by Laura Childs
“Oh,” Drayton said under his breath. “Not a fellow at all.”
“People,” Timothy said, “I’d like you all to meet Ms. Betty Bates.”
11
For Theodosia, the name suddenly hung in the air like a sharp, discordant note.
“Ms. Bates is also an executive at Capital Bank,” Timothy said. “And, as you can see by her rather impressive résumé, she was a trusted colleague of Carson Lanier’s.”
“A colleague?” Theodosia said under her breath. Her elbow shot out and connected firmly with Drayton’s ribs. She had to tell him!
Drayton bent forward from the impact and twisted toward her, a puzzled look on his face. “What?” he whispered.
Theodosia ducked her head down and cupped a hand to her mouth. It took her barely sixty seconds to inform Drayton that Carson Lanier and Betty Bates were rumored to have had an affair. As she whispered, and as Timothy’s introduction continued, Drayton’s eyes grew bigger and bigger. Finally, he nodded. He understood.
Drayton’s hand shot up, interrupting a pleasant conversation Betty Bates was having with Louella Rayburn. “May I make a suggestion, please?” he asked.
Timothy smiled amiably at him. “Yes, Drayton?”
“I make a motion that we table any sort of vote for now. That we give ourselves ample time to get acquainted with our candidate.”
Timothy’s face fell. “Here I thought we might—”
But Louella Rayburn jumped in. “I second Drayton,” she said. “I think we do need adequate time for us to meet Ms. Bates and go over what looks like a very fine curriculum vitae. And, of course, she’ll want to familiarize herself with us and our workings.”
“Very well,” Timothy said. “The motion has been put forth and seconded. All in favor of allowing us a grace period of—shall we say two weeks?—to get better acquainted with Ms. Bates, kindly say aye.”
There were seven ayes.
“Opposed?”
There were only three nays as Betty Bates glared across the table at Drayton.
“The ayes have it,” Timothy said. “And might I suggest we organize a small cocktail party for Ms. Bates and the board members this Saturday night, right before the opening of the Rare Weapons Show? That might be a good first step in us getting to know one another.”
“A fine idea,” Drayton said.
And with that, Timothy adjourned the meeting.
* * *
• • •
But just because the meeting was over didn’t mean the issue was put to rest.
As Timothy and the other board members began to file out of the room, Betty Bates practically flew across the table to accost Theodosia and Drayton.
“You were the one who stopped the vote,” Betty snarled at Theodosia. Her professional demeanor had cracked wide open to reveal a woman who was furious, just this side of rabid.
Theodosia shook her head. “Not me—I have no vote. I’m not even on the board of directors. I’m just an observer tonight.”
“Just an observer,” Bates mimicked. “But your friend here, Drayton . . .” She glared hotly at him. “Is that your name?” Betty turned back to Theodosia. “You whispered something to him and then the vote was delayed. Tabled.”
“Excuse me,” Drayton said. “But it was the board’s prerogative to do so.”
Bates set her mouth in a hard line and her dark eyes gleamed. “But why did you want the vote delayed? I submitted a résumé that details my past board experience as well as all the critical business requirements.” She shifted her gaze to Theodosia. “Something’s going on, I can smell it.”
“Like Drayton told you,” Theodosia said. “It’s a mere formality, a time period that will allow everyone to get better acquainted.”
But Bates wouldn’t let it go. “This is not only suspicious, it’s humiliating.” She narrowed her eyes and seemed to search Theodosia’s face for an answer. “Why do I have a feeling you’ve been listening to that witch Sissy Lanier?”
Theodosia flinched. And Betty Bates caught it. She pointed an accusing finger at Theodosia and pounced. “I was right. You have been listening to her dirty, filthy lies.”
Theodosia shook her head. “Anytime there’s a high-profile murder, there’s bound to be all sorts of wild rumors flying around. That’s not to say we’re going to believe them.” Theodosia felt exposed for being caught and guilty for buying in to Sissy’s nasty rumor. Perhaps it wasn’t true? But how could she be sure?
