“Not for nothing, but Russo was quite a womanizer,” I said. “It seems to me there’d be a lot of women with an axe to grind.”
Inspector Simms’s unibrow moved into the shape of an annoyed vee in between his eyes.
“You don’t say,” he said.
“I do say,” I said. I saw Viv pacing at the bottom of the steps but I ignored her. “I think a jilted lover would have much more reason to do a man harm than a woman who is in love and getting married and about to leave his employ to go and start a new life, don’t you?”
“Do you really think this is a matter you should be concerning yourself with, Ms. Parker?” Simms asked. His voice wasn’t unkind so much as it was firm.
“I just—” I began but then I rethought it. I had been planning to go for a plea on Ariana’s behalf but now I felt the need to sound more decisive. “Ariana is innocent.”
“And your extensive experience as a homicide detective has caused you to deduce this?” Simms asked. Now he sounded straight-up exasperated. I couldn’t really blame him.
“No, but I do know people,” I said. “I’ve worked in the hospitality industry for ten years. You get to be a good read of people in the service industries.”
“You don’t say,” Simms said. Now he wasn’t even trying to hide his sarcasm. Fine, I was going for broke then.
“Just tell me this,” I said. “Did the CCTV cameras pick up anyone on the roof with Russo right before he died?”
Pretty much all of London is on CCTV. Some people think this is a shocking invasion of privacy, but given all of the security cameras, traffic cameras and people with cell phone cameras that cover the world, there really aren’t any civilized places left that aren’t being monitored in some fashion.
Simms looked like he was debating telling me something. I widened my eyes, giving him my most innocently inquisitive look.
“Fine, then,” he said. “The press will know soon enough as will the rest of the bleeding world. The portion of roof that Russo fell or was pushed from was a narrow corner that was not visible on any of the area cameras.”
Damn. To have footage of someone else up on the roof with Russo would have been the alibi Ariana needed. It couldn’t be coincidence that he fell from the one spot on the roof not under surveillance, could it?
It didn’t seem likely. So it had to be someone who knew that section of the roof wasn’t monitored. And the persons most likely to know that would be Russo, I sighed, and his lone employee, Ariana.
Chapter 14
“Exactly, Ms. Parker,” Simms said. Obviously, he saw the concern on my face. “You can see the problem.”
I nodded. Oh, yeah, it was crystal clear.
“Thank you,” I said.
He nodded. “We’ll be in touch if we have more questions for you.”
I turned and heard the door shut behind me. Viv was waiting at the bottom of the short flight of steps.
“What was that all about?” she asked.
“I felt the need to point out Ariana’s innocence,” I said.
“And how did that go?” Viv asked.
“Not good,” I said. I told her what Simms had told me as we hiked around the side of the building and back to the main road.
The stiff breeze blowing the traffic fumes at us sent her hair across her cheek. She hooked her finger around it and pulled it away, tossing her head in the direction of the wind to keep the rest of her hair out of her face.
“Scarlett, I hate to say it, but . . .” Her voice trailed off and I knew she wanted to say the same thing that I had been trying not to think.
“What if we’re wrong?” I asked.
She nodded. “Ariana has motive. If Russo was blackmailing her and making her stay on the job, she might have gotten frustrated and shoved him off the roof.”
“But why did she tell us about the pictures?” I asked. “I mean, if you were going to kill your boss, wouldn’t you make sure you had the incriminating evidence, in her case the naughty pictures, before you killed him?”
We crossed Ladbroke Road and headed back to Portobello Road, passing the three hectare garden that made up Ladbroke Square. Surrounded by wrought iron fences and full of large trees, the communal garden was one of the largest in the area and open only to residents.
“You know, it could have been a crime of passion and Ariana didn’t think to get the pictures before she accidentally shoved him to his death,” Viv said.
I paused to take in the tall trees, still leafy and green despite the cooler days, as I considered what Viv had said. Her point was valid. A crime of passion would explain why Ariana had told us about the pictures as a preemptive move toward declaring her innocence with what seemed like transparency, but it didn’t work for me.
“A crime of passion would indicate that she shoved him off the roof without thinking, meaning that she wouldn’t have thought to maneuver him to the one spot where no cameras would see what happened. That seems premeditated to me. Also, why would she tell us about the pictures at all?” I asked. “It makes her look guilty. Why would she do that?”
A woman pushing a double stroller turned into the gate that led into the park. The two girls in the stroller burst out of it as soon as she stopped and began to run across the green grass, chasing a soccer ball that the mother had lobbed out there for them.
Vivian leaned against the wrought iron rail, turned to me and asked, “What do your instincts tell you?”
“That she’s innocent,” I said.
“Mine, too.”
“So we go with that until proven otherwise?”
“Yes,” she said. “I think that’s best and I’m still going to fix up her hat. If she’s innocent like we think, she’ll need something to cheer her up and get her through this ordeal.”
* * *
When we arrived at the hat shop, it was to find a reporter waiting outside. I stopped half a block from the entrance, recognizing the man as one who had accosted me when I first came to London and was still grist for the tabloid mill.
