Chapter 33
Five minutes later, the whole area was lit up like the circus had pulled into town.
Which it kind of had. Three police cruisers had arrived, along with the Fire and Rescue Squad and a Charleston County ambulance.
Twombley was extracted from the SUV, loaded into the ambulance, and was now being tended to by two EMS guys.
Theodosia was back at her borrowed car, handing Pumpkin over to Drayton in exchange for her phone, when a familiar black Suburban with smoked windows bounced across the grass and rocked to a stop.
All the doors flew open and men poured out like it was a clown car.
One of the men was Detective Burt Tidwell.
His face was a thundercloud and Theodosia feared that he was furious with her.
“You caught him,” were Tidwell’s first words.
Theodosia’s breath caught in the back of her throat. Tidwell didn’t sound mad.
“All this show of force over a dachshund and a diamond necklace?” Theodosia said. She wasn’t sure why Tidwell had deigned to show up. Or was he already privy to what she’d just discovered?
“Ah,” Tidwell said in a slightly gleeful tone. “There’s something you don’t know.”
“Then again, maybe I do,” Theodosia said.
“Not this part. Friday night, your Aunt Libby called to report something strange going on at Featherbed House.”
“Which was…?”
Tidwell seemed to be enjoying his story.
“It seems your Aunt Libby took an evening stroll through the greenhouse and heard some unusual sounds. Thought she heard a woman crying. She called it in, but when an officer came to check on it, he chalked it up to a meowing cat that was patrolling the premises. The report came across my desk late today, and in light of the kidnapping, I started to wonder if something really had been going on. So I sent an officer over to do a more thorough check.”
Theodosia nodded. “Go on.”
“Anyway, the officer interviewed a couple more people who’d also heard a strange disturbance. Then, when the night clerk at the Featherbed House opened the door to Room A3, the place was a mess. Blankets, ropes, a pair of handcuffs, fast-food wrappers strewn everywhere.”
“You’re telling me that’s where Amber was being kept.”
“By none other than Gordon Twombley,” Tidwell said. “Wait, you know most of this?”
“Twombley gave me what he probably figured was a deathbed confession, even though I’m guessing he’ll probably pull through. What he said, and this is his statement verbatim, is ‘I needed the money.’ ”
“He was talking about the ransom money,” Tidwell said.
“He was talking about all of the money. Twombley murdered Mrs. V to get his hands on her antiques. Then, when he was summarily dismissed, he kidnapped Amber to collect a ransom and poisoned Veda to throw up a smoke screen.”
“Quite the one-man crime spree,” Tidwell said.
“The way I see it, Twombley kidnapped Amber hoping to get a lot more money than he would have earned by selling Mrs. V’s antiques and artwork on commission,” Theodosia said.
“A man with Twombley’s ego must have despised being relegated to the role of lowly packer and shipper.
” She shook her head. “What a piece of work. What a dirtbag.”
Tidwell rocked back on his heels. “You might be pleased to know that when I ran a check on Gordon Twombley it rang a few bells and sent the cherries spinning. Turns out the man has an arrest record a mile long. He hails originally from Dubuque, Iowa, and spent one college semester in England. I’m guessing that’s where he picked up the accent and mannerisms. He also ran a shop in Del Mar, California, before this.
Bilked a lot of wealthy people out of their money by selling them fake Chinese art.
Of course, he told them he’d relocated from Hong Kong, where he’d amassed a fine collection of Ming and Song dynasty treasures. ”
“And the Chinese art, they really were all fakes?” Theodosia asked.
“I think when the price is high enough they’re called forgeries,” Tidwell said.
“Angie’s going to be crushed when she finds out about Gordon. I think she was serious about him.”
Tidwell shrugged. “She’ll get over it. Especially when she finds out there’s a fifty-thousand-dollar reward for information leading to his arrest.”
“And you’re going to see that Angie gets it?”
“Please, you know what a soft heart I have.” Tidwell gazed past Theodosia, frowned, and murmured, “Wouldn’t you know it.”
Theodosia turned to find Bill Glass stumbling across the grass. His jacket flapped open and cameras flew about his neck. His seriously unhappy look matched his mismatched outfit.
“Why didn’t you call me?” Glass shouted at Theodosia. “I mean, that pencil neck Ken Lotter is already here trying to scoop the story.” He ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stand up straight. “Why didn’t you give me first crack?”
“I don’t know,” Theodosia said. “Probably because Lotter was in on the chase?”
“Holy hello, there was a chase?” Glass digested this for a moment, then spun on his heels and hurried toward Lotter, arms stretched wide and shrieking, “Dude, hey dude, you were in an actual chase?”
“They’ll go at it all night,” Theodosia said, just as her phone rang. She walked a few steps away, looked at her screen, and said, “Riley.” She clicked the on button and said, “Hey you.”
“How goes the fancy ball?” Riley asked. “Are you dressed to the nines and sipping flutes of exotic French champagne?”
“Not exactly,” Theodosia said. “Things didn’t quite work out the way I’d planned.”
Shouting loudly, so Riley was sure to hear him, Tidwell said, “Tell Riley how you helped capture a killer.”
“You what?” Riley cried. “A killer? Wait, you’re not at the ball?”
“Riley,” Theodosia said, “you won’t believe what just happened. I mean, it’s preposterous.”
“Try me.”
“First things first,” Theodosia said. “When are you coming home?”
“Sweetheart, just say the word and I’ll catch a plane tonight.”
Theodosia smiled. This was exactly what she’d been waiting to hear. “I’m saying the word,” she said, “and I’ll be sure to wait up.”
Theodosia sighed and lifted her eyes skyward.
The rain had let up for the time being and the night air felt cool and cleansing.
Somewhere off in Charleston Harbor a tugboat sounded a mournful toot.
Nearby, crickets began to chirp. And over in a grove of magnolias was the faint but reassuring blink of fireflies.