Death of a Mad Hatter (A Hat Shop Mystery) (21 page)

Harrison felt the bump and winced. “It only hurts when I touch it.”

“Do you feel dizzy at all?” I asked.

His gaze moved over my face and lingered on my mouth. “Not because of my head injury.”

I felt my face get hot and I began to scoot toward the edge of the bed. Did he mean . . . ? No, it was best not to think on it, and it was definitely time to go.

“Here,” he said. He took the extra pillows and put them in the middle of the bed. “You sleep on that side. The couch is comfortable, but there’s nothing like a bed.”

My eyes burned from sleep deprivation. Gritty and sore, all my lids wanted to do was close. I didn’t have enough stamina to argue, but still I waffled.

“I promise you’ll be safe here,” he said. “Besides I don’t like the idea of you being out there where I can’t watch over you.”

“All right,” I said. “But if you put one toe over on my side, I will smack it back. Clear?”

“Crystal,” he said. He looked like he was trying not to smile. It didn’t matter. He could have busted out a belly laugh and I wouldn’t have noticed. I was unconscious before my head even hit the pillow.

• • •

I awoke to the sound of rain peppering the windowpane and gray sunlight trying without much success to peer through the window. Again, it took me a moment to get my bearings.

This was not my bed. It was Harrison’s. The thought brought me snap upright like a soldier to attention. I glanced at the other side of the bed only to find it empty. Over the sound of the rain, I heard water running and realized Harrison must be in the shower.

This filled me with such an adolescent sense of awkwardness that I bolted out of the bed and hurried into the living room to find my shoes. I could feel myself practically in a panic as I gathered my jacket and purse, debated scribbling a note, then rejected the idea in favor of sneaking out of his house before he came out of the bathroom.

What if he came out wearing only a towel? I did not think our acquaintanceship was ready for that. Then again, he had kissed me. What did that mean? Had he just been addled? Did he even remember?

The sound of water stopped and I went into a full-on anxiety attack. I unlocked his door and hurried out into the hall, looking no doubt like a woman who had just come from a one-night stand.
Oh, good grief! Do not let me run into any of his neighbors
, I prayed, or
I’ll never be able to show my face over here again
.

Luck was with me as I hobbled down the stairs, trying to pull on my shoes while slinging my purse over my shoulder. In seconds, I was out the front door into the cold, wet morning without an umbrella. I had the feeling it was the perfect omen for how my day was going to go.

I trudged the five-minute walk home, knowing that by the time I got to the shop I was going to look like a drowned rat, which, given what awaited me, might have been my preferred outcome.

When I arrived at the hat shop, it was to find Nick and Andre sitting in the back room with Viv. The shop hadn’t opened yet, and they seemed to be enjoying a pot of tea and a pile of scones with clotted cream.

“A bit early in the day for a sweet tea, isn’t it?” I asked.

“Not when there is gossip to be had,” Nick said. “So tell us was it everything you’d hoped for?”

“Was what everything I’d hoped for?” I asked.

Viv pursed her lips and glanced at the window as if examining the pattern of the rain on the glass.

“You know,” Andre said, and he wiggled his eyebrows at me. “You and Harrison?”

“He was injured!” I protested. “I was merely keeping an eye on him.”

“Are you blushing?” Viv asked. She sounded as ridiculous as the other two.

“No!” I cried. Which was a total lie. I’m a redhead and I could feel how hot my face was. I figured on the mortification scale I was probably hovering around an eight or an eight point five. “Listen, Harrison could have died because he saved me from an attacker. There was nothing romantic about it. I merely stayed with him to repay the debt.”

They all looked at me as if I was not fooling them, not even a little. Argh.

“Of course, you’re right. We shouldn’t tease,” Nick said. He patted the empty chair beside him. “Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please,” I said. I was really going to have to get them all drinking coffee, at least in the morning.

“Then you can tell us all about your night’s adventure,” he said.

I rolled my eyes. With friends like these, who needed siblings?

My phone chirped in my purse. I thought about ignoring it but then thought it might give me the distraction I needed.

I retrieved it from my bag and opened up the screen to read the incoming text. It was from Harrison. It did not read happy. He wanted to know where I was immediately.

“Excuse me,” I said. I quickly texted back that I was just fine and then redirected by asking how he was.

Viv handed me my tea and my phone chimed again.

Andre peeked over my shoulder and I glowered at him and shifted my seat.

“It’s from him,” he said to the others.

“He just wants to know that I got home okay,” I said. “Okay?”

