Copy Cap Murder: A Hat Shop Mystery Part 27

"Ginger, you are amazing!" Harry hugged me tight and I returned it in full, I was so relieved that he was upright and not, well, dead.

"You're making a mistake, Harrison," Tyler said.

"No, you did," Harrison said. "You were my mentor. I had nothing but the highest regard for you and look at you now. A broken man, a killer, what did you think you were going to do? Kill us all?"

"No," Tyler protested. "I swear. I just needed the evidence. Let me up, I promise you, I would never have harmed you."

"The knot on my head begs to differ," Harrison said. "And the ribbons cutting into my friend's skin prove otherwise."

"You have to listen to me," Tyler said. He began to thrash and Harry put more weight on him holding him down.

"Ah, but you see, I don't," Harrison said. Then he punched Tyler right in the temple, knocking him out. His shoulders relaxed and I realized how angry Harry had been.

"Help Viv," he said. "I've got him."

"Simms has my phone," I said. "Call him."

On wobbly knees, I hurried around the couch and began to work on untying Viv while Harrison took his phone out of his jacket to let Simms know what was happening.

"Are you all right?" I asked as I worked on the knots, knowing full well that she couldn't answer me but asking anyway. "I'm so sorry, Viv."

"Not your fault," she said as I loosened the tie from her mouth. "Ouch!"

"Sorry," I said. Her long hair was caught in the tie. I dropped the ribbon and hugged Viv close. "Thank goodness you're all right. I was so afraid!"

"I'm fine." She hugged me back. "And now that I know you're safe, I'm even better."

"Your husband is a politician, isn't he?" I asked.

Viv barked out a laugh. "Oh, Scarlett, you're trying to get me when I'm vulnerable, aren't you?"

"Is it working?" I asked.

"No," she said.

"Why not?" I cried. I pulled her to her feet. "If you had been killed I wouldn't even have been able to contact him. Viv, you have to tell me who he is."

She began to cry and I put my arm around her shoulders to comfort her. "Come on, sweetie, it can't be that bad."

"Oh, but it is," she said. "His name is William Graham and, oh bother, he's an insurance man in France!"

This last bit was said on a wail. I can honestly say of all the things I had expected, that was not it.

"So he's employed!" I said. Always looking on the bright side, that's me. "Yes, but ew," she said. "Insurance! It's so boring. He might as well be a telemarketer or a used car salesman."

"Viv, seriously, that's incredibly shallow of you."

"No, it's a compatibility issue. I'm a creative type," she protested. "We have nothing in common and we'd never get on in the long run. Don't you see? That's why I left him. We're doomed."

"Girls, I appreciate the moment, really, but-" Harrison began but I interrupted him.

"Not necessarily, Viv," I said. "Opposites attract for a reason, maybe the two of you would balance each other."

Viv shook her head, not just a little bit but in a frantic motion back and forth.

"Do you really feel that strongly about it?" I asked. "It seems to me you're not really giving it a chance."

"No, Franks," she croaked. My stomach fell into my feet. I knew what she meant with just one word. I turned to look over my shoulder and there he was.

Inspector Franks stood in the doorway to upstairs. When Harrison would have charged forward and thrown a punch, Franks held up a very large knife. I recognized it from our kitchen; since neither Viv nor I cooked, it looked wonderfully sharp and terrifyingly lethal.

"Back up," Franks said.

We stumbled backward. Harrison moved in front of me and Viv, obviously trying to s.h.i.+eld us.

"How could you fall in league with Carson?" I asked Franks. My sense of betrayal was acute. I had thought Franks and I had a sort of bond over his liking country music from the States and me being from the States. "How could you?"

He cringed and I knew I'd made a direct hit. There was weariness in the sagging flesh around Franks's eyes that made me realize he was tired, exhausted in fact. I had no sympathy. None. He had chosen his path and now he had to live with it.

"Just give me the invoice," he said. "Everything else can be managed, no one will be harmed, but I have to have that invoice."

"Why?" Harrison barked. "Because Tyler is lining your pockets with gold?"

Franks shook his head. A look of raw pain flashed across his face. This was personal. The only reason Franks would have helped Tyler cover his crime was for personal reasons, and for Franks, personal meant family.

And then I remembered that the very first night I had met Ava Carson, she had told me her father liked country music. I had thought little of it at the time, but now . . .

"Oh, wow, she's your daughter, isn't she?" I said. "Ava Carson is your daughter."

I heard both Viv and Harrison gasp and Franks nodded. I didn't think it was possible but he looked even wearier than before; it was as if he was aging right before my eyes.

"She was such a beautiful girl," he said. He looked rueful. "She takes after her mother that way. She left us for the high life, said we were too low cla.s.s for her, then she married him. He kept us away from her, never allowed us to visit or make contact. Then he called, he needed help, he promised he'd give us our daughter back. My wife . . . I . . ."

Franks broke down, and I couldn't help it. I felt my eyes fill up with tears for the man who had been trying to get his daughter back. Then I remembered that getting his daughter back had almost cost me and my friends our lives. My tears dried up.

"It's too late," I said. "You can't save Tyler from what he's done."

"But-" Franks protested.

"Simms has the invoice," I said.

Franks dropped the knife as his knees gave out and he caught himself on the edge of a chair. Harrison jumped forward and s.n.a.t.c.hed up the knife from the floor. Just then the back door slammed open and Simms arrived with several constables.

I watched as Franks and Simms faced off. Franks looked distraught.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Simms jerked his head toward the door. "We'll discuss it at the station. Where's Carson?"

