Miss Dimple gave an airy wave. “I wouldn’t pass up this opportunity for the world. When you live with your bachelor brother and a pair of old cats named Samson and Delilah, you take your fun where you can find it.”
“And you’re implying that we’re fun?” Drayton looked mock-startled. “Horrors.” Then he smiled and said, “Perhaps you’d better come over here, lovey, and let me put an apron on you.”
? ? ?
Satisfied that the tea shop was in capable hands, Theodosia retreated to her office to take care of a little business. Not tea shop business, mind you, but investigation business on behalf of Brooke. She spent the next half hour running a number of Internet searches on her list of suspects. And came up with several photos and articles about Lionel Rinicker, Sabrina and Luke Andros, Marcus Clement, and Professor Warren Shepley.
Humming to herself, she printed everything out and stuffed the pages into her leather messenger bag. Her plan was to take it all to Brooke and see if any of this information rang a few bells.
“You’re leaving us?” Drayton asked as she slipped into her suede jacket. “Right in the middle of tea service? Again?”
“I have to run something down to Brooke,” Theodosia told him. “But you’ll be fine. You’ve got Miss Dimple.”
Miss Dimple patted Drayton’s arm reassuringly. “That’s right. You’ve got me, sweetie. Not to worry.”
“He always worries,” Theodosia told her.
Miss Dimple nodded sagely. “I think that’s part of his charm.”
? ? ?
Heart’s Desire was still all boarded up, but Theodosia walked across a few clattery planks, located the temporary wooden door, and thumped on it loudly.
“Hello? Just a minute,” Brooke’s voice floated out to her. “Who is it?”
“It’s me, Theodosia.”
The door popped open and Brooke was standing there. She was dressed in blue jeans, a navy T-shirt, and had a red bandana tied in her hair. She looked youthful, perky, and, best of all, more in control of the situation. The tension lines that had etched her face a few days ago seemed to have eased.
“Come into our construction zone if you dare,” Brooke said. “I’m sorry I don’t have a hard hat to offer you.”
“That’s okay.” Theodosia stepped inside the shop and looked around. All the glass had been swept up, the broken cases discarded, and the old carpet ripped out. New rolls of carpeting were stacked in the corner and a single display case—probably the only one that had remained intact—was shoved to the back of the shop.
“We’re putting the pieces back together,” Brooke said.
“You repainted the walls.”
“The painters came and did it yesterday,” Brooke said. She looked around, pleased. “Yes, I decided to freshen the place up. Eventually we’ll be good as new.” Then her smile faded. “Well, almost as good as new.”
Theodosia gave her a warm hug. “You’ll come through this. I have faith.”
“I have to come through it. I mean, what are my options?” Brooke waved a hand. “But you didn’t come here to listen to me grump. Dare I ask how you’re coming with suspects? The police and FBI still don’t seem to have a whole lot going. Or, if they do, they’re no longer sharing it with me.”
“I might have a little too much information for you.”
Brooke looked pleased. “Information overload? I doubt that.”
So Theodosia carefully detailed her list of suspects—Lionel Rinicker, Billy Grainger, Sabrina and Luke Andros, Marcus Clement the rock climber, and Professor Warren Shepley. As she went through her list, she laid out for Brooke exactly why she viewed each one as a potential suspect.
Brooke was stunned by Theodosia’s list. And maybe a little overwhelmed, after all.
“I knew the police were taking a look at Rinicker and Shepley,” Brooke said. “But I never heard boo about them seriously investigating Sabrina and Luke Andros. And those other people you mentioned, Grainger and Clement, I never even heard of them. Wait a minute, tell me again why you see those two as suspects?”
“I’ll give you the short version,” Theodosia said. “Grainger rides a motorcycle and Clement owns a rock hammer.”
“Ah.” A smile flitted across Brooke’s face. She lifted a hand and touched it gently to Theodosia’s check. “You’re a very smart lady.”
“Thank you. But realize, please, that I could be completely off base. I probably am off base with most of these guys. But”—she dug into her messenger bag and grabbed her stack of papers—“I’d like you to look at all this stuff I pulled off the Internet.”
Brooke inclined her head toward the papers in Theodosia’s hands. “What is all this?”
“Press releases, newspaper articles, photos, you name it. I’d like you to skim through them and tell me if any of these people ring a bell with you. Maybe you’ve run into one of them before, or they’ve come into your shop, or you vaguely recognize one from the attack the other night.”
“You want me to go through this right now?”
“Sure. If you could.”