Drayton sat in the dark for a few moments before he said, “Do we have to go?”
“We pretty much promised Delaine that we’d be there.”
“Okay, tomorrow, then. Around eight-ish?
“Eight-ish it is.”
* * *
* * *
Theodosia drove home, enjoying the night, listening as the velvet, lilting Jamaican voice of Celeste oozed out of her CD player. It put her in a perfect relaxed mood.
Parking her Jeep in the alley, she walked through the wooden gate into her backyard, her very own slice of heaven. Wind whispered through the fanciful bonsai tree that Drayton had trimmed for her, and goldfish circled lazily in their small pond. A tangle of wisteria perfumed the air, and down the block came the gentle coo of a mourning dove.
Theodosia didn’t notice the scrap of paper tacked to her back door until she reached for the doorknob.
What’s this? A flyer from a tree service? Maybe a charity looking for donations? But why would they put their notice on my back door?
Then she saw the jagged handwritten scrawl and her heart jumped a beat. And when she read the message, that beat turned into a fast timpani solo.
The note read, Back off if you know what’s good for you!!
Theodosia’s first inclination was to be shocked and a little scared. Because this was clearly a threat. And scrawling those words with two exclamation points instead of one meant someone was trying to drive home their message. Hard.
Then, as she stepped inside her house, locked the door (checking it twice), and really thought about the note, she started to calm down. And the curiosity gene that was so ever-present in her DNA kicked in big-time.
Because somewhere, somehow, she must have struck a nerve. Somebody that she’d talked to or rubbed shoulders with in the last few days—maybe even tonight—was feeling stressed and nervous.
And nervous people are often guilty people.
Had she unknowingly stumbled across Nadine’s killer? If so, who could it be?
Harv or Marv, one of the Lemon Squeeze Couture partners? The film director Eddie Fox? The gun guy Simon Nardwell? How about Mark Devlin, the designer guy? Or any number of people who’d attended the visitation tonight and overheard Delaine raving that Theodosia was the second coming of Nancy Drew.
Oh my.
In a way, Theodosia was tickled because it reaffirmed the fact that she was on the right track.
But the big question now was—what to do about this threat? Keep investigating because the trail seemed to be heating up? Call Riley and tell him about the note—and risk that he’d warn her away? Or do nothing for the time being?
The one thing she didn’t want to do was bow out of this investigation. She was too involved, too vested. Most importantly, Bettina was counting on her.
Theodosia slowly became aware that Earl Grey was standing in the kitchen, gazing at her with inquisitive eyes.
“Did you hear somebody at the back door?” she asked. “Not just now, but earlier tonight?”
Earl Grey did a full-body doggy shake, starting with his nose and working his way down to the tip of his tail. Then he looked at her and said, “Rrwr.”
“Yeah. Someone was pretty sneaky, huh? Putting a note on the outside door. Okay, you’re a good boy because you didn’t let anybody come inside. That in itself warrants a treat.”
“Rwuh?”
“The peanut butter kind? Sure.”
While Earl Grey munched his treat, Theodosia walked into her dining room and stared at herself in the antique mirror that hung above her Sheraton sideboard. She reminded herself that she’d learned a few things today. And maybe the most critical nugget of information she’d gleaned was Eddie Fox’s drug use. The fact that he was a card-carrying cokehead made him a super suspect. And this was information she could share with Pete Riley. And if Riley thought the coke angle was worth pursuing, then he might press Sheriff Burney to take Fox in for questioning. And make him sweat.
Is it too late to call Riley?
She glanced at her antique French bronze clock and saw it was just ten thirty. Excellent.
Theodosia quickly dialed Riley’s personal cell phone, hoping he had it with him instead of just working off his police radio. She was in luck.
“Yello.”
“Are you busy?” Theodosia said. “Because I need to talk to you.”
“Hey, it’s not as if I’m doing anything important in the realm of crime fighting,” Riley said. “I’m basically sitting in the dark staring at a bunch of boat docks. Just in case.” He drew a breath. “So what’s up, cupcake?”
“I went to one of the fashion shows earlier today. Actually, it was right after you stopped by the tea shop.”
“Did you have a nice time?” Riley asked.
“Let’s say I had an interesting time, because I learned something that could relate to Nadine’s murder.”
“Which is?”
“I talked to Bobby, one of the cameramen from Channel Eight, and he told me that Eddie Fox had been fired from another TV station . . .”
“Because of his drug use. Yeah, we know all about that.”
“You do?” Theodosia was slightly taken aback.
“You may find this hard to believe, Theo, but we are the Charleston Police Department. As such, the Robbery and Homicide Division does conduct investigations.”
“In other words, you’ve already interviewed Eddie Fox.”
“Not me, personally, but Sheriff Burney did share a transcript with us. One of his investigators conducted a fairly extensive interview with Fox.”
“So he’s not a suspect?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“So Fox is a suspect?”
Riley blew out a long breath, and Theodosia could picture him sitting in a cramped car, brow furrowed, frustration bubbling up, wondering how he was going to get her to back off.
Finally, he said, “Theo, in the interest of public safety, you really shouldn’t be involved in this case.”
“Really?” she said. “That’s the card you want to play? In the interest of public safety?”
“Okay, let’s switch it up and say it’s for your personal safety.”
Theodosia clutched her phone so hard her knuckles turned white. If Riley only knew about the note she’d found on her door.
Was she going to tell him about it? Should she tell him?
Oh no. Absolutely not. Well, not yet, anyway.