Death of a Mad Hatter (A Hat Shop Mystery) Read online

  Praise for

  Cloche and Dagger

  “A delicious romp through my favorite part of London with a delightful new heroine.”

  —Deborah Crombie, New York Times bestselling author

  “Brimming with McKinlay’s trademark wit and snappy one-liners . . . Anglophiles will love this thoroughly entertaining new murder mystery series. A hat trick of love, laughter, and suspense, and another feather in [Jenn McKinlay’s] cap.”

  —Hannah Dennison, author of the Vicky Hill Exclusive! Mysteries

  “Fancy hats and British aristocrats make this my sort of delicious cozy read.”

  —Rhys Bowen, USA Today bestselling author of the Royal Spyness Mysteries

  Praise for Jenn McKinlay’s Library Lover’s Mysteries

  Book, Line, and Sinker

  “Entertaining . . . An outstanding cozy mystery . . . featuring engaging characters and an intriguing story.”

  —Lesa’s Book Critiques

  “A great read . . . in this delightfully charming series.”

  —Dru’s Book Musings

  “Quickly paced, tightly plotted, intricately crafted . . . Action-packed.”

  —The Season

  Due or Die

  “[A] terrific addition to an intelligent, fun, and lively series.”

  —Miranda James, New York Times bestselling author of the Cat in the Stacks Mysteries

  “What a great read! . . . McKinlay has been a librarian, and her snappy story line, fun characters, and young library director with backbone make for a winning formula.”

  —Library Journal

  “McKinlay’s writing is well paced, her dialogue feels very authentic, and I found Due or Die almost impossible to put down.”

  —CrimeSpree

  Books Can Be Deceiving

  “A sparkling setting, lovely characters, books, knitting, and chowder! What more could any reader ask?”

  —Lorna Barrett, New York Times bestselling author of the Booktown Mysteries

  “With a remote coastal setting as memorable as Manderley and a kindhearted, loyal librarian as the novel’s heroine, Books Can Be Deceiving is sure to charm cozy readers everywhere.”

  —Ellery Adams, New York Times bestselling author of the Books by the Bay Mysteries

  “Fast-paced and fun, Books Can Be Deceiving is the first in Jenn McKinlay’s appealing new mystery series featuring an endearing protagonist, delightful characters, a lovely New England setting, and a fascinating murder. Don’t miss this charming new addition to the world of traditional mysteries.”

  —Kate Carlisle, New York Times bestselling author of the Bibliophile Mysteries

  Praise for Jenn McKinlay’s Cupcake Bakery Mysteries

  Red Velvet Revenge

  “You’re in for a real treat with Jenn McKinlay’s Cupcake Bakery Mystery. I gobbled it right up.”

  —Julie Hyzy, New York Times bestselling author of the Manor House Mysteries and White House Chef Mysteries

  “Sure as shootin’, Red Velvet Revenge pops with fun and great twists. Wrangle up some time to enjoy the atmosphere of a real rodeo as well as family drama. It’s better than icing on the tastiest cupcake.”

  —Avery Aames, author of the Cheese Shop Mysteries

  Death by the Dozen

  “It’s the best yet, with great characters, and a terrific, tightly written plot.”

  —Lesa’s Book Critiques

  “Like a great fairy tale, McKinlay transports readers into the world of cupcakes and all things sweet and frosted, minus the calories. Although . . . there are some pretty yummy recipes at the end.”

  —AnnArbor.com

  Buttercream Bump Off

  “A charmingly entertaining story paired with a luscious assortment of cupcake recipes that, when combined, make for a deliciously thrilling mystery.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “Another tasty entry, complete with cupcake recipes, into what is sure to grow into a perennial favorite series.”

  —The Mystery Reader

  Sprinkle with Murder

  “A tender cozy full of warm and likable characters and a refreshingly sympathetic murder victim. Readers will look forward to more of McKinlay’s tasty concoctions.”

  —Publishers Weekly (starred review)

  “McKinlay’s debut mystery flows as smoothly as Melanie Cooper’s buttercream frosting. Her characters are delicious, and the dash of romance is just the icing on the cake.”

  —Sheila Connolly, New York Times bestselling author of Scandal in Skibbereen

  Berkley Prime Crime titles by Jenn McKinlay

  Cupcake Bakery Mysteries

  SPRINKLE WITH MURDER

  BUTTERCREAM BUMP OFF

  DEATH BY THE DOZEN

  RED VELVET REVENGE

  GOING, GOING, GANACHE

  SUGAR AND ICED

  Library Lover’s Mysteries

  BOOKS CAN BE DECEIVING

  DUE OR DIE

  BOOK, LINE, AND SINKER

  READ IT AND WEEP

  Hat Shop Mysteries

  CLOCHE AND DAGGER

  DEATH OF A MAD HATTER

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) LLC

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014

  USA • Canada • UK • Ireland • Australia • New Zealand • India • South Africa • China

  penguin.com

  A Penguin Random House Company

  DEATH OF A MAD HATTER

  A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author

  Copyright © 2014 by Jennifer McKinlay Orf.

