Authors: Laura Childs
“Thank goodness, somebody who knows
something
,” said Nadine, as they hurried out.
“What’s the problem?” asked Theodosia. She was still distracted by the Rattlings’ big talk.
“Nothing,” said Haley. “Just Nadine drama. Kind of like Delaine drama only with a touch more sarcasm.”
“Nadine’s a real character.”
“Her guy seems nice enough, though,” said Haley. “Nicer than she is, anyway.”
“Nadine still hasn’t introduced him,” said Theodosia. “Somehow I find that strange.”
“I just chalk it up to bad manners,” said Haley.
Theodosia grabbed a cookie. “You’re probably right.”
“So did you find Grumley?”
“Yes, and he was talking to the Rattlings, who were tossing out innuendos about buying this place.”
“No way!” said Haley.
“I don’t think there would be a way,” said Theodosia. “Not with a conventional bank loan, anyway. If they couldn’t make the payments on Ravencrest Inn, I don’t see how they could get bank financing and trade up to this place.”
Haley digested this bit of information for a few moments, then said in a quiet voice, “Not unless they had a partner.”
Haley’s remark caught Theodosia completely off balance, causing her to practically choke on her cookie. “What do you mean?” she stammered. “What are you talking about?”
26
“Sorry,” said Haley.
“I didn’t mean to get you all upset.”
“You didn’t,” said Theodosia. “Now tell me what you’re talking about.”
“You know,” said Haley. “Like a silent partner. That’s a fairly common business practice, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yes, I suppose it can be,” said Theodosia. “But I honestly don’t know who in their right mind would trust the Rattlings at this point, given their rather sour track record.”
“You never know,” Haley said with a sharp bark. “Maybe Allan Grumley would give them a deal in exchange for a piece of the action.”
“Haley!” Once again Theodosia was stunned. “You mean as an investor? Do you know something I don’t?”
Now it was Haley’s turn to look surprised. “No, of course not. I’m just saying . . .”
But like a grain of sand implanted in an unsuspecting oyster, Theodosia was suddenly turning this notion over and over in her mind. “What would be Grumley’s reason?” she asked.
Haley waved a hand. “No idea. It’s not based on anything concrete, I just kind of blurted it out.”
“Okay.”
“Mostly because of what you said about Frank and Sarah Rattling. How they sounded . . . kind of serious.”
Theodosia was still alarmed. “You really haven’t heard any gossip about this?”
“No, of course not,” said Haley. “If I had, you know I would’ve told you.” She gave Theodosia a look of concern, then said, “No offense, but I think you’re being a little paranoid.”
“I know I am.”
“Is it the prospect of having the Rattlings as your next-door neighbors?”
“In part,” said Theodosia. “But mostly because I trust Allan Grumley about as far as I can throw him.”
“He’s one of those cagey lawyers who’s slippery when dry,” said Haley. “Hey, did you ever think that Grumley might have plans to turn this place into some kind of fancy B and B by himself and that he’s just using the Rattlings? You know, pumping them for information and ideas. Do you think he’d do that?”
“I don’t think he’d hesitate to do that,” said Theodosia.
“Huh,” said Haley, snapping the lid off a plastic container. “I guess it takes all kinds.” Then, “Theo, I’m going to put out these sugar cookies. Do we have any more large trays?”
“Um . . . sure. If you need one, I can probably grab something from the dining room.”
“I need one.”
“Hang on, then,” said Theodosia. She pushed her way through the swinging door, still thinking about how Allan Grumley was now the owner of this house.
Gosh, I hope he doesn’t decide to move in here. That’s all I need. An idiot neighbor like him. And I don’t think Earl Grey would take kindly to him, either.
When Theodosia hit the living room, she was momentarily stunned. There were so many people queued up in line that she didn’t know how they’d ever accommodate them all. Still, she understood this was what the Summer Garden Tour was all about. Throwing open the doors to six of Charleston’s finest homes and inviting tourists and the local populace in for a look-see. And considering that the proceeds from ticket sales went to charity . . . well, it probably was a wonderful, worthwhile event.
Theodosia also saw that the two security guys were doing a masterful job. They were polite yet firm as they answered questions and kept the line moving. Even Delaine was doing her part, chatting with guests, shaking hands, and administering elaborate air kisses to a select few.
When Delaine saw Theodosia paused in the doorway, she hurried over to talk.
“This evening is a huge success!” Delaine chirped. “Hillary and Marianne just told me that we’re well on our way to having the largest attendance ever!”
“That’s great,” said Theodosia. She hesitated. “But do you think there’s also a curiosity factor involved? Owing to the fact that, you know, Granville was recently murdered?”
