Chapter 8

There was a high-pitched scream. I wondered for a moment if it was me, but no. A woman in the crowd was the shrieker. I jumped at the sound and turned to see a tall, curvy, blond woman, wearing a fur coat and lots of diamonds, faint, right into the lap of the person beside her.

Mayhem ensued. Thankfully, Harry was able to get to me and Andre, and he pulled us aside as the competition officials descended. Relieved of the dog and the hats, Andre had the presence of mind to snap a few pictures of what was enfolding before the Finchley Park security people barricaded the area, using the apparatus from the course and the bunting off the dais.

“Come with me,” Harry said. He took my hand and Freddy’s leash and led us away from the scene. At the side of the floor, Viv and Aunt Betty were waiting. Harry whispered to me, “We need to get out of here before someone remembers Aunt Betty’s altercation with Gerry Swendson last night.”

I nodded. I’d been thinking the same thing. I’d gotten only a quick glance at Gerry Swendson but I hadn’t seen any blood or any signs of blunt trauma; the bruising on the side of his face looked more like the sort that happened when you fell, which didn’t leave a lot of options for his death. If he’d been having a heart attack, would he have crawled under the dais? Highly unlikely. The only reason for hiding the body would be because he’d been murdered. A shiver winnowed through me.

Swendson could have been strangled. I hadn’t seen his neck and didn’t know if there were any marks, but if it was the cause of death it would surely rule out Aunt Betty. He was a big man and she was tiny. She’d never be able to choke him out. But if it was poison . . . oh, jeez, what had she said to him at the cocktail party? It had been about his dog food being poison and how he’d better be careful because some dog lover was going to do to him what he’d done to their dog.

Oh, this was bad. So bad!

We scuttled as a group toward the exit, but the crowd made it impossible. I could hear sirens growing louder. Obviously someone had called the police. An announcement was made over the loudspeaker that no one was allowed to leave the building until the authorities said so.

“Let’s go back to the waiting area,” I said. “Maybe we can still leave from there.”

Harry nodded and he guided us along the perimeter of the room to the corridor entrance that led to the waiting room. There was no one posted at the door, so we slipped inside the competitors’ area. Inside, the people and dogs awaiting their turn looked at us in surprise.

Richard Freestone was the first to ask, “What’s going on out there?”

Harry and I exchanged a look.

“Are you supposed to be here?” Penelope asked Aunt Betty. “I heard you were banned from the competition.”

Aunt Betty bit her lip and looked at Viv. It was clear she had no idea what to say.

“She still owns Freddy,” Richard said. “Of course she should be here. How are you, Betty?”

His tone sounded full of affection. I noticed Betty looked flustered. If it was because of what was happening beyond the doors or because of Richard, it was hard to say. Either way, we had no time for this.

“Freddy has to go out,” I said. “Make way—doggy with a full bladder!”

The crowd parted and we surged toward the door. I had my hand on the metal handle. I was so close to pushing it open and freeing us from this nightmare, when a voice barked, “Not so fast!”

I dropped the handle and turned around. Standing there with her arms crossed over her chest and glaring at us was Liza Stanhope. She pointed a bony finger at Aunt Betty and said, “It was you!”

To her credit, Aunt Betty wasn’t even fazed by the false accusation. Instead, she looked down her nose at Liza, which was impressive not just because Liza towered over her by about a foot but also for the wave of disdain that poured off Aunt Betty when she did it. She was obviously gifted in the art of contempt.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” she said.

The absolute confidence in her voice gave Liza pause but then she shook it off, like a dog shedding water. “I’m not being ridiculous. You threatened to poison Gerry Swendson last night and now he’s dead.”

There was an audible gasp in the room.

“I did no such thing,” Aunt Betty snapped. She planted her fists on her hips and I wondered if she was going to take a swing at Liza. Harry stepped in between the two women, obviously thinking the same.

