“It’s not mine, either.”
Bettina sat up straight in her chair and gazed at Theodosia. “That’s not what I’ve heard.”
Drayton walked over, placed two cups and a steaming pot of tippy Yunnan tea on the table, and peered at Bettina. “What have you heard?”
Bettina drew a deep breath and said, “A lot of people think Theodosia is Charleston’s very own Miss Marple. That she’s smart and dogged and has even solved a couple of murders.”
“More like been involved in,” Theodosia hastened to say.
Bettina had come loaded for bear. “Oh no, you’re being far too modest. I remember when that poor girl got killed last Halloween at the haunted house. And then that nice older lady at her fancy Christmas party.” Her brows bunched together as she stared intently at Theodosia. “I know you were instrumental in figuring out who the killers were in both cases.”
“That was then,” Theodosia said.
Bettina reached across the table and gently touched a finger to Theodosia’s arm. “The thing is, I desperately need your help. Delaine needs your help, too, even though it would kill her to admit it.”
Drayton cleared his throat. “Um.”
Bettina turned her attention to him. “Yes, I already know. About Aunt Delaine taking over the brand ambassador position.”
“And you’re okay with that?” Theodosia asked.
“Lord, no,” Bettina said. “It’s totally wack. I mean . . . one of those Lemon Squeeze people could have easily killed my mother. Why would I ever trust them in a million years?”
“It could have been someone else,” Theodosia said. “From outside the group.”
Bettina bobbed her head. “I suppose that’s a possibility. But who? One of the makeup and hair people? Certainly not those skinny models. I bet the only thing on their minds was their next bite of food.”
“I meant the partners, the banker, or someone from the film crew,” Theodosia said. “Your mother could have seriously ruffled some feathers.”
“She does that . . . did that,” Bettina said. She wiped another tear away and said, “Here I am, talking about Mom in the past tense already. How awful.”
“I know,” Theodosia said. “And I’m so sorry.”
Bettina drew a deep breath and said, “I get that Mom’s personality was hard to swallow sometimes. But do you really believe someone would murder her for being obnoxious?” She sat back in her chair. “No, there has to be another reason. Something bigger. Maybe something financial, don’t you think?”
“It would be a place to start,” Drayton said.
Bettina looked hopeful. “So you’ll agree to help? Both of you?”
Theodosia tried one last excuse. “I hate to involve Drayton in something as dangerous as this.”
“I’m already involved,” Drayton said.
Theodosia knew she’d already emotionally capitulated but still tried to temper her answer.
“I don’t know how far I’d get,” she said.
“That’s okay,” Bettina said. “Just knowing you guys are poking around would make me feel a whole lot better. Like I had a couple of guardian angels.”
“Such a lovely analogy,” Drayton said.
But Theodosia continued to hedge. “I’m not sure how deep I’d be able to dig.”
Bettina tapped a finger on the table. “Is that a yes?”
“It’s an agreement to look into things and have conversations with a few people,” Theodosia said. “Though I’m not exactly sure where to start.”
“I might have an idea,” Bettina said.
“You have a suspect in mind?” Drayton asked.
“No, but here’s the thing,” Bettina said. “Mom had been extremely upset lately. I mean more so than her usual funk and fury.”
“Do you think she was worried about her situation in the partnership?” Theodosia asked.
Bettina nodded. “Absolutely. Mom was terrified because she’d jumped in feetfirst with no fashion experience whatsoever.”
“Wait a minute,” Theodosia said. “How could she have gotten so deeply involved in a brand launch if she didn’t know what she was doing?”
“Because she lied. Mom did a complete puffery job on those two guys, Harv and Marv. She concocted a fake résumé that completely embellished her experience in the fashion industry—in other words, she gave them her usual line of bull.”
“And the partners went for it?” Theodosia said.
“Hook, line, and sinker. They never questioned her, never checked her veracity, never bothered to call a reference,” Bettina said.
“Wait a minute, I thought Nadine was in the fashion business,” Drayton said. “I thought that’s why she’d been living in New York.”
Bettina made a face. “Mom sold overpriced shoes at a boutique in Soho. She maybe helped style a few window displays, but that’s a far cry from doing an actual fashion launch.”
“Oh my,” Drayton said. “It would be worlds apart.”
“Except Mom gave her business partners the impression that she understood the fashion business from the ground up. That she knew how to write a business plan, sketch and come up with workable designs that would appeal to their target audience, and that she understood marketing and distribution channels.” Bettina looked glum. “She was good at giving impressions, not so good at implementing things. Unfortunately, she was creative director for Lemon Squeeze Couture in name only.”
“She didn’t come up with the preliminary sketches?” Theodosia asked.
“Not a one,” Bettina said. “They had to bring in an outside designer. A guy named Mark Devlin.”
“Nadine had no design ability at all?” Drayton said.
“Mom didn’t know the business end of a Magic Marker,” Bettina said.
“So the partners might have discovered her complete lack of experience and wanted to get rid of her,” Theodosia said.
“Might have, but don’t you think murdering someone because they lied about their experience is, like, totally radical?” Bettina asked. “I mean, they could have just fired her or hired a lawyer or, I don’t know, just yelled at her and kicked her out the door.” She stopped and gulped a breath. “But kill her? At a fashion show? That seems awfully far-fetched.”
“Good point,” Drayton said.