by Laura Childs
Theodosia nodded.
Morley grimaced, then reached for the zipper tab on the black vinyl body bag. His big hand fumbled for a few moments, and then he gave a short jerk and tugged it down until the body bag was halfway open.
“Oh jeez!” Haley clapped a hand to her mouth and stepped back. “Oh man!” she cried out again, spinning away. It was just too much for her.
But Theodosia, her back ramrod stiff, stood next to the gurney, staring down at her ex-boyfriend. She took in his papery skin, closed but slightly bulging eyes, and white lips. And found it inconceivable that this relatively young man, always so full of life and big ideas, could suddenly be dead. And dead from drowning. A shudder passed through her and Theodosia wondered if poor Parker was resting safely in the Lord’s arms now. She certainly hoped he was. Believed he was. When she was alone tonight, back in her little cottage where she could grieve in private, she’d light a candle and offer some special prayers.
“Okay?” asked the EMT. He seemed worried that she might faint. Didn’t know the steel she had in her. “Okay to take him now?” he asked.
Theodosia continued to stare down at Parker’s body, even as she felt Drayton step up behind her. He was offering both sympathy and strength, and she appreciated that. But at the same time, he tugged on her arm, urging her to back away. To let Parker go.
“Theo?” said Drayton.
Reluctant to just turn her back on Parker’s body, Theodosia let loose a sigh of resignation. And noted that Parker’s mouth had been frozen into an O, almost as if he’d been surprised to be rescued, after all. Even though it had all come too late.
The firemen and EMT shifted back and forth, nervously, restlessly. Probably, they just wanted to complete their job and go home.
Finally, Morley said, “Just slipped off the overhead walkway, I guess.” He, too, seemed in need of an explanation.
The other fireman nodded. “There’s a whole tangle of walkways over that main tank. All metal. Probably slippery as heck.”
“Never should have allowed people to takebehind-the-scenes tours,” added the EMT.
Morley bent forward to rezip the bag, but now the zipper was jammed. It didn’t want to close. He tried a second time, unsuccessfully. Frowning, he quickly unzipped the bag all the way down, creating a ripping sound. He meant to start clean from the bottom, but in so doing, revealed Parker’s hands, which were folded loosely across his chest.
Instead of stepping away and letting the fireman fuss, Theodosia cocked her head and stared intently.
What…on…earth?
Her heart gave a lurch and a tiny hit of adrenaline surged through her as she studied Parker’s body in situ now. And what she saw made her suddenly question the grim circumstances of his death.
“What if he didn’t fall?” said Theodosia. Her voice was quiet and even, practically drowned out by the mumble of the EMT, firemen, and now somenervous-looking aquarium employees who had edged in to join them.
“What?” said Drayton, leaning in close to her. “What did you say?”
Theodosia turned and gazedwide-eyed at Drayton. There was a flash of anger as well as incredulousness in her eyes. “We need to call the police,” she told him, in a hoarse, barely audible voice. Then she gathered herself together, put a hand back on the gurney, and said, in clear, firm tones, “Please don’t move him one more inch.”
“What?” Drayton said again, still not understanding. “What on earth are you…?”
“I don’t think Parker fell into that tank,” said Theodosia. “I think he might have been pushed. And then he was somehow…I don’t know…” Her voice wavered for an instant and then she found her strength. “He was held under.”
Now the second fireman spoke up, his voice filled with professional interest, but skeptical at the same time. “How do you figure that?”
“Look at his hands,” said Theodosia. “They’re all cut up.”
The fireman shook his head. “I don’t quite…”
“The wounds,” said Theodosia. “I think they might be defensive wounds!”
Detective Burt Tidwell wasn’t Theodosia’s most favorite person in the whole world, but he was smart and dogged, and he headed the Charleston Police Department’sRobbery-Homicide Division.
