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“Hello?” a voice echoed from the back. It was a man’s voice, deep and resonant. Theodosia wondered if it might be one of the artists who’d stopped by to pick up their work. Or maybe pick up a check?
Seconds later Philip Boldt appeared. Besides his appearance yesterday, Theodosia had met Philip a few times, mostly when he filled in as bartender at one of Holly’s art openings. But Philip was actually a budding restaurateur. Right now he ran what he called a ghost kitchen over on Cumberland Street. Ghost because he was only doing a takeout business on food until he could get his entire restaurant up and running.
“Philip,” Theodosia said. “How are you?” Philip was slight to the point of being skinny, which was made even more apparent by the tight T-shirt and black jeans he wore. His dark hair was scraped back into a small man bun which seemed to emphasize his long face, slight hawk nose, and dark eyes.
Philip shrugged. “Not great. Mostly because Holly’s pretty upset. As for Jeremy Slade...” He rolled his eyes. “You can imagine how he’s feeling right now. Seeing his investment trickle away through no fault of his own. Or ours, for that matter.”
“Maybe it’s not as bad as all that,” Theodosia said. She liked to see the upside of things. Often felt that situations others deemed hopeless could still be salvaged.
“Oh, it’s bad,” Philip said. “Really bad. Wait until you talk to Holly.”
I already have, Theodosia thought to herself. Then said, “Holly’s here, right?”
“Yup, let me run back and grab her.”
Philip disappeared into the back office, closing the door behind him. There was a quiet exchange of words—Theodosia couldn’t hear what was being said—and then Holly came flying out like a little dust devil, dark hair flying, jewelry clanking around her. Philip followed behind in her footsteps.
“Theo,” Holly cried, practically breathless. She reached forward, grabbed both of Theodosia’s wrists, and said, “You’re not going to believe what just happened.”
“What just happened?” Theodosia asked. For a quick moment she hoped it might be good news. That the police had developed a serious lead. Or they’d taken someone into custody.
Didn’t turn out that way.
“I’m being sued!” Holly cried. Now she released Theodosia and threw her hands up in the air. “By no less than Osgood Claxton’s wife!”
“The court served Holly with papers an hour ago,” Philip put in.
“Not only that,” Holly continued, her voice rising in pitch. “She’s his soon-to-be ex-wife!”
“Why on earth are you being sued?” Theodosia asked. “You didn’t do anything. The murderer was an unknown outsider. I can’t imagine you can be held responsible for Claxton’s death. It seems... preposterous.”
“Well, I haven’t read through all the paperwork,” Holly said. She touched a hand to her head, scrubbed at it, then twisted a hank of hair. “Because my reading comprehension is horrible. I’m just not oriented that way, I’m a visual person.” She looked to Philip for confirmation. “Aren’t I, Philip?”
“You are,” he agreed. “You’re extremely visual.”
“But this lawsuit raises the stakes even higher,” Holly said to Theodosia. “Which means we need your help more than ever.”
“Wait. What?” Philip said.
“Theodosia’s agreed to help us,” Holly said. “Generously agreed. She’s going to run a... gosh, what would you call it?” Her mouth worked furiously as she managed an anxious smile. “A kind of shadow investigation. While the police are looking for suspects, Theodosia’s going to snoop around and see if she can figure out what happened.”
“She can do that?” Philip looked startled as he gazed from Holly to Theodosia. “You can do that?”
“I can try,” Theodosia said. “Maybe spot some sort of discrepancy that the police missed.” She raised a hand, made a fluttering gesture. “I don’t know. Holly asked for help, I said yes. It’s as simple as that.”
“Well,” Philip said, rocking back on his heels and nodding. “I like that. And I happen to know you’re one smart cookie, so your offer to help is really quite generous.”
“It is, isn’t it, dear?” Holly grabbed Philip’s arm and pulled him close.
“For sure,” Philip said. “Job number one is keeping the Imago Gallery afloat. So anything you can do...” He gazed at Theodosia with a thoughtful, almost hopeful expression on his face. “But how do you even start with something like yesterday’s murder? How do you sort through all the craziness?”
“I’ll begin with the basics,” Theodosia said. “Study the guest list, look at the list of artists. See if anything jumps out at me.”
“And then what?” Philip asked.
“Then I’ll dig deeper and ask a few questions. If I actually discover something worth pursuing, I probably have to hand it over to the investigators,” Theodosia said.
“Sounds good to me,” Philip said, his enthusiasm growing by leaps and bounds. “Wow, thanks so much for putting your smarts to work on this. Since people are actually returning paintings and canceling orders for commissioned work, today’s been another disaster for Holly.” He gazed at Holly, who nodded and managed a frazzled half smile. “So anything, really anything you can do to help, would be a step in the right direction.”
