Fatal Fascinator

Description

Hip hip beret! Hatmakers Scarlett Parker and Vivian Tremont return and must collar a killer when a castle wedding goes awry in New York Times bestselling author Jenn McKinlay’s new Hat Shop Mystery.

It’s wedding season and Viv’s longtime frenemy Piper May is getting married. She convinces Viv and Scarlett to take on the job of designing the headpieces for her “wedding of the year.” The well-to-do bride and her entourage are delighted to have Viv and Scarlett as their famous hat designer guests, but the hat-making pair are really just looking forward to a getaway at a castle in Sussex. It is to be a weekend full of events, culminating in the big ceremony.  
 
Unfortunately, on the first night of the festivities, the groom is found murdered, and the joyous holiday becomes the stuff of nightmares as no one is allowed to leave the castle until the investigation is complete. Although Scarlett assures Harrison Wentworth, her fiancé, that she and Viv will stay out of harm’s way, circumstances force them to step in when a secret affair between the deceased groom and a bridesmaid comes to light, and the murderer takes another life. Scarlett and Viv vow to unveil the killer’s identity before the wedding adds another to its death toll.”McKinlay’s mysteries are always humorous and a little offbeat with heartwarming relationships between close friends. This seventh Hat Shop Mystery fits that description perfectly.”
—Library Journal (starred review)

“Life at a stately home, along with details about the millinery business, frame this engaging cozy populated by well-drawn characters.”
—Booklist

Praise for the Hat Shop Mysteries

“Fancy hats and British aristocrats make this my sort of delicious cozy read.”
—Rhys Bowen, New York Times bestselling author of the Royal Spyness Mysteries
 
“A delicious romp through my favorite part of London with a delightful new heroine.”
—Deborah Crombie, New York Times bestselling author
 
“The sharp writing and smart plotting are outstanding, and the surprising reveal and even more suspenseful chase will have readers at the edge of their seats. This stellar mystery sets a high bar for mysteries.”
—Kings River Life Magazine
 
“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! MysteriesJenn McKinlay is the award-winning, New York Times, USA Today, and Publishers Weekly bestselling author of several mystery and romance series. Her work has been translated into multiple languages in countries all over the world. She lives in sunny Arizona in a house that is overrun with kids, pets, and her husband’s guitars.Chapter 1

“Bella, sit. Sit, Bella.” She didn’t sit. “Want a treat? I’ll give you a treat if you sit or just aim your bottom in the general direction of the ground.” I swear she smiled at me as if this had been her ploy all along.

Bella was the corgi puppy that my fiancé, Harrison Wentworth, and I had adopted several months ago in a case of cute-puppy-induced delirium. She wiggled her heart-shaped bottom and cocked her head to the side. I was undone by the adorableness and tossed the treat in the air. She nabbed it before it completed its arc.

“Scarlett Parker, did you just give that dog a treat when she didn’t even do what you asked?”

I turned and saw my friend and neighbor Andre Eisel strolling down Portobello Road toward me while shaking his head. A strikingly handsome man with diamond ear studs that winked at me in the morning light, he was wearing jeans, a white T-shirt that showed off his dark complexion, beneath a black blazer with the collar turned up, and thickly soled combat boots. He was a professional photographer, and his impeccable sense of style was enough to make me feel dowdy in my brown ankle boots, cream-colored midi dress and loose-fitting navy cardigan.

Bella recognized him immediately and simply lost her puppy mind, barking and jumping as if she never received any attention at all. Honestly, from her behavior, a person would think I habitually left her outside in the cold, chained to the gate. The little conniver.

“Bella, my love,” Andre cried. He immediately dropped into a squat and gave her all the affection her doggy heart could hold.

“Encouraging her histrionics is not helpful,” I said.

He glanced up at me, completely unrepentant. “Where’s Harrison?”

“He had to go into the office early today,” I said. “So, I’m bringing Bella to Mim’s Whims with me.”

“Viv is going to love that,” Andre said, eyebrows raised.

“Meh, she’ll get over it,” I said. “She won’t admit it, but she secretly loves Bella.”

Andre rose to his feet and fell into step beside me. It was a glorious May morning. The sun was warm, the air was cool, the birds were- Bella stopped our walk to do her business. Again.

“Here.” I handed Andre the leash. He made a face while I took out a biodegradable bag and cleaned up after my girl. I tossed it into a nearby bin, and she glanced at me over her shoulder with her little tongue hanging out of her mouth. “Who’s Mama’s good girl?”

She wiggled and I gave her another treat, bending over to pat her soft head.

“She’s going to get fat,” Andre observed. He squatted down beside me and pointed to Bella’s round tummy.

“Hush,” I said. I clapped my hands over her ears. “She’ll hear you and you’ll scar her for life.”

“I would never-“

“Andre! Yoo-hoo!” Andre glanced across the street, where a tall, curvy brunette stood waving. She was dressed head to toe in designer clothes, from her pink Christian Louboutin heels, to her blue silk Stella McCartney dress, to her matching pink Chanel bag.