  Excerpt from On Borrowed Time by Jenn McKinlay copyright © 2014 by Jennifer McKinlay Orf.

  Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

  Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group.

  BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME and the PRIME CRIME logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) LLC.

  For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) LLC,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  eBook ISBN: 978-0-698-14308-1

  PUBLISHING HISTORY

  Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / May 2014

  Cover illustration by Robert Steele.

  Cover design by Diana Kolsky.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Version_1

  For my mom, Susan N. McKinlay. From the moment I came to be, you have loved me unconditionally. It is the greatest gift a mother can give a child, and I am ever grateful that you’re my mom. All that I am, I owe to you. I love you heaps and heaps, Mom!

  Contents

  Praise for Jenn McKinlay’s Mysteries

  Also by Jenn McKinlay

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication />
  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Special Excerpt from On Borrowed Time

  Acknowledgments

  Not only do I judge books by their covers, I judge them by their titles as well. And so, a grateful tip of the brim is due to my brilliant agent, Jessica Faust, for coming up with this spectacular title. You are a genius! Also, I want to thank my editor, Kate Seaver, for her invaluable input during the idea stage of this book. Your wisdom and patience never run out. You amaze me!

  Big smooches to my husband, Chris Hansen Orf, for his constant support and encouragement. You never doubt me, Hub, which is a gift beyond measure. Thank you!

  Lastly, a crusher hug of thanks for my travel buddies, Wowa and the Hooligans Beckett and Wyatt. Traipsing around London with the three of you will be one of my most cherished memories—forever and ever. Mind the gap!

  Chapter 1

  “Take it off, Scarlett. You look like a corpse.”

  My cousin Vivian Tremont stared at me in horror as if I had in fact just risen from the grave.

  “Don’t hold back,” I said. “Tell me how you really feel.”

  “Sorry, love, but pale redheads like you should avoid any color that has gray tones in it,” Viv said. Then because calling me a corpse wasn’t clear enough, she shuddered.

  I crossed the floor of our hat shop to the nearest freestanding mirror. Our grandmother, Mim, had passed away five years ago and left her shop, Mim’s Whims, in London to the two of us. Viv was the creative genius behind the hats, having grown up in Notting Hill just down the street from the shop, while I was the people person—you know, the one who kept the clients from running away from Viv when she got that scary inspired look in her eye.

  Having been raised in the States, I had chosen to go into the hospitality industry. Things had been going well until I discovered my rat-bastard boyfriend, whose family happened to own the hotel of which I was assistant manager, was still married. At Viv’s urging, I escaped that fiasco and came here to take up my share of the business. So far London had done quite a lot to take my mind off of my troubles. Viv in particular kept me on my toes, making sure I didn’t lose my people skills.

  In fact, just the other day she’d gotten swept up in an artistic episode and tried to convince the very timid Mrs. Barker that wearing a hat with two enormous cherries the size of beach balls connected by the stems and with a leaf the size of a dinner plate would be brilliant. It was—just not on Mrs. Barker’s head.

  It had taken me an afternoon of plying Mrs. Barker with tea and biscuits and yanking Viv into the back room and threatening to put her in a headlock to get them to an accord. Finally, Mrs. Barker had agreed to a black trilby with cherries the size of golf balls nestled on the side and Viv had been satisfied to work her magic on a smaller scale.

  I ignored my dear cousin’s opinion of my complexion and stood in front of the mirror and tipped the lavender sun hat jauntily to one side. It was mid-May and summer was coming. I’d been looking for a hat to shade my fair skin from the sun and being a girly girl, I do love all things pink and purple.

  “Oh, I can just see the headstone now,” a chipper voice said from behind me. “Here lies Scarlett Parker, mistakenly buried alive when she wore an unfortunate color of sun hat.”

  I glared at the reflection of Fiona Fenton, Viv’s lovely young apprentice, glancing over my shoulder in the mirror.

  Viv laughed and said, “I can dig it.”

  “In spades,” Fee quipped back.

  “Fine,” I said. I snatched the hat off of my head. “Obviously, the hat is a grave mistake.”

  They stopped laughing.

  “Oh, come on, that was a very good quip,” I said. They shook their heads in denial.

  “You need to bury that one and back away,” Viv said. They both chortled.

  “I still think you’re being a bit harsh,” I said. I replaced the pretty hat on its stand and shook out my long auburn hair.

