Lavender Blue Murder

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Lavender Blue Murder Page 9

by Laura Childs


  Fawn shook her head. “Not yet. But I’m seriously thinking about leaving Alex. I can’t take it anymore.” Her eyes were sorrowful, and her alabaster complexion looked even paler.

  “That’s an awfully big step. Have the two of you considered seeing a marriage counselor?”

  “I asked Alex to go to counseling with me, but he refused to even consider it. Said it would be a blight on his family name.” Fawn picked out another tissue and blew her nose with a loud honk.

  “There’s no shame in going to counseling, to get an expert’s help or opinion. If you’d like, maybe I could—”

  A door slammed way at the front of the tea shop, followed by a harsh shout and then loud, pounding footsteps. Seconds later, Drayton’s voice was raised in warning.

  “Don’t, sir,” Drayton cried out. “Kindly do not—”

  Theodosia’s office door suddenly blew open!

  Fawn let out a piercing shriek as Jack Grimes loomed in the doorway. His face glowed high-blood-pressure red, and in his scruffy leather jacket, he looked like a refugee from a motorcycle gang.

  Theodosia was on her feet in a heartbeat.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she cried. “How dare you come bursting into my office like that!”

  Grimes ignored Theodosia as he stumbled the rest of the way in. He was obviously a man hell-bent on a mission. His eyes burned with fury; his breath poured out in angry rasps. Grimes stared at Theodosia for a single hot moment, then he turned and pointed an accusing finger at Fawn.

  “You!” Grimes shouted. “Do you know what your sniveling rat of a husband just did? He fired me!”

  Theodosia held up both hands in a calming gesture, even though her nerves were strumming wildly.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Calm down, Mr. Grimes. Kindly show a modicum of respect here.” Theodosia glanced past Grimes and saw a white-faced Drayton hovering in the doorway, just in case a show of force was required.

  But Grimes wasn’t about to settle down or pay one whit of attention to Theodosia. He was feverish with rage and poised to aim his vitriol directly at Fawn.

  “Alex had no right to fire me!” Grimes cried. “Because he isn’t the one who’s in charge. He hasn’t inherited Creekmore Plantation yet!”

  “Please, stop this immediately,” Theodosia ordered. “Take a deep breath and try to calm down.”

  Grimes shook his head as if a horde of angry bees were buzzing around him.

  “Now Sheriff Burney is questioning me about your father-in-law’s death,” Grimes spat out forcefully.

  “You don’t know that Sheriff Burney regards you as a suspect,” Theodosia said. She was struggling to maintain an even tone, hoping to set a calming example.

  Grimes stared at Theodosia and pulled his mouth into a grim line. “But I do know,” he said. “This girl’s dirtbag of a husband pointed his finger at me. Me!” He let loose another angry snort. “Jiminy Crystal, I’ve been working for Mr. Doyle for going on six years! I’ve been loyal to the man, been his employee and his friend! Do you really think I’d murder him?”

  Fawn, who’d pulled herself into a tight little ball to ward off Grimes’s rage, suddenly uncoiled herself and jumped up to face him.

  “You could have! You might have!” Fawn shouted at Grimes.

  “I didn’t!” Grimes cried.

  Fawn glared at him. “You don’t know anything. You have no idea what’s going on!”

  “Don’t get snippy with me, Mrs. Fawn Doyle, to the manor born,” Grimes yelled back. “I happen to know you used to work as a waitress at Buster’s Bar over in Folly Beach. You weren’t such a grand lady back then, no, sir. Not until you married Mr. Fancy Pants Alex Doyle!”

  “I don’t have to listen to your ridiculous ravings!” Fawn cried. “I don’t have to listen to any of this crap!”

  Fawn threw her head back, and just for a moment, Theodosia thought she was actually going to spit in Grimes’s face. Instead, Fawn gathered herself together and stormed out of the office, brushing brusquely past Grimes and then Drayton, her high heels clacking loudly as she crossed the tea room floor.

  Suddenly, Grimes looked like the air had been punched out of him.

  Theodosia jumped on what she perceived as a possible opportunity to restore some measure of civility.

