cops on us and Viv and I would end up in the slammer, but hey, it was worth the risk, right?

  “It looks quiet,” Viv whispered.

  I scanned the alley. It looked dark. Period. Lights were on at a few of the buildings surrounding us but most everyone’s curtains were drawn, giving us more of a suggestion of light than any actual illumination.

  Viv stretched up on her toes and grabbed the latch on the back gate. Ariana had said that Russo locked his back gate only when he was out of town. I sighed in relief when the latch clicked and Viv was able to pull it open just enough for us to slip through into the yard.

  She closed it softly behind us and we stood there, our breath misting around us on the cold, damp air, while we waited to hear a shout or footsteps or something that indicated someone had caught us. There was nothing but the occasional rumble of a bus, the siren of a police car or the muted murmur of someone’s television.

  “How long should we wait?” Viv asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I’m not exactly an expert at this sort of thing.”

  I couldn’t see her in the dark but I sensed her narrowed gaze aimed in my general vicinity.

  “Oh, I’d say you’ve got skills of the criminal kind,” Viv said.

  “How do you figure?” I asked. “I’ve lived an exemplary life.”

  Again, thanks to the dark, I couldn’t see her eyes boring holes into me but I sure could feel them.

  “You were sixteen, I was eighteen, and you made me stalk James Thrushgood and his date, Tilly Simpson,” Viv said.

  “I didn’t make you,” I said. “You demanded to go with me when I said I was following them to the movies.”

  “Well, I couldn’t let you go by yourself,” Viv said. “Who knows what you might have done?”

  “Exactly what I did, which is exactly what I planned to do,” I said. “I dumped my soda and popcorn over James’s head, just like he dumped me for Tilly.”

  “Isn’t that assault?” Viv asked.

  “With buttered popcorn,” I said. “Which is much less than he deserved.”

  Viv chuckled. “I’ve long admired that about you. You always do what you think is right.”

  “Even when it isn’t,” I added.

  We were both silent, taking in the sounds of the night. I realized that I was across the small backyard from where Russo’s body had been found. I was relieved that I couldn’t see more than shadows in the dark. I really didn’t want to remember the sight of his body broken and bloody on the cobblestones beneath it.

  “He died right there,” I said.

  Viv pressed closer to me, and I felt her hand reach for mine in the dark. Her fingers were icy cold, and I shivered even as I tried to warm her hand with mine.

  “Let’s get this over with, shall we?” Viv asked.

  “Yes, let’s,” I agreed. Suddenly I was feeling spooked. Not that I thought Russo was haunting the place of his death or anything like that, still I had no interest in lingering.

  We went to the back door together. The keypad was just to the right under a small lid. I flipped the cover up and then entered the code that Ariana had given us. I heard the lock pop on the door, and Viv and I exchanged a quick look before I opened the door and pushed it in.

  We were in the small kitchenette. I didn’t think we’d find anything here so I pushed on through and u
p the short flight of stairs. We went down the hallway, passing a bathroom, again not really a place I felt the need to check, and into the main part of the house.

  “Where should we start?” Viv asked.

  “Let’s go upstairs,” I said. “Russo lived up there; maybe we’ll find some connection to Mariska.”

  We crossed the sitting room and went through the door that led upstairs. It looked like someone had left the hall light on, probably for security, which made it easy to climb the stairs.

  Russo’s apartment was pretty much exactly what you’d expect of a confirmed bachelor and player: black leather furniture, a large bar along one wall and an enormous television. There were no pictures or personal effects. It could have been a hotel room, except a hotel would be warmer and more welcoming.

  We did a cursory check of drawers but there was nothing. Even his magazines were scrupulously maintained with no back issues stuffed in nooks and crannies. His kitchen looked as if no one ever actually used it.

  We hurried upstairs to the bedrooms. One was overdone with black satin sheets and a mirror for a headboard. Ew. The other was clearly a guest room. We concentrated on the icky bedroom. The closet was as meticulously kept as the rest of the house. No pictures, no mementos, no indication that an actual person lived here.

  “Gah!” Viv made a gurgling noise from beside the big bed.

  “Did you find something?” I asked as I hurried over.

  She slammed the drawer on his nightstand before I could glance inside it.

  “His porn and sex toy collection,” Viv said. Her upper lip was curled in distaste.

  “Ew,” I said.

  “Well, it’s the first thing we’ve found that indicates a person actually lives here,” Viv said. “A perverted person but a person nonetheless.”

  “I don’t think all porn is perverted,” I said.

  Viv gave me a long look. “No.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “I’m not getting into a discussion with you about what is acceptable and what is unacceptable porn,” she said.

  “What discussion?” I asked. “I’m just saying some porn is not that bad.”

  “Because you’ve seen so much porn,” Viv said.

  “I’ve seen my share,” I said.

  “Well, I think it’s safe to say we Brits are a little bit more open minded sexually than you Americans, so if I think his porn drawer is unseemly, then you can trust me,” Viv said.

  This just made me all the more curious.

  “Do you have a porn drawer?” I asked. Yes, I was just teasing her.

  To my surprise, her face went bright pink, yes, so pink I could even see it in the dim lighting.

  “I am not discussing this,” Viv said. “Let’s go check the offices.”

  She stomped out of the room, leaving me to follow her.

  “I have a porn drawer,” I called after her. It’s mostly made up of a collection of my favorite erotic novels, but she didn’t need to know that.

  “Shut up, Scarlett,” she said.

  When I joined her in the offices below, it was easy to see that the police had done a thorough search of both Ariana’s and Russo’s offices. Their computers were gone and so were any papers off the tops of their desks.

  “I’ll take Russo’s office,” Viv said. She disappeared through the door and I saw her switch on his desk light.

