by Laura Childs
“What are you going to do now?” Theodosia asked.
“For one thing we’ve got a BOLO out,” Riley said.
“A BOLO . . .”
“Be on the lookout for.”
“That’s just peachy for Reggie’s car, but what about Reggie himself?”
“I’m not discounting your theory,” Riley said. “Huston might be your man. But the fact remains, we don’t have any hard evidence against him.”
“You need evidence,” Theodosia said slowly.
“Yes. Of course we do.”
“You can’t just go cowboying over to his house and arrest him. Throw a noose over a tree limb.” She was still livid over Drayton being attacked.
“Good heavens, no. Theodosia, you scare me sometimes.”
“Drayton thought the car that hit him might have also clipped a lamppost. Maybe if you sent your crime scene guys over there, you’d find some paint scrapes. Something that would definitively connect Reggie’s Porsche to the scene of the crime.”
“Then I’ll go ahead and make that call.”
“Good. Thank you.”
“But Theodosia . . .”
She didn’t say anything.
“From now on, I want you to stay out of this investigation. Like way out. As in twenty miles from ground zero.”
“Sure, Detective Riley,” she said in her nicey-nice voice. “That won’t be a problem.” But what she really meant was, Sorry, pal. Fat chance of that. Now I’m pulling out all the stops.
26
Theodosia was haunted by strange dreams all night long. Reggie Huston roaring around Charleston in his red sports car, chewing up the road. And just when she thought she’d chased him down, he tore around a curve and disappeared out of sight. Then her dream morphed into Drayton being hit and flung to the side of the road, where he lay limp like a rag doll. Then a parade of ugly caskets flashed before her eyes.
Shaking her head vigorously, Theodosia set down her teapot. No, she told herself. This dream flashback has got to stop right now. I’m here at the Indigo Tea Shop on a Saturday morning and everything is perfectly fine. Well, maybe not perfectly fine. But at least we’re all here and functioning. At least Haley and I am. Poor Drayton is limping around like crazy.
Theodosia watched Drayton measure out two scoops of English breakfast tea and said, “Why on earth did you come in today?”
“I’m just here for the morning,” Drayton said. “Then I plan to go home and take it easy.”
“Why not take it easy now?”
“Theodosia, you worry too much.”
“And sometimes you don’t worry enough.”
Haley strolled out of the kitchen with a plate of coconut scones. “How are you feeling, Drayton?” Her voice was filled with compassion and she looked more than a little worried. “Theo said you got roughed up pretty bad last night.”
“Nonsense,” Drayton said. “I’m fine. Don’t I look fine?”
“Not really,” Haley said. “You look kind of stiff and creaky. Maybe I should give you a hand out here. Help you reach those tea tins and stuff.”
Drayton pursed his lips. “Thank you, but I don’t need any help.”
“Then how come you’re limping?” Haley asked. “Every time you move, you kind of drag your left foot behind you all gimpy like.”
“Not dragging,” Drayton said. “Merely favoring. There’s a difference, you know.” He took two steps from the counter to his wall of tea tins. Theodosia and Haley watched him carefully. Stump, drag, stump, drag.
“Did the ER doc at least give you some good drugs?” Haley asked. “Some painkillers?”
“My injury doesn’t require pain pills,” Drayton said. “Only the right blend of soothing tea.”
“And what might that be?” Haley asked. “Black tea with a hit of cannabis?”
“If you must know,” Drayton said, “I blended black tea with some rose hips and valerian root. It makes for a very effective anti-inflammatory. Good for muscle strains and sprains.”
Haley didn’t look convinced. “If you say so. You ask me, I like to knock back my pain the old-fashioned way.”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Drayton said.
“Kidding,” Haley said. “I’m kidding. You have to take care of yourself, Drayton. You shouldn’t be hobbling around here aggravating your injuries.”
“I’ll take it easy,” Drayton said. “Besides, we’re only open until one o’clock.”
