Copy Cap Murder (8 page)

“But that's ridiculous!” I said. “They have absolutely no right to do that to you.”

“According to Reese, my altercation with Win proves that I had ill will toward my colleague, that I took advantage of his drunken state to thrash him, and they suspect that I got too carried away and strangled him with his necktie,” he said. “I think they find it particularly distasteful that it was the company tie I used to kill him.”

“That is absurd. I was there and you didn't strangle him, you socked him in the eye. You were most definitely not apart from me long enough to choke someone and then hide their body,” I said. I reached for my cell phone.

“What are you doing, Ginger?”

“I'm calling DI Simms,” I said. “He needs to know that
you were with me, that I am vouching for you, and that there is absolutely no way you could have done such a horrible thing.”

Harrison put his hand on mine, keeping me from searching for Simms's number.

“I really appreciate the support,” he said. “But having you call on my behalf like a worried mum is not going to help me. In fact, I fear it will just make me look more guilty.”

I gave him a flat stare. “Is that even possible?”

“Ouch,” he said.

“Listen, I'm not saying you are guilty, but if I was on the outside looking in, it would look bad for you,” I said. “You and Win have been rivals since childhood; there is an ugly history there that you told me about yourself. It's not going to be difficult for the police to find the same information.”

Harrison rubbed a hand over his eyes. I knew I was badgering but he needed to get a grasp of how serious the situation was and he needed to let me help him. Damn it.

“You got into a fistfight with Win in front of witnesses, just minutes before someone strangled him and now you've been suspended from your job. Harry, it doesn't look good. You have to let me advocate on your behalf,” I said.

He shook his head. “No, I won't let you get dragged into this any more than you already have.” He tapped the article in the newspaper to emphasize his point.

I would have argued but he started to pace around the shop, so I knew he was working through something. He was muttering to himself, another indicator of processing, so I waited.

“Suspended. How can they suspend me?” he asked no
one. “I am their best analyst. I bring in millions in revenue. They've known me for years. How could they even think that I would do anything so vile, so horrible, so evil?”

He paused by the front window and stared out onto the street. I felt for him. I knew what it was like to have the entire world watching you, judging you, thinking things about you that were unflattering and untrue. In my case, I packed up and moved to another country. I didn't think he had that option.

The Metropolitan Police might not have arrested him yet but they definitely did not want him to leave the country either. DI Simms would listen to me. I knew he would and it was imperative that they not waste time trying to prove that it was Harrison, because the real killer was out there, and whether I liked Win or not,
not
, his killer must be brought to justice.

Harrison resumed pacing and muttering again. He was working his way back to the counter when his phone rang again.

Our gazes met. I felt my heart sink into my shoes. Would this be the police calling him in for questioning? I didn't care what he said; I was going with him.

He looked at the display and then at me. His eyebrows rose and he said, “Tyler.”

“Take it!” I cried. If anyone knew what the heck was going on, it would be Tyler. I leaned across the counter to listen when he answered.

“Hello, Tyler,” he said. There was a pause and he added, “Yes, it was a bit of a shock.”

It was obvious he was talking about his suspension and understating its napalm-like quality in his usual British
fashion. As if my unwavering stare was beginning to burn him with its intensity, he turned slightly away.

“All right then,” he said. “I'm glad it's been sorted. I'll see you tomorrow.”

He ended the call and put his phone back in his pocket. He looked thoughtful, and as much as I didn't want to interrupt any great insights he was having, I needed to know what was going on.

“Well?” I demanded.

“Tyler lifted my suspension,” he said. “He claims that Reese is quite distraught, and that she acted prematurely and all on her own. The offices will be open tomorrow and he would like me to be there.”

“How do you feel about that?” I asked.

“Relieved,” Harrison said. “It's bad enough the papers are looking at me, but my own people, too? It's a bitter pill.”

“Maybe you should stop answering your phone now,” I said.

“Good idea.” He took his phone out of his pocket and shut it off. He ran his hands through his hair. “I feel as if the whole world has gone mad.”

“Did Tyler say anything more about Reese?” I asked. “I mean don't you think it's odd that she suspended you without telling Tyler?”

“Reese has always been very protective of Win,” Harrison said. “He was like the son she never had.”

