“Hey!” Theodosia exclaimed. “I didn’t expect to see you today.” She was delighted that he’d dropped by.
“I took a chance,” Riley said, “hoping against hope I could grab some of your leftover goodies.” He smiled at Theodosia, then gave a solemn nod in Drayton’s direction. “What you’d call . . . takeout?”
“I think we can manage a scone and a couple of sandwiches,” Drayton said. “Give me a few minutes to scrounge through our larder.” He spun on his heels and disappeared into the kitchen.
Theodosia rose on her tiptoes, gave Riley a quick kiss, and said, “You must be working tonight. Going on another stakeout.”
“Mmn,” Riley said. “Not so fast.” He reached out, encircled Theodosia with his arms, and pulled her close for a second, lingering kiss. When he finally released her, he said, “Yes, very nice indeed.” Then his mellow mood seemed to shift.
“What?” she said. “Something wrong?”
“This case I’m working is driving me slightly nuts.”
“The drug deal? Trying to get a handle on the local buyers?”
“It’s frustrating because nothing’s happening. I’m thinking we might have gotten some bad intel from the OC unit.”
“That’s . . . ?”
“The organized crime unit.”
“But crime tends to be disorganized, doesn’t it?” she asked.
“Very funny,” he said. “But we also got some poop from a couple of informants.” Riley rolled his eyes. “Still, they’re no great shakes when it comes to being reliable, either.”
“Tidwell dropped by to see me this afternoon,” Theodosia said.
“Oh yeah?”
Theodosia saw right through Riley’s casual demeanor. “Don’t you dare pretend to be surprised when I know you were the one who put him up to it.” She placed both hands on her hips for added emphasis.
“I’m afraid Detective Tidwell doesn’t take orders or even advice from the likes of me. He’s his own man.”
“Right. Sure. Anyway, Tidwell happened to mention another drug deal. The one that possibly went down during my Limón Tea. The one that probably got Nadine killed.”
“Tidwell told you about that?” Riley looked skeptical. “About what the Crime Scene techies found?”
“I wormed it out of him. So, it’s looks as if a possible drug deal did take place.”
“Maybe.”
“But what’s really starting to worry me is . . . could the two drug deals be related? The one you’re staking out and the one that Nadine might have gotten mixed up in?”
“No. No way.” Riley shook his head. “There’s not a single shred of evidence that says they’re linked in any way, shape, or form.”
“You’re sure.”
“Positive.”
“Okay, just checking.”
“Theo, listen to me. Tidwell was dead right about you backing away from Nadine’s murder. You need to let Sheriff Burney conduct his investigation as he sees fit . . .”
Drayton suddenly emerged from the kitchen, an indigo blue bag dangling from one hand. Haley was a step behind him. She wore her white chef’s jacket, had a toque perched atop her head, and was cuddling her cat, Teacake, in her arms.
Drayton thrust the bag at Riley and said, “Here you go, Detective: takeout for a stakeout.”
“Ooh, a stakeout,” Haley exclaimed. “That sounds so exciting!”
Riley managed a half-hearted smile. “You try sitting in a foul-smelling impounded Ford Taurus for hours on end. With nothing better to do than listen to the crackle of a police radio and drink cold coffee.”
“Sorry, Officer Grumpy, I didn’t mean to bring up such a sore point,” Haley said.
“That’s not the part that gets sore,” Riley said, which made Haley giggle. Then he turned serious. “This supposed drug deal has been a tough thing for the department. Even though the DEA has asked for our cooperation, these dealers might be ghosts. They might never materialize. And even if they do, how are we going to gather enough evidence so we can bust them?”
Haley gazed at him with guileless blue eyes and said in all sincerity, “Maybe you could try calling the psychic hotline?”
12
Even though Theodosia and Drayton had only met Holly Burns, the owner of the Imago Gallery, once before, she greeted them profusely, as if they were old friends.
“Welcome, beautiful people,” Holly Burns gushed in her throaty, slightly burned-out voice. Pulling Theodosia close, she gave her a quick swipe on the cheek, then turned and did the same to Drayton. Holly was anorexic thin, a tad past forty, and had long black hair that swirled about her like a dark cloud. Tonight she was dressed in an Echo Grace silver-gray silk bomber jacket with matching pajama pants. There were so many statement necklaces looped around her neck that she jangled like spurs when she moved.
“Wonderful to see you again,” Theodosia murmured, hoping Holly’s fuchsia lipstick hadn’t left a smear.
“You, too! You, too!” Holly fluttered her hands as if to physically push them into the gallery. “You see that good-looking hunk standing behind the bar? That’s my boyfriend, Phil, who’s pinch-hitting as a bartender tonight. Now go. Drink. Mingle. Marvel at the clothes. Enjoy!” she gushed.
“I’m not sure those ideas are all compatible,” Drayton murmured under his breath as they shouldered their way into the crowded gallery.
Like many contemporary art galleries, the Imago Gallery favored strict minimalist decor. That is, white walls, gray industrial carpeting, and pinpoint spotlights overhead to highlight the photos and paintings that were on display. There were also large white cubes that held contemporary metal sculptures, as well as a pair of chairs—very modern and cheeky—made out of bent metal tubes that were covered in fuzzy black fabric. Crouching low on the floor as they did, the chairs reminded Theodosia of giant black spiders straight out of a horror flick. Maybe something to avoid.
Tonight the works of art on the walls felt complementary to the event. Lots of large abstract expressionist paintings with slashes of bright color as well as black-and-white photos that were moody and slightly ethereal.
A frizzy-haired, denim-clad DJ sat at his soundboard, twisting his dials and bobbing his head, lost in his own little world as he blasted out earsplitting rock music. Tall, thin women, almost like human mannequins, wore Echo Grace fashions as they wandered through the crowd, looking haughty and slightly bored. Clearly, the informal modeling was well underway.