a chance to talk to Simone?” Delaine interrupted.
“I stopped by her shop this morning.”
“And?”
“Not much to tell,” said Theodosia. “She claims to be very upset about Granville’s passing.”
“Huh,” snorted Delaine. “What did you think of her shop? Of the vintage clothing? Pretty ratty stuff, right?” Delaine had recently added a few racks of vintage clothing in her Cotton Duck boutique, so she was understandably nervous.
“Actually, her shop looked very nice,” said Theodosia. “But there was one thing . . .” She wondered if she should reveal her discovery of the paperweights to Delaine. Well, why not?
“Oh?” said Delaine. “What was that?”
“Simone had a couple of glass paperweights.”
Delaine’s eyes went huge. “Are you serious? You mean like the one that cracked poor Dougan’s skull? Like that?”
“Similar to the one that
might
have dealt the fatal blow,” said Theodosia.
“I hope you told Detective Tidwell about this!”
“As a matter of fact, I did.”
“Is he going to arrest her?”
“I doubt it,” said Theodosia. “In fact, he didn’t seem particularly concerned.”
Delaine was aghast. “Well, I never . . . !”
“Please don’t be disheartened,” said Theodosia. “We’ll get to the bottom of Dougan’s death yet.”
Delaine worried her front teeth against her bottom lip. “What about the drugs? Did you ask Simone about the drugs?”
“She swore she had no knowledge of drug use.”
“His or hers?” asked Delaine.
“Either.”
“And you believed her?”
“I really don’t know what to think,” said Theodosia. And she didn’t. The evidence in Granville’s room had been fairly damning. And as far as Granville using drugs with Simone . . . well, that was in the past. So who knew?
“She’s a druggie,” Delaine said, and there was harsh conviction in her voice. “I mean, how else does the woman stay so gosh-darn skinny?”
“I can think of a few ways,” said Theodosia.
* * *
Millie Grant greeted
them with a nervous smile. “They’re expecting you,” she said in a quiet voice.
“Who is?” asked Theodosia. She wanted to know exactly what she was in for.
“Mr. Grumley and Mr. Horton,” said Millie.
“Both of them?” said Theodosia.
Millie’s head bobbed. “It looks that way.”
“I was under the impression I was meeting only with Allan Grumley,” said Delaine. She’d walked in under full steam; now her confidence seemed to be eroding.
Millie looked apologetic as she led them to a conference room. “It seems strange to me, too,” she whispered.
“Millie,” said Theodosia, “I know this question is way out of left field, but do you know anything about a shipment of cigars?”
Millie’s brows knit together. “I know that Mr. Granville owned a cigar shop, but . . . why, is something missing?”
“We’re not sure,” said Theodosia.
Millie shook her head. “I don’t really know much about the shop. He kept his different businesses fairly compartmentalized.”
“Okay,” said Theodosia. “But if you hear anything . . .”
“If I do, I’ll be sure to let you know,” Millie whispered. Then, in a louder voice, she said, “You can wait in here.”
Theodosia glanced around the conference room. It basically screamed
law office
. The walls were burnished wood, the conference table an acre of polished mahogany. A dozen red leather chairs with hobnail studs were clustered around the table. Law books populated the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves at both ends of the room.
“Tailor made for billy goats,” Theodosia remarked.
“Excuse me?” said Delaine.
“Billy goats,” said Theodosia. “Men who posture and prance and try to intimidate.”
Delaine smiled faintly. “Which describes this law firm to a T.”
“That’s right,” said Theodosia. “So don’t let these trappings fool you.”
“Ladies!” Allan Grumley exclaimed loudly as he bustled in to greet them. Grumley
“I stopped by her shop this morning.”
“And?”
“Not much to tell,” said Theodosia. “She claims to be very upset about Granville’s passing.”
“Huh,” snorted Delaine. “What did you think of her shop? Of the vintage clothing? Pretty ratty stuff, right?” Delaine had recently added a few racks of vintage clothing in her Cotton Duck boutique, so she was understandably nervous.
“Actually, her shop looked very nice,” said Theodosia. “But there was one thing . . .” She wondered if she should reveal her discovery of the paperweights to Delaine. Well, why not?
“Oh?” said Delaine. “What was that?”
“Simone had a couple of glass paperweights.”
Delaine’s eyes went huge. “Are you serious? You mean like the one that cracked poor Dougan’s skull? Like that?”
“Similar to the one that
might
have dealt the fatal blow,” said Theodosia.
“I hope you told Detective Tidwell about this!”
“As a matter of fact, I did.”
“Is he going to arrest her?”
“I doubt it,” said Theodosia. “In fact, he didn’t seem particularly concerned.”
Delaine was aghast. “Well, I never . . . !”
“Please don’t be disheartened,” said Theodosia. “We’ll get to the bottom of Dougan’s death yet.”
Delaine worried her front teeth against her bottom lip. “What about the drugs? Did you ask Simone about the drugs?”
“She swore she had no knowledge of drug use.”
“His or hers?” asked Delaine.
“Either.”
“And you believed her?”
“I really don’t know what to think,” said Theodosia. And she didn’t. The evidence in Granville’s room had been fairly damning. And as far as Granville using drugs with Simone . . . well, that was in the past. So who knew?
“She’s a druggie,” Delaine said, and there was harsh conviction in her voice. “I mean, how else does the woman stay so gosh-darn skinny?”
“I can think of a few ways,” said Theodosia.
* * *
Millie Grant greeted
them with a nervous smile. “They’re expecting you,” she said in a quiet voice.
“Who is?” asked Theodosia. She wanted to know exactly what she was in for.
“Mr. Grumley and Mr. Horton,” said Millie.
“Both of them?” said Theodosia.
Millie’s head bobbed. “It looks that way.”
“I was under the impression I was meeting only with Allan Grumley,” said Delaine. She’d walked in under full steam; now her confidence seemed to be eroding.
Millie looked apologetic as she led them to a conference room. “It seems strange to me, too,” she whispered.
“Millie,” said Theodosia, “I know this question is way out of left field, but do you know anything about a shipment of cigars?”
Millie’s brows knit together. “I know that Mr. Granville owned a cigar shop, but . . . why, is something missing?”
“We’re not sure,” said Theodosia.
Millie shook her head. “I don’t really know much about the shop. He kept his different businesses fairly compartmentalized.”
“Okay,” said Theodosia. “But if you hear anything . . .”
“If I do, I’ll be sure to let you know,” Millie whispered. Then, in a louder voice, she said, “You can wait in here.”
Theodosia glanced around the conference room. It basically screamed
law office
. The walls were burnished wood, the conference table an acre of polished mahogany. A dozen red leather chairs with hobnail studs were clustered around the table. Law books populated the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves at both ends of the room.
“Tailor made for billy goats,” Theodosia remarked.
“Excuse me?” said Delaine.
“Billy goats,” said Theodosia. “Men who posture and prance and try to intimidate.”
Delaine smiled faintly. “Which describes this law firm to a T.”
“That’s right,” said Theodosia. “So don’t let these trappings fool you.”
“Ladies!” Allan Grumley exclaimed loudly as he bustled in to greet them. Grumley
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