by Laura Childs
And there, at the far side of the room, with her back pressed up against the French doors, was Opal Anne.
Theodosia fought to push her way through the room, but it was jammed tight with people. Lubricated by more than a few glasses of champagne, they seemed oblivious to her efforts to brush past them.
Without hesitating, Theodosia stepped onto the vinyl runway and headed in the direction of the far wall. And Opal Anne.
The young woman who was walking the runway just ahead of her turned, and with a toss of her long dark hair, said, “Hey, you’re not supposed to be here. Models only.”
“Change of program,” Theodosia said. She elbowed her way around the girl and then jumped in front of a curly-haired blond who was wearing a tiger-striped leotard and carrying a neon-pink exercise noodle as a prop. “Excuse me,” she said.
“What?” said the girl, dipping aside.
Theodosia set her jaw and kept moving fast. Her bag of hot stones banged against her leg. The thwack of her flip-flops could barely be heard above the wall of sound that enveloped everyone.
When Theodosia was twenty feet from Opal Anne, she yelled out, “Opal Anne!”
Opal Anne, who’d been focused on the runway models, heard her name being called and glanced around, looking mildly curious.
“Opal Anne!” Theodosia called again, much louder. She was closing in on her.
Opal Anne surveyed the crowd again, this time finally homing in on exactly who was shouting her name. Then her gazed landed directly on Theodosia and her eyes widened.
Even at a distance of fifteen feet, Theodosia could see Opal Anne’s involuntary twitch.
Theodosia powered ahead faster, pushing her way past the models. She ducked around a woman in a purple jumpsuit, shoved a girl in denim leggings completely off the runway.
But when she reached the French doors, one of the doors stood partially ajar and Opal Anne had disappeared into the darkness.
But not for long!
Slipping outside, finding herself on the patio that led to the outdoor pool, Theodosia could make out a shadowy figure running away from her.
“Opal Anne!” Theodosia called out.
The figure ran along the full length of the pool and slid to a stop at another set of doors. She tried to tug them open but they were locked tight.
Theodosia was about to dart ahead when someone grabbed her by the arm. She jerked, twisted about, and found herself staring at Bill Glass.
“What’s going on?” Glass asked her. He wore his same photojournalist vest, but this time he’d added a pair of camo pants. Nice touch.
“Would you like a juicy story?” Theodosia asked him.
“Always,” Glass said. He wasn’t stupid, just rude.
“Then follow me.”
Theodosia sprinted down the length of the pool, past blazing tiki torches, jumping over a wicker lounge chair in the bargain. “Opal Anne!” she yelled out again.
Opal Anne, now in a blind panic, was still rattling the handle of the locked door. Probably hoping for some kind of miracle.
The heavens did not smile down upon her.
As Theodosia closed the distance, she dug her right hand into her bag of hot stones. She grabbed one, angled it just right, and let it fly.
Crash!
She didn’t hit Opal Anne but her tiny missile smashed a hole in the glass door that Opal Anne was struggling with.
“Why’d you do it?” Theodosia called out. She grabbed another rock and let it fly.
Smack.
This time the rock hit the doorjamb and bounced off.
Opal Anne turned and shrank back against the door, as if hoping to find protection.
“I didn’t,” she cried out. But her face was crumpled in fear and her pupils had contracted. Theodosia took this as a sure sign she was lying.
“Of course you did,” Theodosia said.
She chucked another stone, a larger stone. This one smacked hard against a metal planter, knocking it over completely.
Clang.
Dirt and green plants spilled out onto the slippery patio stones.
“Stop it!” Opal Anne cried. “It’s not what you think.”
“How do you know what I think?” Theodosia called out. She dug deep into her bag and found a smaller rock. She winged it sideways at the girl, striking her in the hip. She was a modern-day David going after her Goliath.
“Ouch! You hit me!” Opal Anne cried out.
“Are you ready to talk yet?”
