move.
When Giovanni continued to stare at Theodosia, Timothy Neville pulled his face into a tight smile and cocked the hammer back. The loud click reverberated off the stone garden walls.
“Timothy . . .” cautioned Theodosia. Fear suddenly gripped her. She was afraid that Timothy Neville, fiery old rebel that we was, might well escalate this standoff into something extremely foolish.
Timothy’s dark eyes glittered with cold, hard rage. “Go ahead, Giovanni, why not make a grab for her? With my arthritis and advanced age, my reflexes probably aren’t what they used to be, so we could make a game of it, you and I. Never mind that I’ve cocked the hammer back, which puts you about a nanosecond away from meeting your maker.”
Giovanni almost seemed to consider the possibility for a moment. Then there were sudden, fast footfalls across cobblestones as men rushed toward them, and shapes emerged from the darkness. Much to Theodosia’s delight, Tidwell’s big belly bobbed across the garden courtyard. She’d never been so happy to see that protruding form in all her life.
Along with Tidwell were two uniformed police officers, one with his gun drawn, the other brandishing a set of handcuffs. At the sight of the three lawmen, Giovanni Loard seemed to collapse within himself.
“Detective Tidwell,” said Theodosia, surprised and a little breathless, “what are you doing here?”
“I took the liberty of calling him, ma’am,” said Henry, Timothy Neville’s highly competent old butler, as he stepped out from behind Tidwell. For all his part in tonight’s drama, Henry still seemed relatively unfazed.
“Good work, Henry,” crowed Timothy, seemingly happy now to relinquish the task of dealing with Giovanni to the police. “Fine work.”
Henry turned baleful eyes on Timothy. “Sir, your guests are departing. Perhaps you should come up to the house and bid them a proper good night?”
Chapter 34
“You’re making a terrible mistake!” screamed Booth Crowley as a pair of handcuffs was clamped tightly about his chubby wrists. “One call to Senator Wilbur and your career is finished!”
“Yeah, sure,” said the police officer calmly. He turned as Tidwell entered the house. “These two go to central booking?” he asked.
Tidwell nodded. “ATF’s been alerted, they’re aware they’re being brought in.”
“Tidwell, you idiot!” screamed Booth Crowley, “I’ll have your head on a platter. When I’m finished, you won’t be able to get a job as a crossing guard!”
Theodosia couldn’t believe the bizarre scene being played out inside Timothy’s home. She had just witnessed Giovanni Loard’s arrest out in the garden. Now two more uniformed officers had just apprehended and handcuffed Booth Crowley and Billy Manolo and were about to lead them away. And while Billy seemed subdued and cooperative, Booth Crowley was in a vile rage.
“B. C.?” Beatrix Crowley made pitiful little bleating sounds as she ran helplessly alongside her husband. “What’s going on?” she pleaded. “Tell me why this is happening!”
“Shut up with your fool questions and get on the phone to Tom Breedlaw,” Booth shouted at her. “Tell that good-for-nothing lawyer he’d better move heaven and earth on this one! Go on, what are you waiting for?” he sputtered.
“What
Tidwell favored Theodosia with a benevolent smile. “Yet one more piece of business taken care of, Miss Browning. Not to steal credit from Henry, but we were en route, anyway.” He paused for a moment to scrawl his name on a piece of paper a uniformed officer had presented to him. “We were coming to pick up those two chaps.” Tidwell waved after the departing Booth Crowley and Billy Manolo. “And we ended up with your Mr. Loard, too. A lucky strike extra, I’d have to say.”
Theodosia’s brows knit together as she stared earnestly at Burt Tidwell. “Explain please,” she said as Drayton, Haley, and Timothy crowded around them.
Drayton and Haley had rushed out into the garden just in time to see Giovanni Loard taken into custody. Now they were equally amazed by the arrest of Booth Crowley and Billy Manolo. But, of course, everyone was.
Tidwell gazed into their eager faces. Drayton looked like he was about to collapse, Haley was boundlessly enthusiastic, and Theodosia and Timothy seemed to await his words with a peculiar calm.
“A sheriff and his deputy apprehended a group of smugglers over near Huntville,” Tidwell told them. “Not more than an hour ago. The sheriff had been alerted by the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms working in conjunction with the Coast Guard. Everyone was pretty sure there’d be some activity tonight; they just weren’t sure where. Then, when the smugglers ran their boat aground, the sheriff and his deputies nabbed them. Being caught red-handed with the goods, the four smugglers rolled on their ringleader in about five minutes flat.”
“Let me guess,” said Theodosia, “the ringleaders being Booth Crowley and Billy Manolo.” In her mind, Theodosia could see Sheriff Billings questioning the confused smugglers in his laconic, low-key manner. She was glad he’d been the one to bring them down.
“Booth Crowley was the kingpin,” said Tidwell. “Billy Manolo was really just hired help. Apparently, Billy was born over in that area, near Shem Creek. He knew the coastal waters and could thread his way through the inlets and channels like a swamp rat. Billy was supposed to serve as guide tonight, but for some strange reason, he ended up here.” Tidwell swiveled his bullet head and turned sharp eyes on Theodosia. “Funny turn of events, wouldn’t you agree?”
“It is strange, isn’t it,” she said.
Haley was grinning from ear to ear. “I love it when people get their comeuppance. Leading Booth Crowley out in handcuffs sure had to bring him down a peg or two.”
“It couldn’t happen to a more deserving chap,” commented Drayton. He’d loosened his bow tie and was fanning himself madly, using a palmetto leaf as a makeshift fan.
“But why smuggling?” asked Theodosia. “Booth Crowley had money, a successful company—”
“For a person with a true criminal mind, that’s not enough,” said Tidwell. “It’s never enough. A person like Booth Crowley is constantly looking for a new angle, a new money-making scheme. And this isn’t the first time he’s run afoul of the law. He and several of his investors are under close scrutiny by the Securities and Exchange Commission because of possible insider trading.”
“That’s amazing,” said Drayton. “And after the big show he made about supporting the arts—”
“I must commend you, Miss Browning,” continued Tidwell. “Wresting a confession from Giovanni Loard was an admirable piece of work.”
“I couldn’t have done it without Timothy’s help,” said Theodosia. “He helped set the snare with his donated pistol and impassioned speech.”
Timothy beamed. “Thank you, Miss Browning,” he said, “the pleasure was all mine. I enjoyed being complicit in your little scheme because I sincerely meant what I said earlier in the music room. Oliver Dixon was a fine neighbor and a good friend. If I helped put temptation in front of Giovanni Loard in the form of that pistol, then so be it. I’m a firm believer in poetic justice.”
“And Ford Cantrell’s name is cleared after all,” said Drayton as he grasped Theodosia’s hand tightly, almost as though he were fearful some terrible fate might still befall her. “His sister will be eternally grateful to you, I’m sure. Although you gave us all a nasty fright!”
“His sister is more than eternally grateful,” said Lizbeth Cantrell, as she approached the group, her brother Ford in tow. “Thank you, Theodosia, you are an interceding angel, truly heaven-sent.”
The two women embraced as Ford looked on sheepishly. “Thank you, Miz Browning,” he told her. “You’re very kind. Very smart, too. If you ever decide to get into computers . . .”
Theodosia shook her head. “Judging by tonight’s events, the tea business holds more than enough intrigue for me.” She laughed.
“And Doe was proved innovent, too,” mused Haley as Theodosia smiled after the departing Lizbeth Cantrell. “Now I feel a little sheepish thinking she might have had a hand in killing Oliver Dixon.”
