Death of a Mad Hatter (A Hat Shop Mystery) Page 3

  Fee looked delighted, and I felt the teensiest bit left out. Then I remembered how many times I had stuck myself with pins while trying to attach a bit of fabric to a hat form and I got over it. Millinery just wasn’t my gift.

  “Hello?” a man’s voice called out from the front of the shop.

  Fee sat up straight and gazed at the door, looking hopeful.

  “We’re back here!” I called out.

  I knew that voice. It was low and deep and rumbled through my chest like a freight train. I hoped I didn’t look as giddy as Fee to hear it. I watched Fee as the man entered through the narrow doorway. Her reaction to seeing him would be very telling. She beamed. Damn.

  “Are you closing up early today?” Harrison asked.

  Fee sat grinning at him and he smiled in return, looking equally delighted to see her before turning to me and Viv.

  “No,” I snapped. “Why would you think that?”

  “Well, because no one is minding the store,” he said. Then he frowned at me. “And because we’re supposed to go over to Andre’s gallery and help him and Nick set up for his opening show. You do remember that his big art show is coming up, and you made us all promise to help.”

  I had met Andre Eisel, a photographer, and his life partner, Nick Carroll, a dentist, when I had moved back to London a few months before. I had convinced Andre to photograph Lady Ellis wearing one of Viv’s hats and, well, let’s just say we bonded over the traumatic event and we have been BFF ever since.

  “Oh yeah,” I said.

  “You forgot!” he accused.

  “No, I didn’t,” I said. Yes, big fat lie. “I’m merely preoccupied with the very large order of hats we have to make for the Grisby family.”

  “Is that so?” he asked.

  Harrison tilted his head and studied me. He was wearing well-worn jeans and a Mansfield United sweatshirt. He looked annoyingly handsome in more casual clothes than I was used to seeing him in, like he was the sort of guy who knew what each end of a hammer was for and knew how to use one. Handiness is always attractive.

  I could tell he didn’t believe that I was thinking about the Grisbys, so naturally I had to prove him wrong by talking about them.

  “What did Daphne mean that their father had forgotten that he had three other children?” I asked Viv.

  I grabbed a package of rye Finn Crisps out of the cupboard and placed some on a plate. In the small refrigerator, I found a tube of Primula cheese spread with chives. I loaded up a crisp and took a bite. This would hold us over until we finished helping Andre and Nick.

  “Well, it’s complicated,” Viv said. “But in a nutshell, because Geoffrey is the only boy born into the family, he inherits the entire Grisby fortune.”

  “That’s barbaric!” I said. “No wonder Daphne is so cross.”

  Fee and Viv helped themselves to the crackers.

  “It’s called male primogeniture,” Harrison said. He stirred sugar into his tea. “It’s been the custom for centuries.”

  “I thought the Act of Succession was changed,” I said. I sipped my own tea. I hoped it was high-octane in the caffeine department, because I was feeling the late-afternoon blahs catch up to me.

  “It was adjusted before the arrival of Prince George, in case he was a Georgette,” Fee said. “The royal primogeniture is now firstborn, first rule.”

  “But apparently, in the Grisby family, Geoffrey senior did not make this provision, or any provision, in fact, for his daughters,” Viv said. She washed down a bite of cracker with some tea.

  “I’m surprised the daughters even want to participate in the hospital wing fund-raiser,” I said. “I’d boycott.”

  “And have the family cut you off?” Harrison asked.

  “It seems like they already have cut the daughters off—at the financial kneecaps,” I said.

  Every feminist cell in my body made me irritated on the Grisby daughters’ behalf. I still thought Daphne was a pill, but at least now it made sense to me. I couldn’t help but wonder what sort of brother would be okay with gaining his family’s entire fortune while his sisters were cut out entirely.

  • • •

  “Has that tape touched anyone else?” Geoffrey Grisby asked as he ducked away from the measuring tape in Viv’s hands.

  “Beg pardon?” she asked.

  “That!” He pointed at the measuring tape. “Have you used that on anyone else’s head?”

  Viv stared at him.