“I could call Miss Dimple and have her come in,” Theodosia offered.
“Good idea,” Haley said. “Then Drayton can go home and take a load off.”
“No need,” Drayton said. “Besides, the old dear easily has twenty years on me. And look, I’m getting around just fine. I’m not that fragile.”
But from the way Drayton was hobbling, it looked like he was in pain.
Thank goodness the tea shop wasn’t all that busy. By late morning they were still only half-full, and Theodosia had taken it upon herself to keep Drayton behind the counter, where he could perch on a stool that Haley had dragged down from her upstairs apartment.
“This is better for you, huh?” Theodosia asked.
“You’re babying me,” Drayton said. “No need.”
“But you’ve been surreptitiously watching the clock. So you must be thinking of going home to rest.”
“I can’t say it hasn’t crossed my mind,” Drayton finally admitted. “But I’m here now so I’m going to stick with it.”
“If it kills you,” Theodosia said under her breath.
Drayton glanced up sharply. “I heard that.”
Theodosia did double duty, pouring tea, clearing tables, serving up buttermilk scones, shrimp gumbo, and roasted red pepper and Brie cheese tea sandwiches. Luckily, they weren’t crazy-busy.
When one o’clock finally rolled around (none too soon for Theodosia), Haley volunteered to stay behind and close up shop. Theodosia wasn’t about to let Drayton walk home by himself and told him so in no uncertain terms.
“I’m fine,” Drayton said. “I’ve got a couple of things to finish up.”
“But you need to go home,” Theodosia said. “Like now. Come on, I’ll drop you off and then head over to Gilded Magnolia Spa. Take them the tea you picked out for their grand opening party tonight.” Drayton had selected four bags of what he called his proprietary ginger-orange tea. It was a rich Chinese black tea blended with dried ginger and bits of orange peel.
“Can’t you drop off the tea and then swing back to pick me up?” Drayton asked.
“Drayton . . . I . . . yes, I suppose.” There was no sense in arguing with him. The man was as bullheaded as . . . she wasn’t sure. Probably a hardheaded Southern gent.
“Thank you,” Drayton said.
• • •
The day was gorgeous, a cornflower blue sky with a big bold sun lasering down, threatening to warm everything up into the middle sixties. And Theodosia, invigorated by the weather, charmed by the magnolia blooms that were twining everywhere, was lulled into a rather excellent mood as she drove along.
Until she pulled into the parking lot at Gilded Magnolia Spa, that is. Then she almost couldn’t believe her eyes.
A shiny red Porsche was sitting front and center in the lot.
Big Reggie’s car!
But how could that be? Theodosia wondered. Big Reggie’s car had been stolen yesterday.
Unless the car thief had a change of heart and returned it?
Or maybe Reggie’s car hadn’t really been missing after all?
Whatever the reason, Theodosia jumped out of her Jeep and ran over to inspect the Porsche. And just as she’d feared, there was a good-sized dent in the right-front fender!
This is it, she thought. This is the proof that Detective Riley needs in order to arrest Reggi
e Huston. Here it is in black and white. Or at least in shiny bright factory red paint.
Theodosia’s hands were shaking as she dialed Detective Riley’s number. When he came on the line she didn’t waste a single moment.
“Guess what?” she cried. “Reggie Huston’s car isn’t missing at all. It’s sitting right here in the parking lot at Gilded Magnolia Spa.”
“What!” Detective Riley sounded like a startled crow. “Are you sure it’s Reggie Huston’s car?”
“I’m standing right here staring at it. The car also has an enormous dent in the right-front fender. Probably from when that jackhole Reggie tried to run Drayton down last night.” Theodosia was fighting to keep her cool. To not sound too overwrought. And to not come across as gloating, either, even though she figured that Reggie had orchestrated this mess all along.
“Do you think Reggie Huston is at the spa now?” Riley asked her. “In his office?”