They all glanced away but I could see them exchanging smiles. Ugh, I felt like I was in middle school again.

Harrison ignored my question and texted that he had to go into the office but was planning to stop by the shop with Detective Inspector Finchley to talk about the attack, among other things. A surge of panic hit me. Among other things? That couldn’t be good.

I texted back a sure-no-problem text in the hope that it would read casual and not freaked out. Then I put my phone away.

“Well, if you won’t gossip about you and Harrison,” Nick said, “you have to tell us what’s happening with the Grisbys. Andre told me that was Tina Grisby you were with yesterday.”

“It was,” I said. “Poor thing. Her husband was murdered and now she’s pregnant and she thinks someone is trying to kill her.”

“Pregnant?” Nick asked. He looked perplexed. “Are you sure?”

“Quite sure,” I said. “Well, at least that’s what she told me.”

“I was telling Andre last night that I know I’ve seen her before,” Nick said. “In fact, I’m quite sure of it, and I must say I find it hard to believe that she’s pregnant.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because when I saw her, she was with her lover—her
lady
lover,” Nick said.

“What?” Viv asked. “And you didn’t tell me before?”

“We were too busy gossiping about—” Nick’s voice broke off when he glanced at me.

“Uh-huh,” I said. I decided to let it pass. “Are you absolutely sure? Where and when did you see her?”

“In Hyde Park, having a picnic in the tall grass,” he said. “And yes, I am quite sure.”

I glanced at Viv. This certainly changed everything.

“Can you describe the woman she was with?” I asked.

“Yes, it struck me that she and Tina had a similar look, but where Tina is vivacious the other was reticent,” Nick said. “She was pale and mousy-looking with long brown hair and glasses. Honestly, I never would have put them together if I hadn’t seen it for myself.”

Mousy. Hadn’t I thought the same thing when I’d met Rose Grisby for the first time? Could it be?

I picked up my phone. There was another text message from Harrison. I ignored it and opened the Internet. The screen was small but I managed to bring up a picture of Rose Grisby from the newspaper report about her father’s funeral. I enlarged the picture and held it out to Nick.

“That’s her!” he cried.

I turned to Viv. “It all makes sense. If Tina and Rose are a couple, then I’m betting they killed off Geoffrey not only so they could be together, but if Tina is pregnant, they can be together and inherit the entire estate.”

“You need to call Inspector Finchley,” Viv said. “This could solve his case.”

“You’re right,” I said. But it didn’t feel right. I just couldn’t reconcile the woman who had sought me out for help as a murderer. “Or I could go and talk to Tina myself and make sure we’re not making any false accusations.”

“Scarlett, no,” Andre said. He sounded as bossy as Harrison and I found I didn’t like that tone any more from him. “You and Harrison were attacked. It could have been Rose or Tina or some thug they hired. Now, you can’t put yourself in harm’s way again. There is a fortune at stake here and these people are playing dirty. They’re obviously not above harming anyone who gets in their way.”

“But it doesn’t make sense,” I protested. “Why would Tina ask me to get her a safe place in the States if she’s in on the murder?”

“She’s trying to throw you off by playing the victim,” Andre said.

“He’s right,” Nick said. Andre gave him a grateful look.

“Please, Scarlett,” Viv said. “I really must insist that you be sensible about this.”

I sighed. My clothes were still damp; my hair was a tangled soppy mess. I took a long, bracing sip of tea.

“All right,” I said. “I’m just going to dry off and change and then I’ll call Finchley.”

“That’s my girl,” Andre said.

Nick and Viv smiled at me. As I left the back room and headed into the shop, my gaze lingered on Ferd, the carved wooden bird that sat on the top of Mim’s old armoire. He always reminded me of Mim—she loved that old wardrobe—and I wondered what she would do in my place.

Mim had been a force of nature. If Viv and I had impulse control issues, it was because it was stamped in our DNA right down the line from Mim. I did mean to go and dry off and call the inspector, really I did, but the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to see Tina for myself. I just couldn’t believe she was a murderer, and if it wasn’t her, then she could very well be in terrible danger.

“Don’t tell,” I whispered to Ferd and then I headed out the front door and back out into the rain.

The gate at the Grisby mansion on Bishops Avenue was closed. This presented me with a variety of options. I could hit the buzzer on the gate and hope that Buckley would remember me and let me in. I could try to scale the fence and have them call the police on me. I could slip around the yard looking for an alternate entrance and risk being eaten by guard dogs. Yeah, none of these options held much promise.