He was paunchy with a gut that hung over his jeans like a loaf of half-baked bread. His curly black hair reached his shoulders and his face was covered in bushy whiskers with no visible effort at grooming.
“Scarlett Parker.” He cackled when he saw me. “In the news again.”
Before I could respond, he lifted his camera up and aimed it at me. I stood gaping like a boob, but before he could snap a picture, a large black suit appeared in my line of sight. Standing in front of us with his jacket held wide open was Harrison.
“Head inside, ladies,” he ordered as he shielded us from the photographer.
“Oy, that’s not right,” the pudgy-fingered photographer bleated. “You’re cutting into my ability to make a living, you prat.”
“Make it somewhere else,” Harrison said.
I heard the photographer snap a few pictures but he wasn’t getting anything but Harrison’s coat. Viv and I scurried into Mim’s Whims with Harrison right behind us. The reporter was left to stomp out his frustration on the sidewalk outside.
“Get away from the window,” Harrison ordered. “I don’t trust the little toe rag not to try to get pictures through the glass.”
I led the way and glanced back over my shoulder to check that Viv was following. Viv had two bright spots of color on her cheeks and I could tell by the way her eyes were narrowed that she was furious.
Fee was standing behind the counter, watching us with wide eyes.
“All right, Viv?” she asked.
“No,” Viv said. “Not at all.”
“Watch the shop, Fee,” Harrison said. “If that git out there tries to come in, call for me.”
“Done,” Fee said. She blew a stray curl out of her eyes and I tried to give her a reassuring smile as we all trooped into the workroom in back, but I didn’t think she was reass
ured in the least.
Viv was banging around in the kitchen so I took a seat at the worktable and waited for her to calm down.
“Can you believe the audacity?” she cried. “He literally jumped us in our front yard. I wish I’d been close enough to knee him where it hurts.”
Harrison cringed. “Trust me, it’s better that you didn’t, assault charges being rather messy and all. He won’t linger. Your connection to Russo’s murder is tenuous at best. He’s just trying to play a different angle than all the rest.”
“And dredge up my past in the process,” I said with a sigh. “Thanks for blocking him.”
“My pleasure,” Harrison said. There was something in his voice—affection, protectiveness, I wasn’t sure what exactly, but it wrapped around me like a warm fuzzy blanket and I was grateful.
Viv continued smacking cups onto a tray while waiting for the kettle to boil. She was muttering and grumbling and causing no small ruckus with the silverware and dishware. I watched her in silence, knowing that the storm would pass pretty quickly after the first downpour.
When Viv seemed calmer, Harrison turned his gaze on me.
“All right, Viv?” he asked.
She nodded. “Getting there. I can’t believe you were ever subjected to that sort of boorish behavior, Scarlett.”
“Times ten,” I said. “Believe me, that just now was nothing.”
Harrison frowned and I found it sweet that it bothered him that I’d been dogged by the paparazzi before.
“It should be a crime to harass people like that,” Viv said.
She plunked a plate full of cheese and crackers and apple slices onto the table. I realized I was starving and tucked into the food while she poured boiling water into the teapot. She covered it and brought it over to the table and took the seat beside me.
Harrison sat across the table from us, watching while we ate. I got the feeling he was waiting for something. Viv poured out tea, but he waved off her offer. That was my first clue that something was amiss.
Naturally, he chose to speak right as I took my first sip of tea.
“Would either of you care to tell me what you were doing at the jail today?” he asked.
I choked and sputtered in surprise while Viv gave me two strong thumps on the back.
“Gees, Harry, could you hold the interrogation until after I’ve swallowed?” I asked.
“I’m not interrogating, I’m just asking a question,” he said. He looked at Viv. “Alistair sent me a message that you two were there. He thought it was very kind of you.”
I watched Viv over the rim of my cup. Whatever she was thinking, she was keeping it close to the vest. Her eyes stayed down and her expression didn’t alter. There was no tightening of the lips, no eyelid flicker, nothing. She gave away not the slightest bit of how she was feeling.
“It was business,” she said. Her voice was brisk as if using a bossy tone would make it inarguable. “Ariana’s wedding is coming up fast, and if she wants her mother’s hat, I needed her approval.”
“I see,” Harrison said. He watched her but said nothing. Not for the first time I wondered at their relationship. Not whether one of them was pining for the other romantically but more that there was a closeness, a level of understanding, between them that I didn’t have with either of them.
In their own way, Harrison and Viv were closer than Viv and I. After Mim had passed away, I had a very difficult time coming back to Notting Hill, quite simply because I missed her. It had put an unfair burden on Viv to keep our business up and running, which had caused her to lean on Harrison. They had forged a close friendship over the past few years, and I occasionally felt very much like the third wheel on a bicycle built for two when it was just the three of us.
Yes, I felt guilty that while I was in Florida cavorting with a married man, who in my defense I thought was separated, Viv had been here dealing with the loss of Mim all by herself. It was incredibly selfish of me not to realize before how hard it must have been for her to lose her mentor and be thrust in charge of the shop she had loved since we were girls. Maybe that was why my life had imploded, to help me get my head out of my butt and be a better person. Harsh but effective.
