At the Drop of a Hat Page 5

  “What?” I blinked. “Oh, no, we’re not, we’ve only just met.”

  His eyebrows rose even higher.

  “No,” I said. “Viv and I are restoring her mother’s bridal hat so that Ariana can wear it in her own wedding. That’s why I stopped by, to give her the estimate for the repair.”

  “I seem to have misplaced my phone,” Ariana said.

  “So I came by to give her the estimates as the wedding is only a few weeks away,” I said.

  Inspector Franks nodded. I figured that was my cue to shut up.

  “Please continue, Ms. Jackson,” he said.

  Ariana talked a little bit more about her office duties and then she mentioned that Mr. Russo had said he needed to go upstairs to his flat above the office. He resided in the two floors above, like Viv and I did at our shop. Ariana said he’d been gone quite a while and that she had decided to go and make tea. While she was in the small kitchenette, she heard a yell and then saw Mr. Russo plummet to the ground.

  She twisted her fingers together as she said it. Her delicate features looked pinched and she paled with the grisly memory. She swallowed and I wondered if she was trying not to throw up. The thought of Russo’s bent and twisted body made me feel like upchucking so I could hardly blame her.

  “Of course, I ran outside right away,” she said. “I realized that there was no way he could have survived the fall but I checked anyway. He was already dead.”

  I could see the bloodstains still on her hands and I glanced at Franks and saw that he was looking at her hands as well.

  “I didn’t want to leave him like that,” she said. Her voice sounded small and scared and nothing like the confident girl I had met before. “So I hollered for help and then Scarlett arrived.”

  “I heard her cry just after I stepped into the office,” I said. “I ran out back and then together we called 999.”

  Franks nodded. He paced on the rich Aubusson carpet with his hands clasped behind his back.

  “Do you know why he went upstairs?” he asked.

  “No, he just said he was popping up there for a minute,” she said. “He did that sometimes if he forgot some paperwork, or wanted a different pair of shoes. I didn’t think much of it.”

  “Except?” Franks prodded her and I assumed he heard the hesitant note in her voice, too.

  “Well, he was odd when he left,” she said. “He sort of stood in the door and stared for a moment.”

  “Stared?” Franks asked. “At what?”

  “Me,” she said. She pushed her glasses up on her nose and I realized this was a nervous habit of hers. “I got the feeling he wanted to say something but he didn’t. He didn’t say anything at all.”

  Franks blew a breath out of his nostrils. “We’re going to want to have a look at his flat.”

  “Of course,” she said. She gestured to the stairs on the far side of the room. “The door should be unlocked.”

  It made sense that it would be unlocked because he hadn’t come back down through it, and while none of us said as much, I knew we were all thinking it.

  The inspector called in a few people from the yard and they all disappeared up the stairs while Ariana and I were left to wait in the main room. A stiff breeze was blowing in through the open front door and I shivered, longing for the little bit of sunshine I’d gotten earlier.

  “Do you want me to call someone for you?” I asked. “You could use my phone.”

  “Oh, thank you,” Ariana said. “I’d like to call my fiancé, but I don’t think I should use the office phone. Mr. Russo didn’t allow personal calls on the business line.”

  “And you’d feel odd doing it now that he’s dead,” I said.

  She nodded. I handed her my phone and she tapped in her fiancé’s number. She didn’t appear to be getting an answer, and when she spoke rapidly into the phone, it was clear she was leaving a message.

  I glanced away to give her an illusion of privacy because, really, in such a small room I could hear everything she was saying. She sounded weepy but she didn’t cry. When she was done, I turned back to her and she handed me the phone.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “Do you think he’ll come right here?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “If he gets the message, I suppose he will.”

  I nodded. I wasn’t sure how long I was supposed to stay. It felt awkward to leave her like this, but then again, it felt pretty darn awkward staying. I supposed I should ask Inspector Franks if he needed me any longer, but I couldn’t help but feel as if I was abandoning Ariana if I left.

  “Miss Jackson,” Inspector Franks said as he came down the stairs from the flat above. “I’ll need you to come down to the station to file an official report.”

  “What?” Ariana looked shocked. “Leave? But who will mind the office?”

  “The crime scene investigators—” he began but Ariana interrupted.

  “Crime scene?” she asked. I wouldn’t have thought she could get any paler but she did. “Do you think someone did this to him?”

  She glanced around the room as if looking for a bad man to be lurking in a corner, and I found myself doing the same.

  “We can’t determine that as yet,” Inspector Franks said. The look in his eyes was gentle as if he understood how terrifying this all was for her. “It is highly unusual for a person to fall off the top of a three-story building, however, so our assignment will be to determine how he came to be on the roof and what caused him to pitch off of it. Perhaps he is a drinker?”

  Ariana shook her head. “Not during work hours, at least, not so that I ever noticed.”

  Inspector Franks nodded. “If it’s not an accident, then we have to consider the likelihood of him being pushed, or whether he jumped.”

  “Murder,” Ariana said. “Or suicide? I can’t believe that. I just can’t.”

  “Well, as you say, he wasn’t a drinker,” Inspector Franks said. “We’ll need to determine how it happened that he fell to his death. I think it’ll be easier for you to make a formal statement at the station.”