Tidwell was also aggressive, demanding, and often petty. He was rough and gruff and had bright, beady eyes and a bulbous body with a stomach that resembled an errant weather balloon. When Tidwell had first arrived in Charleston, fresh off his stint of apprehending the Crow River Killer, the detectives and officers under him had been thrown into a state of shock. He didn’t look like a brilliant investigator. Rather, he resembled aslow-moving buffoon. Big mistake, for they soon learned, sometimes the hard way, that Tidwell was as predatory as they came and that his moods could shift instantaneously from genial cop to angry snapping turtle.
Tidwell had arrived at the Neptune Aquarium, spoken a few curt words to Theodosia and Drayton, then disappeared for a good thirty minutes. Now he was back, talking to Theodosia.
“One of the marine biologists I talked with,” said Tidwell, “surmised that your friend was exploring where he shouldn’t have been.”
“Possibly,” said Theodosia.
Tidwell went on, his jowls sloshing sideways. “Then he slipped and fell into one of the large nets that covered the top of the tank.”
“He was wrapped in it,” Theodosia told him. Like the poor dolphins that get hopelessly entangled in commercial nets. Only this was Parker.
Tidwell went on calmly. “Stands to reason. When Mr. Scully fell from the catwalk and hit the safety net, it tore loose and plunged with him into the tank.”
“But Parker could swim,” Theodosia told Tidwell. “So why wouldn’t he just kick his way to the surface?” She thought about all the sailing Parker had done, theboogie-boarding he’d enjoyed at his favorite beaches on Hilton Head. “He wasn’t afraid of the water.”
“Again,” said Tidwell, “the initial theory is that the deceased, obviously tangled and somewhat disoriented in the net, banged his head against the protein skimmer. Of course, the ME will have to render a definitive answer.” He paused, a look of regret on his broad, pudgy face. “Perhaps your friend’s fall was caused by a brain aneurysm or cardiac incident? It’s rare in someone so young, but it happens. Again, the ME will—”
“Did you look at his hands?” Theodosia asked. “They were completely cut up!”
“And did you see the enormous coral reef inside that tank?” Tidwell asked, but in a kinder, gentler tone. “I don’t doubt the deceased struggled mightily and gashed his hands rather badly against the sharp coral.”
Theodosia digested this information for a few moments. “I suppose he could have. Still…”
“All in all,” said Tidwell, “a terrible wayto—”
“Please don’t call him the deceased,” said Theodosia.
“What do you want me to call him?”
“He was…Parker.”
Tidwell peered at her. “Tell me, if you can, what do you suppose Parker Scully was doing up there? Climbing on the catwalk that stretched across the aquarium tank?” Tidwell had put his investigator’s hat back on.
“I don’t know,” said Theodosia. It was true. She didn’t have a clue. How could she?
“You didn’t have words with him?”
Theodosia was stunned. “No! I never even saw him tonight!”
“But you knew he was present,” said Tidwell.
“I surmised he’d be here,” said Theodosia. “I knew that Solstice was one of the caterers. They were, um, doing appetizers and small plates. Tuna tartare and spring rolls.” What was she doing? she suddenly wondered. A recitation of the menu? Surely, her overtaxed brain was spitting up information that was decidedly unhelpful. Better stick to the subject.
“And you didn’t have any sort of disagreement with him?” Tidwell asked.
Theodosia jerked as if a hot coal had been pressed against her flesh. “No!”
“Oldboyfriend-girlfriend issues?” Tidwell prodded.
“What are you implying?” Theodosia asked. She didn’t like his line of questioning. Not one bit.
“I bring this up,” said Tidwell, “only because someone mentioned seeing the two of you together.
Theodosia practically bared her teeth. “Who said that?”
Tidwell drew back from her. “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say.”
3
Theodosia stared into the mirror and saw a crazy woman staring back at her. Quickly bending forward, she splashed cool water on her face and blotted herself with a paper towel. Then she dug in her clutch purse for a comb and a tissue, patted down her hair, and blew her nose.
There. Better? No, not really. Not by a long shot.
As she exited the ladies’ room, she wheeled left and ransmack-dab into Chef Toby Crisp, Parker’s friend and executive chef. At which point they pretty much collapsed against each other.
“How could this happen?” Chef Toby cried. The sorrow on his plump and usually garrulous face was palpable. “I was just talking to Drayton and he…” His face crumpled. “Well, he said you were there.”