“Alistair seems very competent,” Viv said.
I looked at her like she had conked her head on something hard.
“Competent?” I asked. “There are loads of words that leap to mind when I think of Alistair Turner and competent is not the first one.”
“Is that so?” Harrison asked. “Do tell what other adjectives spring to mind?”
“He’s handsome, intelligent, handsome, kind, handsome—” I would have continued but Harrison interrupted me.
“I get it,” he snapped. “You think he’s handsome.”
“Not only that,” I protested.
“Clearly, it’s his most remarkable feature in your eyes,” Harrison said. “You mentioned it three times.”
He sounded a teeny bit jealous, which made me want to smile, although I didn’t.
“No, I’d say his most remarkable feature is that he seems quite smitten with Viv,” I said.
Harrison raised his eyebrows and I nodded. “He looks at her like she’s afternoon tea and he’s parched.”
“He does not,” Viv protested but I noticed she looked embarrassed and pleased at the same time.
Harrison looked at me and said, “So you remarked on his handsomeness three times not for your benefit but . . .”
“To make sure Viv noted it,” I said. “She can be very obtuse sometimes.”
“Not when she’s sitting right here listening to you, she can’t,” Viv said. She gave me an exasperated look.
“What happened at the station today?” Harrison asked.
Viv and I exchanged a look. I knew she was wondering what I thought about telling Harrison what Ariana had told us. I shook my head, pretending I was shaking out my hair, and Viv glanced away. I knew she had received my message. No, I didn’t want to tell Harrison because how could he not tell Alistair and Stephen? I got the feeling she didn’t agree but she didn’t say anything.
“I’m sure Alistair told you everything that happened,” I said.
“Maybe,” Harrison said. “But I’d really like to hear your perspective.”
The boy was cagey. I had to give him that.
“We think Ariana is innocent,” I said. I figured it was best to lead with a strong sentiment.
Viv nodded. “Yes, we do. We both felt it.”
“Felt it?” Harrison asked. He looked like he wanted to roll his eyes but he didn’t. Instead, he helped himself to an apple slice and a cheese slice, put them together and bit into them.
“Instincts shouldn’t be dismissed,” I said. “Both Viv and I feel that Ariana is innocent.”
“Russo was a drunken, womanizing letch,” Viv said. “There had to be scores of jilted lovers who would happily shove him off a roof if the opportunity presented itself.”
“Andre also said he was a gambler,” I said. “That can get a person a broken arm or leg. Maybe he couldn’t pay his gambling debts and the person who came to collect thought that a fall off of a building would teach him a lesson but he died instead?”
Harrison looked thoughtful. “I suppose anything is possible.”
“I have every confidence in Inspectors Franks and Simms,” Viv said.
“But?” Harrison asked.
“No buts,” Viv said. She looked serenely about the workroom. “Scarlett, it occurred to me the other day that we should probably consider hiring some models to do a fashion shoot of the spring hats.”
Harrison shook his head as if a fly were buzzing in his ear.
“Spring is eight months away,” he said.
“Yes, but Fee and I are already working on the spring line and we could use the boost of publicity,” Viv said.
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This was a conversational segue out of nowhere. I couldn’t imagine why she was thinking about this now. Unless . . .
“We really can’t afford anyone who is cutting edge,” I said. “We’d have to find people whose careers are more waning than waxing.”
“You’re really talking about business now?” Harrison asked. “You’ve spent all day at the jail, talking to a client who might very well be convicted of murdering her playboy boss . . . oh.”
Viv and I both looked at him.
“No,” he said. “Absolutely not. I forbid it.”
Chapter 15
“Forbid it?” Viv repeated. She blinked at him as if he had belched and not excused himself.
“You heard me,” he said. His voice was a low, gruff growl. Why are men so attractive when they are being bossy and pigheaded? It really puts a girl at a disadvantage.
“Lucky for us, you’re in no position to forbid anything,” I said. “Viv’s idea is top notch. We can canvass Russo’s clients under the guise of hiring them to model for us and maybe one of them will let something slip.”
“No, no, no,” Harrison said. “That’s not how it works. Assuming it was one of Russo’s clients, what do you think they’re going to say when you badger them into modeling for the shop?”
“I expect they’ll say, ‘Oh, and by the way, I did it, I pushed Russo off of a building,’” I said without smirking.
Harrison let out a pent-up breath as if he were exhaling hot air in order to keep his internal temperature from reaching full-on combustion.
“You can’t stick your nose into the investigation,” he said. “Aside from the fact that you could hamper the actual detectives’ work, if one of his ex-girlfriends is Russo’s killer, then you’re making yourself a target by nosing around too much.”
Viv and I looked at Harrison for a moment and then Viv looked at me.
“So I was thinking we could start with the most recent girlfriend and work our way backwards,” she said.
“Excellent,” I said. “I’m sure a simple search on the Internet will give us a good starting place.”
At the Drop of a Hat Page 11