26
It was as if someone had let all the air out of the room. Nobody moved, everything remained completely still, as if in suspended animation. Then Theodosia held out her hand and said, “Let me talk to him.”
Meredith practically threw the phone at Theodosia.
“Hello?” Theodosia said. “Who is this and what exactly do you want?”
“Five million dollars,” the mechanical-sounding voice said. “Cash.”
“Sure,” Theodosia said. She tried to fight the rising tide of panic in her voice and sound halfway reasonable. “But that’s an awful lot of money. How do I know this isn’t a scam? You could be any random thug who’s read about Meredith’s trouble in the newspaper and is trying to take advantage of her.”
“I assure you I’m not. I’ve got the old lady’s daughter-in-law, and if her family wants to see her alive, they’ll do exactly as I say,” the cold voice commanded.
Whoever this is, they’re using a voice changer, Theodosia thought. One of those gadgets that pitches your voice to a mechanized, almost monotone level.
“Are you listening?” the voice asked.
“I’m here,” Theodosia said.
“Five million dollars. Cash,” the voice said again. “If my terms aren’t met, I put the girl in a gunnysack and drop her in a swamp.”
If only I could somehow record this conversation. So Riley could hear it for himself.
“But you—” Theodosia began.
“Do not screw around, because you don’t have much time,” the voice interrupted.
“How much time do we have? And where exactly are we supposed to make this exchange?” Theodosia didn’t really believe any money would change hands or that Fawn would be returned; she was stalling for time, trying to think. Trying to come up with a plan.
“Tell the old lady I’ll call her tomorrow,” the voice said.
“Wait a minute,” Theodosia cried. “You can’t just . . . We need more . . .”
But she was talking to dead air. The mysterious caller had hung up.
“What’s happening?” Meredith asked in a hoarse whisper. “What’d they say?” She ran a hand through her short hair, causing it to stick up straight and make her look completely unhinged.
“Whoever it was, they’re gone,” Theodosia said. “They hung up.”
“And this caller really demanded five million dollars for the return of Fawn?” Drayton asked.
Meredith’s chin quivered. “I think that’s what they said.” She stared mournfully at Theodosia. “That’s what you heard, too, right?”
“I’m afraid so,” Theodosia said.
“This has to be the most bizarre thing ever,” Drayton sputtered. “A murder . . . a kidnapping, and now a ransom. Was all of this engineered by the same person? The same . . . mastermind?”
“I wouldn’t categorize it quite that way,” Theodosia said. She figured the perpetrator had to be someone close to Meredith. Which meant they were an inexperienced amateur versus a master criminal. And because they were probably driven by both rage and greed, they were bound to trip up sooner or later. She just hoped it would be sooner.
“Five million dollars,” Meredith muttered. Her eyes fluttered uncontrollably, and her body shook with worry.
Delaine, on the other hand, looked more curious than frightened. “Do you actually have five million dollars?” she asked.
Meredith fought to pull her thoughts and emotions together. “Not in cash, I don’t.” She reached down, grabbed her handbag, and opened it. As if she was expecting to find five million dollars stashed inside. “But . . . I suppose if I met with my personal banker, sold some stocks, and mortgaged Creekmore Plantation and all the land surrounding it, I could come up with that amount.”
“Goodness.” Delaine was clearly impressed.
Theodosia was not.
“We still don’t know if this is a scam,” Theodosia said. “Like I said before, this could be any random dude who knows about Reginald’s murder and Fawn’s disappearance. And is trying to take advantage of you.”
“It sounded real to me,” Meredith said. She was clearly conflicted.
“You should have demanded proof of life,” Delaine said.
Now Meredith looked even more confused. “I don’t know what that means.”
“Like in the movies,” Delaine said. “Where you get a photo of a person holding a newspaper showing the current date. So you know they’re still alive and kicking.”
Theodosia didn’t know about proof of life. Or what Hollywood’s version of a ransom demand would be. What she did know was they were in over their heads and needed serious professional help. As in, Come right away because this is an emergency. Which is why she snatched Meredith’s phone away from her and promptly dialed 911.
Tidwell came roaring into the tea shop some ten minutes later, face flushed, his khaki trench coat flapping open over his stomach. Pete Riley followed close on his heels. No trench coat, no stomach.
Tidwell took one look around, studied everyone’s faces, took careful note of Madame Emilia, and said in a sour tone, “What the Sam Hill is going on here?”
Everyone started talking at once. It sounded like a cocktail party full of grackles.
“No, no, no,” Tidwell boomed. “One at a time.”