Opal Anne had had enough. Her eyes blazed, her hands bunched into rock-hard fists, and her mouth twisted into an angry grimace. “Leave me alone before I call security,” she screamed.
“Go ahead. Call them,” Theodosia said. “It’ll save me the trouble.”
Opal Anne’s eyes darted sideways toward Theodosia, as if intending to rush at her and make a break for it. Then she noticed Bill Glass standing right behind Theodosia.
“No, you don’t,” Theodosia said, moving a step forward.
Like a terrified rabbit desperately trying to escape a fox, Opal Anne leapt to her left. Hoping to make it around the far side of the pool, she took three giant strides, almost making a clean getaway. Except for the fact that her left foot got tripped up on the fallen planter. She started to fall, stumbled and caught herself, and hung there midflight for a few moments. Waving her arms in a frantic swoosh, she fought to regain her balance. It didn’t work. Instead, she crashed to her knees.
“Ouch,” said Glass, watching her.
Down on the ground, scrambling in desperation, Opal Anne fumbled and struggled and completely miscalculated. One leg churned uselessly in the loose dirt and slippery plants. When she finally pushed herself up on one arm and tried to regain her footing, she wobbled awkwardly. Then, screeching like a scalded cat, she lost her balance and fell sideways. A split second later she tumbled headlong into the pool.
Down she plunged like an anchor on a chain. She hit bottom, hovered like a startled starfish for a few moments, and then kicked her way to the surface. The water churned and bubbled as Opal Anne, caught in the grip of panic, gasped for breath.
“Help!” Opal Anne cried out. Her voice gurgled hoarsely and then rose in a high-pitched, bloodcurdling scream. “I’m in the deep end!”
“You certainly are,” Theodosia called out to her. Opal Anne was dog-paddling like crazy now, going around in circles like a boat with a broken rudder.
“Holy Christmas!” Bill Glass gasped as he lifted his camera. “I gotta get a shot of this.”
“Take all the shots you want,” Theodosia said as she pulled out her cell phone and dialed the police.
Opal Anne continued to scream as she thrashed haplessly about in the pool. Which meant her ungodly noise also attracted a huge crowd. Guests and some of the fashion models streamed out onto the patio and surrounded the pool, lining the sides like gawkers at the scene of an accident. They gasped in shock as they watched Opal Anne flounder and scream.
“What’s going on?” a man called out as the tiki lights around the pool continued to hiss and blaze, creating a strange, ethereal atmosphere. “Did somebody take an unscheduled swim?”
“Is she drowning?” a woman asked.
“What the heck?” cried Sally, who’d come running out from the juice bar. “Is that who I think it is?”
Opal Anne turned onto her back and kicked her way tiredly toward the edge of the pool. With the underwater lights shining, her sequined top glistened like fish scales.
“Help me,” Opal Anne cried weakly. She made a horrible choking sound and spit out a stream of water.
“Somebody help her,” a woman called out.
Theodosia grabbed a long lifesaver pole and held it out.
But when Opal Anne’s flailing arms tried to grab hold of it, Theodosia pushed her gently back into t
he middle of the pool.
“Stop it!” Opal Anne screeched. “You’re killing me! You’re drowning me!”
“Are you ready to talk now?” Theodosia asked.
“No!”
Theodosia gave her another shove. “You will.”
31
By the time Detective Riley showed up, flanked by two uniformed officers, Opal Anne was as bedraggled as a drowned rat. She was clinging to the edge of the pool—Theodosia had at least let her do that—but she hadn’t been allowed to crawl out yet.
“How long has she been soaking in there?” Riley asked.
Theodosia checked her watch. “About twenty minutes.”
Riley stood there with his hands in his pockets, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Is what you told me on the phone really true?” He wore a pale-blue crewneck sweater and a pair of jeans. Casual-like, since he’d come from home.
