Death of a Mad Hatter (A Hat Shop Mystery) (16 page)

“Do you really believe that the old bird has no idea what’s going on? That she’s not even aware that her son is dead?” Nick asked. “I mean that’s just mental.”

Nick, Andre, Fee, Viv and I were sacked out in the front of the shop, eating our way through several cartons of Thai food and a couple of bottles of wine. We had drawn all of the blinds down over the windows and locked the door. Viv and I had spent the past fifteen minutes while we divided up the takeaway order, telling them all about our afternoon adventure.

It was a noisy conversation with Nick and Andre bellowing in outrage at Daphne’s horrid behavior. They were so loud, in fact, that we didn’t hear the front door open until a voice called out.

“What’s this? Are you having a party and didn’t invite me?” Harrison stood in the doorway, holding a bakery box in his hands.

Fee shot up from her seat and crossed the room toward him. She kissed his cheek and peeked inside the box. “Oh, cupcakes!”

He grinned at her as she took the box and brought it back to the table. Viv stood and kissed Harrison’s cheek while Andre grabbed a chair from nearby and brought it over for Harrison to sit in, shoving it right next to mine. Nick shook Harrison’s hand and wagged the wine bottle at him. Harrison gave him an enthusiastic nod while he dropped into the seat beside me.

“So, what’s the occasion?” Harrison asked.

Before Viv or I could derail him, Andre said, “The girls were just telling us about their adventures with the Grisby family.”

“What?” Harrison bellowed. He turned and glowered at me.

I refused to engage but merely poked my pad Thai with my plastic fork. Nick had brought the food all the way from the Thai restaurant housed in the pub The Churchill Arms on Kensington Church Street, and I wasn’t about to let it get cold.

“Harrison, it’s not what you think,” Viv said.

“Not what I think?” he repeated. “Please tell me what I think.”

Nick handed him a wineglass and Harrison gulped it down in one long swallow.

Nick and Andre exchanged a look, which clearly said they were delighted to have front-row seats for this show.

“We didn’t go to the Grisby estate,” Viv said. “We were merely having afternoon tea at the Savoy when we ran into George—you know, Daphne’s son.”

“Uh-huh.”

Harrison was still glaring at me. I could feel the heat of his gaze on the side of my face. I kept moving my noodles around my plate like they were racing each other to the finish line, which was my mouth.

“And what do you have to say for yourself, Scarlett?” he asked.

I shoved a forkful of the spicy noodles into my pie hole and indicated that I couldn’t talk with my mouth full. He glowered.

“Of all the irresponsible, juvenile, reckless, wrong-headed—” He began a tirade that I desperately wanted to interrupt, but I couldn’t unless I risked spitting noodles all over the both of us.

I chewed vigorously, washing down my mouthful with a slug of wine. Harrison was still going strong.

“—ridiculous, foolish, idiotic . . .” He paused to hold his wineglass out for a refill, and I jumped in.

“It was not,” I protested. “We simply had tea. I promised you we wouldn’t go near the estate, and we didn’t, but now that I think on it, you had no right to ask me to make such a promise.”

“I have every right,” he protested. He tossed back his second glass before continuing. “I am your business manager. It is my job to look after you just like it was my uncle’s job to look after Mim.”

“You are to look after our accounts,” I snapped. “Not us. I am a grown woman and I will go where I want when I want and I bloody well don’t need your permission.”

“Oh, you’re tapping into your inner Brit there,” Viv said. She was smiling at me in approval. “She’s right, Harrison, you really do treat us like we don’t have a brain between us.”

Harrison looked at Nick and Andre. “Help me out, mates: tell them they need to stay away from this mess.”

“I would,” Nick said. “But I’m the teensiest bit afraid of her.”

“Me?” I asked. “Really?”

“I saw what you did to that cake,” he said.

“Oh, right,” I said. I had shown Nick and Andre the video that had gone viral of me throwing fistfuls of cake at my unbeknownst-to-me married boyfriend. I flexed my right arm and looked at Harrison. “You should be afraid, too.”

He glanced at the cupcake box on the table. “Take your best shot.”

“Don’t you dare,” Fee said. She covered the box with her upper body. “These are from Buttercup Cake Shop around the corner, and they have my favorite rose-flavored one.”

“Fine,” I said. “Still, you’re not the boss of me, Harry.”

“Harrison,” he corrected with a grimace. “And actually, I am the boss of you. Tell her, Viv.”

“Tell me what?” I asked Viv.

She was studying the inside of the cupcake box as if all of her future happiness resided on picking the right cupcake. It was clearly a ploy to avoid me, although I did appreciate the seriousness of the decision at hand.

“Viv,” I said. “Explain.”

“It’s nothing,” she said. Both Andre and Nick were hovering over the box. Fee had already grabbed a gorgeous pink cupcake that made me drool just a bit at the sight of it.

“Halfsies?” Nick negotiated with Andre as they both went for a vanilla cupcake with what looked like a thick carpet of vanilla shavings on top.

“Hey!” Viv protested. “I wanted that one.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” I cried. “Would you all quit it with the cupcakes and explain what Harrison is talking about?”

Viv turned to me, her blue eyes wide. “Are you yelling?”

“No!” I cried. I lowered my voice. “Maybe—just please explain what he means.”

Harrison had reached around me and selected a chocolate cupcake also with a thick layer of chocolate shavings on top. It was all I could do not to snatch it out of his hands if for no other reason than to wipe the smug look off of his face. Plus, I really love chocolate.