I thought about how she had flung herself across his body at the bonfire. She had definitely been wracked with grief, but I wasn't so sure I would have called it maternal, which made my thoughts dart to the other woman in Harrison's office, who was also not very maternal.

“What about Tuesday Blount?” I asked. “What was her relationship with Win?”

Harrison looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“What's the matter?” I heckled. “Don't you want to talk about your ex-girlfriend?”

“I'd rather have a tooth extraction,” he said.

“Hang on, I'll call Nick,” I offered.

He gave me a lopsided smile. “Why do you want to know about Tuesday?”

“Because she could be a suspect,” I said.

“No,” he said. “Strangling a man with his own tie is not her style.”

“What is her style, bludgeoning, stabbing or zapping the poor bastard with a toaster in his bubble bath?”

He laughed. “No, she's more the sort to henpeck a bloke to death.”

This should not have made me as happy as it did. Harrison leaned on the counter and picked up my coffee cup. He raised his eyebrows in silent question and I nodded. I watched him take a sip out of my mug and marveled at the intimacy of such a small casual thing.

Yes, I'd let friends drink out of my cups before. But Harrison was more than a friend and watching his lips on the mug that had just been at mine was a connection that felt deeper than friendship; it felt like something a couple would do.

“You take it just the way I like it,” he said.

Our gazes met and I felt that treacherous little thrill flutter in my chest like a bird's wings against its cage, longing to get out if only I would let it.

“Did you love her very much?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said.

My little bird clutched his feathered chest with his wings and keeled over dead.

“Well, I should say I thought I did,” he said.

My little bird gave a hopeful chirp.

“Thought?” I asked.

His gaze met mine and he gave me a rueful smile. “I don't think I really knew what love was back then. I was ready to spend my life with someone, but she would have been the wrong someone. I have discovered since then that some people can make you preposterously happy just by walking into the room and smiling at you. She never had that effect on me.”

My little bird was now flying loop-the-loops and wingovers, but I refused to lose my head. I had the horrible thought that if Harrison had been that ga-ga over Tuesday, I could be the dreaded transition woman. Oh, horror!

Then again, if he was railroaded for Win's murder and sentenced to prison, it really wouldn't matter if I was his transition woman or not.

The bells on the front door jangled and in strode Tuesday Blount. I wondered if talking about her had conjured her, sort of like a witch, which was an unnerving thought to say the least because I thought it was entirely too accurate.

“Harrison!” She strode briskly, brandishing her phone like a weapon. “I've been calling and calling. Why haven't you answered?”

Harrison tipped his head to the side. “Didn't you hear? The office is closed. We have the day off.”

She waved her hand in the air like she was karate chopping his words. “There are no days off for us. You know that.” She
gave me a disgruntled look as if his lack of a work ethic were my fault. “Besides, I need to talk to you about other matters.”

“Can it wait?” Harrison asked. “I've got some things to do here.”

To my credit, I didn't even flicker an eyelash at his bald-faced lie.

“No, it can't,” she said. “It's about the unfortunate incident.”

“You mean where someone strangled our colleague with his own tie?” Harrison asked. He seemed to be enjoying goading her.

“Shh,” she hissed as she looked around the empty shop. “There are ears everywhere.”

“Well, that does
sound
like a problem,” I said. Harrison laughed. I felt like pumping my fist. I'd finally gotten him to acknowledge one of my puns. Oh, why weren't the others here to witness this?

“I hear it's an epidemic,” Harrison said and winked at me.

This time I laughed and Tuesday glanced between us as if we were crazy.

“Harrison!” She stomped her foot. Yes, she really did with all the flair and drama of an outraged three-year-old. “I need to talk to you in private
right now
.”

Harrison heaved a sigh. It was clear there would be no getting rid of her. He looked at me as he stepped back from the counter.

“I'll call you later,” he said.

“Okay,” I said. “Remember I'm a really good listener.”

He laughed again and I felt like everything was right in my world, even though he was leaving with her. I wondered
what she wanted. I couldn't shake the feeling that she was not to be trusted and not just because they had a history together. She put off a devious vibe and I sincerely hoped Harrison picked up on it, too.