“Now, now, we have no idea what happened to Mr. Swendson,” Harry said. He raised his hands in the universal signal to calm down. “So everyone needs to take a deep breath and—”

“What do you mean? What happened to Mr. Swendson?” Penelope Young interrupted. “Is something wrong? What’s going on out there?”

“Yeah, what’s the holdup?” another dog owner demanded. “We should have competed by now.” He turned and glared at me. His precisely clipped mustache perfectly matched that of his salt and pepper schnauzer, whose name tag read Otto. “What did you do?”

“Me?” I asked. “Nothing! I swear.”

“Then why are you back here?” Jasper Young asked. “Once you’ve run the course you’re supposed to sit in the stands with the other competitors. Why aren’t you out there?”

“There was a thing,” I said. “And it required me to come back here.” There, now, that was nice and vague.

This didn’t satisfy Liza Stanhope. “You will not move until the police have spoken to you.” She gestured to a security guard to block the doors and then turned on her heel and shoved her way through the gathering crowd.

“The police?” Penelope gasped. “What is going on? I demand to know.”

“I think that’s a reasonable request,” Richard Freestone said as he turned to our group. “What is happening, Betty?”

Given that he was Aunt Betty’s biggest rival, his tone was surprisingly gentle. It did nothing for Aunt Betty. She gave him a dark look and turned away from him.

“Betty, come on, now.” Richard was undaunted by the icy rejection. Instead, he looked sad and full of regret as if he wished their relationship could be different. “Clearly, something is happening. Won’t you put aside your frustration with me and tell us what it is?”

“They’re going to find out in a moment anyway,” Harry said. “It might be best to come from us.”

“Fine.” Betty turned to face the people surrounding us. She took a deep breath and said, “I am sorry to report that Gerry Swendson was found dead under the podium in the arena.”

A collective gasp of shock rippled through the handlers. It grew in volume as it moved through the crowd until it was a low roar. Betty looked agitated by the attention and Richard blinked and took her hand in his. He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze and then let go. Surprisingly, Aunt Betty didn’t slug him.

“I trust you’re all right, Betty?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you, it’s just the shock,” she said. Her voice was stiff but there was a softening in her eyes as she met his gaze.

I was riveted. Was there a truce happening between Aunt Betty and Richard? They were of an age, they both loved dogs, but they’d been rivals for years. Could their feelings for each other run deeper than I’d expected? Huh.

“Stop that,” Harry whispered in my ear.

“Stop what?” I asked.

“Romanticizing the two of them,” he said. “They are not a thing. There is nothing between them.”

“What makes you think I’m romanticizing them?” I asked.

“You practically have hearts floating out of your eyes,” he said.

“Hey, are you two seeing what I’m seeing?” Viv asked as she jerked her thumb over her shoulder at Aunt Betty and Richard. She wagged her eyebrows and Harry muttered an oath.

“No, no, we’re not,” he said. He pushed forward and took Aunt Betty by the elbow, turning her away from Richard and pulling her into a huddle with the rest of us. “We need to focus. Because of Aunt B’s dustup with Swendson last night, there’s going to be attention on her. We have to do everything we can to keep her from becoming a person of interest. I’m calling Alistair.”

“Is that really necessary?” Viv asked. “I mean, we don’t even know what happened yet.”

Harry looked at her and she had the grace to look away. He took out his phone and opened his contacts. He looked at me and said, “Keep an eye on Aunt B.”

I gave him a thumbs-up and moved closer to Aunt Betty, who had taken Freddy’s leash, while Viv closed ranks on her other side. Freddy, for his part, stayed at her feet and gazed up at her adoringly. I knew he was an exceptional dog, but seeing him like this really made me want a dog of my own. I glanced from him to Viv.

“No,” she said.

I sighed. How could she resist that face? Then again, this was a woman who had resisted Alistair Turner, one of the most eligible bachelors in London. Of course, that thought brought me back to Fee. Did she fancy Alistair? Did Alistair know? What would happen to our circle of friends if she declared her interest and Alistair took her up on it? Would it cause a rift between Viv and Fee? I could feel my anxiety spike. I wanted to talk to Viv about Fee and Alistair, most likely because it kept me from thinking about Swendson’s dead body, but I suspected she wouldn’t be receptive.