  Ariana glanced around the room, looking lost and uncertain.

  “I’ll go with you, if that helps,” I said.

  The words were out of my mouth before my common sense had a chance to filter them. Darn it. The last thing I wanted to do was spend my day at the police station, but the poor girl looked so undone by everything that was happening to her, how could I not go with her? It would be like letting a puppy play in traffic and not helping it to safety.

  “Oh, I can’t ask you to do that,” she said. “You’ve already taken up so much of your day with this.”

  “A little bit longer won’t make much of a difference then,” I said. I glanced up and saw Inspector Franks studying me.

  “What time did you say you got here?” he asked.

  I liked Inspector Franks, I did, but I knew I looked like a square peg trying to fit in a round hole in this situation. I couldn’t blame him for being suspicious.

  “Judging by the fact that I stepped into the house and heard Ariana screaming, I’d say I got here just after he fell, so maybe half an hour ago,” I said.

  “Is there any other point of access to the roof?” Franks asked Ariana. “From outside perhaps?”

  “None that I know of,” she said. “I think there’s just the one door on the third floor.”

  Inspector Franks smoothed his mustache as if considering her words. The gesture made me nervous, and judging by the way Ariana twisted her fingers in her lap, it made her nervous, too.

  Inspector Simms chose that moment to rejoin us in the sitting area. He looked a bit green around the gills and I figured staring at a man’s broken and bloody body would do that to even the most hardened police officer.

  “Can I have a word?” Simms said to Franks.

&nb
sp; “Excuse me, ladies.” Franks led Simms out the front door. I could hear the low murmur of their voices but I couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  I glanced at Ariana but she didn’t appear to be trying to listen to them. Then again, she was much closer to the situation than I was. I couldn’t imagine what was going through her mind. One second she’s making tea and the next she’s standing beside the bashed and bloody body of her boss. Talk about a rough day at work.

  The inspectors returned to the room and I noted that the fresh air had done Simms some good as he looked less pasty than he had when he’d left.

  “If you’ll come with us, Ms. Jackson,” Inspector Franks said. “We’d like to continue our conversation back at the station.”

  Ariana gave me a helpless look and I stood up.

  “I’m coming with you,” I said. It was appalling how much I sounded like my mother when she’d made up her mind about something, but dang if it didn’t work.

  Inspector Franks frowned and his voice was grudging when he said, “All right then.”

  We followed the inspectors to their car, which was double-parked in front of the building. Traffic on the small street had become snarled and one constable was out in the road, trying to establish some order. Judging by the shouting and honking, he was failing spectacularly.

  He looked relieved when he saw the inspectors open the back doors for us and gave a wave as the men climbed in and Inspector Simms maneuvered us through the tight street.

  I had been to the Notting Hill Station—it’s a long story and really doesn’t bear repeating—but I’d never been to the Kensington Station. We hurried down Kensington High Street and worked our way toward Earl’s Walk. I took it as a good sign that the inspectors didn’t have the siren wailing as they drove.

  We arrived at the redbrick building and Inspector Simms pulled over to the curb, letting us out. Inspector Franks gave him a nod as we climbed out and I assumed it meant that parking the car was the younger inspector’s job.

  Two bright blue pots with small evergreen shrubs sat on each side of the glass double doors. Given the barren appearance of the very flat redbrick building, I took the planters as a sign of eternal optimism.

  Personally, my positive thought of the moment was the hope that Ariana’s fiancé would arrive shortly and I would be spared spending the entire day in the station.

  Inspector Franks led the way and we followed behind him like two good little ducklings. The station was a bustling box full of phones ringing, loud conversations and a drunk slumped in the corner who looked to have peed himself. Lovely.

  Inspector Franks led us down a narrow hall, leaving the noise and chaos behind us as we went. I felt myself breathe a little bit easier as we went.

  Glass-walled offices filled this section of the station and he led us to one of these. A wooden bench ran along the hallway and he gestured for us to take a seat.

  “I won’t be long,” he said.

  We watched him walk into the office area and talk to another man. I wondered what he was saying. Was it his superior? Was he reporting in? I really hated not knowing what was going on.

  I turned to Ariana to ask her what she thought, but the words caught in my throat as I saw one fat tear slide down her cheek and drip off her chin.

  “Ariana, are you all right?” I asked. Which really was the stupidest question ever, wasn’t it? Her boss was dead, she’d found him broken and bloody, how all right could she be? Gah!

  She wiped the tear away and sniffed. “I’m afraid they’re going to think I did it.”

  “Oh, no,” I said. “They won’t. You’ll see. I’m sure it was all just some horrible accident.”

  “But what if they find out?” she asked.

  “Find out what?”

  “That I wanted him dead,” she said. She looked at me, and for possibly the first time in my life, I was speechless.

  Chapter 7

  “What? I—” I began but I was interrupted.

  “Ms. Jackson, would you come in here, please?” Inspector Franks stood in the open doorway.

  I rose to go with her, but Franks shook his head at me. “Not you, Ms. Parker.”