Delaine looked pained. “Well, it didn’t happen
here
! And, no, I absolutely do not believe that’s a factor. I think we’re a success because we did our jobs smashingly well. Really, Theo, you can be such a pessimist.”
“That’s funny, most people think I’m a realist.”
They wandered through the dining room together over to the pecan credenza.
“Haley wants to put out some more desserts, so we need another tray,” said Theodosia. She knelt down and pulled open the bottom cupboard. “I guess there’s a reason she made quadruple batches of everything.”
“Use whatever you want,” said Delaine. “I have a feeling some of this is going to end up being mine.”
As Theodosia slid out a heavy silver tray, she happened to glance downward. And her eye caught the flash of something gold. A strip of something curled up on the plush carpet, halfway under the cabinet.
She frowned. What was it? Something the cleaning crew had missed? Or something recently dropped or discarded?
“I don’t know if it’s worth keeping
all
this silver,” Delaine prattled on. “Although I thought there was more . . . still, silver’s at an all-time high right now.”
Balancing her tray on one edge, tuning out Delaine, Theodosia reached down and let her fingertips brush the object. It was a scrap of paper. Gold metallic paper. She scooped it up and stared at it carefully as her heart gave a sudden thump. It was a cigar band. She could just make out the word
Alejandro
.
What? Who was smoking a cigar in here?
Better yet, who had been rummaging around in the dining room, outside the boundaries of the cordoned-off area?
The answer clicked into her mind almost immediately.
Nadine and her boyfriend.
“Excuse me,” she said to Delaine, as she raced back into the kitchen.
* * *
“Oh, good,” said
Haley, reaching a hand out. “You found a tray.”
“Haley,” said Theodosia, “when Nadine and her boyfriend were in here a couple of minutes ago, what were they doing?”
Haley, who’d grabbed the tray and was already arranging cookies and bars, didn’t look up. “Nothing much. Looking for a scissors. Gosh, these lemon bars turned out great if I do say so myself. There’s a reason all the top chefs use Meyer lemons.”
“That’s it?”
“Yeah, well, I never found a scissors, but Nadine’s boyfriend said there was probably one in that chest in the dining room. In one of the drawers.”
Theodosia stiffened. “Really.” How strange was that? Theodosia thought to herself. Nadine’s boyfriend knew exactly where to find a scissors. In a drawer. Yet, to her knowledge, the man had never set foot inside this house before tonight.
Or had he?
Theodosia fingered the cigar band and reread it.
Alejandro.
And underneath in smaller script,
Primo Cubano
. So, a Cuban cigar. She wondered if Nadine’s boyfriend had dropped this? She wondered if he knew his way around this house? And if so, how had he come by that knowledge?
Theodosia stood stock-still for a few moments, practically holding her breath. Was Nadine’s boyfriend the burglar from the other night? Could he be the same guy she’d chased down the alley?
At that exact moment, Delaine breezed into the kitchen. “Excuse me, ladies, but we need . . .” Delaine stopped midsentence and stared at Theodosia. “What on earth is wrong now, Theo? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
Theodosia rolled the gold paper in the palm of her hand. “Do you know if Nadine’s boyfriend is a cigar smoker?”
Delaine leaned in and peered at her so closely her eyes practically crossed. “Why, yes,” she said finally. “Now that you mention it, I believe he is.”
Theodosia was faced with a dilemma. Should she spell out for Delaine the possibility that Nadine’s boyfriend might have ransacked this house two nights ago? Or should she stay mum? She could be completely mistaken, of course. In which case Delaine would probably stomp off in a snit and never speak to her again.
Theodosia quickly made up her mind, deciding on a more oblique approach.
“Delaine, I know this is going to sound strange, but there’s a very real possibility your sister might be in danger.”
Delaine looked perplexed. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Do you know how Nadine met her boyfriend?”
Delaine shrugged. “Just . . . through mutual acquaintances. Friends.”
“Good friends?”
“Really, Theo, I don’t recall. And truth be told, you’re starting to scare me. Always being such an alarmist.”
“And you’re being evasive.”
Delaine reared back. “I don’t mean to be.”
“You know what?” said Theodosia. “I need to speak to Nadine. Right this minute.”
“Must you really?” huffed Delaine.
Theodosia slipped past her. “You’ll thank me later, Delaine!”
* * *
Rushing outside, Theodosia
came up against a wall of people. The tea table was mobbed, every table and chair was occupied, the patio was filled with a jostle of guests, and the night was alive with the sound of laughter, conversation, the clink of teacups against china saucers, and the sweet swell of harp music.