The thought of Harrison taking the fall for the real murderer was completely unacceptable. I turned and went back into the workroom to talk to Viv. We needed to figure out how we could help Harrison whether he wanted us to or not.

“Call Harrison and see if he is still with her,” I said.

Viv looked at me with an annoyed glance. “How am I supposed to do that?”

“Just chat him up,” I said. I waved her phone in front of her face. “But sound casual.”

“Like he's not going to figure out that it's you putting her up to it, yeah?” Fee asked.

“He might not,” I said.

The three of us were standing in the front of the shop. Harrison and Tuesday had left twenty minutes before, and as soon as Fee had arrived downstairs to start her shift, I had begun to badger Viv about following Harrison and Tuesday.

Fee rolled her eyes and began hand-stitching tiny seed pearls to the edge of a length of amethyst tulle that she
was using to decorate a mother of the bride hat. It was going to be spectacular.

“Hi, Harrison, sorry to bother you,” Viv said into her phone.

Fee and I both watched her as if we could figure out what Harrison was saying by her facial expressions.

“No, no emergency,” she said. “We were just thinking we should remind you that we planned to meet up at Nick and Andre's tonight and wondered if you could still make it.”

I raised my hands in a gesture of what are you doing? We needed his location now not later. She frowned at me and turned her back on me.

“Sounds great,” she said. “So, are you still with her?”

I made an outraged noise. Seriously, the woman had zero skills in the art of covert information gathering.

“And where are you?” she asked.

Now I did a face palm. Why didn't she just say we were planning to stalk them?

She looked over her shoulder at me. “At your apartment?”

Now I gasped and so did Fee. Tuesday having Harrison alone in his apartment was not good, not good at all.

“All right, tonight then,” Viv said and she hung up.

She tossed her phone onto the counter.

“Well, that was bloody uncomfortable,” she said. “They're at his place.”

I headed for the door. “Fee, watch the shop, come on, Viv.”

“What?” Viv asked. “I have work to do and you're being an awful bossy boots.”

I paused to stare at Viv and Fee. They were not getting it. “Tuesday could be the killer and Harrison is alone with her. Let's go!”

At this both Fee and Viv jumped. I realized my bark had been a bit ferocious, so I tried to tone it down.

“Now!” I yelled. Okay, tried and failed. Still, it got Viv moving. She grabbed her coat and her handbag, shouted instructions at Fee and followed me out the door.

As we jogged through the neighborhood to Harrison's place on Pembridge Mews, the sky grew increasingly dark and the wind picked up. Neither Viv nor I had thought to bring an umbrella, as if we didn't know better living in a city known for its rain.

Harrison had a second-story flat, so with any luck his curtains would be drawn back and we'd be able to see inside. I tried not to think about what we might see if Tuesday had her way—with him, that is.

We loitered under a tree across the street. The curtains were drawn back but the angle was no good. We couldn't see anything.

It began to drizzle and Viv's long blond curls started to poof into their natural frizzy state. She gave me a look that said she was very unhappy and then she dug into her purse until she found a scarf, which she wrapped around her head. My hair was getting sodden as well, but I knew I didn't have a scarf in my bag.

“You don't happen to have another one of those, do you?” I asked.

“No,” she said. The look she gave me was dour.

Okay, then. I glanced around to see if there was a better
vantage point in the area. The steps to the house behind us would give us a bit of a boost. I gestured for Viv to follow me and we trudged up the steps.

Ah, now I could see into Harrison's place. I saw him pass across the window. His shoulders were hunched and he ran his hand through his hair. It was his usual look when he was agitated. I tried not to be thrilled that they were clearly not having a good time. I failed.

“Stop smiling,” Viv chided me. “It's bucketing out here and we're spying on our friend who is obviously fine. There is nothing to smile about.”

I glanced around me. Viv was right. The drizzle had turned into a full-on soaking. My hair was streaming water and my coat was drenched, but I didn't care.

The door opened behind us and an elderly man glared at us through the crack in the door.

“Who are you?” he asked.

Viv and I exchanged a glance. We couldn't say we were using his stoop to spy.

“I'm Scarlett,” I said. I gave him my most winning smile, which was lacking its usual charm given my drowned rat appearance. “And this is Vivian.”

“What do you want?” he asked.

