“So the question is . . . what really did happen yesterday?” Bettina said.
“That’s exactly the question I put to your mom’s two partners,” Theodosia said.
Bettina looked confused. “You spoke to them yesterday?”
“No, today—a couple of hours ago,” Theodosia said. “The two of them dropped by for lunch.”
“That’s weird,” Bettina said.
“Actually, they asked us to cater their event at the Concours d’Carolina,” Theodosia said.
“Unless that was a ruse,” Drayton said.
Theodosia and Bettina both gave him a questioning look.
“You know, maybe the partners were trying to determine how much we know about the murder,” Drayton said.
“Or maybe they genuinely needed a caterer,” Theodosia said. “And we were top of mind.”
“I suppose that’s possible,” Drayton said.
Theodosia thought for a few moments. “Okay, maybe it does look a little fishy.”
“So what do we do now?” Drayton asked. “Where do we start if we’re going to help Bettina?”
“Right here,” Bettina said. She reached in her purse and pulled out two tickets. She handed one to Theodosia and one to Drayton. “These are for the Fashion Dazzle Show tonight at the Winder Arts Center.” A hopeful note crept into her voice. “A lot of the major players will be hanging out there—so it might be a good opportunity to snoop around and ask a few questions?”
“I like that idea.” Theodosia ticked the corner of a ticket with her thumb. “I like it a lot.”
* * *
* * *
“What does one wear to a fashion show?” Drayton asked, once Bettina had left the tea shop.
Theodosia studied him. Today, Drayton wore a linden green Harris Tweed jacket, dove gray slacks, white shirt, and gold tie with white polka dots.
“I’d say you’re fine as is,” she said.
Haley came out of the kitchen, carrying a plastic tub of just-washed teacups.
“Or you could switch it out to something a little more hipster,” she said.
Drayton’s brows crinkled. “Pray tell what that would be?”
“We could style you in ripped jeans, leather jacket, and maybe a knit cap,” Haley said. She was bent over, laughing silently, barely able to keep a straight face.
“You know the problem in talking to me about current fashion?” Drayton asked.
“What’s that?” Haley said.
He grinned. “It’s in one ear and out the other.”
* * *
* * *
Drayton might have been wearing his standard tweedy look tonight, but Theodosia had gone home, walked her dog, Earl Grey, and changed clothes. Now she was juiced up in shiny black leggings, a fluttery pink and yellow silk top, and stiletto sandals.
“You look like a fanciful floral bouquet in that outfit,” Drayton remarked as they strolled through the lobby of the Winder Arts Center. It was a large space with redbrick walls, gray industrial carpet, and a bustling crowd of eager fashionistas. Colorful posters for upcoming art exhibits, theater productions, poetry slams, and dance events hung on the walls.
“Is looking like a bunch of flowers good or bad?” Theodosia asked.
“I didn’t mean it as a value judgment. I meant that you fit right in.”
Theodosia glanced around at what was definitely a fashion-forward crowd. Lots of logos and labels, tailored jackets paired with flowing skirts, skinny T-shirts with the occasional ripped jeans, and a few corsets, sharp-shouldered leather jackets, and, oh my, was that a grunge redux? This crowd was definitely not the ladies who lunch bunch. Or, if it was, they’d all undergone a radical fashion metamorphosis.
A waiflike girl dressed head to toe in black handed Theodosia and Drayton programs as they walked into the auditorium. Bill Glass was waiting inside, snapping photos like mad. Luckily, they managed to avoid him.
“Looks like the fashions will be mostly fun and casual tonight,” Theodosia said, studying her program. “Pieces from four different lines are being showcased—Ruff ’n Ready, Lemon Squeeze Couture, Paragon Sport, and Echo Grace.”
“If Lemon Squeeze Couture is represented, then the two partners should be here as well,” Drayton said. He’d already rolled up his program and stuck it in his jacket pocket.
“Probably.” Theodosia lifted herself up on her tiptoes to survey the crowd. “In fact, I already see Marvin Chauvet. We should probably go say hello to him, try to slip in a few probing questions.”
“Lead the way.”
But before Theodosia and Drayton were able to take a single step, they were accosted by Delaine Dish. Gushing and giddy, wearing an electric blue Lemon Squeeze Couture jacket and matching leggings, she glad-handed them as if she were the duly appointed hostess for the entire show.
“You came to our show!” Delaine exclaimed. Tonight she was doing her thing where she talked mostly in italics and exclamation points. “The both of you. How fabulous!”
“Bettina was kind enough to give us tickets,” Drayton said.
Delaine clutched his arm. “Oh, she did? She’s such a thoughtful girl, isn’t she? Carrying on in spite of her mother’s death!”
Theodosia decided Delaine had to be completely tone-deaf. Nadine wasn’t just Bettina’s mom, she was Delaine’s sister. Thus, the death should have affected her, too. Right? Well, maybe not. Apparently not.
“Yes, well, Bettina is hoping we’ll turn an investigative eye on a few people tonight,” Theodosia said. Might as well be up front and let Delaine know the real reason they were there. She’d figure it out eventually.
Delaine’s shoulders hunched forward as she gave a worried, quizzical look. “Do you think that’s wise?”
“I can’t see what it would hurt,” Theodosia said. “After all, we are talking murder.”
Delaine reached out and clutched Theodosia’s arm nervously. “Please don’t rock the boat, dear, if you know what I mean.”
“Heaven forbid we do that,” Drayton said in a weary tone.
“Oh.” Delaine fluttered her hands as she gazed at the buzz of people that continued to pour in. “I’d better keep moving. There’s so many people to talk to.” And off she galloped looking like a bright blue social butterfly.
“What ridiculous behavior,” Drayton snorted. “Delaine is acting as if the murder of her sister is a mere inconvenience.”