“I was,” said Theodosia. “It was awful.”
“He drowned,” said Chef Toby, shaking his head, brushing away tears. “In that big tank.”
“Apparently,” said Theodosia.
Chef Toby stared at her. “How could he have drowned?” he asked, his voice practically a growl.
Theodosia gazed at him through a veil of tears. “You think that’s strange, too?”
“Yes, I do,” said Chef Toby. “Sure. I mean Parker pretty much grew up on Hilton Head, something like a mile from Sunset Beach. He surfed, he did boogie boards; Parker even took dive lessons. He was certified, for gosh sake.”
“You’re thinking Parker didn’t just fall into that tank and drown,” said Theodosia. She was believing this more and more. Trying to convince herself of what really might have happened? Yes, probably.
Chef Toby scratched at his curly sideburns. “It just doesn’t seem in character that Parker would launch into afull-blown panic, even if he was wrapped in a net. Seems like he’d just…”
“Kick,” said Theodosia. “He would have just kicked his way to the surface.”
“You’d think so.”
“Unless someone held him under,” said Theodosia.
“Huh?” Chef Toby looked surprised. “What are you saying?”
“Parker’s hands were all cut up,” she told him. “I saw him. I looked at the body just before the rescue guys took him away.”
Chef Toby looked confused. “You mean like he cut himself trying to climb out?”
“More like he was fighting with someone and got…” She took a deep breath. “Got stabbed.”
Chef Toby waggled his hands in a questioning gesture. “You mean…murdered?”
She nodded. “Something like that.” Exactly like that.
“And you talked to the police about this?”
“Yes, but they don’t seem all that interested in my theories right now,” said Theodosia. Even though she felt angry and frustrated, she fought to keep any note of hysteria out of her voice.
Chef Toby stood there frowning, hands thrust deep into the pockets of his white jacket, his chef’s hat canted at a crazy angle atop his head. “Is there somebody else we can get to pursue this? Like a lawyer or something?”
Or me, thought Theodosia.
“I’m not sure,” she said.
“But why? Who?” Chef Toby cleared his throat. “That’s the better question. Who would push him in, or push him under?”
“That’s the real question,” said Theodosia.
“You really think… ?”
“Possible.” Probable.
Chef Toby was having trouble wrapping his mind around it. “So what would prompt… ?”
“I don’t know,” said Theodosia. Her mind whirred in a million directions. But she knew if she was going to find an answer, Chef Toby was as good a place as any to start. “What was going on in Parker’s life?” Theodosia asked. “Recently.”
“You mean businesswise?” said Chef Toby. “Or with his personal life?”
“Let’s start with business,” said Theodosia. She decided that looking in that direction might offer the most possibilities.
Chef Toby let loose a deep sigh. “Parker was mostly negotiating to buy a second restaurant.”
“The one in Savannah,” said Theodosia. She was aware that Parker had been working on that for some time.
Chef Toby shook his head. “No, no, that fell through a while back.”
“Really?” This was news to Theodosia. “Why?”
Chef Toby grimaced. “I don’t know the exact details. But I did hear there were some scary guys involved in that deal.”
That remark sparked Theodosia’s curiosity enough to lead to another impertinent but necessary question, “Scary enough to commit murder?”
Chef Toby considered her words. “I don’t know. I never met them.”
“Do you know who they are? Do you know their names?”
“Yes, but that’s about it. All the negotiating was happening out of town and Parker was planning to hire a different executive chef, so I didn’t pay all that much attention.”
Theodosia thought for a moment. Was this something she should tell Tidwell? Or would he think she was too emotionally involved and simply trying to send him on a fool’s errand? She let those questions percolate in her brain for a few moments. Finally, an answer bubbled up. Yeah, probably, Tidwell would think she was grasping at straws. Tidwell was a bearish old boy who, like so many men, was a little distrustful of female emotions and intuition. So he’d probably listen politely, then blow her off. So…back to square one. What to do?
“Can I take a look in Parker’s office?” Theodosia asked.
