At the Drop of a Hat (17 page)

“Huh,” I said.

“Also, he did enjoy shagging his clients, and it didn't really matter to him if they were married or not,” she said.

She told a long story that involved a married woman, an irate husband, a bet for twenty thousand dollars on a horse race and Russo being found on the front steps of his house overdosing on pain pills for which he did not have a prescription. By the time she'd finished her story, I was convinced that someone had probably offed Russo to do the world a favor. Unfortunately, that brought Ariana and all of her substantial reasons to do him in to mind.

“Naomi,” I interrupted her, stopping her from telling another story. “Who do you think killed Russo?”

She puffed out a breath and I knew she'd been giving the matter considerable thought.

“Assuming it's not Ariana,” she said, “and I really don't think it's her, despite the unfortunate story in the paper.”

“Unfortunate” being the nice term for a royal shredding in the press.

“Bruno O'Malley seems the most likely suspect to me,” she said. “Despite the drama and chaos and lack of ethics, the only time I was actually scared on the job was when O'Malley showed up to collect payment from Russo, who didn't have it.”

“He frightened you?” I asked.

“I really thought O'Malley was going to kill him,” she said.

“Have you told the police this?” I asked.

“They haven't contacted me,” she said. “You're the first.”

“Well, if they do contact you, I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention that I had talked to you,” I said. “They might construe it as me being . . .”

“Interfering?” Naomi supplied.

“I was thinking meddlesome,” I said. “But same difference.”

Naomi laughed and then I heard her toddler squawk about something.

“My adult time is over,” Naomi said.

“Thanks for talking to me,” I said.

“No problem,” she said. “Feel free to call again if you think of anything else. And when you talk to Ariana, please give her my best.”

“I will,” I said. “I most definitely will.”

I ended the call and strode back to the counter. Fee had taken the hats I'd found into the back room, and the shop was quiet. I continued my cleaning. It's good for what ails you.

Bruno O'Malley. His name kept coming up. Both Mariska and Naomi had mentioned him as being a threat to Russo. There had to be a reason. I was still chewing on this when Fee left for the night and Viv came out front to help me lock up the shop.

As I was turning the dead bolt on the front door, two faces appeared in the window and I started. Recognition hit right away, and I pushed the door open for my favorite neighbors, Nick and Andre.

“Dinner, my treat,” Nick said. “And I won't take no for an answer.”

I looked at Viv. “Do you think you're capable of holding down any food?”

“Are you sick?” Andre asked. “Is it contagious?”

“Only if it's possible to be a carrier for a hangover,” I said. Viv gave me a dark look, and I laughed.

“Our Viv pissed in the middle of the day?” Nick asked. “Do tell.”

“Over dinner,” I said. The caviar had been hours ago, and I was starving.

“I don't know if I can eat,” Viv said.

Nick eyed Viv's pallor. “Come on, love, a good meter of pizza at Portobello Ristorante will set you right.”

“And they have wine,” Andre offered with a wicked wink.

Viv groaned but we grabbed our coats and followed the boys out the door, locking it behind us.

On the walk over, I told them all about our visit with Mariska and then showed them the article in the paper. Andre gave a low whistle, and even Nick looked serious for a moment.

As we sat at a cozy table for four, Nick looked at me and asked, “Are you quite certain that she's innocent?”

“Yes,” Viv and I said together.

Nick and Andre exchanged a look.

“Let's order first,” Andre said. “I'm going to need sustenance for the rest of this conversation.”

We started with the antipasto to be followed by the Pizza Saltimbocca. Viv had a sparkling water while I nursed my glass of red wine.

Nick and Andre peppered us with questions throughout the meal, and the more we discussed the situation, the more I was convinced that Ariana was innocent.

I took a bite of my rolled pizza stuffed with pancetta and mozzarella and let myself enjoy the comfort of a crunchy crust filled with all that yummy goodness.

