by Laura Childs
Max made introductions all around, then turned his full attention on Theodosia. “Have you talked to Peaches yet?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Haven’t seen her.”
“You put up a fairly convincing argument,” Max told Theodosia, in a low tone, “that Peaches might be involved in your friend’s murder.”
“Did I?” said Theodosia. She wasn’t sure she’d convinced Max of anything. Or, at the very least, she’d managed to reveal what was probably her overly suspicious nature. Which might or might not be a turn-on orturnoff.
Max picked up a tiny gold seafood fork and speared an oyster from Theodosia’s plate. As he popped it in his mouth, his eyes widened then focused on some point across the room. “There she is now,” he said.
Theodosia followed Max’s gaze across the vast dining room. Peaches Pafford had made her grand entrance, strolling through her dining room like the lady of the manor. Wearing afloor-length shimmering gold dress, Peaches projected the overall impression that she was garbed to look like some kind of award statue. The drapey dress fell to her ankles, where gold shoes peeped out from beneath the hem. Her ears were dripping with long gold earrings; chunky gold bangles clanked on both wrists. Even her hair, which always seemed to carry a pinkish luster, seemed to be threaded with streaks of gold.
“She looks like she’s been dipped in gold dust,” whispered Max.
Theodosia watched as the effusive Peaches greeted guests, blew air kisses, and administered hugs to a chosen few. Then Joe Beaudry emerged from the crowd and became the recipient of one of those hugs.
“Or maybe she’s the golden calf,” Theodosia remarked.
“Huh?” said Max.
“That’s Joe Beaudry,” Theodosia said, sounding both terse and tense. “The lawyer I was telling you about.”
Drayton leaned in to add his two cents. “The lawyer who brokered the deal between Shelby and Peaches. To buy Solstice.”
“Shelby,” said Max.
“The more recent girlfriend,” said Theodosia.
“Ah,” said Max. He sat back in his chair and a frown flickered across his face. For the first time, Max seemed to comprehend the fact that perhaps one of these players really was areal-life killer.
“I think,” said Theodosia, getting to her feet, “I’m going to wander over and get myself a couple of roasted oysters.”
“And do a little chitchatting as well?” asked Drayton.
“You never know,” said Theodosia.
“For gosh sakes, be careful,” warned Max.
But by the time Theodosia arrived at the oyster roast station, Peaches was nowhere in sight. And neither was Joe Beaudry.
She turned her attention to the chef. “You’re roasting them over oak?” she asked.
“Yup,” he told her. “Just for a couple of minutes. Then I cover ’em with damp burlap and move them off to the side so they can sort of stew in their own juices.” He paused. “How many would you like?”
“Four to start with,” said Theodosia.
The chef looked past her. “And you, sir?”
“A half dozen,” said Lyle Manship.
Theodosia took a step back in surprise. Manship was the last person she expected to see here!
Manship gazed at her and said, in a neutral tone, “Hello, Theodosia.”
“Are you still in town?” Theodosia asked. “When are you going back to Savannah?”
“That’s awfully rude,” Manship told her. “Where’s that fine Charleston hospitality?”
“Not here,” said Theodosia. She wondered briefly if the black truck parked outside belonged to him. She had a sudden and murderous urge to stab him in the middle of his chest with her index finger and scream, Are you the jackhole who ran me off the road yesterday? Who basically tried to kill me and my Aunt Libby? Then did you stalk us and purposely frighten the bees so they’d swarm and sting her?
But she didn’t say that. She kept her composure and cool. Because losing your head rarely advanced you from point A to point B. Hardly ever, anyway.
But there were more surprises in store for Theodosia that night. Returning from the roast oyster station, slipping between tables, Theodosia bumped into Detective Burt Tidwell.
Taken aback, all she could stammer out was a somewhat blunt, “What are you doing here?”
Tidwell looked both bemused and a little startled. “Excuse me,” he fired back, “why are you here?”
“I have an invitation,” said Theodosia. It was the only benign answer she could come up with at the moment.