  “Mr. Grimes, if you could find it in yourself to calm down, we could discuss these events rationally.” She drew a deep breath. “Perhaps over a cup of tea?”

  11

  “I don’t know what got into me,” Grimes said. He was sitting directly across from Theodosia in the chair Fawn had just vacated. His right leg jiggled with nervous energy, but his head was bowed contritely, and he’d dialed back his anger.

  “You were upset,” Theodosia said. “You weren’t thinking clearly.”

  Grimes lifted his head and swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “I thought I was.”

  “That’s the crazy thing about being blindsided by bad news. It hits you like a ton of bricks, and you never know how you’re going to react. Hot, cold, whatever. Now . . .” Theodosia tapped a finger insistently against her desk. “Why exactly did Alex fire you?”

  “I dunno,” Grimes mumbled.

  “Think hard. Try to recall his exact words,” Theodosia said. “He must have given you some reason.”

  “He didn’t.” Grimes raised a hand and scratched the top of his head. “But I’ve been thinking . . . maybe by firing me, by trying to make me look guilty, he was trying to set me up?”

  A lot of that going around, Theodosia thought to herself.

  “You think Alex might have been trying to set you up for Mr. Doyle’s murder?” Theodosia asked.

  Grimes’s thin shoulders hitched up a notch. “Yeah, maybe. I don’t know.” He exhaled slowly. “But please believe me when I say this: I didn’t murder Mr. Doyle. And I sure didn’t start that house fire.”

  “Knock, knock.”

  Startled by the interruption, they both glanced up.

  “Pardon me,” Drayton said, “but I’ve brought your tea.” He stood in the doorway, holding a steaming cup and saucer in each hand. “A nice Fujian silver.”

  “Thank you, Drayton,” Theodosia said as he passed her one of the cups of tea.

  “And Mr. Grimes,” Drayton said as he bent forward a trifle stiffly. “Tea for you, sir?”

  “Uh, thank you,” Grimes said, accepting the teacup from Drayton somewhat shakily.

  “Will you be needing anything else?” Drayton asked. With brows raised, he looked pointedly at Theodosia.

  “We’re good for now,” Theodosia told him.

  Drayton gave a perfunctory smile. “Just call if you need me.” He turned and walked out, deliberately leaving the door wide open.

  Theodosia took a sip of tea and said, “You mentioned that Sheriff Burney questioned you this morning?”

  Grimes nodded. “Right after Alex fired me. It was like they had it all set up.”

  “Perhaps they did. Or maybe Sheriff Burney was just doing his job, covering all the bases. Did he ask you more questions about the murder?”

  Now Grimes ducked his head, looking sheepish. “Mostly he wanted to dig into my past.” He drew a shaky breath. “I know it’s not good.”

  “What’s not good about it?” Theodosia asked. Was there some nasty secret lurking in Grimes’s background that she should know about?

  Grimes took a sip of tea and said, “The thing is, I have sort of a criminal record. But it’s from a long time ago, when I was just a kid. Boosting cars and . . . but that’s not important. Mr. Doyle, he knew all about that nonsense and hired me anyway. He came to trust me.” Grimes let loose a shuddering sigh. “There’s no way I’d have ever brought harm to that man.”

  “How did you get along with Meredith?”

  “Fine, I guess. I didn’t deal with her all that much.”

  “Were you aware of her shooting skills?”

  Grimes nodded. “Oh yeah. She knew her way around firearms, that’s for
sure. Mr. Doyle was real proud of her, too. That lady could drill the right eye of a woodchuck at three hundred paces.”

  “That’s quite amazing,” Theodosia said, though Grimes’s confirmation of Meredith’s shooting skills had sent a slight chill oozing through her veins.

  “She’s a real pip,” Grimes said.

  “Tell me about the neighbors,” Theodosia said. “I understand there was a terrible dispute going on between Reginald and Carl Clewis.”

  “It was more than a dispute. Those two guys despised each other.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “All I know is that Clewis dammed up part of the creek. It didn’t seem like a big deal to me; then again, it wasn’t my land that got messed with.”

  “And Susan Monday? At the lavender farm?” Theodosia asked.