“I’m pretty sure most of it is true. And I do have a lipstick, which I’m guessing has been dipped in cyanide.” Theodosia handed him the lipstick, which Bill Glass had helpfully placed inside a clear plastic baggie. “But, of course, your lab techs will need to analyze it.”
“Poison,” Riley said. He gazed at Opal Anne, who was hanging on the edge of the pool, looking bitter and resentful, sniffling from the chlorine. “Has she said anything yet?”
“She said she was sorry,” Theodosia said. “But I don’t think she was sincere.”
Riley glanced around. At least forty curious people still had their eyes riveted on Opal Anne, as if she were a two-headed rattlesnake.
“I think we should probably fish her out now,” Riley said.
Theodosia gave a thin smile. “Be my guest.”
• • •
Two uniformed officers knelt down and hoisted Opal Anne out of the pool, each one firmly grasping a wrist. They hauled her up onto dry land, but held on tight.
“I’m cold,” Opal Anne complained. Her lips were blue and her teeth were chattering.
“Too bad,” Theodosia said.
“Put the handcuffs on her,” Riley said.
The two officers pulled Opal Anne’s arms behind her back and snapped on a pair of silver cuffs.
Sally crept up slowly, holding a blanket. “Can I put this over her shoulders?” she asked.
Riley nodded. “Go ahead. Then please step back.”
Opal Anne stood dripping in front of them. Her hair hung down in wet tendrils, her clothes clung to her, and her eye makeup had melted into a goopy mess. She was missing one shoe.
“Poison?” Riley said to her. “Why?”
Opal Anne stuck out her chin. “He was going to run this place into the ground anyway. What did it matter?”
“What did it matter?” Theodosia said. “You took a human life.”
“Two human lives,” Riley said.
“Yes, tell us about Marcus Covey,” Theodosia said.
Opal Anne pouted. “All Marcus had to do was knock over a lousy candle—was that too much to ask? I was the one who took care of the rest.” She shrugged. “Then he chickened out on me. He didn’t want to follow the playbook, so he had to go.” A tiny smile insinuated itself on her face. “What’s another dead rat?”
“Dear Lord, she’s cold,” Riley said. He turned abruptly as a door banged open and someone came clattering across the pool tiles.
It was Delaine.
“Theo,” she said, looking surprised. “There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” She was duckwalking, leaning back on her heels because her toenail polish was still wet. “Do you know if they’re still serving . . . ?” She saw Opal Anne standing there, wet, handcuffed, and sullen, and said in a drawling voice, “Good gracious. What happened to her? She looks like she’s been flushed down a sewer.”
“Opal Anne just found out that confession is good for the soul,” Theodosia said. “She just admitted to two murders and was about to tell us why she tried to run Drayton over with a stolen car.”
“You’re the one I was really after,” Opal Anne sneered, her eyes seeking out Theodosia. “You were the one who was snooping around and getting too involved for your own good. I tried to track you down, but you and that stupid dog of yours were always flitting down those narrow alleys. Then, when I finally saw Drayton, I figured he’d be just as good. If I put him out of commission maybe you’d get scared and back off.” She shrugged. “So I just went for it.”
Delaine stretched an accusing finger toward Opal Anne and said, in her most wilting tone, “How dare you attack my friends, you nasty little fiend. I’d say that prison isn’t nearly good enough for you, you ought to be horsewhipped.” She leaned down, ripped the flip-flops off her feet, and tossed them at Opal Anne. “And you can keep your crappy swag, too.”
Theodosia couldn’t help but grin. When Delaine was on a rampage, when Delaine went off script, she could slice and dice with the best of them.
“I’m going to phone Drayton immediately,” Delaine screamed again. “And tell him that you were the one driving that car, that it was you who tried to run him down. I know he’s going to want to press charges.” She took a quick breath and stuck her nose up in the air. “And then I’m going to call Doreen and encourage her to seriously disown you.”