“Certainly not from the illustrious Mrs. Pafford,” said Tidwell.
“No, we’re not that close.”
Tidwell clenched his jaw and adjusted his mouth into a stolid frown. “You realize, your being here puts you in a somewhat sticky situation.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” said Tidwell. “And I seriously hope you don’t think you’re here to conduct any sort of investigation.”
“No,” said Theodosia, “I wouldn’t do that.”
“Of course not,” said Tidwell. He knew she wasn’t being truthful, and Theodosia knew that he knew.
Theodosia gazed at Tidwell, trying to figure out his real mission. He was dressed in one of hisextra-large sport jackets, this one looking a little frayed at the elbows with a button hanging loose, and his tie was askew. Was Tidwell here to partake of the Oyster Fest? Was he someone’s grudging guest? Yes, of course Tidwell was here to eat. No matter where he went, Tidwell managed to eat. But Theodosia suspected there might be something else going on. Some other reason for hislarger-than-life presence. Not only were Tidwell’s eyes shining brightly, but he looked like he was fairly quivering on the balls of his feet. As much as someone his size could quiver. Jiggle, maybe?
“What’s going on?” she asked him. Her inner radar was pinging like crazy, telling her something big was about to happen. Had there been a break in the case? Was Tidwell close to making an arrest? Better yet, was he going to stage a very public takedown of Peaches Pafford? Arrest her for Parker’s murder?
“You’re way too suspicious for words,” Tidwell barked, then quickly slid past her.
“You bet I am,” said Theodosia.
28
“Were you able to talk to Peaches?” asked Max, when Theodosia returned to their table.
“No, I couldn’t find her,” said Theodosia.
“But you brought back roast oysters,” said Drayton, looking pleased. “Nice plump ones, from the looks of it.” Drayton really was an oyster fanatic.
“Help yourself,” said Theodosia.
“No, that’s okay,” said Drayton, waving a hand. “I’ll…well, perhaps just one.”
Max suddenly reached for Theodosia’s hand and gave a quick squeeze.
“Hmm?” she said.
“With a puff of smoke and a whiff of sulfur she materializes,” said Max.
“Who does?” said Theodosia.
“Delaine,” said Max, under his breath. “Theshe-devil. Ten paces and closing in.” Max had dated Delaine a couple of times, before he’d fallen hard for Theodosia and Delaine had gone gaga for Dougan Granville.
Theodosia glanced up, hoping there wouldn’t be any kind of rehashing of old alliances. Because you never knew with Delaine; the teeniest bit of stored hurt or resentment could fester and percolate, and then, just like that, be spit up. But tonight, in her sleek black cocktail dress, with her long hair wound up on top of her head in a Psyche knot, hanging on the arm of Dougan Granville, Delaine looked happier and more radiant than Theodosia had seen her in a long time. In fact, Delaine had a broad, practically simpering grin on her face. A grin that seemed to convey, I have a major announcement to make.
“Delaine,” said Theodosia, who was getting curiouser and curiouser by the moment, “what… ?”
Delaine thrust out her left hand, and Theodosia was suddenly dazzled by the brilliance of thefour-carat yellow diamond that blinged and blanged on her ring finger!
“Engaged!” whooped Delaine. “We did it! Isn’t it amazing! Isn’t it grand?”
There was a minor furor then, as everyone began talking and babbling at once, complimenting Delaine, and extending hearty congratulations to Dougan Granville.
Though Granville did his part to keep his game face on, Theodosia thought he looked like some poor animal who’d just been caught in a leg trap.
Max quickly summoned a waiter and had a bottle of Perrier-Jouet Champagne brought to their table.
“When’s the big day?” asked Drayton, as the waiter poured and everyone hoisted flutes of champagne.
“Soon, very soon!” promised Delaine, which prompted another round of glass clinking, well-wishes, and hearty congratulations. This time, people from the surrounding tables chimed in. After all, who doesn’t love an engagement? Or a wedding? Especially between two such flamboyant people.
