There was a lot to think about. And a lot to worry about, too. Now, in keeping with the theme of the night—strange encounters—she spotted a familiar burgundy-colored Crown Victoria parked at the curb in front of her house. Tidwell. What does he want? She sighed. She was about to find out. When Tidwell saw her approach, the dome light snapped on and he squeezed himself out from behind the wheel. “Good evening,” he called out in his deep baritone. “Staking out my home, are you, Detective Tidwell?” Theodosia asked. “See anything interesting? Stray cats? The neighborhood raccoons come to ransack my fishpond?” He shut the car door and met her on the sidewalk. He was wearing slightly baggy pants and what looked like a frayed khaki fishing jacket that barely stretched across his weather balloon of a stomach. “I’m afraid I observed nothing out of the ordinary.”
