Copy Cap Murder: A Hat Shop Mystery Part 3

"Oh, no," I lied. "He's mentioned you." Judging by Tuesday's style, I figured she was the sort who liked attention, all the attention. In a nanosecond, I knew exactly how to shut her down. "In fact, I think he said something about the boredom getting to him, but I couldn't really say because he seemed to think it wasn't even worth talking about."

BA-BAM. Direct hit. Tuesday's face became a mottled shade of maroon, clas.h.i.+ng quite horribly with her lipstick, and now she made a sputtering noise. Her turn to swallow her tongue, I imagined. Too bad it couldn't be a permanent condition.

"You . . . he . . . it . . ." she stammered.

I gave her my most benign expression. "Yes?"

"Harrison and I belong together," she said. "We work together, we enjoy the same things, and we are intellectual equals." She paused as if I were slow-witted and she needed to give me a moment to let that sink in. I don't think I have ever wanted to kick anyone quite so much as I wanted to kick her at that moment.

"He and I will get back together," she continued. "We're soul mates. Whatever it is you think the two of you have, it won't last. Mark my words."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, always so dramatic, Tuesday." A man crashed our party of two and Tuesday turned toward him as he continued. "What's the matter? Afraid your affair with the boss ruined your chances with Wentworth?"

"Shut up, Dashavoy! You don't know anything," she snapped. She spun on her heel and stormed off into the crowd.

I turned to the newcomer. He was handsome in a squeaky-clean, pressed pocket square sort of way. Of course, the smell of alcohol on his breath diminished that image, but still, I was pretty grateful for the rescue.

"Winthrop Dashavoy, at your service," he said. He put his hand on his chest and gave me a half bow. He staggered a bit on rising but he managed to fight off the lure of gravity.

"Scarlett Parker," I said. "You have excellent timing, Mr.-"

"Call me Win," he interrupted. "Everyone does and it fits, because I always win."

"At what?" I asked.

His gaze was bleary when it met mine, and I got the feeling he wasn't really seeing me or maybe it was more that he was seeing four of me and having a hard time picking the right one to talk to.

"Why, at whatever I choose," he said. He took my arm and led me down the steps out into the yard toward the fire pit.

I glanced over my shoulder, wondering where Harrison was and whether he'd be able to find me if I moved. I almost protested but Win had saved me from the horrible Tuesday so I didn't want to be impolite.

"Excuse us," he said as he propelled me through the crowd. "Pardon us. Make way."

We stopped in a clearing away from the fire. I could feel the cold creep in under my clothes without the warmth of the fire or the gas heaters that were scattered all over the back terrace.

I glanced back at the house, hoping to see Harrison or Viv and Fee or Nick and Andre, but no. In the crush of hats, coats and scarves, I didn't see anyone I recognized.

"You're quite lovely," Win said. "I can see why Harrison is smitten. That's old Wentworth for you, though, biggest office, prettiest girls, largest salary. Yes, it must be b.l.o.o.d.y awful being Harrison Wentworth."

"I'm pretty sure it's not all unicorns and glitter," I said. I knew for a fact that just managing Viv and me caused Harrison more than a little heartburn.

Win made an impatient gesture. "You don't get it. Nothing bad ever happens to that bloke. It's like he was born under a charmed star. You probably fell out of the sky and right into his lap. Am I right?"

He reached out to touch my hair, I think. I dodged to the left, so I really have no idea what his intention was. I knew mine, however, was to get out of there.

"Harrison and I are just friends," I said. I wasn't sure why I said it, but I got the impression Win was jealous of Harrison and I didn't think it would do me any good for Win to suspect that we were more than we were at present.

"b.o.l.l.o.c.ks! I saw the way you two were looking at each other," he said. "It's clear that his intentions toward you, my dear, are sordid to say the least."

I tried to walk around him and get back to the party. He blocked me. For a drunk, he was surprisingly agile.

"Whatever is between me and Harrison is our business," I said as I stepped back. "I don't know what your issue is, but you can leave me out of it."

I wanted to kick myself as my voice wobbled, making me sound either close to shouting angry words or on the verge of fearful tears when I was really just frustrated that I couldn't politely get away from him.