When things began to quiet down, Delaine slipped around the table and knelt next to Theodosia. “This is all because of you!” she said in a loud whisper.
“This should be about you,” said Theodosia. “And Dougan, of course.”
Delaine held out her left hand and waggled her fingers, the better for the light to catch and bounce off her spectacular diamond. “Oh, he’ll go along with whatever.”
“Delaine,” said Theodosia, suddenly serious, “this has to be better than whatever. This is forever.”
“I know that,” said Delaine, but she still seemed enraptured by the diamond ring and the fact that Dougan had popped the question, if that was how it had really gone down. “What I truly want to know is, what does your calendar look like this coming July? Preferably on a nice Saturday morning?”
“You’re going to get married that soon?” said Theodosia. “That’s only atwo-month engagement.” Didn’t they need a little more think time? A little planning time? Maybe even somecooling-off time?
“Life is so short,” Delaine chortled. “So I want to grab all the gusto I can.”
“Delaine,” said Theodosia, gripping her friend’s hand, “this is reality, not a beer commercial.”
But Delaine was not to be dissuaded. “Theo,” she said, “I’m a big girl. A successful entrepreneur and a woman of the world. And I know precisely what I’m doing.”
“Then I’m incredibly happy for you,” said Theodosia.
“So what I wanted to ask you,” said Delaine, “was would you please be my maidof—”
“Hands up!” came a thunderous shout. A shout so loud and determined that it rattled the chandeliers, startled the waiters, and brought more than a few people leaping to their feet. Seconds later, three uniformed police officers charged through the crowd, guns drawn!
Women shrieked, men cried out in protest, but the officers swept between the tables with precise and careful choreography. Then, just as quickly as the din had risen, the noise level dropped to zero.
“What are you doing?” screamed a strangled male voice.
Theodosia popped out of her seat like a manic gopher, straining to see just what on earth was going on. And what she saw stunned her. Buddy Krebs, the seafood purveyor she’d met at Dougan Granville’s house, was being roughly spun around and patted down, just like a prime suspect on Law & Order.
Buddy Krebs? The seafood guy? What’s this about?
Following on the heels of that bizarre shocker, like a scene straight out of Eliot Ness and the Untouchables, Detective Burt Tidwell burst across the room with four more officers in tow. Only these officers were garbed in brown uniforms with badges and shoulder patches that identified them as officers of the SCDNR, the South Carolina Department of Natural Resources.
The four DNR guys, all with guns on their belts, hurriedly took over from the Charleston police. They grabbed Buddy Krebs, flung him hard against a wall, and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.
This drew more screams and a few cries of protest.
Then, like a foghorn cutting through the din, a shrill voice cried out, “Just what do you think you’re doing?” Then the crowd parted and Peaches Pafford came striding to the forefront, like aneighteenth-century warship under full sail.
“We’re here to serve a warrant,” said Tidwell, barely casting a glance her way.
But Peaches was not to be upstaged. “How dare you come storming into my restaurant right in the middle of animportant event!” She glanced at Krebs, who was nowspread-eagled and handcuffed, and let loose an audible gasp. “I demand you release my guest immediately!”
“He’s not your guest anymore, ma’am,” said one of the DNR officers. “He’s our prisoner.”
“This can’t be happening!” Peaches wailed. She spun around like a children’s top that had been wound too tight and sputtered at Tidwell, “Stop this! Stop all of it right now!”
This time, Tidwell didn’t bother to acknowledge her. “Read Mr. Krebs his rights,” he instructed the DNR officers.
One of the DNR men pulled a small, plasticized card from his back pocket and launched into a hurried mumble.
“But what…why?” Peaches squealed.
Tidwell sighed, then loudly announced to the room, “Illegal seafood operation.”
“What!” screamed Peaches. She reeled back as if Tidwell had socked her hard in the jaw. “Illegal…seafood?”
“Krebs has been trawling in the protected Cape Romain area,” said Tidwell. “He’s been under surveillance by the DNR for the past two and a half months.”