“What we need to do”—I paused to swallow before continuing—“is to find a way to interview Bruno O'Malley. If Russo owed him money and couldn't pay, then it stands to reason that he might have had reason to throw Russo off the roof.”

“I can make that happen,” Nick said.

Viv's head snapped up and we both looked at Nick.

“How?” Viv asked.

“I'll use my connections,” Nick said with a careless shrug.

“You most certainly will not,” Andre said. “Bruno O'Malley is a criminal and not a petty little thief criminal but a thug who would think nothing of twisting your body into a pretzel if you cross him.”

Nick waved an unconcerned hand at Andre. “His bad reputation is overstated, besides off-course bookmakers aren't illegal in the UK. They're regulated. I wonder if I could meet him tonight.”

Nick pulled out his phone and began to text someone.

“This is utter madness,” Andre cried.

“Hush, it's no such thing,” Nick said. He pressed his lower lip with his index finger. “I should dress the part, don't you think? Is a fedora too much?”

“Yes,” I said at the same time Viv said, “No.”

I gave her an exasperated look. “He is going to meet a bookie. He is not advertising the shop.”

She gave me a sulky look, probably more due to her state of under-the-weatherness than my comments about the fedora.

“I can't believe you know Bruno O'Malley,” I said to Nick.

“I fixed his girlfriend Dana's overbite,” Nick said. He gave a delicate shudder. “Not to gossip about a patient but truly she was a mouth of horrors.”

“Not your fault, the tooth hurts,” Viv quipped.

“Well done.” Nick laughed.

“Must have been quite the molar expedition,” Andre said and Viv chortled.

“Be nice,” I said. “I'm sure she has fillings, too.”

They all turned to look at me with blank expressions. I swear they practiced this when I wasn't around.

“That was funny,” I said. “And you know it.”

“Scarlett, Scarlett, Scarlett,” Nick said as he draped his arm on my shoulder. “Keep trying, love, you'll get it yet.”

I rolled my eyes but then Nick's phone buzzed as it vibrated, drawing our attention to it.

“It's Dana,” he said. His eyes scanned the small screen and then he grinned. He looked up at us and said, “Let's play.”

Yes, it did occur to me that this was the sort of thing Harrison expected to be informed about, but—there's always a but—since Nick and Andre were involved, it seemed less critical. Viv concurred.

The address of the meeting was for a place tucked away in West London on an inauspicious street that was made up of shops and restaurants with residences above them.

I kept a hand on the back of Andre's jacket for fear that if I let go, I'd be lost and never find my way home. It never ceased to amaze me how many tiny side streets were tucked in among the main roads, creating small neighborhoods that I had never known existed until I was led into one of them.

At the corner, we could see the place that Dana had indicated Nick should meet her and Bruno. I frowned. I had pictured a dimly lit, smoky pub. You know, the sort of place you walk into and it's so dark your pupils dilate into big black marbles, your feet stick to the floor, the bouncer looks like he wrestles bears in his off time, and the smell of cigarette smoke is so thick it coats your skin with tar and ash. Yeah, that kind of place.

“Are you sure you got the address right?” I asked Nick.

“Positive,” he said.

“But that's a . . .” I hesitated. Maybe I was seeing things.

“Frozen yogurt shop,” Andre said, clearly as bemused as I was.

“See? What can happen in a place called Snog?” Nick asked. “At worst, I'll get a brain freeze from slurping down my yogurt too fast.”

Andre did not look relieved at all. If anything, he looked more suspicious.

“You're not actually going in there, are you?” Andre asked. “Bruno's probably on to you, and this is his way of toying with you, making you think you're okay while he's plotting your demise.”

“Or maybe he just likes frozen yogurt,” Viv countered.

“Who doesn't?” I asked. “Especially with the toppings. I always pile shredded coconut on mine.”

“Blueberries and pineapple,” Viv said. “It can't be beat.”

“Too healthy.” Nick made a face. “You have to pick the chocolate yogurt and then double down with chocolate chunks.”

