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“What about the gun the killer dropped?”
“What about it?”
“Did you find any prints?” Theodosia asked.
Tidwell shook his head.
In her mind’s eye Theodosia pictured the killer, running through the park, trying to elude her, fighting with the dog. “Because the killer was wearing gloves,” she said.
“He was dressed in the perfect killing outfit,” Tidwell said. “Nylon zip suit, helmet that prevented anyone from seeing his face, booties, and gloves.”
“The murder was well-thought-out, that’s for sure. Which leads me to believe this is a fairly smart guy.”
“Not that smart,” Tidwell said. “Criminals are never that smart.” He stood up so quickly his knees cracked. “Because sooner or later I catch them.”
Unless I catch them first, Theodosia thought.
***
Once Detective Tidwell had left, Miss Dimple crept out of hiding.
“Is he gone?” she asked, looking around.
“You’re safe, dear lady,” Drayton assured her.
“Good,” Miss Dimple said. “Haley says he’s just a blustering gasbag, but he scares me to death.”
“Deep down, he really does mean well,” Theodosia said. “Tidwell’s solved a lot of tough cases in his career.”
Miss Dimple looped a pale peach scarf around her neck. “If you say so.”
“Will you still be able to help out at our Glam Girl Tea on Thursday?” Theodosia asked.
“Will the chubby police detective be here?” Miss Dimple asked.
Theodosia smiled. “I promise you, Tidwell will not be in attendance.”
“Okay then,” Miss Dimple said. She shrugged into her sweater coat and headed for the door. “I’ll see you dear souls on Thursday.”
“Toodles,” said Drayton. Then he turned to Theodosia and said, “You haven’t told me how your conversation with Ginny Bell went.”
“It didn’t,” Theodosia said. “She wasn’t there.” She held up a finger. “But there’s a good chance we can confront her tonight.”
“We? As in you and me? I’m to be your wingman again?”
“It just so happens the Arts Alliance is having their big silent auction this evening. Their annual fundraiser. And the receptionist I spoke with told me that anyone and everyone is welcome.”
“And you genuinely see Ginny Bell as a suspect?”
“Drayton, she had a torrid love affair with Claxton. Then he broke it off. If I can believe Mignon, Ginny Bell was both angry and humiliated.”
“Angry enough to kill him?” Drayton asked.
“You know the old saying. Hell hath no fury...”
“Like a woman scorned,” Drayton said, finishing her sentence. He picked up a tin of Japanese green tea, studied the label for a moment or two, then set it down. “Okay, count me in. You can give Ginny Bell the third degree while I peruse the art that’s for sale.”
“Excellent.”