“When Harrison’s uncle turned over his duty as business manager, some changes were made to the original contract,” Viv said.

“Why wasn’t I told?” I asked.

“You were, actually,” Viv said. “The changes were sent by certified letter and you signed off on it. I believe you were caught up in your personal life at the time.”

I felt a warm flush heat my face. This was Viv’s nice way of saying I had been blowing off her and the business for my boyfriend, currently known as the rat bastard. Aren’t bad life decisions great? Every time you think you’ve moved on, they come back to bite you in the unsuspecting butt.

“What were the changes?” I asked.

“Only that . . .” Viv shoved a bite of pistachio cupcake in her mouth and talked through it, making her answer unintelligible.

“Beg pardon?” I asked.

“I have final approval over any and all business decisions,” Harrison said. His cupcake was already gone and he wiped his fingers on his napkin.

“Meaning what exactly?” I asked.

“You can’t sell the business or refinance or move or, well, basically, anything unless I approve it.”

I frowned. “And why did this come about?”

Viv and Harrison exchanged a glance. Viv looked a bit guilty and Harrison disapproving. I really didn’t need more to go on than that. It was pretty clear that the arrangement had been made to save Viv from her impulsive self.

“All right,” I said. “I can see where it could be a system of checks and balances.”

“Quite right,” Nick chimed in. “Always smart to have a second opinion.”

I gave him a look and he resumed chomping on his cupcake.

“But I don’t see how you think it gives you the right to tell us what we can and can’t do when it comes to visiting clients,” I said to Harrison.

“‘Clients’ is the key word,” he said. “Tina isn’t your friend. She’s a client. The reason you’re in this mess is because you were working for the Grisby family, making this a business association, therefore giving me the right to tell you to stop—for the good of the business, of course.”

While he spoke, I could feel my temper getting hot. I don’t like being told what to do. In fact, usually, when I am told what to do I do the opposite out of sheer contrariness. What can I say? I’m flawed like that.

“Fine,” I said. “You want us to stop having anything to do with the Grisbys and as ‘the boss’ you feel you have the right to demand that. Yes?”

“That sounds a bit harsh,” Harrison said. His brows lowered in a frown over his bright-green eyes and his mouth twisted to one side in an unhappy pucker.

“Yes or no?” I asked as I rose to stand. I dumped my dinner plate in a nearby trash can.

“Well, then yes, I do think I have the right as your manager to insist,” he said.

“All right,” I said. I brushed my hands together over the trash, getting rid of any crumbs. “Then I quit.”

I heard a collective gasp. Viv and Andre both called my name, but I had already turned on my heel and bolted for the stairs that led up to our apartment. On the scale of dramatic exits, this was a solid seven. I slammed the door behind me, discouraging anyone from following.

I didn’t stop until I reached my bedroom upstairs, where I slammed the door again, hoping that they heard it all the way downstairs.

Miffed, piqued, perturbed—all were dramatic understatements to how I was feeling. My palms positively itched with wanting to slap someone, but of course, I would never.

The nerve of Harrison Wentworth to think he’s the boss of me. I grabbed my laptop off of my desk and moved to my bed, where I could open up the pertinent files while lying down. Now that I knew the situation, I would not rest until I had read through the previously ignored paperwork and corrected anything that declared Harrison in charge.

• • •

I woke up to a soft knocking on my door. It took a minute for it to penetrate my sleep fog and when it did I found myself fully clothed and snuggling my laptop like it was a teddy bear.

“Scarlett, are you all right?”

It was Viv’s voice. I thought about ignoring her, but I knew she’d just come in.

“What do you want?” I asked.

The door pushed open and Viv walked in cautiously as if she expected me to lob a pillow at her head.

“Still wobbly?” she asked.

“If by that do you mean am I still mad, yes,” I said.

Viv sighed and sat down on the end of the bed. “Listen, I’m sorry this was such a shock for you, but truly, I sent the paperwork and you did sign it.”

“I’m not mad at you,” I said. “I’m mad at myself for not paying attention and at Harrison for being so heavy-handed.”

“Well, it’s not entirely his fault. His uncle had the job before him and he actually recommended the arrangement.”

“But why?” I asked. “I don’t understand.”

Viv glanced around my room. “We really need to make some time to freshen up this room. This pink thing you’ve got going is making my eyes water.”

I had painted the room a retina-searing pink when I was twelve. It was pretty awful, but I got the feeling Viv was stalling.

“Viv, what aren’t you telling me?” I asked.

“It was Swarovski crystals,” she said. “There was a huge deal on them and I couldn’t pass them up, so I went and bought all that he had.”

“Who had?” I asked.

“A dealer here at the Portobello Saturday market,” she said.

I closed my eyes. I had a feeling I knew exactly what had happened. “Were we completely wiped out?”

“Very nearly,” she said. “I would have told you, but you were otherwise occupied.”

“How did we manage to survive?” I asked.

“Harrison used his own resources to save the business,” she said.

“So he owns the major share of the business,” I said.

“Yes,” she said.

“When were you planning on telling me?” I asked.

She pressed her lips together.

“Never?” I asked.

“Well, I’ve been paying him back every month, and in a few years . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“A few years!” I cried. I flopped back onto the bed and put my hand over my eyes. “Oh my God, Harrison really is the boss of me.”

“Well, technically, since you quit, he really isn’t,” she said.

“That was just me doing my drama thing,” I protested. “I’m not quitting.”