Gunpowder Green

Chapter 14

“What do you think this could be?” asked Theodosia.

They had waited until late in the afternoon when the tea shop was finally empty before they brought out the tablecloth. Drayton had fished it out of the trunk of his Volvo, and now they were staring at the stains and splotches that traced irregular patterns across what had once been pristine linen.

“Yuck,” said Haley. “It’s blood. What else would it be?”

“No, look here.” Theodosia scratched at a brownish gray stain with her fingernail. “It could be powder marks,” she said. “Gunpowder.”

“Perhaps,” said Drayton with a frown. Using the borrowed magnifying glass, he studied the tablecloth carefully. “What about some variety of seaweed?” he proposed. “One end of it did end up dragging in Charleston Harbor. Isn’t there some kind of microorganism that might have washed over it and caused this mottled effect?

“You mean like plankton?” asked Haley. She had quizzed the two of them at length about the funeral, then listened with rapt attention as they told their story of the raging Booth Crowley and the disdainful Billy Manolo.

“Well, it could be,” replied Drayton, not entirely convinced by his own theory.

“What about schmutz?” countered Haley.

They both stared at her.

“You know,” said Haley. “Dirt, pollution, oil . . . schmutz.”

“Should the EPA ever offer you a position,” Drayton told her, “I’d advise you to turn them down.”

“All right, smarty, what do you think it is?” she said. “The darn thing slid onto the ground, some poor guy bled all over it, and then it knocked around in your trunk for a few days. Anything could have gotten on it.”

“Whatever’s on this tablecloth is from the picnic and not my trunk,” replied Drayton. “But, like Theodosia, I’m getting more and more fascinated.” He favored Theodosia with a serious look. “I do think you’re on to something.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and cleaned his glasses. “You’re still adamantly against mentioning anything about this to Tidwell?”

“Absolutely,” said Theodosia. “I’m sure he’s running his own investigation. For all we know, he could have an entire team of forensic experts poring over Oliver Dixon’s clothing right now.” She gave a sharp nod, as if to punctuate her sentence, then momentarily shifted her attention from the tablecloth to the printouts of the picnic photos. She had laid them out on the table earlier and was now sifting through them, still hoping to piece together some answers.

Haley picked up one of the printouts. “Who’s this guy?” she asked.

Drayton peered at the photo. “That’s Billy Manolo, the fellow we saw getting chewed out this morning by Booth Crowley.”

“Hmm,” mused Haley. “He looks kind of tough. You know, work-with-your-bare-hands kind of tough.”

“He’s the one who set up the table and borrowed the tablecloth,” said Theodosia.

“So he handled the box with the pistol in it,” said Haley.

Theodosia thought about it. “Probably. Then again, several people did. Booth Crowley, the fellow Bob Brewster, who Tidwell told us did the actual loading of the gun, and probably a few people at the clubhouse.”

“How about Oliver Dixon’s two sons, Brock and Quaid?” said Drayton.

“You don’t think they wanted to do away with their own father, do you?” asked Haley.

“I don’t know,” said Theodosia slowly. Brock and Quaid didn’t seem like viable suspects, certainly not as viable as Doe. On the other hand, Billy Manolo could be in the running, too. He had, after all, been seen handling the box that contained the mysterious exploding pistol.

Could he have tampered with the pistol? she wondered. Billy certainly would have had easy access. He worked at the clubhouse and did maintenance on the boats. It’s possible he could have resented Oliver Dixon for any number of reasons. They could have had an argument or some misunderstanding. Of course, the big question was, why had Billy Manolo shown up at Oliver Dixon’s funeral at all? Had he come to gloat? Or simply to mourn?

Theodosia reached out with both hands, pulled all the printouts to her, tamped them into one neat stack like a deck of playing cards.

One thing she knew for certain. She had to get this tablecloth analyzed.

