Cloche and Dagger

by Jenn McKinlay

“Well, I wish it could tell me who broke in last night,” I said. “That would be helpful.”

  “The alarm system is top-notch,” he said. “No one can break into your shop or your flat without the security company being instantly alerted.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “I know that. I just wish Viv were here. It’s been a week now. Why hasn’t she been in touch? Why hasn’t she come home?”

  “You miss her.”

  “Yes.”

  “She’ll be home soon,” he said. His voice was so certain that I felt myself relax, believing his words even though I doubted he knew anything with any more certainty than I did.

  “You’re right,” I said. “I know you’re right.”

  We were both silent. There were so many things I wanted to say to him, and I realized my exhaustion at the end of a long day was making me careless with my words and feelings. I decided the best course of action was to maintain the friendly distance we’d always kept until I’d been attacked.

  “Thank you for all that you’ve done,” I said. “I really appreciate it.”

  “That’s what I’m here for,” he said. “My family has been taking care of your family forever.”

  There was something so comforting about his words that I felt myself sink deeper into my pillows and a yawn slipped out as my eyes grew heavy.

  “Get some sleep, Ginger,” he said.

  “Good night,” I mumbled.

  I had barely hit the end button when I was out.

  • • •

  The shop was generally closed on Sundays, so that gave me the opportunity to clean it up. I dusted every hat, every shelf; I swept, I mopped and I even plumped the pillows.

  Tea would be served on Mim’s good Wedgwood country rose china. Thankfully, Fee knew how to brew a pot of tea, because it was yet another thing I had never mastered during my time here. It was a wonder Mim left me half of the hat shop, given how truly hopeless I was at respecting my own heritage.

  I glanced around the store. I could see Mim here, bustling about the place, chatting up her customers about the doings of the royal family. She was a true monarchist, probably because as hat wearers they supported her business, but I think she would have been one anyway. She had great respect for Queen Elizabeth.

  I wondered briefly what she would have made of the situation Viv and I were in now. Would she have been her usual pragmatic self and forged ahead or would she have been terribly disappointed in us? I hoped it was the former.

  The raven was staring down at me, so I reached up with my dust cloth and gave his beak a nice polishing.

  “Be nice,” I admonished him.

  At midafternoon, I hurried upstairs to change into more appropriate clothing. If Lady Ellis’s friends were anything like her, then I had to assume they were fashionistas as well, and I was going to need to pull out some designer duds and dress to impress so as to keep on even footing with them.

  The clothing of my youth had been shoved to the side and I’d hung the clothes in my suitcase up, hoping the travel wrinkles would fall out of them.

  As I assessed the clothes, I knew a dress was key, but which one? Then I saw it. The dress the rat bastard had bought for me when he had taken me for a spur-of-the-moment weekend to Paris. Yes, it’s really not hard to see why at twenty-five, I had been so completely blinded by him.

  He was charming, attentive, funny, handsome, romantic, smart, you get the idea. I was a goner within ten minutes of meeting him. Of course, when I realized what a snake he was, all of those qualities morphed into their true meaning and I realized he was actually manipulative, obsessive, mean, expensively maintained, predatory and conniving. And now, I actually felt grateful to be free of him and wished his wife great luck with him.

  One part of me desperately wanted to take scissors to the Gaultier print sheath, but I didn’t. At a price tag of over six hundred dollars, I just couldn’t. Instead, I’d wear it as a reminder to never get suckered again.

  I styled my straight red hair loose and put on eyeliner and mascara and a pale lipstick. The dress with its geometric blues and greens made enough of a statement without me trying to match it with my makeup.

  I went with a pair of platform sandals that put me an inch over six feet tall. Still not quite as tall as Harrison, but it would be nice to see him in these and be a bit more eye to eye with him, although I suspected that would only be in the literal sense as we really didn’t seem to agree on much.

