“But I did. Now those two FBI agents are going to be sniffing all around poor Lionel. Digging into his bank accounts, talking to his friends, probably interviewing him in some frightening room with bright lights and a two-way mirror. And it’s all because of me.” Drayton dumped three scoops of tea into a Chinese teapot, seemed to lose count, and then haphazardly added another scoop.
“Actually, it’s because of me,” Theodosia said. “I looked at that photo and his name pretty much flew out of my mouth. I mean, the guy in the photo really did look like Rinicker.” She gazed at Drayton. “Come on, he did. You thought so, too.”
“I know there was a slight resemblance, but I’m seriously regretting that I ever seconded your opinion.”
“Drayton . . .” Theodosia’s voice was cajoling.
“Do you think I should call Lionel?”
“No. Absolutely not,” Theodosia said. “If Rinicker really is an international criminal and you tip him off, that makes you an accessory to a crime.”
“Oh dear. Now I don’t know what to do.”
“Don’t do anything,” Theodosia said. “Play dumb. Pretend this never happened. If Rinicker mentions that the FBI came calling and wanted to chat with him, just act surprised. Or commiserate with him if you want. Look down your nose and act haughty and outraged.”
Drayton nodded. “I can do haughty and outraged. I’ve got that down solid.”
Theodosia patted him on the arm. “See. There you go. It’s all gonna work out fine.”
“You think?”
“Sure. Unless Rinicker really is this guy . . .”
? ? ?
Theodosia poured tea, served plates of scones, and ferried a small bowl of strawberry jam to Leigh Carroll, the woman who owned the Cabbage Patch Gift Shop next door. She was an African American woman in her midthirties, fairly close in age to Theodosia. She was tall with beautifully burnished skin, sepia-colored hair, and almond eyes. When men first caught sight of her, they often fell madly in love.
“I heard you were at Heart’s Desire when that big jewel robbery took place,” Leigh said. She dropped her voice. “And that Brooke’s niece was killed by a piece of flying glass?”
Theodosia sighed. “It was awful. The robbery was bad enough. But Kaitlin . . .”
Leigh looked concerned. “How is Brooke taking all this?”
“She’s heartsick, as can be expected.”
Leigh let loose a little shiver. “Makes you wonder. How safe are we, anyway? Church Street has always felt like this sweet little slice of charm and gentility. And then something like this happens. It just shatters your faith in people and your own neighborhood.”
“I know,” Theodosia said. “It does make you wonder.”
? ? ?
And Theodosia was wondering about something else, too. As if the FBI’s suspicion about Lionel Rinicker wasn’t bad enough, she needed to ask Haley about her motorcycle-driving boyfriend.
In their postage stamp–sized kitchen, Haley was doing her chef’s spin-and-twirl ballet. With a white chef’s hat the size of an overblown mushroom atop her head, Haley sliced and diced, then leapt over to her oven to pull out fresh-baked loaves of date-and-walnut bread.
Theodosia hovered in the doorway, a little unsure of how to launch the conversation. “Can we talk?” she finally asked.
Haley smiled and gestured for her to come in. “Entrée, please. Come into my domain, my little fiefdom, if you dare.”
“You’re in a good mood this morning,” Theodosia said.
“I’m always in a good mood,” Haley said. “How are my maple nut scones faring out there? Everybody liking them?”
“They’re loving them.”
“Thought so.” Haley picked up a knife and began slicing an English cucumber. “What’s up, Theo?”
“You heard some of what was going on out there this morning?”
Haley gave a crooked grin. “You mean with those hunky FBI guys?”
“Yes, but I never realized they were hunky.” Theodosia was a little flustered. “Did you think they were? Really?”
“The tall one was. What was his name? Zimmer?”
“Special Agent Zimmer,” Theodosia said.
“I like that ‘special agent’ stuff. It reminds me of secret agents. You know, like Tom Cruise in Mission: Impossible with his self-destructing tape player and rubber human head masks.”
“Mmn.” Theodosia picked up a wooden honey stick and played with it. “But do you know what they were asking about?”
“Sure. About the robbery and stuff at Brooke’s shop. And about Kaitlin getting killed. And then you picked out that photo that looked like Drayton’s friend.”
“Except it’s probably not Drayton’s friend,” Theodosia was quick to assure her. “We’re pretty sure that Lionel Rinicker is a different guy entirely.”
“And, then again, he could be an international jewel thief.”
Theodosia decided to tackle the subject she really wanted to know about.
“Haley, I’d like to know a little more about your motorcycle-driving friend.”
Haley continued to slice away at her cucumber. “There’s not much to know.”
“Then how about his name, for starters?”
“His name is Billy Grainger. You know, Drayton already quizzed me about this.”