  “I could get lice or bedbugs or a horrible infection!” he cried. “I can’t have anything touching my head that may have touched someone else’s.”

  “Don’t be silly, darling,” Tina Grisby said. She was standing in front of one of the smaller mirrors. “It’s just a tape measure. I’m sure they’ve never had an outbreak of lice here.”

  Viv looked like she wanted to wrap the tape measure around Geoffrey Grisby’s germ-phobic neck. I took the tape measure out of her hands and put it away.

  “I’m sure I have a new one in the back,” I said. “I’ll just go get it.”

  “Tina, please stop trying on the hats,” Geoffrey said. “You don’t know where they’ve been.”

  I saw Viv’s eyes narrow into slits. And I knew she was not appreciating the insinuation that her hats might harbor an infestation of some sort.

  “Viv, how about you show Mr. Grisby what the finished hat will look like?” I suggested in a tone that signaled it wasn’t really a suggestion.

  “Right,” she said. She sat down next to Mr. Grisby and picked up her stack of sketches off of the table.

  I glanced over at Tina and tipped my head in their direction. She hastily took off the hat she’d been trying on and joined them in the seating area. I figured Viv would be fine, but it never hurt to have a mediator if Geoffrey Grisby decided to put his foot in it again.

  I hurried to the workroom in back and opened the supply cupboard shelves. Surely, we had to have a backup tape measure. I scouted around until I found a paper one that looked like it was a throwaway from a furniture store. Good enough. I carefully folded it up and wrapped it in some crinkly cellophane that Viv used to wrap hats that she shipped.

  It looked like new packaging if you didn’t look too closely. Satisfied, I went back into the front of the shop.

  “You don’t like it?” Viv asked. She didn’t sound happy.

  “It’s blue with polka dots,” he said. “I pictured the plush velvety hat with the wide orange band, you know, like Johnny Depp in the movie.”

  Viv opened her mouth and I had a feeling that whatever was going to come out would scorch Geoffrey Grisby to a pile of smoking ash.

  “Found it!” I cried. I hurried across the room and handed the cellophane measuring tape to Viv. “Go ahead, you can get his measurements now.”

  Viv slowly closed her mouth and stood, taking the tape from me.

  “You agree with me, don’t you?” Geoffrey asked his wife Tina. “I think I have the same jawline as Johnny Depp. I’m sure I could carry off his look.”

  Tina glanced at her husband and then at us. I gave her major props for not cracking up.

  I then glanced at Geoffrey Grisby. He was in the peak of middle age with a round belly, a sad comb-over and two chins that wobbled when he talked. The only resemblance he bore to Johnny Depp resided in his own imagination.

  “What’s my hat size?” Geoffrey asked.

  “The average head size in the UK is seven and one-eighth,” Viv said. “Or fifty-eight centimeters.”

  “I am quite certain I’m above average,” Geoffrey said.

  Viv was standing behind him, so mercifully only I saw her stick her tongue out at him. I gave her a look, but she ignored me, placing the measuring tape around his head just above his ears.

  “Well?” he asked.

  “Average,” Viv said. “No, wait, I w
as wrong.”

  Geoffrey Grisby looked up as if his eyes could roll into the back of his head and he could see Viv.

  “Smaller than average,” she said. “By a half centimeter.”

  “You’re quite sure?” he asked.

  “Quite,” she confirmed.

  “I still want a plush hat,” he said. His voice sounded petulant. I imagined being told he was below average was not sitting well with him.

  “Oh, I’ll make it plush,” Viv promised.

  I did not like the look in her eye, and if Geoffrey Grisby had a brain in his head, he would take note of it as well. Of course, he did not.

  “Good,” he said. “I know you hat people are all a bit daft, but I won’t be made a laughingstock because of your whims.”

  Viv still held the measuring tape in her hands. Not that she would cause Geoffrey Grisby any harm, but it occurred to me that the tape would make an excellent tool with which to strangle a person. Thank goodness this one was paper.

  I nudged Viv and took the tape out of her hands. “You should probably write down those measurements, don’t you think?”

