Devonshire Scream (5 page)

Rinicker spoke in hushed tones. “Yes, I read about it in the newspaper this morning—it was the lead story. It must have been awful. And I'm to understand that the owner of Heart's Desire is a good friend of yours?”

“Yes, she is.”

“Drayton told me you were there. That you witnessed the entire spectacle?”

“I feel like I saw bits and parts of it,” Theodosia said. “The robbery was all very erratic and confusing.” Actually, as she thought back over it, the SUV crash, the robbery, and the ensuing getaway had all felt like they'd happened in slow motion. What probably took sixty seconds seemed to have stretched into several minutes. Very disconcerting.

“Drayton mentioned that he's worried about extra security
for the Rare Antiquities Show,” Rinicker said. “Particularly when it comes to the Fabergé egg.”

“I think everyone at the Heritage Society should be worried,” Theodosia said.

“Well, I haven't spoken to Timothy Neville yet, so I don't know what his plans are. Or if they've changed at all.” Timothy Neville was the octogenarian executive director of the Heritage Society. He'd ruled the organization with an iron fist for decades and wasn't about to relinquish one iota of control now. If anything, his gnarled fingers would grip a little tighter.

“I spoke earlier with Detective Tidwell,” Theodosia said. “He heads the Robbery-Homicide Division of the Charleston Police Department—and he's offered to send over some extra police officers.”

“That's very generous of him,” Rinicker said. “I think that would make us all rest a lot easier.”

“I'm assuming the Heritage Society will hire extra security?”

“Like I said, I'm not sure what the plans are. But if Timothy agrees, we can for sure contact our security agency and double up on guards.”

“I think that would be a smart idea,” Theodosia said. “When is the Fabergé egg supposed to arrive?”

“We're expecting it any day now,” Rinicker said. “It's supposedly being driven here in a Brink's truck. So it should be perfectly safe en route.”

Theodosia smiled. The only thing that trickled through her brain was a memory of an old black-and-white movie that she'd watched a couple of weeks before—
The
Great Brink's Robbery
. Millions stolen, the largest robbery in U.S. history at that time. Holy cats. She hoped there wouldn't be a sequel—
The Great Brink's Fabergé Egg Robbery.

“Knock knock,” Drayton
said as he pushed open the door to Theodosia's office. “I come bearing a cup of rose hip tea. Any takers?”

“I'm dying for a cuppa,” Theodosia said. She quickly cleared a space on her desk for the filled-to-the-brim teacup.

Drayton took in the clutter of papers. “You're looking through that rat's nest of papers that Brooke brought in this morning?”

“Yes, but it's not like I'm actually getting anywhere.”

Drayton picked up a sheet of paper. “What's this?” he mumbled to himself. “Oh, I see, it's a list of jewelers and museums that contributed items to her show.”

“This is so heartbreaking,” Theodosia said. “Brooke did all this work, sweet-talking all these people and negotiating for rather rare pieces, and now it's all gone. Every bit of the . . . loot.”

“That's probably how the robbers see it, too. Loot. Gems and jewels to be ripped apart and then disposed of. Fenced.”

“Where would you fence pieces like that?” Theodosia wondered.

“You heard what Tidwell said. Pretty much anywhere, since gems and diamonds are so portable. You just stash them in your pocket and fly to Hong Kong or down to Rio.”

“Because the good stuff, the shiny stuff, is always in demand.” In Theodosia's mind's eye she could see fences picking over the jewels like a flock of wary crows.

“That's right,” Drayton said. “I'd venture to guess that the buying and selling of stolen gems makes up a good part of the underground economy.” He picked up another sheet of paper and shook his head. “How on earth would you even begin to find a clue here?”

Theodosia was a trifle more optimistic. “You never know.” Then she took a deep breath and said, “I've been noodling this robbery over and over in my head. And the one thing that keeps popping to the surface is, what if it was an inside job?”

Drayton peered at her over his half-glasses. “Excuse me?”

“What if one of the guests at Brooke's party last night helped orchestrate the smash-and-grab?”

Drayton stood there rigidly, as if locked in place. “Why on earth would someone do that?”

“Oh, I don't know,” Theodosia said. “Maybe to get filthy rich?”

He cleared his throat. “You know, I never would have considered that angle. You have a very devious mind, Theo.”

“Thank you. I think.” She waited a few moments. “So . . . what do you think, really? Am I completely off base or what?”

Drayton pursed his lips. “I think . . . I think perhaps we should take a closer look at that guest list.”

