At the Drop of a Hat (5 page)

My voice trailed off as I realized I hadn't ever gotten his name.

“Brouillard,” he said. “Constable Brouillard.”

I nodded my head in greeting and watched as he shook hands with the inspectors. There was obvious admiration from the constable for the detectives so I sensed he had heard of them and approved, or he was hoping to rise up the police ladder into their corps one day, or both.

“If you'll take me to the . . . deceased,” Inspector Simms said to Brouillard. “I'd like to inspect the area and talk to the first responders.”

“Of course,” Brouillard said and led the way down the hall to the back of the house.

“Miss Jackson, can you recall the events of the morning for me exactly as they happened?” Inspector Franks asked.

“I'll try,” she said. “It was a hectic morning. Mr. Russo had several calls he had to place and I was working on some legal documents for an upcoming case of his.”

She paused and bit her lip. Inspector Franks said nothing but just waited for her to gather her thoughts. I did not have his patience and felt like giving her a good thump on the back to get the story going.

“I was distracted,” she said. “You see, I'm getting married . . .” She paused and gestured to me, and Franks turned to look at me in surprise.

“To you?” he asked. “She's marrying you?”

“What?” I blinked. “Oh, no, we're not, we've only just met.”

His eyebrows rose even higher.

“No,” I said. “Viv and I are restoring her mother's bridal hat so that Ariana can wear it in her own wedding. That's why I stopped by, to give her the estimate for the repair.”

“I seem to have misplaced my phone,” Ariana said.

“So I came by to give her the estimates as the wedding is only a few weeks away,” I said.

Inspector Franks nodded. I figured that was my cue to shut up.

“Please continue, Ms. Jackson,” he said.

Ariana talked a little bit more about her office duties and then she mentioned that Mr. Russo had said he needed to go upstairs to his flat above the office. He resided in the two floors above, like Viv and I did at our shop. Ariana said he'd been gone quite a while and that she had decided to go and make tea. While she was in the small kitchenette, she heard a yell and then saw Mr. Russo plummet to the ground.

She twisted her fingers together as she said it. Her delicate features looked pinched and she paled with the grisly memory. She swallowed and I wondered if she was trying not to throw up. The thought of Russo's bent and twisted body made me feel like upchucking so I could hardly blame her.

“Of course, I ran outside right away,” she said. “I realized that there was no way he could have survived the fall but I checked anyway. He was already dead.”

I could see the bloodstains still on her hands and I glanced at Franks and saw that he was looking at her hands as well.

“I didn't want to leave him like that,” she said. Her voice sounded small and scared and nothing like the confident girl I had met before. “So I hollered for help and then Scarlett arrived.”

“I heard her cry just after I stepped into the office,” I said. “I ran out back and then together we called 999.”

Franks nodded. He paced on the rich Aubusson carpet with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Do you know why he went upstairs?” he asked.

“No, he just said he was popping up there for a minute,” she said. “He did that sometimes if he forgot some paperwork, or wanted a different pair of shoes. I didn't think much of it.”

“Except?” Franks prodded her and I assumed he heard the hesitant note in her voice, too.

“Well, he was odd when he left,” she said. “He sort of stood in the door and stared for a moment.”

“Stared?” Franks asked. “At what?”

“Me,” she said. She pushed her glasses up on her nose and I realized this was a nervous habit of hers. “I got the feeling he wanted to say something but he didn't. He didn't say anything at all.”

Franks blew a breath out of his nostrils. “We're going to want to have a look at his flat.”

“Of course,” she said. She gestured to the stairs on the far side of the room. “The door should be unlocked.”

It made sense that it would be unlocked because he hadn't come back down through it, and while none of us said as much, I knew we were all thinking it.

The inspector called in a few people from the yard and they all disappeared up the stairs while Ariana and I were left to wait in the main room. A stiff breeze was blowing in through the open front door and I shivered, longing for the little bit of sunshine I'd gotten earlier.

“Do you want me to call someone for you?” I asked. “You could use my phone.”

“Oh, thank you,” Ariana said. “I'd like to call my fiancé, but I don't think I should use the office phone. Mr. Russo didn't allow personal calls on the business line.”

“And you'd feel odd doing it now that he's dead,” I said.

She nodded. I handed her my phone and she tapped in her fiancé's number. She didn't appear to be getting an answer, and when she spoke rapidly into the phone, it was clear she was leaving a message.

I glanced away to give her an illusion of privacy because, really, in such a small room I could hear everything she was saying. She sounded weepy but she didn't cry. When she was done, I turned back to her and she handed me the phone.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Do you think he'll come right here?” I asked.

“I don't know,” she said. “If he gets the message, I suppose he will.”

I nodded. I wasn't sure how long I was supposed to stay. It felt awkward to leave her like this, but then again, it felt pretty darn awkward staying. I supposed I should ask Inspector Franks if he needed me any longer, but I couldn't help but feel as if I was abandoning Ariana if I left.

“Miss Jackson,” Inspector Franks said as he came down the stairs from the flat above. “I'll need you to come down to the station to file an official report.”

“What?” Ariana looked shocked. “Leave? But who will mind the office?”

“The crime scene investigators—” he began but Ariana interrupted.

“Crime scene?” she asked. I wouldn't have thought she could get any paler but she did. “Do you think someone did this to him?”

She glanced around the room as if looking for a bad man to be lurking in a corner, and I found myself doing the same.