“Somebody better make a phone call and have poor Reggie Huston released from jail, too,” Theodosia said. She glanced at Riley. “Reggie’s not going to be happy. Something tells me he’s going to go on a tear and make us eat some serious crow.”
“Maybe I could do a feature story on the spa,” Bill Glass volunteered. “Give Reggie Huston a few strokes. To help make up for everything that’s happened here.”
“That would be very kind of you,” Theodosia said. “I think it would definitely help smooth things over.”
Detective Riley glanced at the two uniformed officers who were hanging on tight to Opal Anne. “I think you’d better get her out of here before the villagers decide to break out the pitchforks and the torches.”
As the officers led Opal Anne away, Riley touched a hand to Theodosia’s arm and gently guided her away from the crowd. “I asked you this once before . . .”
“What did you ask me?” Even in this dim light Theodosia was surprised at how blue his eyes were. How cute and earnest he looked.
“I asked you how you knew. Where you were getting your information.”
“Okay.”
Riley gave her a quizzical look. “So how did you know it was Opal Anne? How did you figure out that she was the killer?”
“Oh well, I didn’t really know it for a fact,” Theodosia said. “I just sort of guessed. And then there was that chemistry major business, and the different gift bags, and suddenly it all came together in a gigantic rush . . .” Theodosia stopped talking as Riley continued to peer at her. Yes, he was listening to her, but she could tell he wasn’t really hearing her. His mind was somewhere else. And, really, from the curious way he was looking at her, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.
“I’m sorry, but I have to take off now,” Riley said. He nodded in the direction the officers had taken Opal Anne. “You know . . .”
“Promise me you’ll call Doreen,” Theodosia said. “And let her know what happened before Delaine drops a big neutron bomb.”
“I’ll call her right away.”
“You’re going to be busy sorting through all this, aren’t you?” Theodosia said. She knew she had to say her piece quickly and make it come out just right. It was now or never. “I mean, putting together the pieces on two separate murders, it’s going to be fairly complicated and confusing. So you’ll probably be busy for the next couple of days. And maybe tonight as well?”
“I’m afraid . . . Well, what exactly did you have in mind?” Riley asked, smiling at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
For some reason, Theodosia felt as if they were standing in
their own private little bubble. Apart from the crowd, Delaine, the swimming pool, all the bizarre events that had just unfolded.
“Are you too busy to, um, get together?” Theodosia asked. There, she’d done it. She’d made the first official move.
Riley leaned in close to her. “What exactly are you asking?”
Theodosia gazed at him, a hopeful look lighting up her face. “I thought maybe you could stop by the tea shop. I could fix you a cup of tea and a bite to eat?”
“You mean right now?” Riley lifted a hand and touched it against Theodosia’s face in a tender gesture.
“We could do it some other time if that would be more convenient.” Please don’t disappoint me.
He didn’t.
Riley leaned in closer to Theodosia, his lips just inches from hers. “No. I think that sounds wonderful.” His arms crept around her waist as he pulled her tight. “I think you and I have quite a lot to talk about.”
“I think we do, too,” Theodosia whispered into the darkness.
FAVORITE RECIPES FROM
The Indigo Tea Shop
Lemon Tea Bread
6 Tbsp. butter
1 cup sugar
2 eggs
1½ cups flour
¼ tsp. salt
1 tsp. baking powder
½ cup milk
1 lemon (grated rind)
Whipped cream or Devonshire cream
Sliced strawberries
PREHEAT oven to 350 degrees. In large mixing bowl, cream together butter, sugar, and eggs. Add in flour, salt, baking powder, and milk. Stir in lemon rind. Pour batter into a 9-inch-by-5-inch greased and floured bread pan. Bake for 55 to 60 minutes until toothpick comes out clean. Serve with whipped cream or Devonshire cream, and sliced strawberries. Yields 1 small loaf.
Raisin Scones
3½ cups flour
½ tsp. salt
¾ cup butter
½ cup sugar
½ cup raisins (or Craisins)
1 egg