•   •   •

But twenty minutes
later they hadn't come up with much of anything.

“Look at the names on this list,” Drayton said. “Two
Pinckneys, a Ravenel, and a Calhoun. All old-name solid citizens. Pillars of the Charleston community.”

Theodosia had to agree. “Some of these families are so rich they don't need any more money.”

“A bunch of jewels would be chump change to them.”

Theodosia thought for a few moments. “Then let's look at the people who aren't so rich.”

“Let me see.” Drayton frowned as his eyes traveled down one of the pages. “Well . . . this is going to be rather difficult. I mean, how do you calculate the net worth of someone you don't really know that well?”

“I have no idea. But why don't you take a ballpark stab, for Brooke's sake. You actually know quite a few of these folks. Plus, you're on the board at the Heritage Society and you hang out with the opera crowd . . .”

Drayton held up an index finger. “Many of whom I shall be rubbing shoulders with this Wednesday evening, since
La Bohème
is opening our season.”

“Excellent. So you see, you do hobnob with some of the wealthier folks around town, the socialites.” She tapped the list. “Keep looking. See if any of these names arouse your suspicions.”

“I suppose it wouldn't be very polite to ask them outright,” Drayton said.

“I think not.”

They checked and debated a few names for a good half hour.

Finally, Theodosia said, “I have another idea.”

“Which is?” Drayton asked.

“What if our insider didn't take part in last night's robbery at all? But what if they put together a group?”

“You mean like in the movies?” Drayton said. “A gang of hired thugs?”

“Sure. Kind of like the Bling Ring that knocked off Paris Hilton's home. Stole jewelry, designer handbags, you name it.”

“Sounds far-fetched,” Drayton said.

“Okay, what about those crazy Eastern European gangs that have been in the news lately? The ones who've been hitting the Paris and London boutiques?”

Drayton considered this. “Yes, they are quite daring. And you really think one of those gangs could have landed here?”

“They could have,” Theodosia said. “And if this is a well-organized smash-and-grab gang, and they decide to hang around Charleston for a spell, you can bet there'll be another disaster just like last night.”

Drayton pursed his lips. “You're talking about our big show at the Heritage Society. You're trying to scare me.”

“Yes, I'm trying to scare you,” Theodosia said. “If it happened once and the thieves got away with it, it could happen again. You should have seen those guys. They were smart, perfectly coordinated, and fearless. I mean, they were
good
.”

“Hmm, maybe we'd better take another look at that list.”

They went over the list again and ended up putting red question marks by six names. They weren't exactly suspects; they were just people they didn't know all that well.

“This lady, Sabrina Andros,” Theodosia said. “I spoke to her last night after the robbery. She cried a few crocodile tears, but in the end she didn't seem all that shaken up. She was more, um,
interested
in what was going on in the aftermath, though she really didn't want to speak to the police.” Theodosia blew out a glut of air. “But I don't know a single thing about Sabrina and I'm pretty sure my suspicious mind is getting way ahead of me.”

Drayton closed his eyes in thoughtful contemplation. “Andros. Andros. Something about that name sounds familiar.”

“Well, I know Sabrina's come into the tea shop a couple of times.”

Drayton snapped his fingers. “Wait a minute. Isn't her husband the yacht guy?”

“I don't know. Is he the yacht guy?” Theodosia didn't go sailing as often as she liked anymore. So she hadn't been hanging around the Charleston Yacht Club, sipping Sea Breeze cocktails and picking up the latest boat gossip.

“Andros. I think that's the name,” Drayton said.

“Easy enough to find out.” Theodosia picked up the phone and dialed the number for Heart's Desire. “I'll just ask Brooke.”

“I'm going to grab us a fresh pot of tea,” Drayton said as he disappeared out the door.

Then Brooke was on the line. “You found something already?” she asked.

“I'm afraid not,” Theodosia said. “I'm just calling to ask you a quick question.”

“You and two hundred other people. Angry people.”

“But I'm not angry,” Theodosia soothed. “Just a little curious about two of your guests.”

“Which ones?”

“Sabrina and Luke Andros,” Theodosia told her. “Their names are on your list and I'm not very familiar with them. Is Luke Andros the yacht guy? That's what Drayton thought, anyway.”

“That's right,” Brooke said. “Luke Andros owns Gold Coast Yachts. Apparently they specialize in custom and high-end yachts.”

“And you invited him and his wife to your jewelry event?”

“Actually, they were kind of a last-minute addition. Luke Andros came into my shop last week looking for a tasty bauble to buy for his wife. When he found out about my upcoming show, he asked if they could attend.”