  I grabbed Ariana’s hand before she left, and I hissed, “Do you want me to call someone?”

  She shook her head, looking bereft, and turned and followed Inspector Franks into the glassed-in room.

  The door had barely closed when I was calling Viv. I’d thought I was doing okay until Ariana had dropped that little word bomb on me. She wished him dead? What the hell did that mean? Oh, my God, were we working for a killer?

  “Scarlett, where are you?” Viv answered on the second ring. “You should have been back ages ago. Please tell me you did not take it into your head to go shopping. Are you at Waterstones on Kensington High Street, faffing around browsing books while Fee and I work ourselves to death?”

  “Not exactly,” I said, knowing that Viv’s faffing around meant procrastinating; otherwise I might have been offended. “Although I am still in Kensington.”

  “Oh, Barker’s Arcade, is it then?” she asked.

  “Honestly, Viv, I came here on business, do you really think I’m out shopping?” I asked. I was feeling just the teensiest bit put out.

  “I can’t think of any other reason why you haven’t returned,” she said. “Oh, dear.”

  “Oh, dear, what?” I asked.

  “You haven’t picked up a bloke, have you?”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Well, you are an incorrigible flirt, and according to Nick and Andre, Anthony Russo is quite the ladies’ man.”

  “So you think I picked him?” I asked. “What do you think I’m doing now then, shagging him?”

  Okay, I can admit it, I was outraged.

  “Well, this is the longest you’ve ever gone without a boyfriend,” she said. “You could be highly susceptible to—”

  “A womanizer?” I asked. “Really? Because the last rat bastard I dated, the one who caused me to take my vow of celibacy, wasn’t bad enough?”

  “Good point,” Viv said.

  “I’ll say it is,” I snapped. “And even if I had been inclined to get tangled up with the man, which I am not, it would be hard to get anything started with him since he’s dead.”

  “What?” Viv cried. “Scarlett, I must have misheard you. What did you say?”

  “Anthony Russo is dead,” I repeated very loudly and very clearly.

  The line was silent for so long, I was sure we’d gotten cut off.

  “Hello? Viv? Are you there?”

  “Yes, I’m here. Explain.”

  So I did. I paced the hallway while I told her all about my arrival at Mr. Anthony Russo’s place of business, the discovery of his body, the arrival of Inspectors Franks and Simms and my current location at the Kensington Police Station.

  Viv waited until I was done and then asked, “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” I lied. “But I’m very worried about Ariana.”

  “I’m going to call Harrison and send him over,” Viv said.

  “Oh, don’t do that,” I cried.

  Harrison had been riding to my rescue since the day I arrived in London. I really couldn’t bear it to have him find me in yet another pickle. At least this one was definitely not of my own making, but still, it was getting embarrassing.

  “But that’s why we have him,” Viv insisted. “To sort out these types of situations for us.”

  “No,” I insisted. “I’m sure I’ll be long gone before he could even get here.” Big fat lie. Judging by what Ariana had said, things were even more complicated than I had supposed.

  “All right,” Viv said. She sounded reluctant. “Keep me up to date on what’s happening.”

  “Will do,” I said.

  I spied a Klix vending machine at t
he end of the hallway wedged in between two bathrooms. I strolled over and considered my options. It offered everything from hot soup to tea, but the thought of a hot cup of coffee soothed in ways that no tea or soup ever could. I dug through the bottom of my purse looking for the needed pence.

  I had just chosen the Kenco smooth black with sugar when I heard the tread of heavy steps and raised voices coming toward me. I spun around and there he was. Damn it, Viv!

  Harrison, looking annoyingly handsome in his charcoal gray suit with a burgundy tie loosened at the throat of his crisp white dress shirt, was striding toward me with two other men. All three were talking animatedly but hadn’t seen me as yet, so I took the opportunity to turn back to the machine and pretend I hadn’t seen him. My accelerated heart rate made a liar out of me, but I ignored it. How in the heck had he gotten here this fast? And what was he going to say about this latest kerfuffle I found myself in?

  Putting off the explanation I knew I was going to have to make, I stared at the machine and waited for my cup to dispense. What was I supposed to say exactly? It was unreasonable that I should feel guilty, as if I’d had anything to do with Russo’s falling to his death. My timing had just been its usual spectacular self, causing me to be at the wrong place at the wrong time . . . again.

  When I turned from the vending machine, braced for the conversation to come, it was to find the hallway empty. I studied the empty space and took a sip from my thick paper cup. Okay, was I hallucinating Harrison? I mean, I knew our relationship was complicated, but if I was starting to imagine him there when he wasn’t, well, maybe it was time to reconsider my current vow of celibacy.

  A door was thrust open to my left and a familiar dark-haired, green-eyed man popped his head out.

  “Ginger, there you are,” he said. “Come along then.”

  Okay, so I hadn’t hallucinated Harrison Wentworth’s appearance. That was reassuring. My relief was short lived as my annoyance at his arrival took over.

  “Harry, what are you doing here? Did Viv call you? She said she wouldn’t. I mean, it’s ridiculous. I really don’t need any help.”

  He watched me rant for a moment looking amused—which was even more annoying.