Chapter 2
“That’s what killed Mrs. Van Courtland?” Theodosia cried. She was practically shouting now that she’d finally caught her breath.
“It’s a guess, an observation,” the EMS tech said. “Preliminary at best. On the other hand, we deal with so many fentanyl overdoses these days that it’s fairly easy to recognize the signs.”
“Mrs. Van Courtland was a drug user?” Drayton had snuck up behind Theodosia, shocked, unable to staunch his reckless flow of words.
“I wouldn’t think so,” Tidwell said slowly.
“So she…” Theodosia felt like she was late to the party and playing catch-up. “She was…murdered? Right here at my Firefly Tea?”
Tidwell glanced around the garden. The tables had emptied, with most of the guests huddled at the far end of the patio. One by one they were being interviewed by police officers as they continued to sneak peeks at the death scene and tried their best to listen in.
“That’s what this was?” Tidwell asked. “A tea party of some sort?”
“Yes,” Theodosia said. “Of course.” She was feeling distressed and more than a little angry. How dare someone sneak in here under cover of darkness and murder one of her guests. An elderly woman at that. The whole idea was horrific. If you weren’t safe at a tea party…where were you safe?
“Please return to the group,” Tidwell said in a mild tone.
Theodosia shook her head, not sure she’d heard him correctly. “What?” Then she realized Detective Tidwell wasn’t speaking to her at all. His words were directed at Aunt Libby, who’d tiptoed over to talk to her.
“In fact, all of you please step away,” Tidwell said, raising both hands and making a shooing motion.
“There are things we need to do, procedures to be followed. When Crime Scene arrives they’ll have to process this entire area”—he glanced over at the crowd that still milled about—“and we’ll want statements from everyone. ”
“Sure. Whatever,” Theodosia said. Drayton took Aunt Libby by the arm and led her across the patio, where they all plopped down at one of the tables. Minutes later, Haley drifted over to join them.
“She died?” Haley asked, sounding a little shaky.
“Afraid so,” Theodosia said.
“How?” Haley asked. “Was it her heart? Did she have a stroke or something?”
“The police think she died of fentanyl poisoning,” Theodosia said.
“What?!” Haley’s blue eyes flew open as she shook back her stick-straight blond hair. “How could that happen?”
“An interloper,” Drayton said.
Now Aunt Libby spoke up. “Someone came to our table and flambéed all our desserts. I presume that’s when it happened.”
Drayton was frowning. “But who flambéed your desserts?” He touched his bow tie nervously. “I certainly did not.”
“No, it was someone else,” Aunt Libby said.
“Did you get a good look at them?” Theodosia asked.
“I’m afraid I wasn’t really paying attention,” Aunt Libby said in an apologetic tone.
“Whoever it was posed as a waiter,” Theodosia said. “They must have snuck in here in the dark and tampered with Mrs. V’s dessert. When I followed them through the hedge and chased them down the street, they turned a butane torch on me.”
“Gracious,” Drayton said.
“Gruesome,” Aunt Libby said.
“But who on earth would want to kill Mrs. Van Courtland?” Haley asked. “I mean, she was old but she was nice.”
Aunt Libby gave a grim smile. “I can think of a dozen people.”
This time there was a collective “What?” from everyone at the table.
“Olivia was worth a small fortune,” Aunt Libby said.
“How small?” Theodosia asked.
“I’d say about twenty million, give or take,” Aunt Libby said.
“So not such a small fortune at all,” Drayton said. “And strangely enough…” He dropped his voice. “I can tell you that, as a board member of the Heritage Society, Mrs. Van Courtland was on the cusp of making a serious donation.”
“Now what’ll happen?” Haley asked.
Drayton shrugged. “Who knows? I suppose it depends on the bequests in her will.”
“Or it could be up to her heirs,” Aunt Libby said.
“She has heirs?” Theodosia asked.
Aunt Libby nodded. “Oh yes. They’ll for sure come crawling out of the woodwork once they find out Mrs. V is dead.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Drayton said.
“It’s not,” Aunt Libby said. “Poor Mrs. V has a son, Brody, who seems to only care about spending her money. And there’s a daughter-in-law—divorced from that son—who constantly whines about being poverty stricken.”
“Is she?” Theodosia asked.
“I heard she was getting something like fifteen grand in alimony a month, so I can hardly believe she’s broke,” Aunt Libby said.
They sat quietly then, watching as the Crime Scene team arrived.
Dressed in white Tyvek suits, they clattered their way across the flagstone patio, dragging black bins, various crime scene kits, and metal stanchions fitted with lights.
When the lights were finally set up and turned on, they lit the patio in a harsh, unflattering way.
“So much for the poor fireflies,” Drayton mourned.
“Too much competition from those awful lights,” Haley said. “I hope they’ve all fluttered away to a quieter, darker garden.”
Drayton hunched his shoulders and leaned back in his chair. “I never even got a chance to recite one of my poems.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Aunt Libby asked.
“I was going to entertain our guests with a few Japanese haiku,” Drayton said. “All poems about fireflies.”
“Do one now,” Aunt Libby urged.
“Well…” Drayton looked around. “If you’re sure…”
“We’re sure,” Aunt Libby said.