“Theodosia,” said Drayton in a cautionary tone, “if this should lead to something more, I don’t want you to put yourself in harm’s way. A man has been killed. What we all took to be an accident, what the police took to be an accident, could just be a clever charade.”

“Maybe I need to speak with Timothy Neville again,” said Theodosia.

“He knows more about antique pistols than anyone I know,” agreed Drayton.

And so does Ford Cantrell, interestingly enough, thought Theodosia.

“Hey, give me that!” Haley suddenly snatched the tablecloth from where it lay balled up on the table. “Turn those printouts over,” she ordered as she suddenly caught sight of a familiar face outside the window. “Delaine is heading for the door!” Haley warned as she scrambled for the back room.

Theodosia flipped the printouts facedown in a mad rush and flutter as Delaine Dish pushed through the door of the Indigo Tea Shop.

“Theodosia, Drayton, I’m so glad you’re both still here, I have the most wonderful news,” she gushed.

“What’s that, Delaine?” said Theodosia. She put a hand to her chest to calm her beating heart.

“Alicia Abbot’s seal point Siamese had kittens a few weeks ago, and she’s giving me one!”

“That’s wonderful, Delaine.” Theodosia knew that when Delaine’s ancient calico cat, Calvin, died almost a year ago, Delaine had been bereft. It had taken her a long time to get over Calvin’s death.

“What are you going to call him? Or is it a her?” asked Haley as she emerged from the back, empty-handed now.

“It’s a little boy kitty,” smiled Delaine. “And I haven’t settled on a name yet. Maybe Calvin II?”

“Catchy,” said Haley.

“Or Calvin Deux,” added Drayton, giving Haley a cautionary look as he scooped up the printouts and headed for Theodosia’s office in back.

“Maybe I’ll just call him Deux,” said Delaine. “I don’t know. What do you think, Theodosia? You were in advertising. You used to come up with names for all those products. And you dream up such wonderful names for all your teas.” Delaine moved across the tea shop and peered at a row of silver tea canisters. She began reading off labels. “Copper River Cranberry, Tea Thymes, Lemon Zest, Black Frost...”

So that’s what this is all about, thought Theodosia. Naming her cat.

“Let me think about it,” said Theodosia. “I’ll knock it around with Drayton, too. He’s really good at that kind of thing,” she added, noting that Haley had to clap a hand over her mouth to stifle a chuckle.

But Delaine wasn’t ready to leave just yet. She hung around the tea shop, finally forcing Haley to offer her a cup of tea and a shortbread cookie.

“It’s nice you can be gone from your store so long,” said Haley.

“Oh, Janine’s taking care of things. Besides, business is slow today. I think it’s fixing to storm. The sky was so blue this morning, and now it’s starting to cloud up.” She wrinkled her nose. “I hope it’s not going to rain. My hair will frizz.”

“Mine, too,” remarked Haley, patting her stick-straight brown locks.

“Theo, you went to the service this morning, right?”

“Yes, Delaine.”

“Heard anything more about that awful Cantrell fellow?”

“Just that he’s turned his plantation into a hunting preserve.”

“A hunting preserve? That sounds awful,” said Delaine. “Killing poor, defenseless animals.” She shuddered. “That’s a terrible thing. Makes a person upset just hearing about it.”

Theodosia smiled sympathetically, but she also knew that many Southerners grew up with a shotgun clutched in their hot little hands. Shooting varmints was a rite of passage in the South. She’d certainly done it herself and, while she no longer chose to hunt, she wasn’t about to condemn those who did.

“Besides,” said Delaine, still outraged at Ford Cantrell’s new enterprise, “isn’t that a concept at odds with itself? Hunting and preserve?”

“Like educational TV,” said Haley. “No such thing, really.”

“Or army intelligence,” added Delaine, with a giggle. “Oh, ladies, I could sit here and chat for hours, but I really have to get back to the store now.”

“Bye, Delaine,” said Theodosia.

“Whew,” said Haley after she’d left. “That lady can really take it out of you.”