“So what else do you know about Andros?”

“Just that he and his wife are relatively new in town,” Brooke said. “They opened Gold Coast Yachts something like eight months ago.”

“What else?”

“Well, I've been told the two of them wasted no time in doing a fair amount of social climbing.”

“Trying to buy their way in,” Theodosia said. It wasn't unheard of.

“More like trying to impress their way in,” Brooke said. “Because they didn't buy a single thing from me.”

“And they were both there last night? I remember talking to Sabrina but not to her husband.”

“No, he couldn't make it.”

“Interesting,” Theodosia said. She put a second check mark next to Luke and Sabrina Andros's name just as Drayton came back with a fresh pot of tea.

“Is something going on?” Brooke asked. She sounded a little breathless. Anxious. “Did you find something?”

“No, I'm just trying to familiarize myself with your guest list,” Theodosia told her. “In case I want to do a couple of low-key interviews.”

“There's something I should tell you about,” Brooke said. “Something we kind of stumbled upon this morning.”

Theodosia perked up. “What's that?”

“We had a party crasher last night.”

“Do you know who it was?”

“No. But when the police had me look at the surveillance tapes an hour ago, there he was.”

“And you're sure he wasn't on your guest list?”

“Positive,” Brooke said. “But the police have promised to track him down. I guess they're going to take a screenshot and run it against driver's licenses or something.”

“Let me know what happens, okay?” Theodosia said.

“Absolutely,” Brooke said.

“What?” Drayton asked once Theodosia had hung up.

“There was a party crasher last night.”

“Does Brooke know who he was?”

“No, but the police are looking into it.” She hesitated. “And we should probably do a quick check on Sabrina and Luke Andros. Just to kind of clear them.”

“Why is that?”

“A couple of reasons. Brooke says they're fairly new in town and serious social climbers.”

Drayton frowned. “What else?”

“Because Sabrina showed up last night, but Luke didn't.”

“Okay,” Drayton said. “That's mildly interesting.”

“And because their high-end yacht business puts them squarely in contact with high-end people.”

“I hear what you're saying. But how exactly are we supposed to compile a dossier on those two?” His eyebrows twitched. “Go purchase a yacht?”

Theodosia thought for a minute. “Maybe we could call Delaine?” Delaine Dish was a society mainstay, gadabout, and prolific fund-raiser. She owned Cotton Duck, an exclusive boutique, and professed to be one of Theodosia's very best friends. “I mean, Delaine knows everybody.”

“It's funny you should say that, because Delaine just came in a few minutes ago for afternoon tea,” Drayton said.

“Seriously?”

“Yes. Go see for yourself.”

Theodosia did. She rushed out past the kitchen and peeked around the corner into the tea room. Delaine was sitting at the small table next to the stone fireplace. She was dressed in a stylish eggplant-colored suit, and her dark hair was swept up into a messy but very cute topknot that set off her heart-shaped face to perfection. She fidgeted nervously as she talked into her cell phone and shared her thoughts and observations with anyone in the nearby vicinity who would listen.

“What did Delaine order?” Theodosia asked.

“A chicken salad sandwich. Oh, and I brought her a pot of Mokalbari East Assam.”

“That Assam is fairly high in caffeine,” Theodosia said. She needed Delaine to be grounded when she talked to her.

Drayton shrugged. “A finer cut always means more caffeine extraction.”

“So what isn't a caffeine bomb that'll send Delaine into orbit? I know, let's trade her out for a pot of Lapsang souchong.”

“Fine with me,” Drayton said.

•   •   •

“The-o-do-sia,” Delaine purred
when she caught sight of her friend. She leaned across the table and gripped Theodosia's hand. Her carefully made-up face looked sweet, but her dark eyes glittered with intensity. “I read all about that horrible robbery in the paper this morning. Awful. Just awful for poor dear Brooke to lose her niece like that. And you were really there?”

“I'm afraid so.”

“Then you must tell me
everything
about it. Don't leave out a single, thrilling detail.”

Theodosia ran through her version of the robbery. How the SUV had smashed its way in, how the people had screamed as glass shards exploded, how the masked robbers had dashed about, smashing open all the cases. And finally, how poor Kaitlin had been found dead in the detritus, a dagger of glass embedded in her neck.

Delaine hung on every word, her eyes getting bigger and bigger, her mouth pulling into a rounded O. “That sounds like a hideous way to die. Extremely painful. And you say the robbers stole every single piece of jewelry?”