Copy Cap Murder (19 page)

“In case he comes back,” I said. I didn't say, although I knew with a chilling certainty that it was true, that it was not a case of
if
but rather
when
he would be back for me.

They didn't agree with me, but they didn't disagree either.

“Come on, it's been hours since Inspector Franks has heard from me, I'm sure he's missing me desperately by now,” I said.

Viv was half in and half out the door as we came up to it. Her hair was disheveled and her face was pale. The end of her nose was red and her eyes were watery.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” she said as she grabbed me in a hug that choked. “I never should have sent you to get dinner. I should have gone myself.”

“Viv, it's all right,” I said. I squeezed her hard and then stepped back. “Besides if it wasn't me, it would have been you.”

“No, it wouldn't,” she said. “I don't have your bad luck.”

It was true but I thought it tactless of her to point out at that moment.

The men bustled into the shop behind us and Harrison paused to lock the door. We moved out of the front shop area and went straight into the workroom, where Viv set about putting on a pot of tea.

“Sorry about dinner,” I said. Amazingly, I was feeling pretty hungry.

“Don't think on it,” Nick said. “Andre and I will pop over to our flat, whip something up and bring dinner back here.”

“Oh, no, that's too much,” I said. “You already saved my life, I think asking for dinner on top of that is being pushy.”

“You're not asking,” Andre said. “We're offering. Besides it's only going to be sandwiches, nothing fancy, and we'll be back in time to tell the inspector what we saw.”

“I don't—” I began but Harrison interrupted me.

“Let them,” he said.

He was looking at me as if he expected me to collapse at any moment. There was a part of me that would have liked nothing better, but then there was a part that was so angry, I would have kicked myself repeatedly until I was back on my feet with my fists clenched and ready for battle. Yeah, that would be the really, really angry part.

Fear usually left me in this state. After the shakes and tremors passed, along with the desire to hide under my bed, I got mad, boiling over, whistling like a kettle mad. Oh, wait, that actually was Viv's kettle, no matter, its shrill complaint voiced perfectly how I was feeling.

“All right,” I said to Nick and Andre, who were already moving toward the door. “But I'm treating you two to a dinner out on the town. You pick the night.”

“Not necessary,” Nick said. “But we'll let you.”

Viv put the kettle aside to steep while Harrison walked them out. When it was just the two of us, Viv gave me a sharp look.

“Do you know who it was?” she asked.

“No idea,” I said.

“Can you tell me exactly what happened? Nick was sketchy on the details beyond his daring rescue,” she said.

I smiled. That sounded like Nick. I recounted the story as best as I could. Harrison joined us from the part where I left the Falafel King, so I tried to sound more matter of fact than I felt to keep him from pitying me. It was a silly pride issue on my part, I suppose, but I really don't like to be perceived as weak.

When I got to the part about being trapped in the phone booth with the masked man trying to get in, my voice betrayed me by cracking. I cleared my throat and kept on talking. If Harry and Viv noticed that my voice was raspier, they had the good manners not to point it out.

“Who do you think he was?” Viv asked. “I mean I suppose he could be a stranger who was hired to terrorize you, but why?”

“The mask makes me think it has to do with the case,” Harry said. “Given that Win's killer tried to use the same mask to hide Win's identity before he was tossed onto the fire, it makes sense they would try to scare you with the same one.”

“Unless it is someone who is using the case to their own advantage and wants us to think that Scarlett's attack is tied to Win's murder, when it could be totally random,” Viv said.

“How do you mean?” Harrison frowned.

“What if someone read the papers, learned about the scuffle between you and Win over Scarlett, and decided to use it to commit a thrill murder.”

My head was beginning to hurt as it swung between them, trying to keep up with the conversation.

“Like a copy cat killer?” Harrison asked. “But then wouldn't he want to strangle her?”

“Maybe that was his plan,” Viv said. “But Nick and Andre messed it up.”

“Tea,” I croaked. “I need some tea.”

“Oh, of course, love,” she said. She efficiently poured the tea into the cups after the milk and then added a teaspoon of sugar just the way I like it.

The cup was hot in my hands, almost too hot, but I wrapped my fingers around the china, letting the heat seep into my skin and through my tissue all the way down into my bones.

“There is one thing that no one has considered,” I said.

“What's that?” Harry asked.

“We're assuming my attacker was a man,” I said. “
He
could very well be a
she
.”

“No!” Harry scoffed. “Why would a woman attack you? Women aren't thrill killers, and you have no real connection to Dashavoy.”

“Not true,” Viv argued. “She was with him right before he lost his life. She could be the reason a woman murdered
Dashavoy. Maybe it was someone involved with Dashavoy who did it in a jealous rage.”

“Oh, gag,” I said. “I was not with him so much as being pawed by him.”

“Maybe, but it's not what really happened that matters, it's how it's perceived from outside that counts,” Viv said.

The sound of a fist pounding on the door frame out front made me jump. I glanced at the clock on the wall.

“It's too soon for Nick and Andre,” I said.

“That'll be the inspectors then,” Harrison said.

“I'll go let them in,” Viv offered. She patted my arm as she walked by me. “Drink your tea, love, you'll feel better.”

