Cloche and Dagger

by Jenn McKinlay

  I turned over the idea in my head. Six months without a man calling or sending flowers or taking me to dinner. Hmm. Then I thought of the humiliation of walking into that reception at the hotel and seeing the enormous cake with the diamond necklace sitting on it and seeing the man I thought I loved smooching his wife.

  The wife he was supposed to be separated from, the one he described as controlling, who didn’t understand him and support his dreams like I did. I could feel the bile rise up into the back of my throat and my chest got tight as if a giant hand had reached inside and squeezed my insides into mush.

  A year. I was definitely taking a year off from men. I never, ever wanted to feel so stupid and worthless again. And the next man I got involved with was going to be worth loving, this I promised myself and felt infinitely better for it.

  I turned my attention back to the situation at hand. Someone had broken into the shop. The question that gave me the willies, of course, was, had they come looking for me? Given that someone had tried to suffocate me, this did not seem an unreasonable thing to wonder. But since they never made it upstairs from the shop below, I wondered. Maybe they hadn’t been after me this time. Maybe they had been looking for something in the shop. But what?

  The wake tomorrow should be informative. I wanted to see the ladies from the tea today at the wake. Did I think any of them had anything to do with Lady Ellis’s death? I suppose it was possible. Marianne had all but admitted that Victoria Ellis was no longer the friend they had once enjoyed.

  But if they disliked her so much, surely they could bow out of the friendship? And yet, they had all shown up today to pick over her leavings. Was it sentimentality that made them do so, or were they more like vultures, picking at the carcass of their dead friend? Hard to say.

  It was not the best thought to lead me into dreamland, and my unconscious made powerful work of it, giving me dreams about the rat bastard being chased by a vulture, which turned out to be me.

  I awoke to the smell of bacon with my heart thrumming through my chest like a train in the tube. I was sweating and shivering at the same time. I splashed cold water on my face and headed downstairs. I needed coffee with the strength to disintegrate a spoon.

  I didn’t care that I had a wicked case of bed head or that I was in my bubble-gum pajamas. Having sworn off men was liberating like that.

  I found Harrison in the kitchen, sipping a cup of coffee and looking as bleary-eyed as I felt.

  “Morning, Harry,” I said.

  “Harrison,” he grumbled.

  “Sleep well?” I asked.

  He looked me up and down and a small smile played on his lips. “About as well as you, I’d say.”

  “In that case, I’m sorry,” I said.

  He gave me a sympathetic look and poured me a cup of coffee, which he pushed toward me. “Bad dreams?”

  “You could say that,” I said. “How about you?”

  “No, not bad dreams,” he said.

  He didn’t say anything more, and I almost questioned him, but he had an intense look on his face that made me hesitate, so instead I doctored my coffee and tried to ignore the fact that my face felt warm.

  “What’s your agenda for today?” he asked.

  “Clean the shop,” I said with a sigh. Remembering how much work I’d put in yesterday to spiff it up made me irritated, so I tried to put it out of my mind. “And then we have the viewing tonight?”

  “I’ll collect you at half five,” he said. “All right?”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  “Eat,” he ordered. “Judging by the mess downstairs, you’re going to need your strength.”

  He handed me a plate with a bagel loaded with bacon, a fried egg and cheese and I glanced at him through my eyelashes.

  “You’re quite handy to have around,” I said.

  He stared at me for a beat and then his gaze strayed to my lips. His green eyes scorched, and I realized it was me. I did that. I was flirting with him. What was wrong with me?

  “And I mean that in the most casual-friendship sort of way,” I said. I sat up straight and tried to look stern, as in not flirtatious. Good grief, I was going to have to relearn my very way of talking to men.

  When I glanced back at him, he was smiling at me as if he knew what I was doing and it amused him.

  He tucked into his bagel and I did the same, relieved that the nuclear reaction between us, if not totally gone, had definitely slipped back down to DEFCON five, maybe four.