But it didn’t matter what Theodosia said or did; Betty Bates had launched into full-blown confrontational mode.
“Wait a minute,” Betty said. “Do you think I had something to do with Carson Lanier’s murder?”
Theodosia just stared at her. The idea had begun to percolate in her brain.
“You people are out of your minds!” Betty shouted. “Do you think I was the one who was stalking Lanier? Do you think I was the one who shot an arrow at him?” She gulped a breath and swallowed hard. “The two of us worked together, for cripes’ sake.”
“I take it you were friends?” Theodosia asked.
Betty raised a shoulder. “I suppose we were friendly enough.”
But her lukewarm answer made Theodosia wonder just how close they’d really been.
“We’ve not put any stock in idle rumors,” Drayton protested, although he pretty much had. Touching a hand to his bow tie, he threw Theodosia a helpless look, practically begging her to slide back into the conversation.
But before Theodosia could get another two cents in, Betty said, “If you people are snooping around for suspects, you know who you should take a look at?” Her cheeks flared red and she practically bared her teeth. “You should be investigating Bob Garver!”
Theodosia, who was getting more and more annoyed by Betty’s histrionics, decided the woman could easily fit the profile of suspect. Anyone who harbored that much anger and rancor probably had a serious problem. If Betty had professional jealousies or issues at the bank, she certainly could have killed Lanier. The other thing that made Theodosia suspicious was Betty’s attempt at misdirection. She’d immediately started throwing shade on this Garver person.
“Who is Bob Garver?” Theodosia asked.
“Garver was Lanier’s business partner,” Bates cried. She took a step back and threw up her hands. “Holy buckets, don’t you people know anything?”
“Do the police know about Bob Garver?” Theodosia asked.
“They should,” Betty said. “They ought to. But from the bumbling efforts I’ve seen so far, maybe not.” She pulled her mouth into a smug smile. “The investigators don’t seem particularly smart.”
“Exactly what business were Lanier and Garver partners in?” Theodosia asked. She knew Lanier had been an executive VP at Capital Bank. But she hadn’t heard word one about any other business he’d been involved with. Obviously, neither had Drayton. And maybe not the police.
Betty Bates hissed at them like an ornery cat. “Bob Garver is a garden-variety crook that Lanier hooked up with a few months ago. They were going to rehab a bunch of Charleston single houses over on Beaufain Street.” She smirked. “Go ahead, I dare you to track down Bob Garver and ask him about the low-interest loans he conned from the City Redevelopment Fund. See if you think he’s putting that money to good use or just lining his own pockets!”
“Are you telling us that Lanier was in on this scam?” Theodosia asked.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Betty said. “But think about it. A dispute over three point nine million dollars could definitely lead to murder!” She waggled an index finger in their faces to reinforce her point, then fled out the door.
“Oh my,” Drayton said. He looked like he was ready to faint. “That was so unpleasant.”
“I’m sorry,” Theodosia said. “I know how much you hate confrontation, but we need to talk to Timothy right awa
y.” She grabbed Drayton’s sleeve and pulled him along. “We’ve got to make him understand what a liability Betty Bates would be to the board.”
* * *
• • •
“Will you please explain to me why you were so adamant about delaying the vote tonight?” Timothy barked as soon as Theodosia and Drayton pushed their way into his office. He rapped his knuckles angrily against his desk. He’d obviously been waiting to grill them. “And why we were mousetrapped into insulting our new board candidate?” Timothy was sitting in a high leather chair behind his ping-pong-table-sized desk, looking perturbed and a little worn-out.
Drayton immediately flapped a hand at Theodosia. “You tell him, Theo.”
“Tell me what?” Timothy rasped. “Whatever it is, it better be good.”
“You asked me here tonight because you believe I’m a good judge of character,” Theodosia began. “Correct?”
Timothy inclined his head toward her. “Yes.”