I decided to use my natural charm and vivacity and see if I could work my magic on Buckley. If that failed, then I’d scale the fence.

I hit the buzzer. Buckley’s voice answered within moments.

“Grisby Hall, how may I help you?”

“Good day, Buckley.” I put a lot of pep in my greeting. “This is Scarlett Parker, from Mim’s Whims. I’m here to see Tina Grisby.”

“Hello, Ms. Parker,” he said. “One moment, please.”

Well, at least he sounded like he remembered me. I waited.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Parker, but Mrs. Grisby isn’t in,” he said. He sounded regretful.

I noticed there was a camera over the buzzer. No doubt he could see me getting drenched. I decided to work it, and I sneezed and then shivered.

“Are you quite sure?” I asked.
Achoo!
“We had an appointment. Maybe she forgot.”

“She has been rather . . . well, that could be,” he said. “Here, come on in and dry off and we’ll get this sorted.”

“Oh, thank you, Buckley,” I said. Yes, I was absolutely fine with pity being his motivation to help me.

As the gates swung open and I hurried down the drive toward the house, I didn’t think I would have to do much to make myself even more pitiful than I already was. I even sneezed for real.

Buckley met me at the front door with two big fluffy towels.

“Here you are,” he said. “Mrs. Eudora Grisby is in the drawing room if you’d like to join her while I track down Mrs. Tina Grisby.”

“Oh, that would be nice,” I said.

I followed Buckley down the hallway of family portraits into a cozy room that was exactly what you’d picture in an English mansion. It had two plush wing chairs in front of a crackling fire and a gorgeous Oriental rug on the floor. The walls were dark wood paneling with built-in lighted shelves to display artifacts from all over the world.

“What’s this?” Dotty asked as I came into the room with Buckley. I had draped one towel around my neck and was using the other to dry my hair.

“Ms. Parker is here to see Mrs. Tina,” he said. His voice was gentle. “I thought she might keep you company and warm up by the fire.”

“Of course,” Dotty said. She did not look as happy to see me as usual and I wondered if she recognized me without Viv beside me.

“I’ll return shortly,” Buckley said.

“Thank you, Buckley, for everything,” I said.

I moved to stand before the fire and let its heat wash over me in pleasurable waves. I was cold all the way down to my bones and I had begun to think I would never be warm again.

“Thank you for inviting me in,” I said.

“I didn’t invite you,” Dotty said. She arched one eyebrow at me and I got the distinct feeling she was very unhappy with my presence.

“I’m Viv’s cousin,” I said. “I mean Ginny’s.”

“I know who you are,” she said. She didn’t sound happy about it. “You’re a redhead. It’s been my observation that redheads are sly and untrustworthy.”

I slowly lowered the towel from my hair. Okay, this was awkward. “I have to disagree.”

“You’re husband stealers, that’s what you are,” she snapped.

Oh! My mind flashed to the Wonderland tea and the scene Cara Whittles had made about being Mr. Grisby’s real wife and heir.

“Well, I can see how you might not like redheads,” I said. “But we’re not all like that.”

It was then that I noticed the cross-stitch in her hands. She was gripping the round frame so tightly, she was pulling the fabric out of it.

“Why?” she snapped. “Why did you do it?”

I held the towel in front of me. You know, as if it could provide buffer from her rage.

“Do what?” I asked. I eyed the door that Buckley had shut behind him. I wasn’t too keen on being in a closed room with Dotty just now.

“Why did you steal my husband?” she asked. Her eyes crackled with fire and I had a feeling if she were a few years younger, she’d have tried to snatch the hair right off of my head.

“Dotty, you have me mistaken with someone else,” I said. “I’m not Cara Whittles. I’m Scarlett. I work at Mim’s Whims. I’m Ginny’s granddaughter.”

“Oh.” Dotty’s eyes went wide.

She glanced down at her lap. She looked at her stitchery as if she’d never seen it before. Then she glanced up at me and her eyes became unfocused again. I felt my stomach drop. This was not going well.

“I bore his children,” she said. “Four. Three girls and a boy, his heir.”

“I know,” I said. “I helped with the Wonderland tea—”

“Quiet!” she roared. She rose from her seat and threw her cross-stitch across the room. She was so angry she was shaking. “You are nothing! Nothing! You bore him no children. You were just a plaything, a silly little plaything.”

“Dotty, stop!” I cried. “I am not her. I did not steal your husband.”

“Don’t you lie to me!” she cried.