  When I went downstairs, I noted that the reporters had cleared away from our front door. I had been worried that they would scare away Lady Cheevers and company, but either there was a fabulous news story out there that trumped Lady Ellis’s death or they were taking Sunday off. Of course, in order for my plan to work, I needed someone to see the ladies in the shop. Fee and I had agreed that once they arrived, she would discreetly make an anonymous call to the paper. I sincerely hoped it did the trick.

  Fee was in the back room, prepping the tea tray. We had spent the last part of Saturday, after the alarm men had gone, whipping the abandoned hats into shape, something worthy of a countess to have bought. They now sat boxed up in the front of the shop awaiting their moment of unveiling.

  “Well, aren’t you the fancy lady of the manor?” Fee asked as she looked me over from top to bottom.

  “Did I aim right?” I asked. “Fashion-wise?”

  “Nailed it,” Fee confirmed. She glanced down at her own ruffle-hemmed bright blue dress. “You look like one of them, and I am feeling woefully underdressed in my bargain buy from Selfridges.”

  “Don’t be silly,” I said. “You look lovely. And you have what all of them would kill to have.”

  “What?” Fee asked. “A job working here?”

  I laughed. “No, youth.”

  Fee nodded and grinned. “True enough. You can’t buy that off of a fashion runway.”

  I helped her finish prepping the refreshments and at five o’clock, I took my place by the front door to let the ladies in as they arrived.

  A buxom blonde and a classically pretty brunette were the first to appear. A driver parked in front of the shop and let them out. I opened the door as soon as they were within a few feet and gave them my most welcoming smile.

  “Please come in,” I said. “I’m Scarlett Parker.”

  The blonde smiled at me and said in a voice that was girlishly high, “I’m Chelsea Cline, and this is Susie Musselman.”

  “A pleasure,” Susie said.

  “Please come in,” I said. “Fiona, my assistant, will show you where we’re gathering.”

  As I turned back to the door, two more ladies were dropped off. One was tall and thin with black hair cut in a severe bob that paired well with the bright red lipstick she wore. The other had a certain movie-star quality about her, with thick brown hair that hung about her shoulders in luscious waves, eyebrows that had been thinned into razor-sharp arches, full lips and a tiny nose. I’d bet my dress that she was Lady Cheevers, meaning the other had to be Marianne Richards.

  I opened the door and the one with the severe bob deferred to the other, letting her go first.

  “Good afternoon,” I said. “I’m Scarlett Parker.”

  “Lady Cheevers,” the brunette said. “And this is Marianne Richards.”

  “How do you do?” Marianne asked but with no real interest in my answer, as I could see by the way she was looking over my head and into the room beyond.

  “I’m so glad you both could come,” I said as I closed and locked the door. “Shall we join the others?”

  They followed me to the far sitting area in the shop where Fee and the other two waited. I had pulled the shades over the store windows up. I figured it couldn’t hurt for people to see customers in the shop, and obviously elite customers at that.

  “Oh, Elise.” Chelsea hopped to her feet and hugged Lady Cheevers. “Are you feeling any better today?”

  “No, but I’m trying,” she said, gently hugging the blonde in return.

  Fee and
I stood back, watching the friends greet one another. A couple of times they watered up or choked back a sob and then complimented one another’s shoes or handbag.

  Fee and I exchanged a look, but said nothing, waiting for them all to settle. Once they were seated in the comfortable blue chairs, I sat, too.

  “Thank you all for coming,” I said.

  Fee served the tea. Once she was finished, Fee excused herself from the room. I watched her go, knowing she was about to place her anonymous call to the paper from her cell phone in the back of the shop.

  “First, I want to extend my condolences to all of you on the loss of your friend,” I said.

  Marianne’s features tightened, Elise Cheevers’s shoulders slumped, Susie let out a small sob and Chelsea gave a delicate sniff.

  I watched each of them, looking for an opening for someone who would tell me about Lady Ellis and who might have wanted her dead. Yes, that was my ulterior motive. Yes, I wanted to have these ladies seen in the shop to show that they thought Viv was innocent and thus save the business, but I’d be a liar if I didn’t hope to glean some sort of information about any possible suspects. Something I could share with Inspectors Franks and Simms to get the suspicion off Viv.