I smiled at her but I was thinking there was nothing in this tea or any other that could make me feel better about what had happened tonight.

“Do you really think it could have been a woman?” Harrison asked.

I thought about it for a moment, trying to remember as much as I could. The person had worn a hooded jacket over their hair, the mask had hidden their face, the height and build were impossible to determine because of the knee length of their coat. These were just bits and pieces of memory. The only thing that was really clear in my mind was the terrifying mask that had leered at me through the glass. I would never forget it or the surge of pure terror it had caused me.

“I don't know,” I said. “Yes, no, maybe. The hooded figure was covered up so there really was no way to tell if it was a man or a woman.”

“It just doesn't make sense,” Harrison said. “What woman would be strong enough to strangle Dashavoy?”

“It could be a woman with help,” I said. “Like Elise with Sam Kerry or Tuesday with . . .”

One of Harrison's eyebrows shot up higher on his forehead than the other. “Go on.”

“Well, I don't know who would want to help Tuesday,” I said.

“She's not a killer,” Harrison said. “She may be many unpleasant things but a killer isn't one of them.”

“Is that just because you don't want to believe the worst of her?” I asked. “Because you almost married her?”

“Heard about that, did you?” he asked. He looked rueful as opposed to mad so I took that as a good sign that this wasn't too painful for him.

“Just the facts,” I said. I didn't want him to think we had gossiped about him, which of course we had.

“Uh-huh.” He sounded skeptical. “Here's a question, why would she try to harm you? Why would Tuesday attack you?”

“Because she wants you back and she'll do whatever it takes to get you back, including killing me,” I said.

“What?” Inspector Franks asked as he entered the room with Inspector Simms right behind him. “I think you have some explaining to do.”

And so I repeated my tale for the second time that evening while Viv made the inspectors tea and put out a plate of chocolate chip Hobnobs. Even with food, my story didn't get any better with an encore performance. Every time I thought of the creepy mask, I got the shakes.

“Clearly, you're a target,” Franks said when I finished my story. He looked at Harrison. “And what about Tuesday Blount? We've interviewed her but Scarlett's story gives us a different angle.”

“She's not a killer,” Harrison said.

I gave him a squinty look.

“She's not,” he insisted.

“Are you still carrying a torch for her?” I asked.

“What a lot of tosh,” he said. “You know I'm not.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and stared at him.

“Who else would try to harm me while wearing a Guy Fawkes mask?” I asked.

“It could be pure coincidence,” he said. “Loads of people wear those masks on bonfire night, especially since the movie
V for Vendetta
came out a few years ago. It could be that a robber found one and attacked you while wearing it. It could be pure coincidence.”

“If he was out to rob her, why didn't he reach for her purse instead of her falafel?” Viv asked.

“And why chase me into a phone booth?” I asked. “If it was a random attack, wouldn't they have gone after another victim once I was out of bounds?”

“Fine then it is related to Win's murder,” Harrison said. “But you have no proof that it was Tuesday.”

“And you have no proof that it wasn't,” I said.

We were most definitely at an impasse. I couldn't fathom why he was protecting the woman who had broken his heart. Was it just pride? Did he really think that making her out to be a better person than she was made his dating her less unsavory? It did not.

We grew silent, nibbling on cookies and sipping tea. It was all very civilized for a disagreement. It sort of made me want to smash something. I looked at the cup in my hand. It was one of Mim's favorite teacups, a delicate bone china with yellow roses on it. I could never.

There was another knock on the front door, distracting me from my sulks.

“That will be Nick and Andre,” I said. “With food.”

I don't think it was my imagination that Simms and Franks settled into their seats a bit more deeply.

“They saw the attacker?” Simms asked.

“The back of him,” I said. “But maybe they can give you a better description and add their opinion about whether it could have been a woman or not.”

I got the feeling the inspectors were happy to stay in our warm workroom for a bit longer. And, of course, there was food involved, and if I knew Nick and Andre, they had prepared more than enough.

“Hot soup! Hot soup!” Nick came dashing into the kitchen holding a large pot with two bright pink flamingo pot holders and his overcoat flapping behind him.

Harrison quickly moved the teapot off the trivet so Nick could put the soup there.

Nick glanced at the officers. “We have company, excellent, I brought plenty.”

Both Simms and Franks perked up at this and I couldn't blame them. The smell of the split pea soup, yes, I peeked in the pot, was amazing.

Bowls of soup were passed out while open-faced sandwiches were prepared and plated by Nick and Andre. They described what they had seen upon finding me as they served the food.

“We heard a commotion,” Nick said. He looked at me. “Even with the booth door closed I heard you yelling at him.”

Harrison's gaze moved to me. I knew he was thinking
that Nick had described the attacker as a man, but I felt as if that were a natural assumption and not an observation, which I would have pointed out but I thought it better that they told the whole story first.

Nick never saw the masked face. Andre did but only briefly when my attacker glanced back over his shoulder to see if Andre was gaining on him. According to Andre, he turned into an alley and disappeared. Simms and Franks grilled him on the precise location of the alley but Andre said he wasn't sure and he would have to go back to be certain.