by Laura Childs
Still, last night’s efforts had certainly paid off. The shop, always glamorous and stuffed with glitzy clothing and accessories, was now a total fantasy.
Racks of denim jackets, skirts, and slacks were jammed next to soft sea island cotton dresses and diaphanous beach cover-ups. A circular rack held long ball gowns and filmy silk wraps to match. Antique highboys spilled out offerings of jeweled belts, strappy sandals, hand-painted silk scarves, bangle bracelets, and beaded handbags.
“Do you love it?” Bettina asked.
Theodosia turned to find Bettina dressed adorably in a tight white T-shirt and a pair of hip-hugging blue jeans. There was a three-inch strip of bare skin between the hem of the T-shirt and the waist of the jeans, but on Bettina it looked cute.
“I do love it,” Theodosia said. “Janine was just telling me how hard you guys worked to get all the clothes steamed and onto the racks.”
“Like rented mules!” Bettina practically screamed. “But we got it done. Cool, huh?”
“Very cool.”
Bettina gave Theodosia a quick hug and then she was off. Probably to make a few women jealous with that fabulous little twenty-something figure of hers.
“Theodosia!” Delaine Dish called out loudly and with authority. Then she came careening over on five-inch-high Manolos, a manic grin pasted on her face. “Many thanks for bringing those delightful little noshes. My guests are loving them.”
“You’re welcome,” Theodosia said. She gazed at Delaine, who wore a full-length denim evening gown ruffled at the hem and about a hundred carats’ worth of diamonds. Diamonds glittered from Delaine’s ears, from almost every finger, and from deep in the soft cleft of her cleavage.
“Let me show you something fabulous!” Delaine trilled. She grabbed a denim blouse and dangled it in front of Theodosia. “You see this? It’s shredded denim, the very latest.”
Theodosia thought it looked as if Dominic and Domino, Delaine’s Siamese cats, had clawed it. “Nice,” she said.
“Strategically shredded, of course,” Delaine said as she grabbed a pair of super skinny jeans. “And I’m positively gaga over this new ombre denim.”
Theodosia peered at the faded and mottled blue jeans. “Ombre denim kind of reminds me of stonewashed denim.”
Delaine put a finger up to her mouth to shush her. “Essentially, yes. But stonewashed sounds so horribly down-market and old-fashioned, while ombre is trendy and fun. Far more appealing to my millennial customers.”
“Of course it is,” Theodosia said. She studied the racks of denim jeans, jackets, skirts, short shorts, and long gowns and decided they were for the woman who had everything. After all, who wanted to slip into an old-fashioned chiffon ball gown when you could wear ombre denim?
“Have you had a chance to check out our various diamond displays?” Delaine asked. “I invited Brooke from Hearts Desire and Lynnette from Troubadour Diamonds to bring along their bestest, sparkliest baubles today.”
“I’m going to do that right now,” Theodosia said.
She glanced Brooke’s way and saw she was busy with three women all vying for her attention. So she turned to Lynnette, who was busy laying out a half dozen diamond tennis bracelets on a blue velvet pillow.
“See something you like?” Lynnette asked. She was tall, dark haired, and slender in a black skirt suit. Her shop, Troubadour Diamonds over on King Street, specialized in super high-end pieces. In other words, diamonds to drool over.
“I love it all,” Theodosia said.
Lynnette smiled. “Of course you do. All women do.”
“I was wondering, do you ever carry colored diamonds?” Theodosia asked.
“I have maybe three or four pieces in stock right now,” Lynnette said. “But they’re getting hard to find. And prices keep climbing.”
“I can imagine,” Theodosia said.
“The real rarities, of course, are the blue and red diamonds, with red being extremely rare. The blue diamonds we see are mostly from the old Cullinan Mine in South Africa, now owned by Petra Diamonds.”
“And what about yellow diamonds?” Theodosia asked. She was thinking about Willow’s Hibiscus Diamonds. Who carried them, what might they be worth.