“Well, I heard an ugly rumor today,” Theodosia said. “Unproven, but still very troubling.”
“Who was the source of this rumor?”
“Sissy Lanier,” Theodosia said.
Timothy’s eyebrows pinched together. “Carson’s estranged wife.”
“Yes. Sissy told me that her husband had been having an affair with Betty Bates,” Theodosia said.
Timothy froze. “What?” Some of the color drained from his face. “That is . . . most troubling indeed.” He leaned back in his desk chair and let his head drop forward, as if this news were almost too much to fathom. “You’re positive about this?”
“Like I said, I heard it from Sissy. And she was quite adamant that they were carrying on an affair.”
“This is a shock,” Timothy said. “Clearly we’ll need to question Ms. Bates about what appears to be a rather indelicate situation. We certainly don’t want a hint of impropriety among our board members. Especially when we’ve just come through a rough patch financially and are starting to regain our footing.”
“I agree,” Theodosia said. “You need to get Ms. Bates’s side of the story.”
“I’ll do that,” Timothy said.
“There’s something else,” Theodosia said.
Timothy sighed. “There always is.”
“Betty Bates could also be the killer.”
“What!”
“Besides pooh-poohing our suspicions of a love affair, Betty Bates tried to impress upon us the fact that she wasn’t the killer,” Theodosia said. “Seeing her as a suspect hadn’t seriously crossed our minds until she started vehemently denying her involvement.”
“Dear Lord,” Timothy said. “Do you think Betty Bates could have killed Lanier? If she wasn’t his paramour, then was there professional rivalry at the bank?”
“That’s always a possibility,” Theodosia said. “But, get this, Betty came right out and accused a man named Bob Garver of murdering Carson Lanier.”
“Sissy Lanier points a finger at Betty, and then Betty points it at someone else?” Timothy muttered. “How many suspects can there be?” He seemed to collapse inward. “And who is Bob Garver? I’m not familiar with that name at all.”
“Neither are we,” Drayton said.
“I don’t know,” Theodosia said. “But we need to ask Detectives Tidwell and Riley about this Betty Bates rumor. And look into her accusation about Bob Garver.”
Timothy reached across his desk and fiddled with an old Cartier pen that was stuck in a marble stand. “You’ll notify the police about this? And keep me in the loop?”
“Of course,” Theodosia said.
* * *
• • •
Ten minutes later, Theodosia pulled up in front of Drayton’s home. The night was full-on dark, the only hint of light coming from globes of antique streetlamps that were strung down the narrow street like so many glowing rosary beads. Sweet hints of jessamine rode currents of air.
“Do you want to come in for a cup of chamomile tea?” Drayton asked. “Mull over the night’s turn of events?”
Theodosia shook her head. “No thanks.”
“What if I offered you something stronger? Sherry?”
“I think I just want to go home.” What Theodosia really wanted was to get in touch with Pete Riley. Burn up the phone lines and ask him the million unanswered questions that were buzzing inside her brain. About Jud Harker, Betty Bates, and now this guy Bob Garver, whoever he was. Maybe, hopefully, Riley could shed some light on what was turning into a frightful mess.
* * *
• • •
A few minutes later, Theodosia was back in her own neighborhood, gliding past her cozy little home that had come with the endearing name of Hazelhurst. It was a Queen Anne–style cottage, complete with wooden gables, a slightly asymmetrical design, rough cedar tiles that replicated a thatched roof, and the blip of a two-story turret. Curls of ivy meandered up the home’s brick and stucco walls.
At the end of the block, she made a sharp right-hand turn and bumped down the cobblestone alley behind some slightly larger homes and pulled into her car park. Once she slipped through the wooden gate into her backyard, she was able to breathe a sigh of relief.
Home at last.
With tiny shards of light from a streetlamp slanting through a tangle of greenery, her backyard looked like an enchanted garden. A small patio surrounded by shrubs and magnolia trees and a tiny fountain that pattered and splashed, adding a musical note to the stir of wind through the trees.