“You're seriously debating yogurt toppings when you're about to walk into a setup?” Andre asked.

“Relax,” Nick said. He straightened his jacket and cuffs and strode forward. “Come with me if you're game; otherwise I'll see you on the other side.”

“Oh, no, don't . . . how do I get into these things?” Andre asked no one in particular.

He gave me a decidedly dirty look, as if this was my fault, before hurrying after Nick. It had been agreed that Nick and Andre would go in first and meet Bruno, while Viv and I followed a few minutes after, just to keep an eye on things and be backup if they needed it.

“Do you think this is a good idea?” I asked Viv.

“I don't see how it's a bad idea,” Viv said. “Nick will chat up Bruno and Dana, maybe place a few bets, feel them out about Russo, and either he'll come out with some information or he won't.”

I nodded. It seemed reasonable enough. Still, Bruno O'Malley did have a certain reputation. In a city where off-course bookmakers were legal, he seemed to like to bend the rules to his own advantage, which was the reason he seemed to keep landing back in jail. So long as bending the rules didn't include whacking my favorite neighbors, we were all good.

The night had turned cold and my coat was not nearly warm enough. I was hoping they served hot chocolate in the yogurt shop, but I wasn't betting on it. See what I did there? Betting when we were meeting a bookie? Hilarious, I know. Someday my friends would appreciate my wit.

Yeah, it was bad. What can I say? It had been an extremely long day. Starting at Mariska's with the fermented potato and domestic drama, facing Alistair and Harrison, seeing the bad news in the evening paper, interviewing Naomi and now watching my friend meet the bookmaker. I was done in physically and emotionally. The lure of a hot cup of tea, a fuzzy blanket and a good book was almost more than I could bear. I had half a mind to turn and walk home, but I had no idea where I was or how to get back.

The streetlights illuminated our two friends as they ducked into the shop on the corner. Viv and I pretended to window-shop. There wasn't much to exclaim over. Then again my lack of enthusiasm could be nerves. Did I really think the boys were in danger? No, but then I hadn't expected to come across the dead body of Anthony Russo when I'd gone to his office either.

After what seemed like forever but was only five minutes by the clock on Viv's cell phone, we set off for yogurt or, in my case, hot chocolate.

We never made it into the shop. Viv reached for the door but it flew open, barely missing us as it slammed back. We both jumped and watched with our mouths hanging open as Nick and Andre raced past us.

I gaped at the man looming in the doorway. He was watching Andre and Nick run down the street while shoveling yogurt into his mouth as if afraid someone was going to snatch it away.

“You'll get a punch up the bracket if I catch you around here again!” he yelled after Nick and Andre, sending yogurt-covered spittle in all directions.

Viv and I backed up several paces while clutching each other close.

I figured this was O'Malley since there wasn't anyone else in the shop except the girl behind the counter, who was more interested in her smartphone than what was happening, and the woman standing next to Bruno, looking like she was about to give him a good scolding.

I gave her a lot of credit. O'Malley was shaved bald, had gauges in his ears, sported scruffy whiskers on his chin and was clothed in black—black leather jacket over a black shirt, black jeans and black boots. Very intimidating.

The woman next to him looked as out of place as a kitten in an alligator pit. She had her hand wrapped around his elbow and was frowning as she whispered something in his ear. Her hair was red like mine, but had more blond in it, and she wore it up on her head in a tidy twist. She wore a tailored blouse and skirt with tights and high heels. She looked like a bank teller. They made a perplexing couple.

“Bruno O'Malley, that was absolutely uncalled for,” she said. It might have been more effective if she didn't say it in a singsong baby voice.

Bruno hung his head. Then again, it seemed to work.

“Do you think she thinks she can tame him?” Viv asked me.

“Housebreaking might be the place to start,” I said.

“I'm sorry, Dana,” he said. He had yogurt dripping off his chin and onto the sidewalk. Dana used a napkin to swab his chin.

“Maybe she fancies him as her big baby,” Viv said.