So where was Nadine?
Theodosia’s eyes swept the patio, searching for Nadine in her hot-pink dress. And didn’t see her. Determined now, she dodged through the crowd, smiling brightly but inwardly feeling her tension ratchet up. She was still trying to figure out what role Nadine’s boyfriend might have played this past week. Had he been at the wedding? Had he ransacked Granville’s house? Was he the one who’d sent the note? If so, had this boyfriend, for whatever reason, murdered Dougan Granville?
In a panic now, Theodosia backed down one of the garden paths, hoping to get a more panoramic view of the gaggle of visitors. She scanned the crowd again, hoping to see Nadine. But, no, the woman was nowhere in sight.
Could Nadine have left? Could her boyfriend have lured her away from the group, cutting her out of the safety of the crowd like a wolf separating a lamb from the flock?
Her stomach a bundle of nerves, Theodosia drew breath sharply. And that was when she smelled a hint of cigar smoke wafting in the night air.
Then she heard Nadine’s high-pitched giggle, sounding so much like Delaine’s.
Theodosia turned and scanned the garden behind her.
There they were! They were standing close together next to a pattering fountain, talking and whispering in a lovey-dovey conspiratorial way.
But how could she get Nadine away from him? Because—and this was a big
what if
—what if he was the killer?
At that moment Nadine’s boyfriend put his hand up to Nadine’s face and gently caressed her cheek.
All set to run up to them and pull Nadine away, Theodosia checked herself. Hold everything. What was the plan here? What exactly was she going to do? Rush up to Nadine and start screaming like a madwoman? Or whisper to Nadine that she might be in danger?
If the guy turned out to be harmless, she’d look like an idiot in front of a few hundred of Charleston’s finest citizens. In fact, she’d never live it down.
Spinning about, Theodosia was ready to beat a hasty retreat. She needed a better plan. She needed a moment to think. She needed something a little more definitive to go on.
Her hand reached out and touched a stalk of jessamine that vined around a lamppost. The aroma from the yellow flowers was fragrant and calming. Almost the way chamomile tea worked to soothe jangled nerves.
Tea. That was what she needed. Theodosia decided she’d get a cup of tea and let her thoughts about Nadine’s boyfriend percolate in her brain. Because maybe he was perfectly harmless. Maybe he was just . . . intuitive.
Making her way to the tea table, she grabbed a teacup and held it under a spigot. And just as she lifted the handle, just as hot, fragrant liquid cascaded into her teacup, there was a ripple of voices raised in surprise at the back of the crowd. And then, like a seismic wave, a murmur of surprise and outrage came crashing toward her.
What on earth? Theodosia wondered. Holding her teacup steady with both hands, she turned and saw a line of blue uniforms filing out onto the patio.
And then a loud voice called out, “Police! Don’t anybody move!”
* * *
Jack Alston, the
ATF agent Theodosia had encountered earlier, charged onto the patio, looking like some kind of gung-ho cop in a Bruce Willis movie. He was followed by a flying wedge of police officers with Detective Burt Tidwell bringing up the rear. The officers spread out around the edges of the patio, slowly pushing guests toward the center as if they were herding longhorn cattle.
“What’s the meaning of this?” shouted Delaine. She was nipping at their heels like a rabid Schnauzer, screaming and launching a barrage of angry protests.
Of course, the police paid no attention to her.
Delaine continued to shove and shoulder her way through the crowd until she came face-to-face with Theodosia. “Please, Theo!” she implored. “Talk to that detective friend of yours! Find out what on earth is going on!”
Sizzling with curiosity herself, Theodosia wormed her way through the crowd until she was within a few feet of Tidwell.
“What are you people doing here?” she demanded. She, too, was dismayed that they’d come storming into a social event and caused such a blatant disruption.
“Please don’t interfere,” said Tidwell, holding up a chubby hand.
Now Delaine was at Theodosia’s elbow. “Stop it!” she yapped at Tidwell. “You’re ruining my event!”
Tidwell waved a hand again. “Shush,” he told them. Then pointed toward Jack Alston, who’d loped into the far garden and planted himself directly in front of Nadine’s date.
“You’re
arresting
him?” said Theodosia. She was as shocked as Delaine. But, truth be told, a little relieved, too. She grabbed Tidwell’s sleeve and said, “What for? What’s he done?” Had the murder just been solved? Had she been on the right track after all?
“Remember the elusive Bobby St. Cloud?” said Tidwell.
“I do,” said Theodosia. But what did that have to do with this bizarre scene?
Tidwell hooked a thumb and aimed it at Nadine’s date. “That’s Bobby St. Cloud,” he said.