“Probably.” Theodosia swallowed hard. “You’re going to come over here, right? I mean, like, right now? You’re going to question Reggie Huston and maybe even bring a search warrant?”
“I can’t make any promises,” Detective Riley said. “But I’m definitely coming over there and I’m bringing a squad with me just in case. Now, Theodosia, please listen to me. I want you to be very careful, okay? Don’t go inside where Reggie is liable to see you. Stay outside.”
“I’m going to sit right here in the parking lot,” Theodosia said. “And I’m not taking my eyes off his stupid car!”
• • •
Theodosia disconnected and stood there for a few moments, fidgeting like crazy. Then she decided she really should take Riley’s advice and get out of sight. So she jumped in her Jeep and backed it clear across the parking lot until she was partially hidden by a large brown Dumpster. She turned off the ignition and sat there, listening to the engine tick down, feeling her heart go flip-flop inside her chest. Watching Reggie’s car.
Reggie’s stupid little murder car.
When Theodosia thought about how Reggie had swerved directly onto the sidewalk and slammed into Drayton . . . tears oozed from her eyes. Then she dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands until she could see pale crescents.
Probably . . . no, not probably, more like definitely . . . Reggie Huston had been the one who’d come after her and Earl Grey the night before.
What a despicable man! She was going to enjoy seeing him taken down. Hopefully taken into custody.
Detective Pete Riley showed up some forty minutes later. He came in his dark-blue unobtrusive-looking Buick accompanied by two black-and-white cruisers, each containing two uniformed officers. Both police cars immediately tucked in tight behind the Porsche, effectively blocking it from leaving.
Theodosia jumped out of her car and ran across the parking lot to meet up with Riley.
“Thank goodness you’re here,” she called out.
Riley turned, saw her running toward him, and waved a piece of paper in the air.
“Is that what I think it is?” Theodosia asked.
“Search warrant,” Riley said. “It allows us to take an actual paint sample from Huston’s Porsche and match it against the scrapes we found on the lamppost. It also gives us permission to look inside his car as well as inspect his office and domicile.”
“That is so excellent,” Theodosia said. “But what about . . . ?”
“Reggie Huston himself? We’re going to take him downtown for questioning.”
“When?”
“Right now.” Riley turned to one pair of cops and said, “You guys go ahead and take this car apart. Use a crowbar if you have to.” Then he turned to the other set of officers. “You officers have the pleasure of coming with me.”
Detective Riley marched into the spa, flanked by the two officers in uniform. They whipped past the startled-looking woman at the reception desk and headed straight for Reggie’s office. Theodosia trailed the trio, anxious to see how this confrontation would play out.
Not very well, it turned out.
Sally, Reggie Huston’s secretary, saw them bearing down on Reggie’s office and stood up to try and block them.
“You can’t go in there,” Sally cried. She came around her desk, looking a little discombobulated, a lot frightened. “Mr. Huston’s on an important phone call and gave strict orders not to be disturbed.”
Detective Riley held out a hand to fend her off. “Police business,” he said. “He can hang up and call back.”
At that exact same moment, Reggie Huston threw open his office door. He stopped abruptly in his doorway and gazed at the huddle of people. Then, when he recognized Detective Riley standing there, he said, with a halfway grin on his face, “Police, huh? I bet you guys found my car.”
“I’m afraid we did,” Riley said. The two officers crowded up behind him along with Theodosia.
Reggie’s face immediately scrunched up with worry. “Oh jeez, don’t tell me it’s been totaled.”
“Nothing quite that drastic,” Theodosia said. “Since it’s sitting right outside in the parking lot.”
“What?” Reggie gave them all an incredulous look. “Wait a minute. Are you telling me the car thief brought it back?”
“If it was ever stolen in the first place,” Theodosia said.
Reggie cocked his head and glared at her. “What are you talking about? Better yet, why are you even involved in this?” He waved a hand dismissively. “Get out of here. This is between me and the cops.”