His hair was sticking up in tufts on his head and he was wearing a baggy gray cardigan over a dress shirt and slacks with slippers. He looked toasty warm and dry and I felt a spurt of envy.

“We're lost,” Viv said. “We're just trying to get our bearings.”

“Well, do it somewhere else, or I'll call the police,” he snapped. “Go on, get off with you.”

He gestured us away with his hand and when we stepped down the stairs he slammed the door behind us.

“Rude!” Viv cried out.

“Shh!” I hissed. I grabbed her arm and pulled her behind a parked car.

“What is it?” she demanded.

“Look!” I cried. I pointed across the street where Tuesday Blount was coming out of Harrison's building. She paused to put up her purple umbrella, of course she had one, and then strode down the sidewalk toward Notting Hill Gate.

“Thank goodness, now let's go home,” Viv said.

“No, we have to follow her,” I cried.

“What?” Viv asked, incredulous.

I didn't answer but dashed across the road, giving Viv no choice but to follow me. She caught up to me at the crosswalk near the stairs to the underground.

“Have you lost your mind?” she asked.

“I just want to know what she's up to,” I said. “She had to talk to Harrison in private and now she's hurrying off to go who knows where. I say it's suspicious behavior.”

“You just don't like her because she's Harrison's ex,” Viv said.

“Be that as it may,” I said. “We need to know what she is doing in case she is trying to set up Harrison for Win's murder.”

Viv sighed. We followed Tuesday's purple umbrella all the way into the underground. I grabbed one of the newsmen's free papers on the way in and used it as a shield to hide my face should Tuesday look back at me. She did not.

I was careful to keep several people between us at all
times. Still Viv and I managed to jump onto the same train car as Tuesday. I opened the paper and found myself face-to-face with an ad for men's underwear. Awesome.

Viv wrapped her scarf more loosely about her head, trying to hide her face. We were on the Central Line and I noticed when I peered around the paper that Tuesday wasn't taking an available seat but was staying by the doors. I figured that meant she was getting off soon. Sure enough, when we pulled up to the Bond Street platform, she darted out.

“Go, go, go!” I ordered Viv.

The crush of people getting on the train made it tricky to get off. We muscled our way through the crowd and found Tuesday switching to the Northern Line platform. We joined her while carefully keeping our distance.

The electronic board above told us the train would be arriving in three minutes. We followed Tuesday onto it and it went much as before with her switching to the Victoria Line and us following like eager little puppies.

“You are aware that this could go on all day,” Viv hissed as we pulled into Victoria Station.

“It won't,” I assured her.

Tuesday left the platform and headed up into the station. We followed as closely as we could. She circled a kiosk and I motioned for Viv to go one way while I went the other. When we met on the other side, there was no sign of Tuesday.

I scanned the area but there were so many people bustling about the enormous station, I couldn't get my bearings and I couldn't locate the annoying brunette.

“That's it then,” Viv said.

She began to walk away and I was forced to follow her. She didn't look the least bit sorry to be ending our mission,
and I was annoyed with her lack of commitment until I realized she wasn't headed back to our platform.

“Where are you going?” I asked. “Do you see her?”

“No,” Viv said. “But I do see a lovely cheese and onion pasty with my name on it. I think I deserve it after that soaking we took.”

I followed the direction of her gaze. Sure enough, tucked into the side of the station was The Pasty House. The display case in front showed stacks and stacks of the half-moon-shaped pies. I saw a chicken and mushroom and figured Viv was right. We deserved some comfort food to bolster our spirits.

We paid for our pasties and coffee and found a small café table and chairs. I shrugged off my jacket, hoping it would dry a bit while we ate. The crust was flaky and the inside was flavorful without being overdone. It was perfect rainy day, big disappointment food, and yet, I didn't feel any better.

I don't know what I had been expecting to figure out by following Tuesday. A secret lover? A rendezvous with a tabloid reporter? Something.

“You know Harrison is over her, don't you?” Viv asked.

“That's none of my business,” I said.

“So we're following her because . . .” Viv's voice trailed off but before I could answer the devil herself plopped down in the empty seat at our table.

“Because you're busybodies and you're sticking your noses in where they don't belong,” Tuesday Blount said as she eyed us with supreme disdain and loathing.