“Scarlett Parker,” a loud voice boomed over the murmuring crowd.

I turned toward the voice. A man in an overcoat stood with two beat cops. Clearly, the detective inspector had arrived. I glanced at Harry. He ended his call and stepped forward, taking my elbow.

“I’m sure they just want to get your statement,” he said.

“Right,” I agreed. I’d been questioned by the police before. More often than your average hat shop owner, I’d be willing to bet, so I wasn’t as freaked out as I might have been.

“Aunt Betty, stay with Viv and do not talk to anyone until Alistair gets here,” Harry said. “This should only take a moment.”

“We’ll be fine,” Viv said. “Just hurry so we can get out of here, please.”

Harry and I moved through the crowd. I could feel dog noses press up against my legs, trying to take my measure in dog fashion. I wondered if they smelled Freddy on me or, more accurately, fear on me? Did that make them like me more or less?

Harry raised an arm and waved at the detective to let him know we were working our way there. The man was tall and broad-shouldered with an intelligent face. His hair, a reddish blond, was thinning on top and he wore a hand-knit scarf, in a shade of deep blue that matched his eyes, draped around his neck. I took that to mean he was married. Only a man who was married would be wearing a hand-knit scarf that was clearly made specifically for him—either that or he still lived with his mother.

When we joined him, I glanced at his left hand. Wedding ring. Bingo. Between the dead body and the married detective, I felt as if my investigative skills were kicking butt today.

“Hi,” Harrison greeted him with a handshake. “I’m Harrison Wentworth and this is my fiancée, Scarlett Parker.”

“Detective Inspector Bronson,” the man said. Up close, I could see he was somewhere in his midthirties. There were crinkle lines in the corners of his eyes but they were more suggestions than actual wrinkles as yet.

“How do you do?” I asked as I took his hand in mine. His grip was warm, dry and firm. A perfect handshake.

“I think the more pertinent question is, How are you, Ms. Parker?” he countered.

“I’m fine,” I said. I realized my voice sounded somewhat blasé but it couldn’t be helped. Compared to some of the grisly things I’d seen over the past couple of years, Swendson’s unmarked body hadn’t really been that traumatizing. Still, I didn’t want to sound callous. “What I mean is, I’m better now, thanks.”

He nodded as if he understood. “I’m sorry to have to put you through it again, but are you willing to answer some questions and tell me exactly what happened?”

“Of course,” I said.

“Let’s find a quieter place,” he suggested. He directed Harry and me through the door back into the corridor that led to the arena. There were a couple of rooms off the hallway that I hadn’t noticed before and Bronson led us into one of those.

We found ourselves in a small office with a plaque on the door declaring it the office for the head of security. One of the uniformed officers stationed himself outside the door and Bronson let the door shut behind us. He gestured to the two available seats across from the desk.

“Mr. Millbank, the head of security, has offered us the use of his office while he and his people are canvassing the crowd to ascertain whether anyone saw anything.”

“How many people were in the crowd?” I asked.

“Four hundred, give or take a few dozen,” he said.

I felt my eyes go wide. With the spotlight on us, I hadn’t really gotten a good feel for the crowd in the stands. I was extremely grateful that I hadn’t known at the time how many people were watching the potential catastrophe. It made me want to find Freddy and give him a hug and a big juicy bone.

“Can you tell me what happened as you remember it, Ms. Parker?” Bronson asked. He took his phone out of his pocket and asked, “Do you mind if I record our conversation?”

“Not at all, and please call me Scarlett,” I said.

He nodded in agreement and I waited until he had the recorder on his phone going. Then I told him exactly what happened from the moment Freddy ran back to the dais to the discovery of Swendson’s body.