When Theodosia opened the back door and stepped into the kitchen, Earl Grey was right there, Johnny-on-the-spot to meet her. Tail wagging, ears pricked forward, eyes shiny bright as oil spots.
“You want to go outside for a while?” she asked him. “Make sure the raccoons haven’t been staging brash raids on our fishpond?” Five small goldfish swam around and basically enjoyed life in the tiny backyard pond. They also brought Earl Grey hours of gazing pleasure.
“Woof!”
“Okay then, I’ll see you in a bit. I’m just going to brew a cup of rooibos tea and make a phone call.”
Theodosia closed the door, kicked off her shoes, and brewed a quick pot of tea. Then she called Pete Riley. When he answered, she started right in without benefit of preamble.
“I tried to call you before, several times—where were you?” Then, “I heard a very troubling rumor tonight. About a man named Bob Garver.”
“Hello to you, too,” Riley said. “Because I’m home now. And why are you asking me about some guy I’ve never heard of? Also, why should I care about some random dude when I’m stretched out in my easy chair listening to a RiverDogs baseball game on the radio and drinking a Holy City Pilsner?”
“A what?”
“Craft beer.”
“Okay.”
Theodosia calmed down and spent several minutes bringing Riley up to speed. She told him about Sissy Lanier’s accusation that her husband and Betty Bates had been carrying on a torrid affair. Then she segued into Betty Bates itching to take Lanier’s place on the Heritage Society’s board. And finished with an instant replay of Betty Bates screaming about how she wasn’t guilty of killing Lanier, but some guy named Bob Garver had cheated the city out of low-interest loans and had probably murdered Lanier.
When Theodosia was finally done, Riley remained silent.
“Well?” Theodosia said. “What do you think?” She could hear the faint voice of the play-by-play announcer in the background, calling the game. Every once in a while there was the roar of the crowd. A big play, she guessed, though she wasn’t much of a baseball fan.
“I’m thinking about how you get pulled into the strangest things,” Riley said. “I mean, silly me. I’ve been stumbling around all day like a model detective, questioning witnesses, trying to pry a shred of information out of them, diligently taking notes, and writ
ing police reports in triplicate. And in one fell swoop you come up with two viable suspects.”
“You really think they’re both viable?” Theodosia asked. “Betty Bates and Garver?” A thrill ran through her that Riley was taking this seriously. Or was he simply humoring her?
“I don’t know, tell me more,” he said.
Okay, he wasn’t humoring her. Good.
Theodosia attempted to fill in some more of the blanks. Elaborating on her meet-up with Sissy Lanier, the tone and temper of the Heritage Society board meeting, and Betty Bates’s verbal assault on her and Drayton.
“Lady,” Riley said. “You pack a lot of living into one day.”
“Do you think Betty Bates could have killed Lanier?”
“I don’t know, but I’d like to hear her alibi for Sunday night.”
“Does that mean you’re going to interview her?” Theodosia wondered if Betty would go postal with Detective Riley like she had with her and Drayton.
“Couldn’t hurt.”
“What about this Bob Garver fellow?”
“What about him?”
“If Garver really did cheat the City of Charleston out of three point nine million dollars in low-interest loans . . . well, a man that crooked could easily murder his partner in crime, don’t you think?”
“Maybe. Though white-collar crooks generally aren’t killers. They tend to be narcissistic and manipulative, but prefer not to get their hands dirty.”
“This guy could be different,” Theodosia said.
“He could be.”
“So you’ll look into this city home loan thing?” Theodosia asked, just as a loud BANG sounded at the back door. It was Earl Grey smacking the door with his paw, asking to be let in. She put her hand over the mouthpiece and listened to Riley.
“I’ll make a couple of calls first thing tomorrow,” Riley said. “I know a few people who work in city government, so it shouldn’t be difficult to get a read on this.”