  Grimes crossed his arms. “I never had any dealings with her at all.”

  “Let’s get back to your accuser, Alex Doyle. He obviously filled Sheriff Burney in on your background.”

  Grimes nodded. “You got that right.”

  “And Alex might have fingered you as a suspect. But did Sheriff Burney take him seriously?”

  “Seriously enough,” Grimes grunted. “Because he sure asked me a lot of questions.”

  “I’d say it’s obvious that you never got along with Alex.”

  “Alex is a spoiled rich kid who never did an honest day’s work in his life!” Grimes blurted out. In an instant, his fire and fervor had once again bubbled to the surface.

  “Now he’s gone and fired you,” Theodosia said.

  “But he had no right. I guess I’ve gotta have a sit-down with Mrs. Doyle. She’s the one in charge now. She’s the one who says who stays and who goes,” Grimes said. He blinked rapidly and added, as more of a question than anything, “Or maybe you could help me with these crazy accusations?”

  Theodosia set her teacup down with a sharp clink. “Let me ask you something that might sound a trifle strange. Do you think Alex is a violent person? Does he have a violent temper?”

  Grimes narrowed his eyes. “Are you kidding? Alex and Fawn fight like tigers all the time—day in and day out. You should hear those two once they get started, screaming at each other.”

  Theodosia leaned back in her chair. “Really?” This was completely unexpected. Fawn had made her rocky relationship sound extremely one-sided. As if Alex was the hotheaded spouse frothing with rage, the one who initiated all the disagreements.

  Grimes was still shaking his head. “If you ask me, I don’t know which one of them is crazier.”

  * * *

  * * *

  “What’s the verdict?” Drayton asked, once Jack Grimes had left.

  “Yes,” Miss Dimple exclaimed. “Who’s the guilty party?” She gave an excited little shiver and said, “Drayton’s been feeding me snippets about the murder. And all the possible suspects.” Miss Dimple was a fan of Murder, She Wrote and a rabid Clue player.

  “Unfortunately, pretty much everyone seems to have had a motive to bump off Reginald Doyle,” Theodosia said. “We’ve got a virtual clown car full of suspects.”

  “So you haven’t narrowed anything down yet,” Drayton said.

  “I’m not even close. But get this, Jack Grimes just asked for my help,” Theodosia said.

  Drayton lifted an eyebrow. “Help with . . .”

  “To try to disentangle him from Alex’s accusations.”

  “You should help him,” Haley said suddenly. She was crouched nearby on her hands and knees, shoving white pillar candles into the lower half of a wooden cupboard.

  “Pray tell, why is that?” Drayton asked her.

  “Because I think he’s sorta cute in a bad boy kind of way,” Haley said.

  Theodosia was amused in spite of herself. “Haley’s a sucker for any guy in a leather motorcycle jacket,” she said.

  Drayton shook a warning finger at Haley. “Don’t you dare get flirtatious with that man, do you hear me?”

  “Why not?” Haley asked. She stood up and grabbed a plastic tub of dirty dishes off a nearby table. Held it in front of her like a shield. “Just because you think he’s dangerous.”

  “That’s exactly right. Grimes could be a murderer!” Drayton cried.

  “Hmm,” Haley said, drawing the expression out thoughtfully. “Grimes didn’t strike me as any kind of stone-cold killer.”

  “That girl!” Drayton exclaimed once Haley had disappeared with a few quick steps and a flip of her hair. “You can’t tell her anything.” He grabbed a teapot, thunked it down hard on the counter, and poured himself a cup of tea.

  “Be careful,” Miss Dimple cautioned. “If you tell Haley not to do something, she’ll dig her heels in even deeper. She’s stubborn that way.”

  Drayton frowned. “Sometimes dealing with her is like being a parent.”

  “Still, you have to go easy,” Miss Dimple said. “She is an adult. You have to let her figure things out for herself.”

  Drayton gazed at Theodosia. “With all the excitement, I don’t suppose you’ve had a chance to call Timothy yet. To tell him the bad news?”

  “You mean tell him that the Heritage Society probably isn’t going to inherit Reginald Doyle’s property? No, I’ve been putting that off,” Theodosia said.