  I turned back to Ariana’s office. Her windows were right on the street so I didn’t dare turn on the desk lamp. Instead, I used the face of my cell phone to illuminate the immediate area.

  I sat in her chair and began opening her desk drawers. There wasn’t much, and I had a feeling the police had probably taken anything of note, but still it felt like there had to be something—some clue.

  Several minutes passed and I became more and more discouraged. Viv appeared in the doorway between the two offices.

  “There’s nothing,” she said. “Nothing that indicates any connection between Russo and Mariska.”

  “I suppose it was too much to hope for,” I said. “Why couldn’t it be a Cinderella story where we find a shoe and the only one it belongs to is Mariska?”

  “And what?” Viv asked. “The heel of the shoe matches a puncture mark in Russo’s behind where she booted him off the roof?”

  “Exactly,” I said. “Is that asking so much?”

  Viv checked the time on her phone. “The bars will be closing soon and there might be more foot traffic in the neighborhood. We should go.”

  “All right,” I agreed. I closed up Ariana’s desk, feeling disappointed.

  I followed Viv out, making sure the room looked just as we’d found it. Hanging on a rack by her office door was the blue raincoat Ariana had been wearing when she first came to see us. I took it off the hook and draped it over my arm. At the very least, I could return her jacket to her and the night wasn’t a total loss.

  Unless, of course, she ended up being convicted of murder and I never got to give her the jacket. Yeah, sometimes I go to the darkest of places.

  Viv and I stepped outside and I quickly reset the alarm. Although we hadn’t been inside for that long, it was definitely colder out now. I shrugged on Ariana’s jacket. I was sure she wouldn’t mind.

  I tripped on a cobblestone and stumbled into Viv. She caught me and held my hand.

  “Easy does it,” she said.

  We felt our way to the gate and Viv reached up to unlatch it.

  She opened it just enough to be able to peek out into the alley.

  “It’s clear,” she said.

  I followed her out and quickly shut the gate behind me. We began to work our way down the alley when an angry voice broke through the quiet like a fist pounding on a table.

  “What the devil do you two think you’re doing?”

  Chapter 22

  I’m not sure who shrieked louder, Viv or me; probably it was me. Clutching each other, we scrambled backward until the wall was at our backs. I let go of Viv and assumed a fighter’s stance.

  “Run for help!” I ordered Viv. She looked at me as if I were mental. Not terribly off base of her, was it?

  Then Harrison stomped out of the shadows and I felt a surge of really freaking mad blast me right between the eyes. I stepped forward and slapped his shoulder with my right hand while checking my heart rate with my left.

  “Damn it, Harry,” I cried. “You scared me half to death.”

  “Harrison,” he said. Then he rubbed his shoulder. “Nice punch.”

  “It was a slap,” I said. “A deserved one.”

  “Really?” he asked. “Because correct me if I’m wrong but didn’t we three agree to tell each other if we went off to do some investigating?”

  “I wrote you a text,” I said.

  “No, you didn’t,” he said.

  “Yes, I did,” I argued. I pulled out my phone to prove it to him and found the text message sitting there unsent just as I’d left it. I turned the display to face him so he could see my intentions had been good. Thank goodness I’d had the sense to write the text earlier and save it.

  “It helps if you actually send it.” He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. I got the feeling he doubted me and I didn’t like that one bit.

  “I meant to!” I protested.

  “Uh-huh,” he said.

  “Do you suppose you two could lace into each other elsewhere?” Viv asked. “I don’t think loitering around here is very wise.”

  “Come along then,” Harrison said. “I have my car. You can explain yourselves on the drive.”

  I might have been annoyed with him but I was thrilled that he had his car. I was dead tired and the thought of hoofing it back to the shop didn’t work for me.

  Harrison helped Viv into the passenger seat and then held the door to the back open for me. I briefly won
dered if this was a statement on the hierarchy of our friendship, Viv getting the front because they’d been friends longer, before I realized that I was so tired, I didn’t even care.

  Okay, I did care but not enough to let it show. I rested my head on the seatback and listened while Viv recounted our night’s adventures. Harrison was much more civil with her than with me. He actually sounded admiring of her putting herself in jeopardy to help Ariana any way she could. It made me want to kick the back of his seat, but I resisted.

  Instead I buried my hands into Ariana’s coat pockets to warm them. There was a single knit glove, odd, and a crumpled bit of paper in the pocket. Curious. I pulled the paper out. I smoothed it on my lap and tried to read it under the passing streetlights. Finally, Harrison stopped at a light and I pulled out my cell phone to illuminate the paper.

  It took me a moment, but I realized it was a dry cleaner’s receipt. It listed two suits, several men’s shirts and a woman’s blouse. The name on the receipt was “Anthony Russo.”

  Now why would Ariana have a dry-cleaning receipt for Russo? I supposed it wasn’t out of bounds for her to have to pick up Russo’s laundry but it did seem an awfully twentieth-century girl Friday sort of chore. Then again, Russo was a bit of an asshat, so I supposed he might have made her do it for him.

  “All right, Ginger?” Harrison asked from the front seat.

  I glanced up from the paper. He was just pulling up in front of Mim’s Whims. Without waiting for him to get my door, I popped out of the car.

  “Never better,” I said through the open door. “I just found a clue.”

  I shut the car door and strode into the shop, barely breaking my stride to unlock the door and deactivate the alarm.

  Viv came hurrying after me, but Harrison took his time, obviously not in any rush to hear my news. Well, it would serve him right if I didn’t tell him what I’d found.

  Harrison locked the door behind him when he entered the shop. He was looking at me in amusement and it was then that I realized he didn’t think I had a clue at all. He thought I was teasing them. Well, I’d show him.

  We all moved into the back workroom. Viv grabbed a bottle of Jameson that we kept in the workroom for just such emergencies and three small glasses.