Bronson made a few notes on a small pad on the desk. When I was finished speaking, he steepled his fingers in front of him and then tapped his mouth with his index fingers. His blue gaze locked on my face as if he was trying to figure out how to take my words and hold them up to the light to look for cracks or flaws. Finally, when my nerves were getting stretched to the breaking point, he spoke.

“Why were you competing in the show?” he asked.

“Excuse me?” I said. I felt like it was pretty self-explanatory.

“Liza Stanhope told me you weren’t the original entrant for this competition,” he said. “Why are you here?”

There was no accusation in his words but I felt it regardless. Harry stiffened almost imperceptibly beside me and I knew he heard it, too.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” I said. Yup, I was stalling. I wanted him to spell it out for me.

“What don’t you understand?” he asked. His face hardened. “You were a last-minute entrant. Why?”

“How is that relevant?” Harry asked. He sounded defensive, which was not going to help us.

DI Bronson ignored him and kept his gaze on me. His look was stern. This was the face of a man who sifted through lies to find the truth. He wasn’t going to be fobbed off with half-truths or distractions. That being said, I was not about to offer up Aunt Betty on a platter to him.

I let a coy smile turn up the corners of my mouth. Then I leaned against Harry in the chair next to me and took his hand in mine. I gazed up at him with all of the affection in my heart, there is a lot, and I said, “We should tell him.”

Harry’s green gaze met mine. He kept his face clear, betraying nothing. You’ve got to love a man who errs on the side of caution.

“Should we?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. My voice was decisive. I turned back to the detective inspector. “The truth is, Harry and I are looking to get a dog of our own and Aunt Betty has been teaching me the ropes of the dog show circuit.”

I felt Harry’s fingers tighten around mine in approval.

“Is that so?” Bronson’s voice was dubious.

“Yes,” I said. “There’s a litter that Freddy, Aunt Betty’s dog, sired and we have our eye on one of the pups.”

It was a slight, very slight, exaggeration. I really did want a puppy, and I would take one of Freddy’s litter. I just didn’t mention that Viv had forbidden it and that the puppy was already taken by Aunt Betty. I also left out the part where I had really taken Aunt Betty’s spot because she’d been bounced by Liza Stanhope. I told myself that they were just details that would not play out well for Aunt Betty.

“Is that the only reason?” Bronson asked. It was clear he knew about the hullabaloo from the cocktail party.

“No,” Harry said. I looked at him in surprise. Was he going to tell all? “I also asked her to take my Aunt Betty’s place since Aunt B is getting up there in years and I thought it might be too much for her.”

Bronson nodded. “Indeed? So it had nothing to do with Liza Stanhope banning your aunt from the competition?”

“Ban her?” I asked. “That’s news to me. Given that Aunt Betty was here coaching me I don’t see how she could be considered banned. As I recall, Ms. Stanhope expressed a dislike of corgis, if you can believe that, and she made her preference clear to everyone at the registration table. Still, here I am.” I glanced at Harry. It occurred to me, we needed more than this, so I went there. “Also there was a note.”

“A note?” Bronson asked.

I glanced at Harry out of the corner of my eye. He nodded in agreement. Our best line of defense was sharing the information about the threatening note Aunt Betty had received.

“Aunt Betty received a note that read, ‘If you persist in competing in the dog show, I will poison your dog.’ We turned it in to her local police but they had no idea what to make of it,” I said.

“The officers I spoke to were Read and Colby at the Notting Hill Police Station,” Harry said.

“Seems to me someone is out to harm Aunt Betty,” I said. “And she’s not the only one. Richard Freestone received a note, as well as some other competitors. Maybe these situations are related.”

Bronson stared at me as if taking my point into account. He was quiet for a moment and then he nodded. When he rose to his feet, Harry and I did as well.

“Thank you for your time, Ms. Pa—Scarlett,” he said. “If you could leave your name and phone number with the officer at the door, I’d appreciate it.”

“Of course,” I said. I waited a beat and then asked, “We are free to go, then?”

“Yes,” he said. He glanced at Harry. “But first I’ll want to talk to your aunt.”