“Ack! Hide me,” Andre said. I glanced at his face. He wasn’t joking.

“Who is she?”

“Bridus horribilis,” he muttered. “Piper May, about as posh as they come. Her wedding is next month. I’ve been dodging her for weeks.”

“But you’re a photographer,” I said. “Aren’t wedding gigs your bread and butter while you pursue your artsy photos on the side?”

“They are, but her wedding is in the country and I hate the country.” He shuddered, emphasizing his point. Bella took this as an invitation to offer comfort, and she hopped up and licked his chin. “Also, I loathe her fiancé.”

“That is problematic,” I agreed.

“Do you think if I pretend not to see her, she’ll go away?” he asked.

I glanced over his shoulder. Piper May was on the move, jogging on her tiptoes and dodging pedestrians, bicycles, and moms with strollers . . . er . . . prams, as the locals say, to get to Andre.

“Not a chance,” I said. “That is a woman on a mission, and if you try to escape, she’ll run you to the ground.”

“Blast!” Andre muttered beneath his breath.

We rose to our feet, resigning ourselves to the unavoidable meeting.

“Piper, how are you?” Andre greeted the woman as she hopped up onto the sidewalk. They air-kissed each other’s cheeks, and then she stepped back and narrowed her eyes.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” she accused. She had a long waterfall of dark brown hair, and thick eyebrows that had been shaped into arched accent marks that highlighted her big brown eyes, high cheekbones and dainty chin. She was a very attractive woman, but I wondered how much of it was dependent upon the thick coating of makeup she wore.

“I would never,” Andre declared in a flagrant fib. “Nick and I have just been so busy with his vineyard in France, I haven’t had a minute to myself.”

This was true. Nick Carroll, Andre’s life partner, had recently invested in a friend’s vineyard in Provence and when he wasn’t busy with his dental practice, Nick was off tending his vines, taking Andre with him. Nick had big dreams of retiring to the South of France to pursue a second career as a vintner. Andre was dubious but kept his reservations to himself and to me. Lucky me.

“Piper May, this is my friend and neighbor Scarlett Parker, one of the proprietors of Mim’s Whims.”

“Hi-” I began but Piper interrupted.

“Mim’s Whims?” she cried. “Then you know Vivian Tremont.”

“She’s my cousin,” I confirmed. “We inherited the shop from our grandmother Mim.”

“That’s right,” she said. She looked me over from head to foot in an assessing glance, as if trying to place me on the social food chain. “You’re the American who bagged Harrison Wentworth.” Before I could confirm, she wagged a pointy acrylic nail at me and continued, “The one who went viral as the ‘party crasher.'”

I sighed. It seemed that neither time nor distance would allow me to leave my sordid past in the past. I mean, you have one bad day when you stumble upon the anniversary party that your boyfriend, whom you thought was single, is throwing for his wife, you inadvertently throw some cake at him, and BAM!-you’re labeled the party crasher for life. It wasn’t fair. I blamed my red hair. If I were a cool brunette like the woman standing before me, I was quite certain the video would not have gotten the 3.2 million views it had.

“Yes, that’s me,” I said. At least the part about bagging Harrison Wentworth seemed to be a compliment, although I would argue that it was him who bagged me.

“Well, you are just the person I need,” Piper said. She slid her arm through mine as if we were old friends-pushy!-and then began to walk in the direction of the shop, leaving Andre and Bella to follow.

I noted that Bella did not jump on Piper. In fact, it appeared to me that she was giving her side-eye as if jealous that Piper had managed to draw the attention of the adults away from her canine self. I could sympathize. No one likes a limelight thief.

“With what do you need help?” I asked.

“My wedding,” Piper said. “Specifically, the fascinators for the bridal party.”

“Isn’t your wedding next month?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. Her long legs ate up the sidewalk with determined efficiency. I had to scurry to keep up. Andre was behind us, looking relieved that I was the one who was presently the focus of Piper’s attention. “I’m in a fizz, as my original designer, Javier Sebastian, has been embroiled in a scandal.”

“Scandal?” Andre chimed in from behind us.

Piper waved her free hand dismissively. “He murdered his lover by putting cyanide in his food and then fled the country with my money all because of his little drama. I need to get this sorted right away.”

“Little drama,” I repeated.

I glanced over my shoulder at Andre to see if he was getting this. He raised his eyebrows and made a face that told me he was equally horrified and, yet, not surprised.

“Where did he even get cyanide?” I asked. “I mean, it’s not like you can just pick it up at the Tesco in the how-to-lose-a-lover section.”

Piper turned her head to look at me. She examined me from head to toe again, and I was immediately as self-conscious as a middle-schooler with a pimple on the end of their nose.

“You’re funny,” she said. But she didn’t laugh. “Vivian probably enjoys that.” She didn’t say it, but I felt it was implied that she did not-enjoy it, that is.

“I read an article recently that poison is easily purchased off the Internet,” Andre said. “We’re living in very scary times.”

“Indeed,” Piper agreed. “Which is why I need Viv to save my wedding.”