  “No, harsh was that hat on your head,” Fee said. She smiled at me, her teeth very white against her cocoa-colored skin. Her corkscrew bob was streaked with blue, she was always changing the color, and one curl fell over her right eye. She blew it out of her face with a puff of her lower lip.

  “But I need a sun hat,” I complained.

  “Plain straw would look very nice,” Viv said. “Perhaps with a nice emerald-green ribbon around the crown.”

  “I’m tired of plain and I’m sick of green.”

  I knew I sounded a tad whiny, but I didn’t care. I was jealous of Fee and Viv. Fee’s dark coloring looked good with everything and so did Viv’s long blonde curls and big blue eyes, both of which she had inherited directly from Mim. I only got the eyes. So unfair!

  The front door opened and I glanced up with my greet-the-customer smile firmly in place. It fell as soon as I recognized the man who walked into the shop.

  “Oh, it’s you, Harry,” I said with a sigh.

  Harrison Wentworth, our business manager, raised an eyebrow at my unenthusiastic greeting.

  “Harrison,” he corrected me. “Pleasure to see you, too, Ginger.”

  I felt my face get warm at the childhood nickname. Yes, Harry and I had a history, one in which I did not come out very well.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it,” I said. “I was just hoping you were a customer so everyone could stop telling me how gruesome I look in lavender.”

  “I didn’t say you were gruesome,” Viv corrected me as she rearranged the hats on one of the display shelves. “I said you looked like a corpse. Good morning, Harrison.”

  She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

  “Now that’s a proper greeting,” Harrison said, giving me a meaningful look.

  “Hello, Harrison,” Fee said. She also kissed his cheek and smiled at him. He returned the grin. I glanced between them. They seemed awfully happy to see each other.

  Harrison was Viv’s age, two years older than my modest twenty-seven, but Fee was only twenty, entirely too young to be considering a man in his advanced years, in my opinion. And no, it had nothing to do with the fact that Harry and I had a history, if you consider me standing him up for an ice-cream date when I was ten and he was twelve and breaking his adolescent heart a history. I did mention that I didn’t come out very well in it, didn’t I?

  As Fee stepped back, Harrison looked at me expectantly. Before I could stop myself, I found myself looking at him from beneath my lashes and giving him my very practiced, secretive half smile. Sure enough, the man looked as riveted as if I had just propositioned him.

  Ugh! Honestly, I am a dreadful flirt. It’s like breathing to me and I don’t discriminate. I flirt with everyone—kids, pets, old ladies, men, you name it. Probably, that’s why the hospitality industry was such a natural fit for me. I am very good at managing people.

  I blame my mother. After thirty years of marriage, she still has my dad wrapped around her pinky, and it’s not just because of her charming British accent either. My mother is an incorrigible flirt and my dad a complete sucker.

  After my last relati
onship disaster, I made a promise to myself that I would go one whole year without a boyfriend. So far it had been two months. Prior to that the longest I’d gone was two weeks. Shameful, I know.

  I shook my head and forced myself to give Harrison my most bland expression. He looked confused. I really couldn’t blame him. I was probably giving him emotional whiplash.

  Mercifully, the front door opened again and this time two ladies entered. I charged forward, relieved to escape the awkward moment.

  “Good afternoon, how may I help you?” I asked.

  “You’re not Ginny.” The older of the two women frowned at me.

  “No, I’m Scarlett, and this is my cousin Vi—”

  “Ginny!” The older lady shot forward with surprising speed and hugged my cousin close.

  Viv looked startled, but she hugged the woman back, obviously not wanting to offend her.

  I quickly examined the two ladies. The older one had gray hair and wore a conservative print dress that had Marks & Spencer all over it, while the younger woman, a pretty brunette who looked to be somewhere in her twenties, was much more fashion forward, wearing a tailored Alexander McQueen chemise.

  “You haven’t aged a day,” the older woman exclaimed. She cupped Vivian’s face and examined her closely. “How have you managed that?”

  Viv gave an awkward laugh as if she was quite sure the woman was teasing her, but the woman frowned. “No, really, how have you managed it?”

  “Um, my name is Vivian,” she said. “I think you might be confusing me with my grandmother Eugenia; everyone called her Ginny.”

  The older woman stared at her for a moment and then she laughed and said, “Oh, Ginny, always such a joker. Didn’t I tell you, Tina?”

  “You did at that, Dotty,” the other woman said as she stood watching.

  “Oh heavens, where are my manners?” Dotty said. “Ginny, this is my daughter-in-law Tina Grisby. Tina, this is my friend the owner of Mim’s Whims, Gi—”

  “Everyone calls me Viv,” Vivian interrupted as she extended her hand to Tina. “This is my cousin Scarlett; our apprentice, Fiona; and our man of business, Harrison.”