Free Cloche and Dagger by Jenn McKinlay Page B

couple of years before she died. I unlocked it and it slid open easily. I then tried to figure out how to pop the screen.
    “It’ll be easier if I do it from outside,” Harrison said.
    “But you’ll get soaked,” I argued.
    He was out the door before I could press my argument.
    It was “bucketing” out again, as Nick had said. I watched helplessly through the window, letting the rain in, while Harrison wrestled the shutter back against the side of the house. It took him a few moments to latch it back, and I knew he was going to be soaked to the skin by the time he came back in.
    I met him at the door with a batch of fresh tea towels from the drawer in the kitchenette. I blotted off his shoulders while he toweled his thick head of hair. I draped the towels on his shoulders and he left one on his head.
    “Come sit and have your tea,” I said. “It will warm you up.”
    He clutched the towel under his chin and gave me a coquettish look. In a high falsetto, he said, “Just a spot of tea, dear, and only half a biscuit. They go right to my arse, you know.”
    It was a spot-on impression of Mim, and I busted out in a belly laugh. How had I forgotten his ability to mimic people? He was never cruel, but he always managed to capture the person’s mannerisms and say something that I could hear the person saying, but when Harrison did it, it was hilarious.
    He lifted up his teacup and took a noisy slurp, still with his head in a tilt like Mim held hers.
    “My grandmother did not slurp her tea,” I said.
    He raised an eyebrow at me and said, “Oh, no, I was imitating you.”
    “Oh, you!” I snatched up the tea cozy and threw it at his head.
    He laughed and caught it before it connected. We were quiet for a moment, enjoying each other’s company. Now I felt ridiculous for thinking he could have any knowledge as to Viv’s whereabouts. Maybe the events of the past week had caused me to become more suspicious. If so, I hoped it wore off. I didn’t like thinking the worst about people.
    Now that Harrison and I seemed to be friends again, I couldn’t resist asking, “Do you really want me to leave?”

Chapter 14

    “Yes,” he said with no hesitation whatsoever.
    “Ah,” I gasped. My feelings were hurt. I admit it. I’d thought we were joking around and getting our old friendship back, but no. He still wanted me gone. Fine!
    I lifted my cup of tea and took a big sip. It was still hot but not scorching, so I drained it and plunked it back down onto the table.
    “Oh, look at the time,” I said. I pointedly glanced at my wrist. And no, I don’t wear a watch.
    He got it in one. “You want me to leave.”
    “Why would I want that—just because you want me to leave the country?” I asked.
    The sarcasm dripped so thickly off my tongue I was surprised it didn’t leave spots on the counter.
    “I hurt your feelings,” he said. He came around the counter to stand beside me.
    “You told me that I should go home as soon as possible,” I said. I refused to look at him and addressed the top of the counter instead. “How is that supposed to make me feel?”
    “I just don’t think you’re a good fit for the business.”
    “I sold a hat to Mrs. Looksee,” I reminded him.
    “Listen, I didn’t think you’d take it so personally,” he began, but I cut him off.
    “Really?” I asked. Now I turned to face him. I was losing my temper. I never lost my temper. Had my unfortunate experience with the rat bastard altered my personality? Well, wouldn’t that just be a lovely parting gift from that relationship? “Well, I did take it personally, and you know what I think? I think you have an ulterior motive for wanting me gone.”
    “What possible motive could I have?” he asked.
    “I think you know what happened to Viv, and you don’t want me to figure it out,” I said.
    “Hey!” Now he looked outraged, and I found that quite satisfying. “What exactly are you accusing me of?”
    “I think you know where Viv