"Behind the couch," Harrison said. "He's having a bit of a lie-in."

Simms's unibrow rose up and he gestured for his men to go and gather Carson.

"I'll need you lot to come to the station and give your statements," he said to us. Then he turned to me. "I'll need the evidence."

"You already have it," I said. "It's in the back of my phone case."

"Brilliant," he said. He took my phone out of his pocket and took the invoice out of the back. As he glanced at it, I could see his heart grow heavy. I could tell that just as Harrison was struggling to accept Tyler's betrayal, Simms was doing the same with Franks.

"I'll drive us in," Harrison said. "As soon as we've all calmed down."

Two constables trudged back into the workroom, carrying a very groggy Carson between them. We stood witness as Simms made a formal arrest of Tyler Carson for the murder of Winthrop Dashavoy.

There were more police cars and officers outside. It didn't take long for Carson and Franks to be put into separate cars and whisked away.

The three of us stood staring stupidly after them. I don't know if it was the aftermath of the horrific morning, or the relief of finally getting the truth about Viv's husband, but I suddenly felt the need to get my British on to restore my nerves.

"Spot of tea, anyone?" I asked. I didn't wait for the others but headed straight for the kettle.

Chapter 31.

It was the fourth Thursday of November. I was lying on my bed, thinking about pumpkin pie and feeling pathetically homesick. I turned on my tablet and looked for a live feed of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, but of course, due to the time change the city of New York was still asleep, which b.u.mmed me out even more.

It had been a little over two weeks since Simms had arrested Carson. Harrison and Reese were trying to salvage the business, but it looked like it was going to be an uphill battle. It is hard to trust your money to a company where the CEO murders his staff.

Harrison seemed up to the challenge, and I had no doubt that he could do anything he set his mind to. However, the hours he was putting in, and with that awful Tuesday Blount, were a bit worrisome. I had seen him only once since we had given our statements at the station following Carson's arrest, and he had looked exhausted all the way down to his shoes.

This was another reason I was not feeling up to the day. I was afraid I was losing Harrison to his work and his life with Tuesday. She had said I wasn't cutthroat enough to survive in Harry's world. Maybe she was right.

The two women who had been in the shop a few weeks ago, Carol Landers and Mary Tavistock, had called me twice to tell me that Lucas Martin, their friend who ran an art school in Paris, was very interested in having Viv come and teach. One part of me loved this idea as it was an excuse to go to Paris, but another part of me was too tired to even think on it. I wondered if Viv would care if I had a mental health day.

A knock on my door roused me enough to grumble, "Come in."

Viv stood in the doorway, looking terrific in a blue cashmere sweater dress and knee-high black suede boots. It was much dressier than we usually looked for the workday.

"Are you being a layabout?" she asked. "Come on, time to get up and face the day."

"I'm calling in sick today," I said. "I have a fever or a rash or something and it might be contagious. I'd steer clear if I were you."

"What you have is an advanced case of homesickness," she said. I looked at her in surprise. "What? You didn't really think you were hiding it that well, did you?"

"I did try," I protested.

"I know," she said. She looked very sympathetic, which did help but not enough to make me get out of bed. "Let's go shopping; that will perk you up."

So that explained the pretty dress and boots. She wanted to shop. It was tempting but no.

"I can't," I said. "I'm too weak."

"Well, now I am worried," she said.

I refused to be moved by her concern. I pulled the covers over my head and burrowed deep like a badger.

"Fine," she said. "I'll bring you some tea and toast, all right?"

"Coffee," I corrected her. "And a m.u.f.fin, thank you."

I didn't remove the covers until she left. I went back to my tablet, looking for something, anything that would fill the gaping hole in my chest. I wasn't sure how much time pa.s.sed. I played several rounds of solitaire and read the Daily Mail online, trying to distract myself or numb my brain, hard to say which.

Once my parents were up and about in Connecticut, I supposed I could video chat with them, but it wasn't the same and I was afraid it would only make me feel worse.

I felt my throat tighten. I shut off my tablet, knowing there was nothing that would help. I figured I might as well wallow. The tears were just br.i.m.m.i.n.g my lower eyelids when there was a knock on my door again. Viv with coffee, well, that was something.

I took a second to pull down on my lower lids, which made the tears recede, and then I coughed and called out, "Come in."

The door pushed open but it wasn't Viv who stood there but Harrison.

"Ah!" I cried and yanked the covers up over my head.

"Good morning, Ginger," he said. "Or should I say afternoon?"

"Go away!" I cried. I was not at my most hospitable before coffee or a hairbrush.

"Viv said you're feeling under the weather," he said.

He sounded as if he was getting closer. I poked my face out from under the blanket.

"Do you always enter a woman's bedroom when she specifically tells you to go away?" I asked.

He smiled at me and I felt like maybe I needed to lie down. How can one man's smile do that to a girl? Then I noticed the cup and bag in his hand.

"Yes, I do," he said. "Especially when I've been demoted to delivery person, I believe you requested coffee and a m.u.f.fin."

I shoved one hand out of my blanket and took the coffee. "Thank you," I said. "You can just leave the m.u.f.fin on the desk on your way out."

His eyebrows lifted. "Are you giving me the b.u.m's rush?"

"No, I'm merely encouraging you to go on with your day," I said. He was in a suit. It was obvious he had business to attend and I didn't want to hold him up.

"Too bad," he said. He took a long flat rectangular case out from under his arm and dropped it on the bed. I glanced from it to him as he made himself at home on the foot of my bed.