  True to my word, I spent the day cleaning up. Fee came by but couldn’t identify anything that might be missing. I could see she was as freaked out as I was that there’d been two incidents in a matter of days. I didn’t know what to tell her to reassure her, except that she would never be in the shop alone.

  She waved me off, but I think she was trying to be brave. She stayed to help clean but I shooed her out after an hour, knowing that she had studying to do.

  I called my mother and my aunt. I did not tell them about the break-in. I figured it would only worry them needlessly. There was no news from Viv and now it was officially a week that she’d been gone, and I hated to think the worst, but where could she be that she hadn’t heard about what had happened to Lady Ellis?

  Nowhere. The planet just wasn’t that big anymore. I realized this was why Inspector Franks was so suspicious. He had to be thinking that Viv’s history with Rupert Ellis and the fact that she went missing when his wife was murdered was too convenient.

  I decided to wear my all-purpose black chemise dress, very Audrey Hepburn, to the wake. I twisted my red hair up into a sleek knot on the back of my head and chose a pair of black pearl earrings with a matching strand for around my throat.

  These were a gift from the boyfriend before the rat bastard. Seth. He had been a medical student, completely committed to his studies with very little time for a girlfriend. I was twenty-four when we broke up, mistakenly thinking I had met my soul mate in the rat bastard.

  As I fastened the pearls, I hoped Seth had met someone more deserving and had finished medical school. Then I had to wonder why hindsight was always twenty-twenty.

  A glance at the clock told me that Harrison would be here any moment. I zipped the back of my dress, getting it halfway up my back. I tried to get the zipper all the way up, but to no avail. I just couldn’t contort myself to pull it up. I tried to remember how I usually got my zipper up, and I realized I usually had a boyfriend to finish it for me. Suddenly, I felt like such a loser.

  “Scarlett!” Harrison’s voice called up the staircase. “Are you ready?”

  “Just about!” I yelled.

  I tried reaching over my back, but my fingers just brushed the zipper but couldn’t grab the tab. I tried pushing it from the bottom. No luck. It was just out of reach. A thick strand of hair fell out of the knot on my head and swung across my cheek as I tried another round of gymnastics to get my zipper up.

  “I’d be happy to help you with that, you know.”

  I snapped my head around to find Harrison, leaning against the doorjamb and watching me as if I were a show and, judging by his smile, a comedy.

  I blew out a breath. “Fine. Thank you.”

  The words came out grudging and I turned my back to him. In the mirror I watched him walk toward me. His fingers barely brushed the skin of my back as he moved the zipper up and fastened the clasp at the top of the dress.

  “Better?” he asked. His usually low voice was even more gruff and when our eyes met in the mirror, I could feel the tension between us rocket back up to DEFCON one. Uh-oh.

  “Much, thanks,” I said. I quickly stepped away from him and slipped on my black pumps. One year, I told myself, one whole year with no men.

  Newly resolved, I turned back to face him with a polite smile on my face.

  “Ready when you are,” I said.

  He tipped his head as he considered me, as if trying to get my measure. Then he gave me a rueful smile and gestured for me to lead. I did, fully aware
that his eyes were on me all the way down the stairs, which naturally led me to repeat the phrase “Please, don’t let me trip” in my head until I was safely on the floor below.

  • • •

  Harrison drove us to the funeral home. He had a dark blue Audi that he’d parked in front of the shop. I still wasn’t used to sitting on the left side as a passenger. It felt awkward, and I remembered that it always took me a while to adjust. Usually just when I had gotten used to it, I went home. This time I wouldn’t be.

  We were quiet as we navigated the traffic. I had read Lady Ellis’s obituary in The Times this morning and I knew that the wake and funeral were to be private. I wondered how Harrison had gotten us included in the visitation.

  I wanted to ask him, but he seemed to be concentrating on something else. He was quiet and he stared out the front window with absolute concentration that did not invite questions.

