“Yes, I think that person might have also had a tattoo.”
Tidwell frowned. “It was my understanding that they were all wearing gloves as well.”
“I caught sight of something between this person’s glove and shirtsleeve. It looked like . . . a small grouping of blue lines. Or maybe it was calligraphy. I’m not entirely sure; everything happened so fast.”
“Interesting,” Tidwell said. One of the uniformed officers suddenly shouted his name out and he jerked about abruptly. “Yes? What is it?” he asked.
“Crime scene techs are here,” the officer called to him.
“Excellent,” Tidwell said. Muttering to himself, his mouth working furiously, he stalked off without a word of thanks to Theodosia.
That was just fine with Theodosia. She hadn’t expected much more and Brooke had hurriedly stepped in to take his place.
“Did I hear you right?” Brooke asked, a look of expectation on her face. “Did you just tell Detective Tidwell that you saw something on one of the robber’s hands?”
“I told him I might have seen a tattoo,” Theodosia said.
“That could be a clue,” Brooke said, jumping on her words. “That could be important.”
“And it might not be. Do you know how many people have tattoos these days?”
Brooke’s eagerness turned to disappointment. “Oh. Well. I suppose you’re right.” Tears welled in her eyes. “And whatever it was, it’s not going to bring Kaitlin back.”
Theodosia moved closer to Brooke and gave her a hug. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry about Kaitlin.” She saw that the crime scene techs were busily taking photos of Kaitlin’s body now, their cameras strobing like mad.
All Brooke could do was bob her head.
“I know you feel absolutely devastated.”
“You have no idea,” Brooke said in a hoarse whisper. Then she stepped back from Theodosia and said, “Theodosia, you’ve got to help me.”
“I will,” Theodosia said. “I’ll do anything I can to help.”
Brooke glanced over at Tidwell and then back at Theodosia. “No. I mean with Kaitlin.”
Theodosia frowned. She didn’t know if Brooke wanted her to help plan a funeral or if . . .
“I want you to help find her killers,” Brooke said urgently.
There it was. The “or if.”
“Of all the people here tonight, you were the one who remained calm,” Brooke said. “The only one who managed to come up with a clue.”
Theodosia wanted to help, she really did. But she was reluctant to muscle her way into a major police investigation. “I wouldn’t know where to start,” she said, giving a helpless shrug.
“What if I gave you all the information that I have?”
“What do you mean, Brooke?” Theodosia flinched. The crime scene techs had just rolled Kaitlin’s body into a black plastic bag.
“My list of jewels, the guest list . . . you know.” A faint twitch played at the corner of Brooke’s mouth. “Theodosia, you’re the smartest person I know when it comes to unraveling this type of thing.”
“Oh no, not really,” Theodosia said. “Detective Tidwell has all the experience. He’s the expert.”
“But I know you’ve worked with him before on a couple of things.” Brooke’s tone had turned pleading, desperate.
Theodosia was silent for a few moments. And then she said, “Well, maybe I have. On a couple of things, anyway.”
They both fell silent as two EMTs loaded the black plastic bag containing Kaitlin’s dead body onto a gurney. They rolled it across cracked glass and strips of jagged metal, and then humped it through the doorway and out to a waiting ambulance.
Brooke dropped her head as tears streamed down her face.
Theodosia’s heart went out to her. She wanted to help, really she did. But she wasn’t a detective, private investigator, or even a CSI buff. She was a tea shop lady. An entrepreneur in her midthirties who served tea and scones with a smile, exchanged friendly banter with customers, did a bit of catering on the side, and had the same concerns about a shaky economy that every other small business owner did.
Of course, Theodosia was also smart as a whip, filled with curiosity, and possessed an almost poetic sense of justice. Maybe she’d inherited those qualities from her librarian mother and lawyer father, both gone now. Or maybe those traits had just incubated inside of her these many years until she’d finally witnessed enough injustice in the world.
Making up her mind, Theodosia grasped Brooke’s hand and squeezed it hard. “All right,” she said, her voice choked with emotion. “I’ll do what I can. I’ll try my absolute best.”
3
Monday morning should have been filled with excitement and promise for the coming week. Instead, it was a rehash of horrors from the night before.