“About Viv,” I said. “She usually requires months to create custom designs for weddings, so I’m not sure she’ll be able to-“

“Nonsense,” Piper said. “With all of the royals married off, mine is the wedding of the year. Viv will want her stamp all over it.”

“Viv?” I repeated. I glanced at the determined set to Piper’s jaw, which was level with my eyes. “It sounds as if you two know each other.”

“Viv and I go way back,” she confirmed. She didn’t elaborate, but given that Viv had never mentioned Piper to me, I assumed they were acquaintances from university. Viv and I had been less close during those years.

“So, you’re friends?” I asked. I felt the need to understand what I was getting into before we stepped into the hat shop.

“Not precisely,” Piper said. She kept her gaze forward as the shop came into view.

The blue-and-white-striped awning was out, and the sign on the inside of the door was flipped to Open. This had to be because Fiona “Fee” Felton, Viv’s assistant, had arrived early today. Viv never bothered to unlock the doors or flip the sign.

I suspected if Fee or I didn’t show up, Viv would keep the awning tucked in and the door locked all day. Viv was not what I would call a people person, which was primarily why I was feeling nervous about walking into the shop arm in arm with Piper. If Viv didn’t like her, the potential for a scene was high.

“Are you enemies then?” I persisted. I tried to pull my arm out of her grip but she tightened her fingers, not allowing my escape.

“Not exactly,” she said. She paused in front of the door and turned to face me, releasing my arm. Thank goodness. She looked thoughtful and said, “Frenemies. Viv and I are definitely what I would call frenemies.”

This did not sit well with me at all. Viv didn’t have frenemies. She had friends or enemies. There was no gray area in between and definitely no mash-ups.

Before I could think to move, Piper grasped the door handle and yanked it open. She strode inside as if she owned the place, and I felt Andre step up behind me.

“Now you see why I was avoiding her,” he muttered. “The woman is a force.”

I glanced over my shoulder at him and lifted my right eyebrow. “So is Viv. This could get ugly.”

“Do you think there will be actual bloodshed?” he asked.

“Doubtful,” I said. “Probably just a delicious setdown. Viv isn’t the violent sort.”

“I do love a tasty battle of wits.” He grinned.

Together we entered the shop, anticipating the drama that was about to unfold. We were woefully disappointed.

“Vivian!” Piper called. She raised her arm and gave a little finger wave.

Viv was standing on the opposite side of the shop. She was fussing with a series of mannequin heads all sporting her latest creations. Viv had been on an organza bender last month, crafting luscious, frothy confections in brilliant shades of yellow and orange, magenta and purple. It had felt like having yards and yards of a sunset swallowing up the shop, which was rather delightful, actually.

Viv turned slowly to face us. Her long blond curls reached halfway down her back, and she was wearing a formfitting blue dress that perfectly matched her large eyes. Our eyes were the only feature we shared, inherited from Mim. Viv was all creamy skin and wicked curves, while I was pale, freckles and stick-straight red hair with a figure to match. Honestly, if I didn’t love her like a sister, I’d be consumed with jealousy. When Viv was in a room, everyone stopped and stared, and I do mean everyone. Except Piper, apparently.

“How are you, darling?” Piper strode across the room with her arms held wide.

Bella sat down, planting her rump on my toes. Her head cocked to the side as if she, too, could not comprehend the audacity of this person who thought she could cold-call Vivian Tremont-acclaimed milliner, mild eccentric and temperamental artist-and live to tell about it.

To my shock, Viv smiled a real, genuine, teeth-showing grin and cried, “Piper!”

As if this weren’t stunning enough, the two women hugged. Hugged! Well, technically, I suppose it was an air hug. They didn’t actually touch each other but sort of leaned into each other’s proximity and made kissing noises in the vicinity of each other’s faces.

“I’m gobsmacked,” Andre said.

“Ditto,” I agreed. It felt as if the planet had shifted on its axis without warning. “Viv looks genuinely happy to see her.”

“And Viv is never happy to see anyone,” he said.

“It’s alarming,” I concluded.

“What brings you by, Piper?” Viv asked. She looked her friend over, clearly approving of her cheerful spring ensemble. I knew Viv well enough to know that she was already debating which hat would best complement Piper’s outfit.

“Betrayal,” Piper said. She dragged out the word for full dramatic effect.

Andre and I didn’t even pretend not to be listening. Piper was building her case for Viv to step in and save her wedding. I couldn’t help but wonder if it would work.

“Do tell,” Viv said. She gestured to the deep blue love seat and two matching armchairs arranged in the corner of the shop in front of an old wardrobe of my grandmother’s. I glanced at the antique cabinet that sported a large carved bird on the top with its wings spread out. I had dubbed him Ferd the bird when I moved in several years ago, and while I supposed it sounded overly imaginative, I truly thought he listened to everything that was said in the shop.US

Additional information

Dimensions	0.7500 × 4.1300 × 6.7500 in
Series	A Hat Shop Mystery
Imprint	Berkley
ISBN-13	09780593546772
ISBN-10	0593546776
Author	Jenn McKinlay
Audience	General / adult
BISAC	FIC022040, FIC022100
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