  “Certainly,” she said. She picked up a pencil and jotted the size down on the sketch of the Mad Hatter’s hat.

  “They aren’t mad, you know,” she said.

  “Who?” I asked.

  “I was talking to Mr. Grisby,” she said.

  “Oh, what’s that?” Geoffrey looked up from his cell phone at Viv.

  “You said hat people are daft,” she said. “We’re not.”

  I fleetingly thought of how she went missing just a few months ago and had to bite back the urge to point out the episode.

  “Is that so?” Geoffrey Grisby asked. He glanced quickly down at his phone, making it clear he couldn’t care less.

  “Yes that’s so,” Viv said. Her voice was shrill, enough so that even Grisby picked up on it.

  He blinked at her. “Still, you are an odd lot, aren’t you?”

  “Geoffrey!” Tina chastised.

  “What? It’s true,” he protested. “Have you seen some of the hats my sisters have worn over the years? They look ridiculous, and they don’t come cheap, now, do they? Nothing like paying a fortune to let someone make you look like an idiot.”

  “Some people could use a hat to make them look more attractive—a very large hat,” Viv said.

  I didn’t like the way that was going.

  “Why don’t you see if you have some plush materials that Mr. Grisby might like for the hat?” I asked.

  Viv rose from her seat. She was wearing a pretty floral dress that reached almost to the floor. Her long blonde curls were loose and she tossed them over her shoulder as she left the room. Even though she was my cousin and I loved her, when I observed her out of the Grisbys’ eyes, I had to acknowledge, she did seem a bit different.

  The front door opened and another customer strolled in. It was just me in the shop now, so I excused myself and went to greet the woman. She went straight to the rack of wide-brimmed sun hats, so I figured this would be a quick sale. It was.

  A tourist from Belgium, she was spending the next day in the Kew Gardens and wanted to purchase a hat to shield her eyes and prevent a sunburn while outside. She chose the lavender hat I had admired, and I tried not to sigh as I rang it up for her. It occurred to me that we probably needed to move this rack closer to the door for upcoming summer purchases.

  I waved her out and went to return to the Grisbys. They had moved into a corner of the shop and were having a heated conversation. I didn’t intend to eavesdrop, but their hissing voices carried across the empty room.

  “Why aren’t you pregnant yet?” Geoffrey asked. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “I’ve told you the doctor says I’m fine,” Tina responded. Her voice sounded weary, as if this was an argument she knew by heart. “Maybe if you would go in and get checked—”

  “There is nothing wrong with me,” Geoffrey interrupted. His voice sounded menacing. “You’re the defective one. I thought if I married someone young, she would be sure to produce an heir, but instead you’ve proven useless to me.”

  “I’m not useless,” Tina said. Again, her voice sounded exhausted.

  “I’m sure your lover has many uses for you,” he said. His tone was nasty.

  “I’ve told you I do not have a lover,” she said. “Not like you and your secretary, at any rate. Tell me, have you called things off with the tart?”

  Geoffrey raised his hand, looking as if he’d strike her.

  “Hey, there!” I cried as I shot forward across the room. “How about some tea and biscuits?”

  Tina glanced at me with relief while Geoffrey turned his raised hand into an awkward stretch. I decided right then and there that I loathed him. Any man who would strike his wife was no man to me.

  “Sadly, I can’t stay,” Geoffrey said. “I have an engagement.”

  He snarled the last few words at his wife and I suspected this was code for saying he was going to go visit his secretary. If I were Tina, I’d send the poor woman flowers and a thank-you note, but that’s just me.

  He grabbed Tina’s chin between his thumb and index finger and held her still while he pressed his fleshy lips to hers. I glanced away and suppressed a shudder.

  “Oversee the details of my hat,” he said. “And try not to muck it up.”

  Tina waited until he was gone before she pressed her fingers to her mouth as if to check for bruises.

  Fee came out from the workroom with a tray of tea and I could have kissed her. I knew I needed a bracing cup of something and I was pretty sure Tina could use one as well.

  “Here are some plush samples,” Viv said. She was carrying several rolls of fabric, which she dumped on the seat Geoffrey had vacated.

