“Detective Tidwell,” Theodosia said, a smile on her face and a slight lump in her throat. “Welcome.” Tidwell headed the Robbery and Homicide Division and served as Riley’s boss. She knew that when the big pooh-bah showed up on your doorstep it was a good indication you were in some kind of trouble.
Tidwell shifted in his chair. Today he wore a burgundy jacket the color of bad wine, baggy brown slacks, and heavy black cop shoes. A few more lines had encroached upon his pouchy face, and his hair was curly and nondescript. His stomach still stuck out over his belt buckle even though he claimed to be eating healthier. But it was his eyes—steely gray and serious—that held Theodosia’s attention.
“Did you stop by for tea?” Theodosia asked. “Or is there another reason for this impromptu visit?”
“I’m here as a favor. Honoring a special request.”
“And that request would be . . . ?”
“Would you believe it if I said your boyfriend du jour was seriously concerned about your welfare?”
“Riley?” Theodosia pretended to be surprised. “And he asked you to . . . ?”
“Speak with you? Yes. He’s worried that you’ll get overly involved in this Orchard House Inn murder business.” He paused. “And so am I.”
“In that case, he’s too late, and ditto for you, Detective, because I’m already involved.” Theodosia felt a surge of anger and defensiveness. “As Riley obviously told you, I was the lucky duck who discovered Nadine’s dead body.”
“And a fine job you did at handling that nasty piece of business. Pushed your nose in where it didn’t belong and asked a lot of questions that no doubt irritated Sheriff Burney. Now, we’re asking you to kindly step aside so law enforcement can do its job. We believe that would be in everyone’s best interest.”
“What about Nadine’s best interest? Or that of her daughter, Bettina?”
“We’re dealing with that.”
Theodosia stared at Tidwell for a few moments. Something didn’t feel quite right.
“That’s it? You came here to deliver a quasi-warning?”
“That’s it,” Tidwell said.
“No, there’s something else going on, something fishy,” Theodosia said, suspicion tinging her words. For one thing, Tidwell hadn’t tried to con her out of a pot of tea, or as many scones as humanly possible, or a double helping of Devonshire cream to go along with. Considering his almost-manic addiction to sugar, it was strange indeed. Also, he was behaving oddly. A little too formal and, aside from his mild threats, a little too polite.
“What makes you think something’s going on?” Tidwell said.
“Because my radar—which has served me well in the past—has started to ping like mad. Which leads me to believe you’re not giving me the whole story.”
“There is no story.”
“Sure there is. Try me.”
Tidwell pursed his lips together, stared at her, and sighed. Sat for a minute, then said, “If you must know, there is more.”
“Like what?” Theodosia said.
He shook his head. “I shouldn’t.”
“I think you should. I think you owe it to me.”
Tidwell glanced around, as if expecting KGB operatives to leap out of one of the highboys. “You dare not breathe a word to anyone.”
Theodosia crossed her fingers and nodded. “I wouldn’t. I won’t.” I’ll only tell Drayton.
Tidwell lowered his voice. “The Crime Scene investigators found traces of cocaine in the parlor adjacent to the kitchen.”
“Cocaine? Whoa.” That revelation slammed into Theodosia like a load of bricks tumbling off the back of a truck. “You’re telling me that people were doing drugs that day?”
“Possibly.”
“Do you know who?”
Tidwell shook his head. “Not yet. But we will. I have faith.”
Theodosia held up a hand as her mind began to race. Then a possible scenario spun out and started to click into place. “Or . . . hang on a minute. Do you think some kind of drug deal went down in that parlor?” She saw the startled look on Tidwell’s face and said, “That’s it, isn’t it? That’s why everybody’s underwear is in such a twist. There was some sort of drug deal happening, and Nadine inadvertently blundered into it!”
Tidwell sighed. “That’s one possibility we’re considering.”
Theodosia sat back in her chair. She was shocked but not surprised, if that made any sense. And that little nubbin inside her curiosity zone suddenly strummed with energy. Now there was a motive for Nadine’s murder. And a lead of sorts.
“This changes everything,” Theodosia said.
Tidwell was on instant alert. “Not for you it doesn’t.” His face suddenly contorted, and he waved a chubby index finger in front of her. “If there was a drug deal—and we’re not certain those were the circumstances—it’s all the more reason for you to back off!”
“Sure, okay, I get it,” Theodosia said in an amenable tone.
“I mean it,” Tidwell said.
“Okay, relax, I hear you. Just cool your jets, okay?”
He stared at her.
“Sorry, where are my manners?” Theodosia smiled sweetly at him. “Let me grab you some scones and a pot of tea.”
“That would be . . . lovely.”
But as Theodosia walked away from the table, all she could think was, Drugs. This is big-time. Something people are definitely willing to kill for.
Detective Tidwell noshed his scones, drank his pot of tea, and continued to make a pest of himself. After a final warning about not getting involved, he finally (mercifully) shuffled out the door. That’s when Theodosia pulled Drayton aside at the front counter.
“I have to tell you something,” she said in whispered tones.
Drayton raised an eyebrow. “A secret? Something related to Detective Tidwell’s impromptu visit?”
Theodosia nodded. “The Crime Scene techs discovered traces of cocaine.”
Drayton gave a shocked double-take expression complete with arched eyebrows, wide eyes, and shoulders that jerked spasmodically. “What? On Nadine?”
“No, traces of cocaine were found in the adjacent parlor at the Orchard House Inn.”
“What does that mean exactly?” Drayton pulled down a tin of peppermint tea and set it on the counter with a hard thunk.