  The wake was being held at a very posh funeral home in Kensington. It was valet parking, so as Harrison pulled up, my door was opened by a young man in a dark gray uniform. He handed me out and Harrison met me on the other side, handing his keys to the young man.

  I stood on the curb, looking at the squat, redbrick building in front of me. A forest-green awning was set out over the walkway to the door. It occurred to me that the last funeral I had been to was Mim’s, in a parlor much like this one, but closer to Notting Hill.

  Suddenly, I missed her so much it squeezed the breath right out of me and I gasped.

  “Are you all right, Scarlett?” Harrison asked. He took my elbow and turned me to face him so he could examine my face.

  The knot in my throat was tight, so I took a deep breath and let it out slow.

  “I’m okay,” I said. “I just haven’t been to a funeral since Mim passed five years ago. The grief kind of snuck up and kicked me in the pants.”

  He looked at me for a moment and then smiled. “You do have a way with words.”

  I sniffed and opened my eyes wide, trying to stem back the outer signs of my inner sadness.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I’m good now.”

  Harrison gave me a small smile and took my hand and wrapped it around his elbow.

  “Lean on me if you need to,” he whispered in my ear.

  I pushed the thick strand of hair that fell over my eyes aside and nodded.

  Together we made our way up the carpeted walk to the door, where another man dressed in gray opened the door for us.

  I don’t know what I had expected when I heard that the wake was private and for family and friends only. No, that’s not true, I expected it to be a small gathering. Instead, it looked as if the funeral home had opened up all of their rooms to make one large room. Seats were placed in rows up by the casket and more were then scattered throughout.

  It was elbow-to-elbow, knee-to-knee thick with people. The scent of expensive perfume and cologne fogged the room, making it stifling. I was glad I had Harrison to lean on because I felt suddenly light-headed and a bit dizzy.

  “All right?” he asked.

  He leaned close when he asked and I was relieved to breathe in the fresh, clean scent of him as if it repelled all of the others away.

  “Yeah, it’s just more crowded than I thought,” I said.

  “She was a countess,” he said. “A certain crush is to be expected.”

  “Can we hang back and watch people for a bit?” I asked.

  “Sure,” he said. “Follow my lead.”

  He steered me through the throng. Not to just any spot on the wall but to the one that gave us the best view of the grieving family and friends.

  “Excuse us,” Harrison said as he propelled me between two young men in suits. “She’s feeling quite ill.”

  Both men jumped back as if afraid I’d be sick on their shoes. I gave Harrison a dark look but went with it, because there was no denying that it was working.

  “Try to look wretched,” he said.

  I put my hand to my forehead as if warding off a headache and said, “You have a devious side to you, don’t you?”

  “Do you think so?” he asked. “I thought I was just quick-witted.”

  “That, too,” I agreed. “So who do we see with the family?”

  Harrison leaned against the wall beside me as if waiting for me to compose myself. I used the hand at my forehead as a shield and glanced through my fingers to check out the people up by the casket, which I noticed was open. That threw me.

  I suppose it shouldn’t have; given that her fatal wound had been in her torso, there really wasn’t a reason not to have an open casket, but somehow given that the last time I had seen her she was nude with a knife hanging out of her middle, I wasn’t really sure I could handle looking at her again.

  “Are you okay?” Harrison leaned in close again and his eyes looked concerned. “You do look a bit wrecked.”

  I blew out a breath and whispered, “Sorry, murder-scene flashback.”

  He nodded but I noticed he glanced around to make sure no one heard me.

  “Focus, Ginger,” he said. “Can you see the people sitting to the right of the casket?”

  “Yes, there’s a thin, pale-looking man in an ill-fitting suit, an older woman dripping diamonds and an older man with an unfortunate toupee.”

  “That would be Lord Ellis and his mother and stepfather,” he said.

