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“About two minutes.” He pulled a jade green teapot out and rinsed it. “I wonder if this recent spat with Ginny Bell means I won’t get my teapot.”
“I guess you’ll just have to sneak over and pick it up when she’s not there,” Theodosia said. She got busy pouring refills, chatting with the remaining guests, and feeling decidedly better about things—much more upbeat than she’d felt last night or even this morning. But all that came to a screeching halt when Bill Glass sauntered into her tea shop.
“Glass,” Theodosia murmured under her breath.
Glass saw her standing there, teapot in hand, and shot her another of his military-style salutes.
“Hi-yo,” he said. Today he wore an ill-fitting corduroy blazer in a hideous mustard color.
“What?” Theodosia said, practically sighing as Glass walked up to her with a smarmy grin on his face. It was getting to the point where she could barely tolerate the man.
“I’ve got news,” Glass said. He puckered his lips and emitted several high-pitched tweets. “Something a little bird told me.” His hands made a fluttering motion.
“What now?” Theodosia asked, wishing she could somehow stop him from pushing her buttons as much as he did.
“You know I’ve got contacts on the police force.” Glass grinned wide, showing a row of capped teeth.
“I know you try to weasel information out of a few informants, paid, unpaid, or otherwise.”
“No, this is really something,” Glass said. “That hotel guy... Lamar Lucket? The one who’s running for office?”
“Yes?” Much to her dismay, Theodosia realized she was interested in what Glass had to say.
“One of my contacts told me the police are still looking hard at Lucket. Even asked him to come in for questioning again.”
“Because of the Claxton murder,” she said, wondering if the police had uncovered some sort of hard evidence against Lucket.
“Righto,” Glass said. “But you know what?”
Theodosia waited for Glass to spit out his news.
“I heard that Lucket just laughed in their faces when they asked if he was in any way connected to Osgood Claxton’s murder. Showed complete contempt for them.”
“That sounds like the Lamar Lucket we all know and love,” Theodosia said.
“He also had his PR chick along with him,” Glass said. “A real looker who kept interrupting every time the detectives asked Lucket a question. Some gal named Bernice or Candice who could probably chew gristle and whistle Dixie at the same time.”
“Was her name Clarice?”
Glass snapped his fingers and pointed at her. “That’s it. You know her?”
“Met her once.”
“The scuttlebutt is she’s hell on wheels.” Glass paused as an evil grin stole across his face. “I wonder if she’s single and willing to mingle?”
“Why don’t you give Clarice a call and find out,” Theodosia suggested. She felt slightly guilty about making the suggestion because Bill Glass was nobody’s idea of a dream date. Then again, maybe their personalities would mesh perfectly. Maybe the two of them deserved each other.
Glass wiggled his eyebrows comically. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard in weeks. Oh, by the way, I gave the police the rest of those photos I took. Hope that’s okay.”
It was okay with Theodosia because she’d studied the photos several times and still been unable to find anything sinister.
“What did he want?” Drayton asked Theodosia once Glass had left the tea shop.
“He wanted to torment me,” Theodosia said.
“No, really.”
“Glass told me that the police talked to Lamar Lucket again.”