“That’s a real smart observation,” Theodosia said. “Since Detective Riley has something special for you.”
Now Reggie was really confused. “Say, what’s going on here? Did Dickie Duncan over at Pokey’s Bar put you up to this? Because if he did, it’s not very funny.”
Detective Riley showed Reggie the search warrant.
Reggie’s eyes practically popped out of his head. “Search warrant!” he screamed. “Are you serious? What are you looking for? Just tell me and I’ll try to point you in the right direction.”
“Let’s start with your financial records,” Theodosia said.
Reggie looked ever more puzzled. “What are you talking about?”
“You’ve been skimming money from the business,” Theodosia said. “Living the high life. I’m guessing that Beau probably caught you with your hand in the cookie jar.”
“And that’s why you killed him,” Riley said.
Reggie took a step backward. “Are you crazy? I didn’t kill Beau Briggs. He was my business partner, for crying out loud.”
“Detective Riley?” someone called out.
They all turned. The two officers who’d been tasked with going through Reggie’s car were standing there, looking serious.
“We found something,” one of the officers said. His name tag read CHAPMAN.
“What is it?” Riley asked.
Chapman held up a small brown vial, the kind you’d get from a pharmacy. Only there was no label and it contained a small amount of white powder.
“Very nice,” Riley said. “Drugs?”
“Could be, sir,” Chapman said.
“That’s ridiculous,” Reggie snorted. “That . . . that . . . whatever that crap is, it had to have been planted. My car was stolen, for cripes’ sake. I reported it missing.”
“So you say,” Theodosia said. “Besides, I don’t think it’s drugs. I think it’s some form of poison.”
“Holy smokes,” one of the officers muttered.
“Poison?” Reggie cried. He gave Detective Riley a sick smile. “Don’t you see what’s going on here? This is a setup, plain and simple. Some nutjob is trying to make me look like a crazed killer. And it’s probably . . . probably the real killer.”
“You’re the killer,” Theodosia said. “You’re a dangerous predator who killed Beau Briggs and Marcus
Covey.”
Reggie Huston looked like somebody had just tossed a bucket of ice cubes in his face. “What are you talking about? And who the Sam Hill is Marcus Covey?”
“The man you murdered,” Theodosia said. “The server from the rat tea.”
“Are you people insane?” Reggie’s voice rose up in a ragged squawk. “Are you making this up as you go along or are you following some kind of ridiculous script?”
“Not when the evidence points to cold-blooded murder,” Detective Riley said.
Big Reggie started bellowing like an angry bull. “Are you serious? You can’t do this to me!” He whipped his head back and forth, his eyes finally landing on Sally, his secretary. “Sally, don’t just stand there like a statue, get on the horn and call my lawyer . . . call Eddie Banister. Tell him to get his ridiculously high-priced butt over here.”
Riley shook his head at Sally. “Not here. We’re leaving, and your boss is coming with us. Any lawyer Mr. Huston retains can meet us at the police station.”
The two officers who’d come in with Riley whipped out a pair of handcuffs and put them on Reggie.
“Sally, at least tell Banister what’s going on,” Reggie shouted back to her as he was led away. “Tell him I’m being royally framed!”
“I will, I will,” Sally called after him. “But what about the grand opening party tonight? What are we supposed to do about that?”
But Reggie was already out the door. Followed by Detective Riley and the two other officers. Theodosia watched their departure with a good deal of satisfaction.
“Is Mr. Huston really under arrest?” Sally asked. She was quaking like a Chihuahua that had been kicked outside in a snowstorm.
“I don’t think those handcuffs are exactly party favors,” Theodosia said.
“What did Mr. Huston do, anyway? I mean . . . yes, he’s loud and abrasive. And he’s always screaming orders at people. But what did he actually do?”
“For starters, he has two first-degree murder charges hanging over his head.”
Sally looked stunned. “Murder? Big Reggie?”
“Along with a couple of assault charges. Vehicular hit-and-run, to be exact.”