When nobody ceased talking, Tidwell decided to divide and conquer. He assigned Drayton and Madame Emilia to Detective Riley, while he interviewed Theodosia and Meredith. Delaine was the odd man out, probably because Tidwell knew her contribution would be drivel. Yup, the cheese stands alone.
“It was a ransom demand,” Theodosia told Tidwell. “Five million dollars in exchange for the return of Fawn Doyle.”
“That’s what it was, pure and simple,” Meredith said in a dry voice, nodding her head crazily like a bobblehead doll.
“And this caller did not identify himself?” Tidwell asked.
From the sidelines, Delaine said, “Duh.”
“I’ll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself,” Tidwell shot back at her.
That buttoned Delaine up. For a while.
Tidwell turned back to Theodosia. “No identifiers that either of you could discern?”
“Not possible, since the caller used a voice changer,” Theodosia said.
“Yours for thirty-nine ninety-five via the Internet,” Tidwell said.
“With that horrid, mechanical voice, it could have been anyone,” Meredith whispered. “Man or woman.”
“Quite right,” Tidwell said. “But do you think this call was legitimate? That the caller is actually holding Fawn prisoner somewhere?”
“Yes,” Meredith said.
“Maybe,” Theodosia said.
“What else can you recall?” Tidwell asked. “Was any timeline given?” He held up a hand. “Take your time; try to remember each and every detail. Nothing is too insignificant.” Tidwell could be charming and faux courtly until . . . he wasn’t.
“That horrible voice told me he’d call back tomorrow with instructions,” Meredith said.
“There must be something more you can tell me,” Tidwell said.
Meredith tried again, stumbling along tearfully, trying to recount her exact conversation. Theodosia interjected a few helpful notes here and there until, finally, Meredith dissolved into a puddle of tears. “I-I can’t go on,” she wailed.
Tidwell pursed his lips and frowned.
Theodosia stared at Tidwell. “You’ve pretty much heard the full story. Now what do you think she should do?”
“For now, I would advise pretending to follow the caller’s instructions to the letter,” Tidwell said. “Try to pacify them until we can get a plan in place.” Then, seemingly immune to female hysterics, he swiveled his big head toward a tearful Meredith and said, “Can you get that much money together in the allotted time frame?”
“I think so.” Meredith sniffled. “Probably.”
“Good,” Tidwell said. “Do that. But under no circumstance are you to hand over any of your money to this so-called kidnapper.”
“No?” Meredith squeaked. “But what . . . ?”
“We’re going to play a game of cat and mouse,” Tidwell said. “For starters, we’re going to tap your phones. So if and when the kidnapper calls back, we’ll be privy to the conversation.”
“Whatever you say,” Meredith said. “What . . . what else?”
“Once you gather the funds together, you dare not sit home by yourself. It’s far too dangerous.”
“She’s been staying at the Lady Goodwood Inn,” Theodosia said.
“In their Dream Suite,” Meredith said, trying to be helpful.
“Not secure enough,” Tidwell said. “I’ll have to put a couple men on you. And then tomorrow . . . we’ll need a place where we can keep a careful watch over you.”
“What if I came here tomorrow?” Meredith asked. “Came to Theodosia’s Lavender Lady Tea.”
Theodosia was about to protest—Meredith’s presence would put everyone in danger, wouldn’t it?—when Tidwell said, “Strangely enough, that might work. Miss Browning, I imagine you already have a list of guests who plan to attend?”
“Yes, but—”
Tidwell held up a hand. “And you’re familiar with all of these people? You’ve basically vetted them?”
“Yes, but—”
“This tea party might be the perfect foil,” Tidwell said.
“Will you be here? Lurking among the scones?” Theodosia asked, somewhat acerbically. She felt like she was being railroaded. Well, she was.
“I won’t be present, but several of my men will,” Tidwell said.
“Inside? Outside?” Theodosia didn’t want her Lavender Lady Tea to be ruined by men in black nylon SWAT gear who were brandishing guns and radios.
“Details to be worked out,” Tidwell said.
“Hmm,” Theodosia said. His plan sounded awfully loosey-goosey to her.
Twenty minutes later, interviews concluded, Tidwell and Riley put their heads together while everyone sat waiting with bated breath.
“This was quite unreasonable,” Delaine complained as the two men talked. “They didn’t even want my two cents’ worth.”
“You should be thankful for that,” Drayton said. “We were practically grilled.” He pulled out a folded white hankie and wiped his brow.
Tidwell stalked over to where they were all sitting, Riley right behind him.
“All right, everyone, listen up,” Tidwell said.
They sat there, alert and ready to listen.
“We’ll have a plan in place shortly,” Tidwell said with a small amount of bravado and flourish.
