Theodosia whirled around to find Sabrina Andros standing there, looking slightly bereft. “Sabrina,” she said. She vaguely recalled that Sabrina had visited the Indigo Tea Shop a few times in the past couple of months. “What’s wrong? How can I help?”
Sabrina held out a trembling hand. “My hand got cut.”
Theodosia peered at Sabrina’s hand. There was just a faint abrasion on the back of her hand. “It doesn’t look too bad,” she said, trying to be helpful.
Sabrina’s face crumpled and tears glistened in her eyes. “I knew I shouldn’t have come here tonight. I just knew it.”
Theodosia realized then that not all wounds were physical. Poor Sabrina’s wounds were psychic and probably just as painful and upsetting as anyone else’s cuts.
“Come here.” Theodosia opened her arms and let Sabrina step into them. She hugged the woman gently. “You’re going to be okay. The worst is over now and the police are here. There’s nothing more to fear.”
“But did you see what happened?” Sabrina snuffled. “Did you see those horrible men hacking away at the glass cases?” She exhaled deeply. “And then that poor girl got killed.”
Theodosia gently rubbed small circles on Sabrina’s back. “I saw the whole thing,” she said. “And it was awful.”
“Awful,” Sabrina repeated. Then she pushed away and said, “I should go home. I should leave now.” Her tears seemed to have dried up. Now she was talking in a more matter-of-fact tone of voice.
“I think the police want to interview everyone,” Theodosia said. “I’m sure any information you can give them would be of value.”
Sabrina shook her head. “No, I don’t think I can do that.” Now she just seemed nervous.
Theodosia grasped Sabrina’s elbow. “Let’s just go talk to one of these nice police officers, shall we?” She pulled Sabrina along. “Excuse me, Officer?”
A bookish-looking uniformed officer with blond, brush-cut hair and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses glanced her way.
“I have another witness for you to interview,” Theodosia said.
“Very good,” the officer said, turning his attention to Sabrina. “I just have a few questions . . .”
Theodosia backed away and studied the scene once again. Brooke was talking to Tidwell now. They were standing just inches from the crime scene tape that was draped around Kaitlin’s body. From the droop of Brooke’s shoulders and the despondent expression on her face, she was obviously relating her version of how the robbery had unfolded. Only her version wasn’t that of an innocent, shocked bystander. It was from the perspective of someone whose shop had been rudely invaded by masked gunmen and her niece brutally killed in the process.
Theodosia shuddered. She knew Brooke must be completely devastated, though she seemed to be holding it together. Amazing, she thought. The inner strength of that woman.
Tidwell had handed Brooke off to another investigator and was now headed in Theodosia’s direction. Theodosia squared her shoulders, preparing herself for a barrage of curt, no-nonsense questions.
“Well,” Tidwell said. He beetled his bushy brows and peered at her, eyes bulging, chin tucked down. His feet were spread wide apart in an almost confrontational stance. “What can you tell me?”
“Probably not a lot more than you’ve already heard,” Theodosia said.
Tidwell nodded abruptly. “Yes, yes, the black SUV, the devil masks, the wrecking of the glass jewelry cases, and of course . . .” His words halted abruptly and he jabbed his chin in the direction of two EMTs who hovered over Kaitlin’s body.
“Kaitlin,” Theodosia said. “Dead.”
“Killed in a hail of shattered glass.” Tidwell shook his head. “Obviously a terrible accident.”
“If Kaitlin’s dead,” Theodosia said, “wouldn’t that constitute murder?”
“A possible homicide, anyway,” Tidwell said.
“But if it was intentional? Then wouldn’t it be murder?”
“Why don’t we leave the technicalities to the district attorney?” Tidwell muttered. “I’m not here to prosecute anyone, only to solve the crime.”
“To apprehend the perpetrators,” Theodosia said.
“I do understand what’s involved, Miss Browning. I have done this before.”
“Of course you have,” Theodosia said.
“Now. What can you tell me?” Tidwell asked. He held up a hand. “And before you say anything, there’s no need to rehash the story of the SUV crash. I’ve heard twenty versions already.”
“Perhaps you’d like to hear some new information, then?” Theodosia said.
“Do you have something new?”
“I may have picked up a small clue.”
Tidwell cocked his head at her. “Do tell.”
“I think one of the robbers might have been a woman.”
“And why do you think that?”
“This particular robber happened to have a much smaller hand. And I think was wearing a ring.”
Tidwell rocked back on his heels. “Hmm.” He didn’t seem all that impressed with her observation.
“And I might have caught sight of something else, too.”
“Please, Miss Browning, don’t keep me in suspense.”
“I think this same person . . .”
“The one with the small hand.”