Theodosia shrugged. “Maybe it is. They weren’t close, that’s for sure.” Or maybe Delaine is masking her sorrow with overblown theatrics. Could go either way.
Drayton pointed at a camera that was positioned right at the end of the raised runway. “Looks like the show is being filmed tonight.”
Theodosia followed his gaze past a DJ twiddling at his soundboard and saw two men hovering near the camera. Probably discussing lighting or angles or production values. Then, with a start, she recognized one of the men.
“Drayton, that’s the guy who was supposed to film the Lemon Squeeze Couture show yesterday.”
Drayton narrowed his eyes. “The one who dresses like a French film director.”
“I thought it was Italian. Fellini.”
“Whatever his ilk, he strikes me as a bit pretentious.”
“Let’s go talk to him anyway,” Theodosia said.
But as they pushed their way through the crowd, they ran smack-dab into Marvin Chauvet. Tonight his silver hair was slicked back and he wore a pale green cashmere sweater, cream-colored linen slacks, and Tod’s loafers. Very country club–ish.
“Hello again,” Chauvet said to Theodosia and Drayton, a broad smile lighting his face. “I didn’t expect to see you folks here.”
“Last-minute tickets,” Drayton said. “Lucky us.”
“We’re looking forward to finally seeing Lemon Squeeze Couture on the runway,” Theodosia told him.
“I’m afraid you won’t see our complete line tonight. It’s more like six or seven pieces since we’re sharing the runway with three other designers,” Chauvet said.
“But it seems as though you’ve generated a good deal of excitement,” Drayton said. “It looks like a packed house tonight.”
Chauvet swept both arms open wide. “What can I say? Charlestonians are famous for their sartorial sense of style.”
“After you and your partner dropped by for lunch today, Nadine’s daughter came in,” Theodosia said.
Chauvet’s broad forehead crinkled. “Oh?”
“Bettina was hoping that Drayton and I could poke around and ask a few questions. She’s convinced her mother must have made an enemy somewhere along the line.” As she spoke, Theodosia studied Chauvet for any possible reaction.
“Like I told you before, nobody I can think of,” Chauvet said quickly.
“How big is your fashion team?” Drayton asked.
“Um, six of us in all,” Chauvet said. “Well, five. Not counting outside reps.”
“Everyone at Lemon Squeeze Couture gets along just fine?” Theodosia asked.
“Like gangbusters,” Chauvet said.
Theodosia was pretty sure that wasn’t true, so she decided to switch up her approach.
“If you can think of anything that might have impacted Nadine’s personal life, it would be of great help,” she said.
“I don’t know what that would be,” Chauvet began, then stopped and said, “Well . . . I suppose there might be one thing.”
“What’s that?” Theodosia asked.
“It has to do with Eddie Fox over there,” Chauvet said. He hooked a thumb in the direction of the camera setup.
“The director?” Theodosia said.
“Fellini,” said Drayton.
“He heads Foxfire Productions,” Chauvet said, “which is a fairly well-known outfit. I think they won a gold medal from the South Carolina Arts Board for some documentary they produced about great blue herons. Or maybe it was for great horned owls . . .”
“Okay,” Theodosia said to keep him rolling.
Chauvet rocked back on his heels, pursed his lips, and said, “Anyway, a few days after we hired Fox to shoot our show—the one that was supposed to happen yesterday—I heard a rumor that Nadine might have had an affair with him.”
“Nadine and the director?” Theodosia was surprised but recovered immediately.
“An affair?” Drayton said in a disapproving tone.
“Wait,” Theodosia said. “You said you heard they were having an affair. But you don’t know that for a fact.”
“It’s just a rumor, can’t even remember who passed it on. Or maybe Nadine herself dropped his name in conversation, I don’t know.” Chauvet let loose a snort. “You think maybe there’s a reason they call him Fast Eddie? Anyway, if the two of them were cozy, it would have been right under the nose of Nadine’s boyfriend.”
New facts were coming to light so fast and furiously that Theodosia struggled to take them all in. “Nadine had a boyfriend?”
“Seriously?” Drayton said. He’d been caught off guard as well.
“Had one anyway,” Chauvet said. “I think she mentioned that it was a guy named Nardwell. Yeah, that’s it, Simon Nardwell. He’s from right here in Charleston and has something to do with antiques.”
“Don’t know him,” Theodosia said as Drayton made a sound in the back of his throat.
“If you want the whole story—and it seems like you do—then maybe you should talk to Nardwell.” Chauvet gave Theodosia a nod and a sideways glance, then hurried off as the theater lights dimmed and rock music began to blare.
“Theo, let’s go.” Drayton touched Theodosia’s shoulder. “The show’s about to start.” They hurried to find their seats as Drayton glanced at their tickets. “We’re in row two, seats eight and nine. Over this way.”
The two of them murmured, “Excuse me,” as they squeezed past guests who were already seated, then made themselves as comfortable as possible on hard folding chairs. The music continued to build as the DJ worked his soundboard. Adele’s cool tones switched over to Mick complaining that he “can’t get no satisfaction.” Then the footlights blazed brightly as overhead rotating spotlights cast circles of red, yellow, and blue on the elevated runway.
“Do you know anything about this Nardwell guy?” Theodosia asked Drayton just as the first leggy model set foot onstage.
“I don’t know him personally, but I’ve heard of him.”
“And he’s in the antiques business?” she whispered.
“He specializes,” Drayton said, as lights flashed brilliantly and the second model hit the runway, “in antique firearms.”
7
Drayton’s words practically electrified Theodosia, made her sit bolt upright in her chair.