Peaches was still crazed. “That can’t be! Buddy Krebs is a respected seafood supplier. In fact, he’s my premier supplier!”
“Indeed,” said Tidwell. His beady eyes shifted toward her seafood bar, piled high with crab claws, shrimp, and oysters. Theodosia saw the wheels turning in Tidwell’s brain but wasn’t sure if his intent was to confiscate the purloined seafood or happily chow down on it.
Peaches suddenly saw where this might be leading and jumped to lodge a protest. “I hope you don’t think my oysters are illegal!” she blustered. “We only buy from reputable purveyors.”
“Of course you do,” Tidwell grunted.
The DNR officers started to lead Krebs out, but Peaches sprang in front of them, attempting to block their path.
This was the final straw for Tidwell.
“If you continue to obstruct the law,” said Tidwell, “we’ll arrest you as well. And haul each and every mollusk back to our lab for testing. To ascertain if, perhaps, your seafood did come from an area where harvesting is prohibited.”
“You don’t have to do that!” Peaches cried. “I…I can personally vouch for my seafood!”
A ripple of laughter traveled through the crowd. Now Peaches’s antics were almost amusing.
“She can personally vouch for her oysters,” Theodosia whispered to Drayton.
“Sure,” said Drayton, “but what about her clams? They could be contraband clams.”
“Do you believe this?” said Max. He was fascinated by the scene being played out in front of them.
“Buddy Krebs,” Theodosia murmured. “And he’s on the board of the Neptune Aquarium.” She turned to Drayton and whispered, “When I was at Dougan Granville’s house, Krebs gave me a big song and dance about responsibility and how he wanted to be a watchdog for our oceans.” She let loose a derisive snort. “What a crock.”
“The aquarium’s reputation is diminishing rapidly,” said Drayton. “First Parker’s death, then the questionable restaurant lease, and now one of their board members is under indictment.”
“Krebs isn’t under indictment yet,” Theodosia pointed out.
“But he will be,” said Drayton.
Theodosia suddenly grasped Drayton’s arm. “Oh, my gosh!” Her eyes flew open wide and she looked positively thunderstruck.
“What?” said Drayton.
“I think I just put two and two together!” said Theodosia.
“And you came up with… ?”
“Th
e night we were at the Hot Fish Clam Shack? When I took the photos?”
Drayton nodded, as Max listened intently.
“There was a fishing boat in the background. It must have belonged to Krebs! He must have thought the photos I took would get posted…”
“Which they were,” said Drayton.
“And that the DNR would be on to him!” said Theodosia. She put a hand to her mouth. “Oh, my gosh, Krebs knew I took the photos and that’s why he was after me. And Aunt Libby!”
“I think you may be right,” said Drayton, excitedly.
“Wow,” said Max.
The wheels continued to crank in Theodosia’s brain and she suddenly looked mournful. “And that had to be why Krebs killed Parker,” she said in a slightly strangled tone.
Max looked suddenly confused. “Wait a minute, now you’re saying your friend Parker was on to Krebs’s illegal operation?”
“He had to be,” said Theodosia. She sat stolidly for a few moments, then her hands flew up. “Oh, my gosh, I have to talk to Tidwell! Right now!” She stood up so fast, her chair almost flew over backward.
“Better hurry!” urged Drayton.
“Be careful!” Max called after her.
Theodosia caught Tidwell out in front of Aubergine. He was sprawled in the front seat of his burgundy Crown Victoria talking on his radio.
“What?” he rumbled, when she came stumbling up to him.
Theodosia stood on the street, letting her suspicions and conclusions tumble out in a glut of words and gestures.
Tidwell listened carefully and nodded a couple of times, seemingly, she thought, to encourage her brilliant conclusion that Buddy Krebs had murdered Parker Scully.
“And that’s Krebs’s black truck parked out back, right?” said Theodosia.
“Correct,” said Tidwell.
“Well, I think he chased me yesterday. Tried to run me off the road!”