  “It’s so hard to believe that she’s gone,” Chelsea said. “Vicks was a force of nature. I can’t believe she won’t be around to comment on my trending hairdos anymore.”

  “Blue streaks are not trendy, they’re tacky,” Elise said. Chelsea looked hurt and then Elise reached over and patted her hand. “Well, that’s what Victoria would have said, and truly it is for the best that you got rid of them.”

  They all nodded in agreement, and Chelsea sighed.

  “She could be quite harsh,” Susie said. “Remember how she positively vilified Marianne for her purple lipstick?”

  “I wore it one time,” Marianne sniffed. She tossed her blunt-cut bob in indignation. “She said it made me look like a circus freak, and then she went out and bought me a clown mask.”

  “And how about the time that she humiliated poor Susie at the RHS Chelsea Flower Show?”

  I glanced at Susie and saw her face flush red with embarrassment, and she said, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “She went about telling everyone that she didn’t think you should be there because she feared you’d be inspired to get yet another boob job so your bustline was bigger than your gardener’s prize-winning peonies,” Chelsea said. There was a malicious gleam in her eye as she recounted the story. “She could be so mean. You know, it’s really small wonder that she’s dead.”

  Chapter 32

  I stared into my teacup for fear that my surprise would show and I’d say something stupid, like asking them which one of them killed her. That’d end the tea party with a bang.

  “The only one she never diminished was you,” Susie said to Elise. “Why?”

  A flash of self-satisfied smugness flitted over Elise’s features but it was gone so quickly that I wasn’t entirely sure I’d seen it. Then she gave a delicate shrug.

  “She was too busy competing with you, that’s why,” Marianne said. “When you married a viscount, she married an earl. When you bought your country house, she bought a bigger one.”

  “Oh, I don’t think—” Elise began but Marianne cut her off.

  “Oh, please, it was so obvious,” she said. “Whatever you had Vicks wanted, and she went out of her way to get it.”

  “You know, I never noticed it before, but it’s true,” Susie said. “If you threw a dinner party, she threw a bigger one. If you had box seats at the theater, she got a better box.”

  “I’m sure it was just coincidence—” Elise protested.

  “I don’t think so,” Chelsea said. “Remember when you were written up in the society pages, a lovely article, and then she was featured the next week in an even bigger layout?”

  “No, I don’t believe it. Despite her flaws, Vicks was my dearest friend and not a day will pass that I won’t mourn her,” Elise Cheevers said, and any hint of self-satisfaction was gone. Her full lips were pressed tightly together and I sensed she was trying very hard not to dwell on the negatives about her friend.

  “You’re right,” Susie said. “She had her kind side, too.”

  I waited but I noticed none of them rushed to tell tales of Victoria Ellis’s largess. Fee had returned, and when I turned to look at her, she gave me a small nod.

  “Well, I’ll tell you one person who is not mourning our friend,” Marianne said. “Her mother-in-law.”

  “Oh, that woman,” Chelsea said. “She’s vile.”

  “Evil,” Susie agreed. “She would never forgive Vicks for refusing to have a baby because she didn’t want to wreck her figure.”

  “Horrid woman,” Elise agreed. “She hated Vicks from the moment Rupert brought her home. I believe she had her heart set on a girl he met at university.”

  As one, all eyes turned to me. It was like being circled by a ring of cobras, and I wondered which one would strike first. Not surprisingly, it was Marianne.

  “Where is your dear cousin, Vivian, by the way?” she asked.

  “Traveling,” I said. “She’s on a buying expedition for the shop.”

  “How . . . convenient,” Chelsea said.

  I met her gaze. Her large, blue eyes were cold and I felt a shiver crawl over my skin. Suddenly, the wisdom of inviting these ladies, friends of a murder victim who had a connection to Vivian, into the shop seemed really, really stupid on my part.

  “Vivian had nothing to do with what happened to Lady Ellis,” I said. I figured the offensive was the best strategy I had going. “Viv was out of the country. I know for a fact because I arrived on Monday and she was already gone.”