“A plan that will carefully address this ransom business,” Riley said. He came across as thoughtful, and at times sardonic, to Tidwell’s outright bluster.
“Now I ask for each of you to remain absolutely mum on the subject,” Tidwell said. “Don’t tell anyone what happened here today or what you think might happen tomorrow. Is that clear?”
Tidwell’s beetle brows descended over his eyes like window shades.
Everyone noted his intensity and nodded politely.
“Good. Excellent,” Tidwell said.
“It looks as if our Robbery and Homicide Division has its work cut out for it,” Riley said.
Theodosia raised a hand. “If I could just—”
“No, you cannot,” Tidwell cut in. “Nope, nada, no way. Now it is time for you, Miss Browning, to bow out gracefully. We—and by that I mean Detective Riley and myself, with the aid of Sheriff Burney and a number of other officers—will handle this case by ourselves. From here on out. Is that understood?”
Again, everyone gave pleasant nods and murmurs. Including Theodosia. She figured it was better to go along to get along. Detective Tidwell’s words didn’t sit well with her, but right now there wasn’t much she could do about it. But maybe tomorrow . . .
As Tidwell and Riley turned to leave, Meredith grabbed Theodosia’s arm and pulled her aside.
“I hope you don’t mind my coming to your Lavender Lady Tea tomorrow. Using it as a kind of security blanket.”
“It should be fine,” Theodosia said. She tried to sound amiable and agreeable, even though she was screaming a little bit inside.
“And I’m praying that it’s okay to bring Alex and Bill Jacoby with me, too.” Still visibly shaken, Meredith licked her lips and quickly added, “I thought maybe they could serve as my guardian angel posse. Would that be a problem?”
“No, I’ll just squeeze in another few chairs.” Along with the police officers that will be hiding under the tables and in the cupboards.
Meredith’s relief was palpable. “Bless you for your kindness.”
Friday night and Theodosia paced inside her own home. This was usually date night for her and Riley. Take in a movie, check out a new restaurant, cozy up in front of the fireplace with a good bottle of wine. Except tonight Riley was working. Or rather, Tidwell had him on overtime, probably riding him like a rented mule.
Would Riley call her? Bring her up to speed on the plan—whatever that plan might be?
Probably not.
Rats.
Theodosia fed Earl Grey and warmed up some leftover lentil soup for herself. With time hanging heavy, she tried to read a book, lost interest in that, and turned on the TV. But found nothing that appealed to her.
Finally, at quarter to nine, Riley called.
“What?” Theodosia practically yelled into the phone. “What’s going on?”
“Not much at the moment.”
“No clues? Nothing?”
“Clues and forensic evidence are critical, but most breaks come when somebody talks.”
“Is anybody talking?”
“No.”
“But surely you people must have drawn up a suspect list by now. Somebody close to Meredith, to Reginald Doyle.” Theodosia rattled on, breathless now. “Because what I’m thinking is this . . . the killer is also the kidnapper. So there have to be some distinct possibilities. And . . . and you must have traced that phone call.”
“We tried, but the phone turned out to be a burner. The kidnapper probably bought it at the local Walmart, used it once, then dumped it in a trash can somewhere.”
“Could it have been Jack Grimes, the caretaker?”
“We already checked him out. He’s gone. Moved to Georgia. Some place in Clutch County.”
“Clinch County,” Theodosia said.
“You know where he relocated? Jeez, Tidwell was right. You are way too involved.”
“What about Guy Thorne?”
“What about him?”
“He’s a good possibility,” Theodosia said. “We know the man is financially strapped.”
“Thorne has been working at his restaurant all day,” Riley said. “Trollope’s is jam-packed with customers, plus there’s some kind of prewedding event going on in their private dining room.”
“But maybe . . .”
“Also, we’ve been watching him. We got a court order and tapped his phones.”
“So he . . .”
“Didn’t do it,” Riley said. “Like I said, he’s been honchoing a busy restaurant but hasn’t, to our knowledge, called in any kind of ransom demand.”
“Carl Clewis or Alex, then,” Theodosia practically shouted. “Either of them could have easily made that ransom call.”
“You can’t just keep throwing out names,” Riley said. “There has to be some supporting evidence.”
“Alex, then. He and Fawn weren’t getting along. Plus, he despised Reginald.”
“Maybe so,” Riley said. “But our plan right now is to sit tight until the ransom demand is made. Then we . . .”
“Follow the money,” Theodosia said. “I know.”
“Trust me, we’ve got this under control.”
No, Theodosia thought, nobody’s got this thing under control. Except perhaps that one shadowy figure who was out there on the fringe, jerking everyone’s chain.
And come tomorrow, hopefully not mine as well.