  “Don’t trouble yourself,” Tina said as she dropped some sugar into her tea. “Unless, of course, you have something in a hideous pink with orange polka dots.”

  Viv blinked at her, but I laughed. Tina Grisby had style.

  Chapter 4

  “Do you think Tina’s having an affair?” Viv asked.

  “No idea,” I said. “But I don’t blame her if she is. Geoffrey Grisby is an awful man.”

  “Agreed,” Viv said. “A right tosser, in fact.”

  It was early the next morning and we were bracing ourselves for more of the Grisby family to arrive to be measured.

  Dotty Grisby was coming with all three daughters as well as Daphne’s sons. Given Daphne’s sour nature, I was really looking forward to the appointment. Really.

  I wondered if Tina and Geoffrey had purposefully made their appointment when the others weren’t there so they could avoid any unpleasantness. Of course, Geoffrey seemed to bring his own brand of unpleasantness, so really, how much worse could it be?

  Despite Daphne’s volunteering to be Tweedledum at their last visit to the shop, Viv had pointed out that those characters don’t appear until Lewis Carroll’s second book, Through the Looking Glass. Dotty was a bit put out by that, but Viv had promised to come up with a suitable character for Daphne.

  It was just before midday when the Grisbys arrived. I had already made up a tea tray and signaled to Fee to put the kettle on. Dotty came in on the arm of a woman I didn’t recognize, but judging by her resemblance to Daphne and Rose, who walked behind her, I figured this had to be Lily, the artist sister who lived in Paris.

  Rose looked as meek as ever while Daphne seemed resigned. Bringing up the tail end of the group were two handsome men who looked to be in their early twenties. Viv and I exchanged a glance. They had to be Daphne’s sons, and one thing was for certain: they did not get their good looks from their mother.

  “Ginny.” Dotty greeted Viv with a warm hug. I glanced over their heads to see a bemused look on Dotty’s grandsons’ faces.

  The older one had jet-b
lack hair and bright-blue eyes, and when he met my gaze there was a decided twinkle in his eye.

  “Ginny,” Dotty said. “I am just never going to get used to calling you Viv. This is my daughter Lily and my grandsons, Liam and George. And you’ve already met Daphne and Rose.”

  “How do you do?” Viv said and she shook their hands. She gestured to me and said, “This is my cousin Scarlett Parker.”

  I stepped forward and shook hands with everyone as well.

  Lily was definitely the looker of the three sisters. Where Daphne’s face was sallow and wrinkled and looked tight with tension and Rose’s face was pasty and pinched with worry, Lily had a square jaw, flawless skin and warm brown eyes. When she smiled, deep dimples appeared on either side of her full lips, and she had a serenity about her that soothed.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Viv,” she said. “And I do think the name Viv suits you much more than Ginny.”

  Viv grinned at her and Lily turned to me. “Scarlett, I hear you hail from the States. It’s so nice not to be the only one from afar.”

  “Paris is only three hundred and forty kilometers away,” Daphne said. “Hardly far at all.”

  “And yet you never come to visit,” Lily countered. “Why is that?”

  “I am busy raising my sons,” Daphne said. “Of course, an unmarried woman like you would never understand the sacrifice.”

  “I’m quite certain I’m no longer in nappies,” Liam, the older brother, said with a mischievous grin. “So, it must be you, George, who is keeping Mum tied up in her apron strings.”

  “Don’t be a prat,” George said. “Everyone knows you still need your nightly tuck-in. If it’s anyone, it’s you holding her back.”

  George was smirking at his brother good-naturedly and Liam laughed at his joke. I decided that I liked these Grisbys. Unlike Liam, George had light-brown hair and hazel eyes, but they shared the same strong features of a high forehead, blunt nose and rough-hewn jaw. They were both tall and seemed to fill the shop with their broad shoulders.

  “Boys, that’s enough,” Daphne said but there was affection in her tone. It was the first time I had seen her face soften, and it transformed her look into one of faded beauty. So maybe Lily wasn’t the only looker.