  “Of course, we aren’t accusing Vivian of anything,” Elise said. “Are we?”

  The others all shook their heads and then Susie gushed, “Viv is just the most brilliant designer. Of course, she could never harm anyone.”

  “And that is why we’re here, correct?” Marianne asked. “To enjoy the designs Viv created for Vicks that she will never get to wear.”

  “Quite right,” Susie said. “Please show us.”

  I put my cup of tea down on the table. I felt awkward, as if this situation had turned on me and I wasn’t sure how. I smoothed my dress and Fee met me by the hatboxes. She gave my hand a quick squeeze, and I appreciated the reassurance more than I could say.

  Putting on my best customer-service smile, I opened the first box.

  “First we have a lovely peach confection,” I said. I gently lifted the straw hat with the round crown and a very wide brim, decorated with a matching peach organza ribbon and white silk flowers and held it out for the ladies to look over.

  “May I?” Susie asked.

  Fee hurriedly brought over a standing mirror while I handed Susie the hat. She put it on her head and turned this way and then that.

  “I loathe that color,” Marianne said. “But it suits you.”

  “It does, doesn’t it?” Susie blinked her overly large brown eyes at me and I nodded. “I’ll take this one. It’ll be like having Vicks with me whenever I wear it.”

  “Excuse me.” Marianne stood up and looked at me. She had a cigarette and a lighter in hand. “I need to pop outside. May I use the back?”

  “Absolutely,” I said. “I’ll let you out. Fee, would you show them the next hat?”

  Fee stepped over to the stack of boxes while I walked Marianne through the back room. Although it was almost six o’clock, the sun wouldn’t set until eight, so there was no need to put on the outside light.

  Marianne sank onto one of the cushioned garden chairs, and I scouted an old flowerpot for her to use as an ashtray.

  “Did you know Lady Ellis well?” I asked.

  “Since we were children,” she said. “That’s how we all know one another. We went to a girls’ preparatory school together.”

  She flicked the lighter on and inhaled off her cigarette. The smoke ble
w out from her mouth in a steady stream and I could see her visibly relax.

  I wasn’t sure whether I should go back in and attend the others or keep Marianne company. I was sure Fee could handle it, but I didn’t want to miss anything that was said. They’d already outed Lady Ellis’s mother-in-law as hating her. Who else might they gossip about?

  “Was Lady Ellis well liked at school?” I asked.

  Marianne stared at me through a plume of smoke. Her eyes were sharp and hard and I wondered if she was seeing through me and my intentions or if she thought I was just making idle chatter.

  “Define ‘well liked,’” she said. She used her thumb and ring finger to pluck a bit of tobacco from her lips while still holding her cigarette.

  “It’s just that when I met her, I found her to be a bit exacting,” I said.

  “How very diplomatic of you,” Marianne said. “Her real name was Victoria Hemishem. She went to Wellstone Academy for Girls on scholarship, which meant she was very bright.

  “I think that is the only reason she and I became friends. I was the brain, the one who could discuss Milton’s Paradise Lost with her and know what I was talking about. Elise is our princess, born into title and wealth, so she gave Vicks polish.”

  “And the others?” I prompted.

  Marianne gave me a look that said “Really?” and she took another drag off her cigarette.

  “Court jesters?” I guessed.

  She barked out a laugh that was low and deep, and I got the feeling she didn’t laugh much. It made me feel good that I had snuck one up on her.

  “Perfectly stated,” she said.

  We were silent for a minute. I was surprised to find that beneath the precise haircut, bright red lipstick and severe countenance, I liked Marianne Richards. Compared to the others, she seemed genuine.

  As she stubbed out her cigarette into the pot, she let out a deep sigh.

  “I’ll be honest. I don’t mourn the woman who was killed,” she said. She met my gaze as if daring me to judge her. “I doubt that any of us does. But I do mourn the young woman who so courageously pulled herself out of a life of poverty and made herself one of the most influential women in London.”