“Yellow diamonds are also somewhat rare,” Lynnette said. “You know, that yellow color is caused by small amounts of nitrogen contained within the diamond’s crystal structure. So they’re only found in certain parts of the world.”
“Interesting,” Theodosia said.
She glanced at the price tag attached to one of Lynnette’s tennis bracelets—nine thousand dollars—and decided it was a little out of her price range. Actually, more than a little.
“Just out of curiosity, a pair of flawless yellow diamond earrings, five carats total . . . what would they normally sell for?” Theodosia asked.
“Retail?” Lynette said. “Probably around seventy or eighty thousand dollars.”
“And if there was a matching pendant?”
“Oh, you’re talking about an entire suite? Then the price would be considerably higher. Well over a hundred thousand dollars.”
“Wow,” Theodosia breathed as a jingle inside her purse suddenly interrupted their conversation. Her phone. “Excuse me,” Theodosia said. She wandered off and stood beside a rack of denim skinny jeans. “Hello?”
“Miss Theodosia?” It was a man’s voice. Whispery and young.
“Yes?” Theodosia noticed that a few pairs of jeans had feathers sewn around the cuffs.
“This is Henry Curtis,” the voice whispered in her ear.
“Henry,” Theodosia said, suddenly jolted to full alert. “Where have you been? I’ve been trying to get hold of you.”
“Good, because I need to talk to you!” Henry sounded harried. Maybe even a little bit scared.
“Henry, are you okay?”
“I’ve put some pieces together . . .”
“Wait, you mean concerning Willow?” Theodosia asked.
“Yes, and I have a pretty fair idea . . .”
“An idea about what? About who killed her?” Theodosia asked.
From across the room, Delaine looked over at Theodosia and frowned.
“Henry, what are you saying? Talk to me,” Theodosia urged. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“Not over the phone. We need to meet in person.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“I’m supposed to go to the Ghosts and Goblins Parade tonight,” Theodosia said.
“Afterward, then?” Now Henry sounded even more jittery.
“You’re being awfully mysterious,” Theodosia said.
Then she wondered . . . if Henry was the killer, meeting him could be some sort of setup or trap. Still, he sounded awfully anxious, as if he’d made some kind of connection or stumbled onto some important information.
“Okay, Henry,” Theodosia said. “Give me your address. I’ll see what I can do.”
Theodosia hung up her phone just as Delaine walked over and handed her a flute of champagne.
“A toast,” Delaine said. She pushed back a hunk of dark hair to reveal a shimmer of diamonds at her ears.
“To your very successful Denim and Diamonds,” Theodosia said, clinking glasses with her.
“Hopefully,” Delaine said as she took a quick sip. “They may be buying like crazy now, but will this good luck carry over into my Christmas season?”
“Christmas,” Theodosia said. She was already planning her Victorian Christmas Tea Party. So many guests had expressed interest that she’d had to move it from the Indigo Tea Shop to a much larger venue.
“My sister might come for Christmas,” Delaine said suddenly, her eyes glittering. “So it should be an exciting time. I haven’t seen Nadine in almost two years.”
“How’s she doing?” Theodosia asked.
&
nbsp; “Oh, pretty good.”
The last time Nadine had been in town, she’d shoplifted her merry way down Church Street. The result—yes, she’d been caught—had not been pretty. Delaine had shed hot tears of embarrassment, and Nadine had been arrested and barely escaped going to jail. There was no telling what Nadine was up to now. For all Theodosia knew, Nadine could be heading up a ring of international art thieves. For Delaine’s sake, she hoped not.
* * *
* * *
“There you are,” Drayton said when Theodosia strolled into the Indigo Tea Shop. “It’s almost six and we’ve barely enough time to gulp down a few bites of dinner before the parade starts.”
“We’re having dinner?” Theodosia asked. First she’d heard.
“Well, not technically dinner. I brewed a spot of Nilgiri tea and set out some tea sandwiches and the last of the scones that I pretty much had to hide from Detective Tidwell’s prying eyes.” Drayton gestured toward a table that he’d set up for them. “I figured we’d want to eat light so we could enjoy a goody from one of the various food trucks.”
