Granville’s supplier,” said Tidwell.
“I gathered that,” said Theodosia. “And you thought that maybe I’ve been importing Cuban cigars in my spare time?”
“Not quite. But I did want the two of you to become acquainted.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I’m guessing there’s a stash of Cuban cigars floating around somewhere and that Granville’s supplier might be looking to get his merchandise back.”
“You think this supplier hasn’t been paid?”
“Actually, Miss Browning, let’s call it what it really is. Whoever supplied Granville with Cuban cigars is not a supplier at all. He’s a smuggler.”
“Don’t ever sic anybody like that on me again!” said Theodosia. “Alston was completely rude and insensitive.”
And very attractive, though I hate to admit it.
“His type of personality is standard government issue,” said Tidwell.
“Listen,” said Theodosia. “While I have you on the phone . . .”
“Yelling at me,” said Tidwell.
Theodosia plowed ahead. “I wanted you to know that I dropped by Archangel this morning. Did you know that Simone has a collection of paperweights in her shop?”
“Or what’s left of the collection she sold to the Rattlings,” said Tidwell.
“You know about that?”
“Of course, I do.”
“Don’t you find it strange?” said Theodosia. “That Simone sold them the murder weapon?”
“We don’t know that’s what killed Granville at all,” said Tidwell. “It could have been the butt of a gun; it could have been a candlestick.”
“Colonel Mustard in the library with a candlestick?” said Theodosia. “Please.”
“The point is,” said Tidwell, “you’re jumping to conclusions. Correction, you’re leaping to them. So kindly stop.”
“Okay, how about this little tidbit? Have you heard of a guy named Bobby St. Cloud? He’s supposed to be Granville’s cigar supplier.”
“And where did you pick up that rumor?”
“From Bill Glass.”
“Bill Glass dines out on rumors,” said Tidwell.
“I realize that,” said Theodosia. “But somebody should check it out.”
“That someone being me?”
“Well . . . yes. I suppose so,” said Theodosia. “And then if you could just . . .”
But Tidwell had already hung up.
“Get back to me,” Theodosia said into dead air. She balanced the phone in her hand, thinking, then hung it back on the wall.
“Problems?” asked Drayton.
“Maybe,” said Theodosia. “But nothing I can’t handle.” She untied her apron and hung it on a peg.
Drayton cocked an eye at her. “Good heavens, you’re going out again?”
“Apologies,” said Theodosia. “But I have to. I made a promise to Delaine.”
“I imagine you’re going to the funeral home?”
“I wish,” said Theodosia. “Since it would probably be a lot more hospitable.” When Drayton looked confused, she explained. “We’re going to pay a visit to Granville and Grumley.”
“Ah,” said Drayton. “The law firm. Well, try to keep your wits about you, especially since you’ll have Delaine in tow. Those lawyer fellows can be awfully cunning.”
“That’s what worries me,” said Theodosia.
10
The offices of
Granville and Grumley were located in a huge brick mansion just two blocks from Meeting and Broad Street, what was commonly known in Charleston as the Four Corners of Law.
As they approached the double doors, thick glass faced with curlicue wrought iron, Delaine reached out and squeezed Theodosia’s hand.
“Thank you for doing this,” said Delaine. “Thank you for coming along as moral support.”
“You’re welcome,” said Theodosia.
“And by the way, you look very nice,” said Delaine.
Theodosia had tossed a navy blue blazer over her khakis and white T-shirt. And, at the last minute, she had tied on a printed scarf to add a little dash. Delaine, of course, looked very glamorous and adult in her tomato-red skirt suit and sky-high white Manolos.
“Thank you, I . . .”
“Did you get
“I gathered that,” said Theodosia. “And you thought that maybe I’ve been importing Cuban cigars in my spare time?”
“Not quite. But I did want the two of you to become acquainted.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I’m guessing there’s a stash of Cuban cigars floating around somewhere and that Granville’s supplier might be looking to get his merchandise back.”
“You think this supplier hasn’t been paid?”
“Actually, Miss Browning, let’s call it what it really is. Whoever supplied Granville with Cuban cigars is not a supplier at all. He’s a smuggler.”
“Don’t ever sic anybody like that on me again!” said Theodosia. “Alston was completely rude and insensitive.”
And very attractive, though I hate to admit it.
“His type of personality is standard government issue,” said Tidwell.
“Listen,” said Theodosia. “While I have you on the phone . . .”
“Yelling at me,” said Tidwell.
Theodosia plowed ahead. “I wanted you to know that I dropped by Archangel this morning. Did you know that Simone has a collection of paperweights in her shop?”
“Or what’s left of the collection she sold to the Rattlings,” said Tidwell.
“You know about that?”
“Of course, I do.”
“Don’t you find it strange?” said Theodosia. “That Simone sold them the murder weapon?”
“We don’t know that’s what killed Granville at all,” said Tidwell. “It could have been the butt of a gun; it could have been a candlestick.”
“Colonel Mustard in the library with a candlestick?” said Theodosia. “Please.”
“The point is,” said Tidwell, “you’re jumping to conclusions. Correction, you’re leaping to them. So kindly stop.”
“Okay, how about this little tidbit? Have you heard of a guy named Bobby St. Cloud? He’s supposed to be Granville’s cigar supplier.”
“And where did you pick up that rumor?”
“From Bill Glass.”
“Bill Glass dines out on rumors,” said Tidwell.
“I realize that,” said Theodosia. “But somebody should check it out.”
“That someone being me?”
“Well . . . yes. I suppose so,” said Theodosia. “And then if you could just . . .”
But Tidwell had already hung up.
“Get back to me,” Theodosia said into dead air. She balanced the phone in her hand, thinking, then hung it back on the wall.
“Problems?” asked Drayton.
“Maybe,” said Theodosia. “But nothing I can’t handle.” She untied her apron and hung it on a peg.
Drayton cocked an eye at her. “Good heavens, you’re going out again?”
“Apologies,” said Theodosia. “But I have to. I made a promise to Delaine.”
“I imagine you’re going to the funeral home?”
“I wish,” said Theodosia. “Since it would probably be a lot more hospitable.” When Drayton looked confused, she explained. “We’re going to pay a visit to Granville and Grumley.”
“Ah,” said Drayton. “The law firm. Well, try to keep your wits about you, especially since you’ll have Delaine in tow. Those lawyer fellows can be awfully cunning.”
“That’s what worries me,” said Theodosia.
10
The offices of
Granville and Grumley were located in a huge brick mansion just two blocks from Meeting and Broad Street, what was commonly known in Charleston as the Four Corners of Law.
As they approached the double doors, thick glass faced with curlicue wrought iron, Delaine reached out and squeezed Theodosia’s hand.
“Thank you for doing this,” said Delaine. “Thank you for coming along as moral support.”
“You’re welcome,” said Theodosia.
“And by the way, you look very nice,” said Delaine.
Theodosia had tossed a navy blue blazer over her khakis and white T-shirt. And, at the last minute, she had tied on a printed scarf to add a little dash. Delaine, of course, looked very glamorous and adult in her tomato-red skirt suit and sky-high white Manolos.
“Thank you, I . . .”
“Did you get
Similar Books