"Don't back away from me," he snarled. "You're just like her. She thinks she can end things and just walk away from me, but she can't and neither can you."

"What are you talking about?" I snapped. I don't have much patience for drunken ramblings. I'd had too many celebrity guests trash too many hotel rooms in artistic bouts of drunken stupidity during my years in the hotel industry. Frankly, I was tired of cleaning up messes and I d.a.m.n well wasn't going to clean up after this guy even if he had saved me from Tuesday.

"Rich, beautiful 'it' girls who use a man for his fortune and his connections and think they can tell him how to act, how to behave and to smile pretty for the camera, then they bin him like yesterday's rubbish," he said. "I won't let her get away with it."

He made a grab for me, but I ducked to the side. I glanced around to see if anyone was aware of my predicament, but no, they were all gathered around the fire with their backs to us.

"Aw, don't be like that, love," Win said. Gone was his previous rage and now he was oozing a sloppy sort of charm, or at least, I'm sure he thought he was being charming. Me? Not so much.

He hiccupped and then made a staggering lunge at me that ended up with the two of us grappling like basketball players over a loose ball.

My face was mashed against his throat and I had to force myself to mouth breathe so as not to take in too much of his aftershave, which might have been pleasant if he hadn't bathed in it, probably to cover up the stench of the booze. I felt the s.h.i.+rt b.u.t.ton on his open collar press hard against my cheek as he tried to pull my body up against his. Oh, h.e.l.l no!

I reared back and he clipped me on the chin with his elbow as I planted my heel on his instep. We both reeled back. Thankfully, a strong pair of arms grabbed me before I did a b.u.t.t plant in the gra.s.s. When I glanced back to thank my rescuer, my eyes went wide. It was Harrison and I had never seen him look so angry before.

"All right, Ginger?" he asked. His voice was clipped, hitting like bullet points on a resume of really p.i.s.sed off.

"Yes, I'm fine," I said. "Honestly, it's not what you think."

"Yes, it is," Win slurred and grinned. "Me and the little bit were having an amorous tussle. Why don't you go away so we can finish it up?"

Harrison shrugged off his jacket and thrust it at me.

"Harry, don't," I said. I could feel the eyes of the crowd behind us turning to take in the scene.

"Don't what?" he asked. "Defend you? Sorry, I'm not made that way."

Win grinned at him, and I realized from the malice that sparkled in his gaze that this was what he'd been hoping for all along. He wanted a fight with Harrison, which was why he'd led me to the edge of the crowd and behaved so horribly.

"You're giving him exactly what he wants," I said. I clutched Harrison's arm. "Please don't do this."

Harrison met my gaze for a moment and his eyes softened with affection. I thought I had gotten through to him, but before I could even register his movement, he spun around and blocked an incoming punch from Win, who had taken a swing at him while his back was turned. Then Harry walloped the drunk with an uppercut that made Win's teeth clack.

I heard shouts of dismay or approval coming from the people behind us, but I couldn't take my eyes off the two men in front of me. I felt adrenaline surge through my body as Win lowered his head and charged Harrison, looking to do some damage.

Harrison took the hit by wrapping his arms around Win. The two of them crashed to the ground. Harrison twisted so that Win landed on the bottom. The huff of air he emitted made me think he'd had the wind knocked out of him. Harrison pulled back his fist and plowed it into Win's eye.

I yelped, so helpful I know, and Harrison glanced up at me. Our eyes met and I said, "Please stop."

Harry looked reluctant. His nostrils were flared and his fists were still clenched. I had a feeling he was nowhere near done.

"Please, Harry," I said. I couldn't stand the thought of him getting hurt, and I really loathed being a part of an ugly scene. I've had my fill of those, thank you very much.

Harry let go of Win and rolled off him. As he staggered to his feet and began to walk toward me, Win rose up from the ground with a brick in his hand. I had no doubt he was going for Harrison's head.

"Look out!" I cried.

A body dove out of the crowd and tackled Win to the ground. When Harrison would have jumped back in, I grabbed his arm and held him back.

"No!" I said.

The man sitting on Win grabbed the brick from his hand and tossed it aside. Then he leaned forward and shouted in his face, "Enough, Dashavoy!"

Win slumped back onto the ground, clearly done. The man sitting on him turned and grinned at me.

