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“Do you remember—was your customer a man or a woman?”
“I’m fairly sure it was a man. Why? What’s going on?” Then something akin to understanding dawned on Lois’s face and she said, “Theo, does this have anything to do with those movie murders I’ve been reading about in the paper? I know you’ve catered food for the cast and crew over at Brittlebank Manor.”
“It kind of does,” Theodosia said. “It has to do with a poem and…um, I’m trying to track down as many clues as possible.”
“To find the killer?” Lois looked horrified.
“Well, yes.”
“But you wouldn’t try to apprehend him all by yourself, would you?” Lois asked. She snuggled Pumpkin a little closer.
“Of course not. If I thought I’d actually caught a whiff of the killer I’d point the police at him.”
“Wow,” Lois said. “And poetry by Poe might be a clue?”
“Maybe. Do you have a record of who purchased the book? Like did they use a credit card?”
But Lois was already shaking her head. “They paid cash. And, as I recall, it wasn’t a rare book at all, just something recent. A paperback in so-so condition.”
“But the purchaser was a man,” Theodosia said. She was thinking about Joe Adler, Craig Cole, Ted Juniper, and Sidney Gorsk, the agent.
“Pretty sure,” Lois said. When she saw disappointment on Theodosia’s face, she added, “I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”
“No,” Theodosia said, “you’ve actually been a big help.”
“Lois,” Drayton called from behind the counter. “Can you stay for lunch?”
“No time,” Lois said. “Pumpkin and I are on our way to a book sale at a library over in Goose Creek. All the books you can cram into a shopping bag for five dollars.” She glanced around. “But takeout would work, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“Not in the least,” Drayton said. “How does a cherry scone and a cup of mushroom soup sound?”
“Delicious.”
* * *
“That was plenty smart of you to ask Lois to pop in,” Theodosia said to Drayton.
“Did she sell a book of Poe’s poems recently?” His face wore a sly smile.
“She did, just as you suspected. A couple of days ago. To a male customer.”
“Did she remember who it was?”
“No, she’d never seen him before. Plus, they paid cash,” Theodosia said.
“Still, whoever bought that book could have been your unwelcome caller last night.”
“Could have been,” Theodosia said as she shivered inwardly. Though she thought of herself as independent, self-reliant, and not one who scares easily, this whole poem-on-the-door thing had spooked her. After all, there did seem to be an unusually high body count as of this week.
“There’s something else I wanted to ask you about,” Drayton said.
“What?”
“Something you said yesterday in passing,” Drayton said.
“About?”
“Helene’s shop. I believe you said the Sea Witch had a different feel to it. You know, different from the picture Helene had showed you.”