“I’m not!”

She took a step forward and I ducked behind one of the wing chairs.

“Well, I had the last laugh. Ha!” She barked as if to prove she was laughing. It did not sound even remotely like a humorous chuckle to me. “I killed him. I ended his miserable self-centered life.”

I clutched the top of the chair to steady myself. It couldn’t be true. Her husband had died in Italy.

“What are you saying, Dotty?”

“His phobia about germs, his insistence on everything being just so, it was maddening,” she said. “He always smelled like disinfectant.” She wrinkled her nose. “He abandoned me! It was no more than he deserved!”

It felt as if time stopped and with it my ability to breathe. It couldn’t be true what she was saying. But then I thought about how she believed Viv was Mim and I was Cara. Could it be that she thought Geoffrey her son had been Geoffrey her husband? And in her rage over his desertion from their life, had she murdered him, not realizing she was actually killing her own son?

“Who are you talking about, Dotty?” I asked.

She looked at me as if she thought I was as dumb as dirt. Then she made an oh-poor-baby face.

“What’s the matter?” she asked. “Do you miss your lover?”

“I am not nor was I ever Geoffrey Grisby’s lover,” I said. How could I convince her? How could I make her stop seeing me as a redhead?

I glanced at the towel around my neck and quickly lowered my head and wrapped the towel around it. If it was my red hair that was confusing her, I needed to hide it. “Look at me. I am Ginny, your friend the milliner. Ginny.”

My resemblance to Mim was mostly in my large blue eyes. I had freckles, which Mim had never had, but we had the same fair complexion and heart-shaped face. In fact, when Viv and I were very young and wore hats covering our hair, we were frequently thought to be sisters.

Dotty frowned at me. Then her eyes cleared and she held out her hands.

“Oh, Ginny, you have to help me,” she said. “I’ve done a horrible thing. I killed my Geoffrey.”

I took her hands in mine and helped her into a seat. I sat across from her and said, “It’s all right, Dotty; just tell me what happened.”

Unfortunately, the towel slid off of my head and landed in a heap on the floor.

“You!” Dotty cried. She snatched her hands away from me and leapt from her seat.

I snatched the towel off of the floor and tried to wrap my hair back up, but a sharp whack on my shoulder made my arm go numb.

“Ouch!” I yelped.

I glanced up to see that Dotty had grabbed one of the iron pokers off of the stand by the hearth. For a lady of advanced years, she wielded it like she knew how to poke a fire or knock out an unsuspecting shopkeeper, who would be me.

I scurried back from her and she brought it down right where I’d been standing. It smacked into the carpet and left a nasty black mark that I knew was not going to endear either of us to Buckley.

“Dotty, you’ve got it wrong,” I said. I danced backward, avoiding her wild swings. I yanked the towel up around my head as I went. “Look at me. Look at my eyes. Ginny. Remember?”

Dotty stopped and looked at me. Her eyes went fuzzy and she dropped the poker. I kicked it away. This time when I took her hands it was to make sure she didn’t grab anything else to whack me with. My shoulder smarted and my arm still tingled.

I half dragged, half led her to the door. I didn’t care if I had to scream the house down. I wanted backup and someone was going to bring it. My preference would have been Buckley, but about now I’d be just as happy to see a gardener or a postman. Anyone.

“I’m so confused,” she said. She looked forlorn and I felt for her—truly, I did—but I had to know.

“You know, don’t you,” I said. “It wasn’t your husband that was poisoned, Dotty; it was your son.”

To my surprise, her eyes filled with tears and she hung her head and sobbed. Not delicate little sobs, but great big wrenching waves of grief that swept up from her epicenter and roared out like a tsunami of pain.

“I tried to tell him that it felt wrong,” she cried. “I remembered that my Geoffrey wasn’t the bad Geoffrey, but he told me that Geoffrey was going to take off with his lover to Italy again and that the evil redhead would make sure we lost everything. I thought we should just poison her, but he said Geoffrey would cut us off if we harmed his lover.”

We paused by the closed door. I let go of one of her hands so that I could turn the knob. I patted her awkwardly on the shoulder as she continued to weep. Poor Dotty. Someone had used her own addled sense of time and person against her.

“Dotty, who is ‘he’? Who told you that you were poisoning your husband?”

She glanced away from me as if afraid to answer.

“Did Tina have anything to do with it?”

“What?” Dotty asked. “Tina? No. She’s going to have a baby, you know: the next heir.”

“Actually, no, she’s not,” a voice said.