“Shh,” I said. I realized Bruno had noticed us and I didn't want to have whatever had happened with Nick and Andre happen to us, mostly because I really hate running.

“Are we done here?” Viv asked.

“Yes,” I said. “After all, we did promise not to talk to anyone without taking Harrison with us.”

“And we definitely don't want to break our promise twice in one day,” Viv said.

Together we started backing away. Bruno took one stomping step toward us, and both Viv and I squealed and turned and ran down the sidewalk after Nick and Andre.

I was wheezing by the time we reached the corner but I kept going. When we were rounding a building to dash up another side street, a hand reached out from the alley and grabbed my arm. It might have been my adrenaline, but I punched out with a fist, connecting with an arm and the person connected to the arm yelped.

I recognized that yelp. It was Nick. I stopped, grabbing Viv and slowing her down.

“Wait!” I cried.

Viv stumbled to a halt. We were both breathing hard. Nick was doubled up, while Andre stood beside him, not breathing heavy but definitely hysterical.

“He's going to kill us and Scarlett will find the bodies,” Andre whined. “I can see the headline now,
Young photographer Andre Eisel struck down in the prime of his life
.”

“What am I, a footnote in the story?” Nick asked. “
Meanwhile his lover, a dentist of no importance . . .”

“Enough, you two!” I cried. “What happened back there? Why did you run out? Did Bruno threaten you? Are you all right? What did he say?”

“Take a breath, Scarlett,” Andre said.

“I can't,” I gasped.

I bent over next to Nick, trying to catch my breath.

“We had barely walked into the place when Bruno charged us,” Andre said.

“That's not what happened,” Nick argued. “Dana introduced us. It was going well. Bruno even complimented the job I did on her overbite, and then you”—he paused to jab a finger at Andre—“blurt out that he's so much nicer in person than we thought he'd be and clearly he couldn't have whacked Anthony Russo.”

Viv and I both turned to look at Andre.

“You didn't,” Viv said.

Andre raised his hands in a dramatic gesture. “It was meant to be a compliment.”

“How is backhandedly accusing someone of murder a compliment?” I asked.

Andre stepped up to the corner to peer around the edge of the building as if he expected Bruno to show up and finish what he'd started.

“I tried to apologize,” he said.

Nick snorted.

“Worse?” I asked.

Nick bobbed his head.

“I was trying to appeal to his masculinity,” Andre said. Now he was beginning to look put out.

“By telling him you bruise easily?” Nick asked. “Honestly.”

“Did you get any information about Russo?” I asked.

Nick pushed off his knees and met my gaze. “Yes. He did manage to yell that the police had already asked him about the blighter and that of course he didn't throw him off the roof because how would he get the money Russo owed him if Russo was dead?”

“Oh, that does make sense,” Viv said.

“It does, unless the fall was an accident,” I said. “Maybe Bruno and company were just trying to scare him.”

“Then there would have been a record of the killer coming in,” Viv said. “Because they'd have nothing to hide, they'd be on camera.”

“Oh, and Bruno also yelled that he had an alibi,” Nick said. “But I didn't catch what it was because I was too busy running for my life.”

“The police must have verified it, or else he'd be behind bars by now,” Viv said.

“What a disaster,” I said.

“I'm sorry,” Andre said. “I panicked.”

“Not your fault,” I said, although clearly it was.

Nick snorted so I knew he was thinking the same thing I was. We meandered back to Portobello Road. To make up for missing out on frozen yogurt, we stopped by Zaza, a gelato spot near our shop.

Not that gelato makes everything better, but we'd gone only half a block when the entire Bruno O'Malley episode struck me funny and I couldn't stop the giggle fit that erupted.

“All right, Scarlett?” Nick asked.

I nodded. My red hair was hanging over my face. The harder I tried to squelch the laugh, the more it slipped out sideways, making it sound like someone was stepping on a duck.

“Dear God, she's having a fit,” Andre said.