Theodosia sat down at the table.
“This is nice.”
“Isn’t it?” Drayton said. “I probably shouldn’t admit this, but I kind of like the tea shop when the workday is finished and it’s just us two.”
Only a few lights shone in the dimly lit tea shop, and Drayton had placed three cream-colored candles in the center of the table. The dancing flames gave the tea shop a warm, golden glow.
Drayton set a steaming teapot down on a trivet, then seated himself across from Theodosia.
“We haven’t had a chance to hash over Tidwell’s announcement,” he said. “You had to flutter off to Delaine’s soiree.”
“You mean about Allan Barnaby having such an ironclad alibi?” Theodosia asked.
Drayton nodded. “I’m guessing that by now you’ve thought about this and pared down your suspect list accordingly.”
Theodosia spread currant jam on her scone and said, “I do have my favorites.”
“Vardell still being the front-runner?” Drayton asked.
“Has to be. Just because he’s such a bold-faced liar and because I’m fairly certain Willow broke off her wedding with him.”
Drayton nibbled a bite of scone. “You think he killed Willow for the diamonds? And because he’d inherit the house she purchased?”
“It’s possible.”
“But not a one hundred percent probability.”
“Not yet,” Theodosia said. “I also suspect Ellis Bouchard because he’s in such dire financial straits.”
Drayton picked up a chicken salad tea sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. “Plus he’s a prickly character.”
Theodosia sighed. “Still . . . nothing’s for certain.” She felt bad that she wasn’t making the progress she’d hoped for. Yes, she had two good suspects, but still no verified absolute-concrete evidence. Nothing she could slap down hard on Tidwell’s desk and say, Here, you go. Here’s your proof!
Drayton saw Theodosia’s uncertainty and hastened to change the subject.
“How was Delaine’s event?” he asked. “She pull a good crowd? Café society and all that?”
“It was typical Delaine. Hectic and a little crazed, with women snatching denim jeans and jackets out of one another’s hands like they were spun gold. But I’m guessing when all the receipts are counted it was a huge success.”
“How about the diamond part?” Drayton asked.
“I saw several well-heeled women handing over American Express Black cards,” Theodosia said.
Drayton nodded. “Like I always say, plenty of money in this town. Old money, the very best kind.”
“But that’s not the really big news.”
“Pray tell what is?”
“Henry Curtis called me.”
Drayton looked surprised. “Ah, the missing Mr. Curtis with the green-painted face. The one who’s also earned a spot on your suspect list. And he called you . . . why?”
“He says he has something to tell me. Something important.”
“Do you think it is? Important, I mean?”
“I don’t know,” Theodosia said. “I couldn’t quite get a feel for what was buzzing in Henry’s mind. Though I have to admit, he sounded nervous.”
28
Pint-size trick-or-treaters raced down Church Street, their ghost and witch costumes flapping in the breeze, plastic treat bags rattling at their sides. Adults ghosted by in costumes as well, anxious to see the parade then head off to the various zombie crawls and haunted pub crawls that were taking place directly afterward.
And right on cue, a full moon emerged from behind mauve-colored clouds to shine its ghostly glimmer on the Ghosts and Goblins Parade.
Theodosia and Drayton strolled down Church Street to Elliott and took up their post on the corner. A covey of five food trucks was already parked nearby, their heavenly aromas tantalizing the crowd that ebbed and flowed around them.
“What do you think?” Drayton asked. He was practically sniffing the air. “What should we sample first?”
Theodosia gazed at the brightly painted food trucks. Their offerings included gourmet burgers, Carolina barbecue, fried shrimp po’boys, fried sweet plantains, bulgogi beef tacos, and lobster rolls.
“I think maybe . . . a lobster roll,” Theodosia said.