  Drayton looked distracted. “I suppose I could call him.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m going to go in your office and . . .” Drayton continued to mumble as he wandered off, his cup of tea in hand.

  Miss Dimple stared at Theodosia, her gaze a mixture of worry and curiosity.

  “You’d better be careful, too,” she said as she folded her yellow dress and placed it back inside the cardboard box. “From everything Drayton’s told me, this is a tricky case.”

  “You’re afraid I might get in over my head?” Theodosia asked.

  “I’m afraid you are in over your head.”

  * * *

  * * *

  By the time Drayton emerged from Theodosia’s office, Miss Dimple had gone home, the CLOSED sign was hung on the front door, and Theodosia had managed to straighten up the tea shop, getting it halfway back to normal.

  “What did Timothy say?” Theodosia asked.

  “He’s extremely disappointed. Obviously,” Drayton said. “The Heritage Society is still down when it comes to donations.”

  “But Timothy’s not surprised about being left out of Reginald’s will?”

  “I think, deep down in his heart of hearts, Timothy knew it was too good to be true.”

  “No hard feelings, then? Timothy’s still amenable to allowing Reginald’s memorial service to take place at the Heritage Society?”

  “It’s all set,” Drayton said. “The Great Room at ten o’clock on Thursday. But Timothy did inquire about possible suspects.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I had to play it straight. I told him that both Meredith and Alex have a vested interest in Reginald’s property and finances. That Jack Grimes had access and opportunity, as did a half- dozen others. And that Reginald had ongoing land disputes with Carl Clewis and Susan Monday.”

  “And don’t forget about Guy Thorne. He stands to be the sole partner now at Trollope’s Restaurant.”

  “I did mention Thorne.”

  “What we should do is put our heads together and make a hit list. Then under each name we should check off different factors like opportunity, motive, and relationship to the victim,” Theodosia said.

  Drayton thought for a moment, then said, “Come over to my house tonight, and we’ll do exactly that.”

  “Are you serious?” Theodosia had been half-kidding.

  “Why not? By the by, I’ll also fix us a nice dinner. Show you what a confirmed bachelor can accomplish when he sets his mind to it.”

  “You’re on.”

  “Bring Earl Grey along, too. My little Honey Bee will adore the company.”

  12

  Earl Grey was strutting his stuff this Tuesday evenin
g. He was feeling frisky, straining at his leash, as he and Theodosia walked down the back alley on their way to Drayton’s house.

  “You know you’re going to have a playdate tonight with your friend Honey Bee, don’t you?” Theodosia asked him. Drayton’s dog, Honey Bee, was a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel that they’d found wandering the streets of North Charleston. The poor little thing had been hungry and homeless when Drayton took her in. Now Honey Bee lived in the lap of luxury, ensconced in Drayton’s elegant, antique-filled home a few blocks away.

  Theodosia tightened up on Earl Grey’s leash as she cut down Longitude Lane, one of Charleston’s famed single-lane alleys. It was dark and a little spooky because it was so narrow, and the moss-covered cobblestones were also tricky to navigate. But oh, the scenery! They strolled past mysterious-looking rounded doorways that were set deeply into ivy-covered stone walls. Step through one of those doors, however, and you’d find yourself in a spectacular Charleston backyard filled with carefully tended gardens, reflecting pools, and marble statuary. This was also the historic alley that cotton wagons had rumbled down in the eighteenth century, and where a Revolutionary War cannon had once been unearthed. Now, visitors in the know came to admire its quaintness and charm.

  In fact, one such visitor was strolling toward them right now.

  “Be good,” Theodosia admonished Earl Grey. Then, her serene smile turned to utter surprise when the person stepped into a circle of lamplight and she saw who it was.

  “Fawn!” Theodosia cried out. “Is that you?”

  Fawn, who’d been sort of dawdling along, stopped dead in her tracks, startled at encountering another person in the alley. Then, as recognition dawned, she stared, openmouthed, at Theodosia.

  “Theodosia?” she finally said.

  “Yes.”

  Fawn glanced at Earl Grey.

  “You have a dog.”

  “This is Earl Grey,” Theodosia said.

 

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