Agony of the Leaves: Tea Shop Mystery #13 Read Free Page A

strength. “He was held under.”
    Now the second fireman spoke up, his voice filled with professional interest, but skeptical at the same time. “How do you figure that?”
    “Look at his hands,” said Theodosia. “They’re all cut up.”
    The fireman shook his head. “I don’t quite…”
    “The wounds,” said Theodosia. “I think they might be
defensive
wounds!”
    Detective Burt Tidwell
wasn’t Theodosia’s most favorite person in the whole world, but he was smart and dogged, and he headed the Charleston Police Department’sRobbery-Homicide Division.
    Tidwell was also aggressive, demanding, and often petty. He was rough and gruff and had bright, beady eyes and a bulbous body with a stomach that resembled an errant weather balloon. When Tidwell had first arrived in Charleston, fresh off his stint of apprehending the Crow River Killer, the detectives and officers under him had been thrown into a state of shock. He didn’t look like a brilliant investigator. Rather, he resembled aslow-moving buffoon. Big mistake, for they soon learned, sometimes the hard way, that Tidwell was as predatory as they came and that his moods could shift instantaneously from genial cop to angry snapping turtle.
    Tidwell had arrived at the Neptune Aquarium, spoken a few curt words to Theodosia and Drayton, then disappeared for a good thirty minutes. Now he was back, talking to Theodosia.
    “One of the marine biologists I talked with,” said Tidwell, “surmised that your friend was exploring where he shouldn’t have been.”
    “Possibly,” said Theodosia.
    Tidwell went on, his jowls sloshing sideways. “Then he slipped and fell into one of the large nets that covered the top of the tank.”
    “He was wrapped in it,” Theodosia told him.
Like the poor dolphins that get hopelessly entangled in commercial nets. Only this was Parker.
    Tidwell went on calmly. “Stands to reason. When Mr. Scully fell from the catwalk and hit the safety net, it tore loose and plunged with him into the tank.”
    “But Parker could swim,” Theodosia told Tidwell. “So why wouldn’t he just kick his way to the surface?” She thought about all the sailing Parker had done, theboogie-boarding he’d enjoyed at his favorite beaches on Hilton Head. “He wasn’t afraid of the water.”
    “Again,” said Tidwell, “the initial theory is that the deceased, obviously tangled and somewhat disoriented in the net, banged his head against the protein skimmer. Of course, the ME will have to render a definitive answer.” He paused, a look of regret on his broad, pudgy face. “Perhaps your friend’s fall was caused by a brain aneurysm or cardiac incident? It’s rare in someone so young, but it happens. Again, the ME will—”
    “Did you look at his hands?” Theodosia asked. “They were completely cut up!”
    “And did you see the enormous coral reef inside that tank?” Tidwell asked, but in a kinder, gentler tone. “I don’t doubt the deceased struggled mightily and gashed his hands rather badly against the sharp coral.”
    Theodosia digested this information for a few moments. “I suppose he could have. Still…”
    “All in all,” said Tidwell, “a terrible wayto—”
    “Please don’t call him
the deceased
,” said Theodosia.
    “What do you want me to call him?”
    “He was…Parker.”
    Tidwell peered at her. “Tell me, if you can, what do yousuppose Parker Scully was doing up there? Climbing on the catwalk that stretched across the aquarium tank?” Tidwell had put his investigator’s hat back on.
    “I don’t know,” said Theodosia. It was true. She didn’t have a clue. How could she?
    “You didn’t have words with him?”
    Theodosia was stunned. “No! I never even saw him tonight!”
    “But you knew he was present,” said Tidwell.
    “I
surmised
he’d be here,” said Theodosia. “I knew that Solstice was one of the caterers. They were, um, doing appetizers and small plates. Tuna tartare and spring rolls.” What was