“That makes two of us,” Drayton said. “Hold my spot and I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
As Theodosia stood on the curb, an amazing parade of costumed revelers streamed past her. There was a Medusa woman with plastic snakes writhing in her hair, a cadre of witches, some Venetian lords and ladies, even a French cancan girl in a va-va-voom ruffled skirt.
“Here you go,” Drayton said, handing Theodosia a giant lobster roll. “Some nice knuckle and claw meat dripping with butter and served on grilled brioche.”
Theodosia took a bite. “Yum.” It was delicious. Sweet and definitely buttery.
“Did I miss anything?” Drayton asked.
“Just a bunch of people in crazy costumes. The actual parade hasn’t started yet.”
“Maybe we should have brought Earl Grey and Honey Bee along,” Drayton said. “They might have enjoyed this.” Honey Bee was Drayton’s sweet little Cavalier King Charles Spaniel.
Theodosia shook her head. “Halloween is one of those holidays, like Fourth of July, that dogs pretty much hate. Too many masks, flapping costumes, and ringing doorbells. They usually just want to hide until it all goes away.” She took another bite of her lobster roll. “Although there is a dog costume contest tomorrow night. Not that Earl Grey wants any part of it.”
There was a thunderous pounding of drums off in the distance, and then a loud cry rose up from down the block.
“I think something’s happening,” Drayton said.
“The parade’s starting!” Theodosia was excited. Although the Ghosts and Goblins Parade had been going on for several years, this was the first time she’d attended. She stood on tiptoes now and watched as the first contingent rolled down the street. There were flickering dots of light—maybe torches?—and patches of lavender and blue. The marchers looked like a moving pointillist painting as they moved toward them.
“A torchlight parade,” Drayton said, sounding pleased as the marchers swept past them.
Those marchers were followed by giant puppets, an entire ensemble of zombie drummers, and a dozen people all gently wafting giant butterfly wings.
“Look at those gossamer wings,” Theodosia said. The ten-foot-long wings flowed and billowed in the night breeze almost in slow motion, the bright colors looking lovely and shimmery.
Drayton smiled. “Maybe we should hold a butterfly tea sometime. Do it outdoors and hire these costumed folks to waft about.”
“It sounds crazy but I love it,” Theodosia said.
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They watched as parade floats, marching bands, and giant skeleton puppets passed by them.
Twenty minutes later, it was all over. Except for the crush of people and two more food trucks that had just pulled in. The evening was still young, after all.
“That one’s selling wine,” Drayton said, indicating the new truck. It was painted purple with images of tipsy wineglasses stenciled across it. “Care for a glass?”
“You don’t have to twist my arm,” Theodosia said.
Together they strolled over to the truck and got in line. And ended up running into Elisha Summers from the Heritage Society.
After exchanging greetings, Drayton said, “How’s Claire doing? We understand her mother is ill.”
“Yeah, Claire’s decided to take some time off from work,” Elisha said.
“Really,” Drayton said. “It must be serious.”
“I think Claire’s taking things day by day,” Elisha said.
Theodosia suddenly remembered glancing through Claire’s personnel file. And finding that slight discrepancy.
“Elisha, Claire’s been here for about three months, right?” Theodosia asked.
Elisha looked thoughtful. “Something like that, I guess.”
“Do you remember where Claire worked before she came to the Heritage Society?”
“Mmn, I’m not really sure. Though I’m pretty sure she mentioned it once,” Elisha said.
“Try to remember, will you?” Theodosia said. “It’s kind of important.”
Elisha squeezed her eyes half-shut, as if in deep concentration. Then they popped open. “Okay, don’t quote me on this, but I think it might have been someplace in the Midwest.”
“Not the Norton Simon Museum in Pasadena?” Theodosia said.
Elisha shook her head. “Not that I know of.”
“For some reason I thought Claire worked at the Norton Simon,” Theodosia said.
“That sticks in my mind, too,” Drayton said.
“Well, maybe she did at one time,” Elisha said. “I don’t really know. I just wish Claire didn’t have to take her furlough without pay. Because I know she really needs the money.”