Theodosia walked in and looked around. For a hospitality tent, it looked pretty spiffy. There was a plush blue-and-cinnamon-colored Oriental carpet on the floor, a dozen leather club chairs scattered around, and a makeshift bar with a young ponytailed bartender busily whipping something up in a silver shaker. The front of the tent was open with a swag of filmy curtains on each side.
Theodosia and Drayton quickly set up their tea and appetizers as Harv and Marv milled about, mumbling to each other as they puzzled over Fox’s death.
Harvey Bateman, dressed in his trademark drab, snatched a steak bite off a silver tray and stared pointedly at Theodosia. “And you were there,” he said. “Again.” His mouth pulled into a nasty smile. “Maybe you’re the one the police should be investigating.”
“Nice try,” Theodosia said. “But I don’t go around murdering people.”
Bateman let loose a hearty cackle, as if his words had been meant as a joke. “Neither do I.”
That remains to be seen, Theodosia thought.
Since the appetizers were pretty much self-serve, Theodosia and Drayton decided to duck outside for a little exploring. They admired a bright red Maserati and a wicked black Dodge Viper. They also looked longingly at a classic Porsche and a vintage Alfa Romeo.
“Look at this beauty.” Drayton indicated an artsy-looking, lime-green fastback car. “A 1970 Citroën 2CV. Besides champagne, this auto is one of the best things the French ever invented. Look at the custom upholstery.”
Theodosia looked inside. “Pale green leather. Wow.”
“You hardly ever see this particular model anymore, and this one’s in tip-top shape.”
“Does it make you want to drive?”
“Gift me with one of these sweet rides and I’d certainly consider it.”
All the hoopla surrounding the cars made Theodosia think back to the tire tracks from last night—and the fact that Riley thought they might have been made by some kind of sports car with wide wheels.
Could the tracks have been made by one of the cars here? One on display or a car driven here by one of the attendees? Interesting idea. Did Harv and Marv own exotic cars? She’d have to keep her eyes and ears open.
Back at the hospitality tent, things had picked up considerably. So Theodosia grabbed a pair of silver tongs and began serving appetizers while Drayton poured tea for a few people who requested it. The guests for the most part were well-heeled and well-mannered. And Theodosia was happy she’d casually set a stack of her business cards in a small silver bowl. They were quietly and appreciatively being snatched up, which was always good for business.
At two o’clock the models burst into the tent. Six young women all impeccably coiffed and made-up, dressed head to toe in Lemon Squeeze Couture. Marvin Chauvet gathered them in a circle and instructed them to wander around the grounds for fifteen minutes, then head back to the tent, the idea being that interested parties might follow them in.
Theodosia didn’t know how well that ploy would work but figured it was worth a shot. After all, there were a lot of movers and shakers in attendance today. Probably even some people in the retail industry.
There was also one nervous designer.
When Mark Devlin walked up to the appetizer table, he looked twitchy and ill at ease.
“Mr. Devlin,” Theodosia said. “May I pour you a cup of tea? Or fix you an appetizer plate? The steak bites and shrimp gratiné are particularly good.”
“Thank you, no, I believe I’ll belly up to the bar for a cocktail instead,” he said.
“Are you okay?” There was something off about him today. His clothing was impeccable—a pink linen shirt, cream-colored slacks, two-tone loafers—but his attitude seemed somewhat dulled.
Devlin gazed at her with a downturned mouth. “I just heard the news about Eddie Fox.”
“Awful,” Theodosia said, watching him closely. She wondered if he knew that she and Drayton had been the ones who’d found Fox’s body.
But no, Devlin didn’t seem to be aware of that fact. At least he wasn’t mentioning it. He walked over to the bar, got a gin and tonic, and wandered back to the appetizer table.
“Are you sure you don’t want something to eat?” Theodosia asked.
Devlin placed a hand on his stomach.
“No thanks, I’m not feeling one-hundred-percent today.” He hesitated, then added, “I’m not ill or anything. I just have a bad feeling.”
“About?”
“Everything. Nadine’s murder, Fox’s murder. It feels like a weird string of events that are all related.”
“That’s because they probably are,” Theodosia said. She looked around the tent for Drayton, finally noticed him outside, talking to someone who was standing next to a shiny silver Volvo.
“I also had a long interview with the police this morning,” Devlin said.
“I’d guess that’s fairly standard since you were acquainted with both victims. No doubt the police are casting a relatively wide net.”
Devlin sighed. “I suppose.” He glanced around, then lowered his voice. “The other thing is, lately it feels as if someone’s been following me.”
“Why would you think that?” Theodosia asked.
He swirled his drink. “I don’t know.”
But Theodosia knew there had to be a reason. “Is it possible . . . that somebody thinks you know something?”
“That sounds dull and complicated, but yes. I suppose that could be it.”
“Do you?” Theodosia asked. “Know something, I mean.”
“Not really.” Devlin put his glass to his lips and sipped gingerly. “Well, I have my suspicions of course.”
“Did you mention them to the police this morning?”
Devlin shook his head. “Like I said, they’re only suspicions. Just . . . vague feelings. You know . . . about what’s happened.”
“About who’s responsible?”
“Maybe.”
“Care to share?” Theodosia asked.
Devlin was about to say something when a smiling Meriam Chauvet came flying in and suddenly interrupted them.
“Mr. Devlin,” she cried in a burst of enthusiasm. “Good afternoon. And Miss Browning, too. Isn’t this a lovely event?”
“Nice to see you again,” Devlin said as he hastily slipped away.
Meriam, who was dressed in a gorgeous raspberry-colored jacket and slacks, focused her upbeat mood squarely on Theodosia. “I can’t tell you what a wonderful time I had at your tea shop yesterday. Everything was so elegant and graceful.”