Chef Toby stared at her, then said, “You realize, if the police do suspect foul play, they’ll probably start combing through his office first thing tomorrow.”
“That’s why I want to look now. Tonight.”
“Seriously?”
Theodosia gave a tight nod.
Chef Toby gave it about three seconds of consideration. “Okay, but…don’t tell anybody, okay?”
“My lips are sealed.”
“Theodosia!” She turned. Drayton was striding down the hall toward them. “You’re ready to leave now?”
“Yes,” she said. “I’m going to give Chef Toby a ride home and then go home myself.” She offered a thin smile. “You can ride with Haley?”
“Of course,” said Drayton. He shook hands with Chef Toby, then gave him a pat on the back. “Sorry, just so sorry,” he said in a gruff voice.
“Thank you,” said Chef Toby.
Drayton focused his gaze on Theodosia. “Just crawl into bed and sip a cup of chamomile tea,” he advised. “Try to soothe your mind.”
“Good advice,” she told him.
But when the two of them tiptoed through the back door of Solstice some twenty minutes later, wild thoughts still whirled in Theodosia’s head.
“This way,” said Chef Toby. He clicked on a light above the large gas stove and led her through the narrow kitchen. They passed the walk-in cooler and a storage room, then turned into Parker’s small office. Chef Toby shuffled across the carpet, then turned on a light. A puddle of yellow spilled from the small brass lamp that sat on Parker’s desk. “Okay. Here we are.” He sounded a little unsure, as if they were suddenly trespassing.
Theodosia had been in Parker’s office any number of times. But not for the last couple of months. She stood, hesitant, wondering where to look, trying to figure out what she was looking for. A clue? Something to point her in the right direction, to give her a hint of a possible suspect? Theodosia made a helpless gesture with her hands. “I don’t know what I’m looking for.”
Chef Toby nodded.
“I suppose I should just look around.” Theodosia stood there, her eyes roving the
small office, seeing posters, menus tacked on the wall, an old metal restaurant sign that said CRAWDADS SERVED HERE.
“Maybe start with his desk?” Chef Toby suggested.
Theodosia plunked herself down in Parker’s chair. She pulled open the top drawer and found the usual mishmash of guy clutter. Pens, stamps, ahalf-eaten Snickers bar, business cards, loose change, ticket stubs for a Stingrays game last winter.
“Who’s going to run the restaurant now?” Chef Toby wondered.
Theodosia looked up. “I don’t know? Parker’s brother?” Parker’s brother, Charles Scully, lived right here in Charleston, somewhere over near Meeting and Broad. She figured he was probably the heir or beneficiary or whatever the legal descriptor was.
Theodosia pulled open the rest of the drawers. Nothing. An old Sony Walkman, a pocketknife, half-used yellow legal pads, and two blue plastic binders, which proved to be empty.
The top of Parker’s desk was fairly neat. Pen and pencil set. A few stray papers, mostly supplier invoices. A sign that said IF YOU WANT TO MAKE A MILLION, START WITH $900, 000. And afour-year-old iMac computer.
Theodosia tapped a finger against the keyboard. “Did he use this much?”
Chef Toby shook his head. “Hardly ever. He was a jot-it-down-on-paper kind of guy.”
“My impression, too.” Theodosia spun the chair around, almost knocking her knees against an old green metalfour-drawer file cabinet. Testing the top drawer, she found it was locked.
“Do you have a key to this file cabinet?”
“No. I didn’t even know it was locked.”
“He didn’t usually lock it?”
Chef Toby looked thoughtful. “Parker was a pretty trusting guy. The only thing he was extremely mindful about was the cooler. We serve a lot of seafood here, and you know how expensive that stuff is. Costs an arm and a leg these days. So he was always telling us to keep it locked. In any restaurant there’s always a bit of what you’d call…lateral transfer.” He sighed. “But the file cabinet…I’ve got no idea.”
Theodosia considered this. Maybe, if she could tiptoe through Parker’s files, there might be some little nit or nat that would point her in the right direction. Maybe. That was, if she wasn’t making a mountain out of a molehill. If Parker really had just fallen into that enormous fish tank and drowned.