  “What?” I dropped my hand and stood up on my toes to get a better look. I stared at the thin, pale man. I could definitely see him as the sort who would be at home in a graveyard. I could not, however, see him as the man who had been married to Lady Ellis. He was lacking the distinctive thick lips for one thing.

  Harrison slid in front of me, blocking my view, or more accurately blocking me from view as I was undoubtedly making the teensiest bit of a spectacle of myself.

  “What is it?” he hissed.

  “That’s not Lord Ellis,” I said.

  Chapter 36

  He peered back over his shoulder and then back to me. “Yes, it is.”

  “But he’s not the man who came to the shop with Lady Ellis,” I said. “When she came to get her hat she was with a different man.”

  “It could have been a driver,” Harrison suggested.

  I snorted. “He was no driver.”

  Several heads turned in our direction and I put my hand back to my forehead as if I were going to burst into tears at any moment.

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  “Yes, he was definitely not working-class,” I said. “He had a way about him, a smarmy I-know-something-you-don’t-know way. It was very off-putting.”

  “Lover?” Harrison asked.

  He was jostled from behind and had to brace himself against the wall with hands on either side of me to keep from flattening me. We were now standing just inches apart and I felt my pulse pound in my ears until it drowned out all sound.

  He glanced down at me and for a second neither of us drew a breath. He shook his head and took a quick step back.

  “Come on,” he said and he pushed off the wall and took my elbow. “Let’s go where we can talk.”

  We worked our way through the crowd, obviously swimming against the tide, until we entered another room that had been set aside for light refreshments. Several long tables were prepared with food and drink and were surrounded by guests who had already paid their respects and were now sharing their memories of Lady Ellis. The room was full of soft murmuring, the occasional sob, and gave off an overall feeling that this was the room to see and be seen in.

  “Is it just me or is there another agenda going on in here?” I asked Harrison. He shook his head.

  “It’s not you. It’s as if they’re all trying to figure out where the paparazzi are so they can have the most advantageous placement.”

  We each grabbed a crystal glass of watery punch. I wondered if Lady Ellis’s mother-in-law had been in charge of refreshments. It seemed likely given that if it had been anyone who knew Lady Ellis, it would have been an
exotic beverage, reflective of her personality, not watered-down and lacking in sparkle.

  “So, you’re quite certain that wasn’t the man who came into the shop with Lady Ellis?” Harrison asked.

  “Positive,” I said. I scanned the room. “I don’t see him here. I didn’t see him in the other room either, but I wasn’t really looking for him.”

  Harrison scanned the room with me. There were all ages here, all dressed their best, all waiting for their photo op.

  “What about the mother-in-law?” I asked. “If she can walk around under that poundage of diamonds, she is definitely strong enough to run a long knife through a skinny woman’s chest.”

  “That seems far-fetched,” Harrison said. “It’s well known that she hated her, but enough to kill her?”

  “I don’t know, no grandbabies might do that to an old girl,” I said.

  We were both silent while we watched the crowd.

  “I suppose it could be one of her childhood friends,” I said. “Although, when I had them over for tea none of them seemed particularly lethal.”

  “Excuse me?” Harrison asked and turned to face me. “Tea? When did you have her friends over for tea?”

  “Yesterday,” I said.

  “And you’re just telling me about it now?” he asked.

  “Well, in my defense, the break-in threw me off track yesterday,” I said.

  I noticed the muscle in his jaw was clenching and unclenching. At a guess, I’d say he was miffed. That’s a nice way of saying “furious,” isn’t it?

  “You could have mentioned it at dinner,” he said.

  “I forgot,” I said. It was true. Once Andre and Harrison had shown up at the restaurant all thought of the tea and Lady Ellis and who might have killed her had fled my mind. I decided not to dwell on the whys and wherefores of that realization.

  “It was nothing, really. Fee was with me,” I said. “We had some hats that could have been Lady Ellis’s that we thought her friends might want to keep as mementos, so we invited them—”

  “What do you mean ‘could have been Lady Ellis’s’?” he asked.