They drove in silence for a while, then Theodosia said, “As strange as it sounds, it feels like we’re a few steps closer to homing in on Nadine’s killer.”
“Because now we can rule out Fox?”
“Fox could still be Nadine’s killer. But Fox has a partner that, I’m fairly sure, murdered him.”
“So you think more craziness is coming down the pike?”
“A lot more. In fact, I think the murderer has been playing us all like a fiddle.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Drayton said. He was fussing with something in his lap, shifting it from his right hand to his left.
“What’s that you’ve got?”
“Hmm?” Drayton looked down at his hands. “Just something I picked up back there. A feather. I think it must be from an owl.”
“Maybe an owl feather means good luck,” Theodosia said.
Drayton shook his head. “Somehow, I don’t think so.”
25
Friday morning at the Indigo Tea Shop and Theodosia and Drayton were still puzzling over last night’s murder.
“When you look at it in the cold, clear light of day, the killer pulled a fairly slick move,” Drayton said.
“You mean drawing everyone out to the dogtrot house so we’d find Fox’s body?”
“So somebody would find his body, yes.”
Haley, who’d just emerged from the kitchen with a platter heaped full of cherry almond scones, jumped when she heard Drayton utter the word body.
“Wait. What?” Haley’s shoulders jerked upward, and her eyes suddenly grew as large as the saucers Theodosia had been placing on tables. “Did you say body? As in dead body? Did somebody else get killed?”
“We were just about to tell you,” Drayton said. He looked calm and collected in his summer-weight blue wool jacket and striped bow tie. As if discussing a recent murder were an everyday thing.
“What happened?” Haley shrilled. “Who got killed?” Her face had turned bright pink under her crisp white chef’s hat, and she shifted uncomfortably from one Croc-shod foot to the other.
“It was Eddie Fox, the film production guy,” Theodosia said. “We drove out to a house he was supposedly scouting for a location shoot and stumbled upon his body.”
“In a corncrib,” Drayton said helpfully, though it didn’t really help matters at all.
“You mean like at a farm out in the boonies? Why’d you go there? Did you suspect him?” Haley asked.
“We wanted to ask Fox a few questions,” Theodosia said. “About whether he used drones or not. And yes, he figured prominently on our suspect list.”
“But obviously not anymore,” Haley said. “Since he’s croaked.”
“Passed on,” Drayton said. He picked up a tin of Namring Garden Darjeeling and studied the label.
Theodosia raised an index finger. “Unless Eddie Fox was one of the people directly involved in Nadine’s murder.”
Drayton set the tea tin back down. “Right,” he said slowly. “Two people, just like we talked about before. The buyer and the seller. One of them could have been Fox.”
“But was he the buyer or the seller?” Theodosia said.
“So you still think two people were involved in Nadine’s murder?” Haley asked, practically fizzing with excitement. “A killer tag team? And now one of them murdered their own partner?”
“Could be,” Drayton said.
“It does point in that general direction,” Theodosia said.
“That’s just great,” Haley said. “Now you’re only on the lookout for one killer.”
“We promise we won’t involve you,” Drayton said.
“You already have,” Haley said. “Besides, what if some crazed assassin comes storming in here waving a gun?” She shoved the platter of scones into Theodosia’s hands. “What am I supposed to do, nail him with my salad shooter?”
“Ha ha,” Drayton said. “Haley’s going to nail the dude.”
Haley looked startled. “Dude,” she said to Drayton. “You said dude.”
He peered at her. “And that’s a good thing?”
“It means you’re loosening up,” Haley said.
“That’s right,” Theodosia said. “If Drayton were any looser, he’d be positively unraveled.”
“You guys,” Haley said as she scurried back to the kitchen.
Theodosia placed the scones in the glass pie saver, then finished arranging the tables. Drayton busied himself behind the counter, setting out teapots like a small ceramic armada.
When Drayton looked up, Theodosia said, “I’m going to call Eddie Fox’s studio. See if I can find out anything more.”
“If anybody’s even there,” Drayton said.
Theodosia slipped into her office and made the call. It was answered all right, with a sniffle and a desultory, “Morning. Studio.”
“Josie?” Theodosia said.
Another sniffle. “Yeah?”
“This is Theodosia Browning. We spoke last night. You were the one who told me where to find Eddie?”
“Eddie,” Josie said, hiccupping loudly. “That poor guy. In my wildest dreams I never could have imagined he’d get murdered.” Another sniffle. “I understand you were the one who found him.”
“You talked to the police?”
“First thing, yeah. Everyone here . . . we’re all heartsick about Eddie. He was an okay guy. A little into himself, but still okay.”
“I know this has been a terrible shock, but I need to ask you something.”
“What?” Josie blubbered.
“Did anybody else call the studio last night? I mean somebody looking for Fox?”
“I don’t . . . I can’t remember.”
“Think hard, it’s important.”
“Yeah?”
“It could be,” Theodosia said.
“A few calls came in, I guess. But they were mostly concerning the bank shoot. But I guess . . . yeah, somebody might have called.”
“Was it a man or woman who called asking about Eddie?”
“I dunno.”