“Okay then,” Drayton said. He cleared his throat and recited, “Blades of grass, a firefly lands, takes off again.”
“Cool,” Haley said.
“That one’s by Basho,” Drayton said, “one of Japan’s most famous poets.”
“Excuse me,” a voice boomed.
They all looked up to find Detective Burt Tidwell staring at them.
“I hate to interrupt your little party, but there’s work to be done.”
Theodosia focused on him. “How can we help?”
“Obviously we need to take rather detailed statements from all of you. And we’ll need a list of all the guests, servers, caterers, and any outside personnel.”
“There weren’t any outside personnel,” Theodosia said. “It was just us.” She indicated Drayton and Haley.
“But food was delivered here?”
“Well, yes,” Theodosia said.
“So there were outside personnel,” Tidwell said, in an exasperated tone. “Also, I’ll need to talk to the inn’s proprietor—”
“Neela Carter,” Theodosia said.
“Who undoubtedly has a staff who works for her,” Tidwell said.
“So you suspect everyone?” Drayton asked. “Because, really, Theodosia here was the one who chased after this intruder, this murderer, who seems to have slipped away. So shouldn’t you be casting your net a bit wider?”
Tidwell pursed his lips, clearly unhappy at Drayton’s words. Which gave Theodosia a chance to jump in.
“Tell us about fentanyl,” Theodosia said. “Are there different varieties? Can they be traced? And just how much fentanyl does it take to kill someone?”
“All good questions,” Tidwell said, “which at this point are none of your business. So please sit tight until my investigators have a chance to interview each one of you. Until then, kindly search your brains to see if you remember anything important that could help us solve this homicide.” And with that, he turned and walked off.
“I think that’s called giving us the brush-off,” Aunt Libby said.
“But not a very nice one,” Haley said.
“Listen,” Theodosia said, leaning in and looking at each one in turn. “Did anybody see anything? Does anybody remember anything at all?”
“Not really,” Haley said. “I was still working in the kitchen.”
“I only saw you go chasing through that back hedge,” Drayton said to Theodosia.
They all looked at Aunt Libby then, who shook her head and said, “Of everyone, I should be able to give a better account of what happened. But I can’t because I wasn’t paying attention.” Tears welled in her eyes as she added, “Now I feel this disaster is partly my fault.”
Theodosia jumped out of her chair and ran to put her arms around her aunt. “Not one bit,” she said. “There were, what, almost forty people here and nobody saw anything out of place? So, please, don’t you dare blame yourself. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. I mean, it was my Firefly Tea.”
“You are not to blame,” Drayton cried. “How could anyone know that a stranger would steal into this lovely garden and wreak havoc?”
“Hey there! Hey, Theodosia!” a voice cried out from across the patio.
Startled, Theodosia looked around and found Ken Lotter, the on-air reporter from K-BAM TV, waving at her. “Ken, what?” she called back.
“I need to talk to you,” Ken said, “about what happened tonight.” He tapped his watch. “If you can give me a quick interview I can still get it on the ten o’clock.”
Tidwell overheard the exchange and hurried to put the kibosh on it. “No reporters,” he said. He pointed to a uniformed officer nearby. “You, officer, hustle this reporter out of here. In fact, string up some Crime Scene tape and keep everyone away from here.”
Tidwell’s outburst pretty much shut down the conversations. Theodosia, Drayton, Haley, and Aunt Libby waited another hour for their interviews. Finally, they talked to investigators who took copious notes, then were told they could go home.
* * *
Driving through the dark in Theodosia’s Jeep, Aunt Libby was quiet for most of the way. When they were about a block from Theodosia’s home, Aunt Libby spoke up. She said, “She needs your help.”
“I know and I tried, I really did,” Theodosia said with regret heavy in her voice. “And so did that lovely nurse who tried her best to revive Mrs. Van Courtland. Even the EMS techs gave it their all. Sadly, nothing could be done.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what?”
“You know what,” Aunt Libby said in her quiet, no-nonsense tone.
Theodosia did know what Aunt Libby was referring to. Aunt Libby wanted her to use her smarts and investigate Mrs. Van Courtland’s murder. Aunt Libby wanted her to ask questions, sniff around, and see if she could uncover a suspect or two.
Unfortunately, that just wasn’t in the cards.
Theodosia frowned as she shook her head sadly. “Detective Tidwell will never allow me to get close to this case. You saw him back there, all proprietary and swelled up with authority.”
“But you’ve done it before. Investigated, I mean.”
“Yes, and I got in trouble for doing so.”
“Excuse me, but there’s no one in all of South Carolina who’s a better amateur sleuth,” Aunt Libby said. “You can run a shadow investigation that nobody sees coming. You have a knack for digging for answers, and when people aren’t forthcoming you charm them in a way that makes them want to talk.”
“You think so?”
Aunt Libby smiled to herself. “I know so.”
“Well, I don’t.” The idea of investigating Mrs. Van Courtland’s untimely death fascinated Theodosia, no doubt about that.
But Tidwell would block her at every twist and turn.
No, she couldn’t just jump into this feet first. She’d have to give it some serious consideration. If she attempted anything at all.
“Think about it,” Aunt Libby said as they pulled into the alley. “After all, my dear, I happen to know you were born with a powerful curiosity gene.”