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“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.” Theodosia paused. “So. What’s the story on this Quaid guy?”
“Nothing much, nothing concrete anyway. Quaid Barthel is what investigators like to call a person of interest.”
Theodosia peered over her wineglass at him. “In other words, a suspect.”
“Not necessarily.”
“Then why is Cowboy Quaid a so-called person of interest?”
“Mainly because he’s Joe Adler’s hired henchman.”
The word henchman sounded ominous to Theodosia. “Why is he a henchman and why is he of interest?”
“For one thing, our boy Quaid has a record,” Riley said.
“No kidding. Here in Charleston or back in New Orleans?”
“You realize I shouldn’t be telling you any of this.”
“You’ve spilled the beans halfway out of the can, you may as well upend it completely.”
“Well…maybe just a little.”
“Good,” Theodosia said. “So where does Quaid have a record?”
“New Orleans. He was popped for armed robbery.”
“No kidding. What’d he do? Rob a bank?”
“Nothing that spectacular,” Riley said. “Quaid was caught trying to recover a shotgun he owned from an old girlfriend’s house.”
“Hmm,” Theodosia said. “So the girlfriend was attempting to separate a good old boy from his favorite shotgun? That wasn’t very nice of her. I hope Quaid didn’t have to do jail time for what seems like a perfectly justified act.” She smiled. “At least it is in the South.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“You’re not from here, so you’ve gotta trust me on this.”
* * *
As candles flickered and the evening wore on, Theodosia and Riley talked, cleared away the dinner dishes, and talked some more. For dessert Theodosia served the pound cake she’d bought topped with lemon curd and chopped, toasted pistachios.
And just as they were about to settle in for the night, Riley’s phone rang.
“Really?” Theodosia said as he sheepishly pulled it from his pocket and answered it.
Even Earl Grey crawled out from under the table, looking a little annoyed.
Riley listened intently, then glanced over at Theodosia. “Now?” he said. “The thing is, I’m sort of…Yeah, okay, got it. I’ll see you in ten. Or…make that fifteen.”
Theodosia knew a work call when she heard one. Even if the conversation was one-sided.
“You have to leave? You just got back.” She was keenly disappointed.
“Apologies, but duty calls.”
“You mean Tidwell calls.”
