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“Strong,” Drayton said, reaching for a tea tin. “Give me a minute. I have just the thing.”
Theodosia led Philip to a table for two, where they both sat down.
“More problems at the Imago Gallery?” Theodosia said. She knew Philip didn’t have a financial interest in the gallery, but he certainly had a deep personal interest in Holly’s well-being.
“It feels like everything’s coming apart at the seams. A few more artists have unceremoniously departed, looking for representation elsewhere. So sales aren’t just flat, they’re in the sub-basement. And what breaks my heart is the terrible toll all this is taking on Holly. She’s scared and desperate and losing her self-confidence.”
“But it’s a terrific gallery that’s been reasonably successful for, what, three years now?”
“And in three days it’s hit rock bottom.”
Philip paused as Drayton set a tea tray on their table and said, “Goomtee Garden. Strong and nicely brisk.”
“Thank you, Drayton,” Theodosia said as she poured two steaming cups of tea. “Here.” She slid a teacup across the table to Philip. “Drink this. It’ll make you feel better.”
“I hope so,” Philip said. He didn’t sound convinced, but he obligingly took a sip anyway. “Mmm, it is good. And hot.” He blew on the surface of his tea, then took a second sip. “I’m wondering—hoping, really—that you’re still sniffing around, looking at suspects in the Claxton murder. If the police arrested someone—indicted them, even—it would take an enormous amount of pressure off Holly. Offer up proof that none of this is her fault.”
“None of this is her fault,” Theodosia told him. “And I’ve definitely been on the hunt.”
“Thank goodness.”
“Amazingly, there are more than a few people with unsavory ties to Osgood Claxton. And who might have wanted him dead.”
“I know you’ve taken a look at Lamar Lucket,” Philip said.
“He’s a candidate,” Theodosia said. “In more ways than one. There’s also Mignon Merriweather, Claxton’s soon-to-be-ex-wife; Ginny Bell, a woman Claxton had a long-term affair with; and Booker, that weird artist you and Holly turned me on to. All of them with good, solid reasons to have wanted Claxton dead. Any one of them could have dressed up in that beekeeper outfit and killed him.”
Philip lifted his eyebrows and said in a low voice, “Have you by any chance considered Jeremy Slade as a suspect?”
Theodosia was taken aback. “Holly’s silent partner?” She hadn’t expected Philip to toss his name into the mix.
“Not so silent,” Philip said. “In the last month or so Slade has been pushing Holly awfully hard.”
“How so?” Theodosia asked.
“Slade wants Holly to hurry up and sign more artists, stage dozens more gallery receptions, and try to get close to the wealthier people in Charleston.” Philip glanced around. “You know, the folks who reside here in the Historic District, the ones who are huge fans of art and antiques and have discretionary dollars to spend.”
“That’s what Holly’s guest list was all about, wasn’t it?” Theodosia said. “For last Sunday’s Honeybee Tea she’d invited quite a few art collectors and prominent citizens. Some of the same people who are benefactors of the Gibbes Museum of Art.”
“That’s true,” Philip said in a slightly defensive tone. “I mean, Holly was trying to made inroads.”
“Which isn’t an easy thing to do. It takes time and patience to cultivate an audience of that caliber.”
“I know, I know.” Philip took another sip of tea. “I’m just thankful you’re still working on this Claxton thing, nosing around. I appreciate it. Holly and I are both grateful for your efforts.”
Theodosia reached over and touched a hand to Philip’s arm. “How are you doing in all of this?”
Philip’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Me? I don’t like to complain, but things have been kind of rocky. You know I’m still struggling to get my restaurant open.”
“The Boldt Hole,” Theodosia said. She thought it was a fun name, a memorable name.
“There have been financial issues, long waits for permits.” Philip sighed. “The usual hoops a new business has to jump through.”
“Tell me about it. I’m still wrestling with the city zoning committee over how many outdoor tables I can legally have.”
Philip chuckled. “I don’t mean any disrespect, but that’s kind of reassuring to hear. It tells me I’m not the only one out there who’s been getting the runaround.”
***