“We can't determine that as yet,” Inspector Franks said. The look in his eyes was gentle as if he understood how terrifying this all was for her. “It is highly unusual for a person to fall off the top of a three-story building, however, so our assignment will be to determine how he came to be on the roof and what caused him to pitch off of it. Perhaps he is a drinker?”

Ariana shook her head. “Not during work hours, at least, not so that I ever noticed.”

Inspector Franks nodded. “If it's not an accident, then we have to consider the likelihood of him being pushed, or whether he jumped.”

“Murder,” Ariana said. “Or suicide? I can't believe that. I just can't.”

“Well, as you say, he wasn't a drinker,” Inspector Franks said. “We'll need to determine how it happened that he fell to his death. I think it'll be easier for you to make a formal statement at the station.”

Ariana glanced around the room, looking lost and uncertain.

“I'll go with you, if that helps,” I said.

The words were out of my mouth before my common sense had a chance to filter them. Darn it. The last thing I wanted to do was spend my day at the police station, but the poor girl looked so undone by everything that was happening to her, how could I not go with her? It would be like letting a puppy play in traffic and not helping it to safety.

“Oh, I can't ask you to do that,” she said. “You've already taken up so much of your day with this.”

“A little bit longer won't make much of a difference then,” I said. I glanced up and saw Inspector Franks studying me.

“What time did you say you got here?” he asked.

I liked Inspector Franks, I did, but I knew I looked like a square peg trying to fit in a round hole in this situation. I couldn't blame him for being suspicious.

“Judging by the fact that I stepped into the house and heard Ariana screaming, I'd say I got here just after he fell, so maybe half an hour ago,” I said.

“Is there any other point of access to the roof?” Franks asked Ariana. “From outside perhaps?”

“None that I know of,” she said. “I think there's just the one door on the third floor.”

Inspector Franks smoothed his mustache as if considering her words. The gesture made me nervous, and judging by the way Ariana twisted her fingers in her lap, it made her nervous, too.

Inspector Simms chose that moment to rejoin us in the sitting area. He looked a bit green around the gills and I figured staring at a man's broken and bloody body would do that to even the most hardened police officer.

“Can I have a word?” Simms said to Franks.

“Excuse me, ladies.” Franks led Simms out the front door. I could hear the low murmur of their voices but I couldn't make out what they were saying.

I glanced at Ariana but she didn't appear to be trying to listen to them. Then again, she was much closer to the situation than I was. I couldn't imagine what was going through her mind. One second she's making tea and the next she's standing beside the bashed and bloody body of her boss. Talk about a rough day at work.

The inspectors returned to the room and I noted that the fresh air had done Simms some good as he looked less pasty than he had when he'd left.

“If you'll come with us, Ms. Jackson,” Inspector Franks said. “We'd like to continue our conversation back at the station.”

Ariana gave me a helpless look and I stood up.

“I'm coming with you,” I said. It was appalling how much I sounded like my mother when she'd made up her mind about something, but dang if it didn't work.

Inspector Franks frowned and his voice was grudging when he said, “All right then.”

We followed the inspectors to their car, which was double-parked in front of the building. Traffic on the small street had become snarled and one constable was out in the road, trying to establish some order. Judging by the shouting and honking, he was failing spectacularly.

He looked relieved when he saw the inspectors open the back doors for us and gave a wave as the men climbed in and Inspector Simms maneuvered us through the tight street.

I had been to the Notting Hill Station—it's a long story and really doesn't bear repeating—but I'd never been to the Kensington Station. We hurried down Kensington High Street and worked our way toward Earl's Walk. I took it as a good sign that the inspectors didn't have the siren wailing as they drove.

We arrived at the redbrick building and Inspector Simms pulled over to the curb, letting us out. Inspector Franks gave him a nod as we climbed out and I assumed it meant that parking the car was the younger inspector's job.

Two bright blue pots with small evergreen shrubs sat on each side of the glass double doors. Given the barren appearance of the very flat redbrick building, I took the planters as a sign of eternal optimism.

Personally, my positive thought of the moment was the hope that Ariana's fiancé would arrive shortly and I would be spared spending the entire day in the station.

Inspector Franks led the way and we followed behind him like two good little ducklings. The station was a bustling box full of phones ringing, loud conversations and a drunk slumped in the corner who looked to have peed himself. Lovely.

Inspector Franks led us down a narrow hall, leaving the noise and chaos behind us as we went. I felt myself breathe a little bit easier as we went.

Glass-walled offices filled this section of the station and he led us to one of these. A wooden bench ran along the hallway and he gestured for us to take a seat.

“I won't be long,” he said.

We watched him walk into the office area and talk to another man. I wondered what he was saying. Was it his superior? Was he reporting in? I really hated not knowing what was going on.

I turned to Ariana to ask her what she thought, but the words caught in my throat as I saw one fat tear slide down her cheek and drip off her chin.

“Ariana, are you all right?” I asked. Which really was the stupidest question ever, wasn't it? Her boss was dead, she'd found him broken and bloody, how all right could she be? Gah!

She wiped the tear away and sniffed. “I'm afraid they're going to think I did it.”

“Oh, no,” I said. “They won't. You'll see. I'm sure it was all just some horrible accident.”

“But what if they find out?” she asked.

“Find out what?”

“That I wanted him dead,” she said. She looked at me, and for possibly the first time in my life, I was speechless.