"So, Scarlett, is Viv here tonight?"

Chapter 5.

Alistair Turner hadn't even muddied his coat in his takedown of Winthrop Dashavoy. He and Harrison were longtime rugby mates and I knew he carried a small flickering torch for Viv, even though he was aware that she was married.

"She's here somewhere," I said.

"Excellent," he said. "I'll just get this git some ice for his eye and see if I can track her down."

"She'll be happy to see you, Alistair," I said.

"Is she still married?" he asked.

"As far as I know," I said with a shrug. With Viv, these things were fuzzy.

He looked momentarily disappointed but then brightened. "Well, if he's not here, then I say her dance card is all mine."

He left us, dragging Winthrop Dashavoy behind him as if he were no more significant than a bag of trash.

I turned to face Harrison with a look on my face that felt positively matronly in its disapproval.

"What?" he asked.

"That was a ridiculous display," I said.

"I know." He shook out his right hand. "Whatever was he thinking?"

"I meant both of you," I said. "Disgraceful behavior and over me, I just can't approve of that sort of thing."

"It wasn't completely over you," Harrison said. He took his jacket out of my arms and shrugged back into it.

"Well, that's deflating," I said.

He laughed and I felt it all the way to my squishy center. See? I must be allergic to him. He draped his arm over my shoulders and pulled me close as we strolled over to the bonfire. The people who had witnessed the scuffle moved aside to let us through and I heard a few of them shout out encouragement to Harrison. Barbarians.

"So what happened to our wine?" I asked.

"When I saw you rucking with Win, I left it at the bar," he said. He indicated the temporary bar on the other side of the yard. "I'll just go fetch it."

"Wait," I said. "What does 'rucking' mean? Because just so you know, it does not sound polite at all."

He made a face as if he got where I was going. "Nothing like that! It means fighting."

"Okay, then," I said. I could live with that since it was true. Harrison left, and as I watched him, I stretched my left arm out. I'd only grappled with the drunkard for a few minutes, but it felt as if I'd gone three rounds in a prizefight.

As the adrenaline eased, my hands began to shake. Wine might not be a bad idea. Under the cover of the darkness, I watched Harrison retrieve our mulled wine. I enjoyed watching him. I felt as if it gave me a glimpse into who he really was to see him interact with his other business a.s.sociates.

I saw him stop to talk to people who I a.s.sumed were his clients. He seemed comfortable, despite the recent scene, and he even threw his head back with a laugh, which was surprised out of him by an older gentleman in a bright green coat. Even from across the yard, I could feel a mutual affection between Harrison and the man. I couldn't even imagine Winthrop Dashavoy pausing to laugh at an older man's joke.

I glanced into the fire thinking about the world of high finance and how it turned some people into really horrible human beings. If you asked me, Win and that Tuesday woman made a perfect pair; maybe more should be done to bring those two awfuls together.

I spun a variety of scenarios in my head, not limited to getting them both drunk and locking them in a room together to more subtle maneuvers like sending them flowers or candy from each other. No, I wouldn't really do any of those things but it was amusing to think about.

When I glanced up, Harrison appeared beside me with two thick gla.s.s mugs full of a steaming burgundy liquid garnished with a cinnamon stick and a spiraled orange peel. He handed one to me, and I took it gratefully.

"It occurs to me that I should clarify what I said earlier," he said.

"In what way?" I asked.

"The fight between Win and me was about you in that seeing him touch you made me feel the need to punch him repeatedly, but the enmity between us goes way back," Harrison said. "All the way back to boarding school, in fact."

"You went to boarding school? How did I not know that?"

I took a sip of my wine. The spicy cinnamon and tart orange made the pungent wine taste divine and it heated me up from the inside out.

"I went to Eton when I was thirteen," he said.

"And the last time I saw you when we were kids, you were twelve," I said.

"Yes, you stood me up on our ice cream date to chase some dodgy football player," he said.

"You're never going to forgive me, are you?" I asked.

"I might," he said. "a.s.suming, of course, that when you start dating again, it involves ice cream and me."

I burst out laughing. "Well, that brings some tawdry images to mind."

His cheeks darkened with embarra.s.sment and then he laughed, too. "You absolutely wreck me, you know that, right?"