details. Not, however, in front of a roomful of people. "Are you sure?" he asked the bartender.
George nodded. "I apologize for not realizing what was happening sooner. I should have known when I saw what kind of party it was. I was surprised to have the host request another Dewars and soda for you so soon after your first one." He cleared his throat in apology. "I knew it was for you, because you were the only one drinking Dewars. Yet you did not seem to be the type to guzzle his booze, as we bartenders say. If you'll pardon me for speaking so bluntly."
"Not at all." T.S. waved for him to continue. "What did he put in my drink?"
"I don't know for sure. He took your drink and turned his back to the bar and handed it to the woman with him. She, in turn, put the drink on a small shelf and took something from her pocketbook."
"And you stood by and did nothing?" Auntie Lil demanded.
George nodded. "I apologize. At the time, I thought it was a packet of sugar substitute. She had another glass with her and I convinced myself that she had gotten iced tea from the kitchen because she was tired of drinking. Wishful thinking on my part, of course. The woman in question did not tire of drinking all night. But it was not until later—when you could hardly walk and I could not figure out why—that I realized she may have poured something out of the packet into your drink."
"What was in the packet?" T.S. wondered.
"A mickey," Lilah pointed out triumphantly, relishing the slang. "Don't you see? George here says he isn't all that surprised. I suspect he has his finger on the pulse of rather seedy New York nightlife, don't you?"
"Unavoidable at times," George conceded.
"A mickey?" Auntie Lil demanded. "Why on earth would someone bother to dope poor Theodore? Surely, Worthington did not know that we suspected him of having anything to do with Emily's death?"
T.S. shook his head. "I'm sure he didn't know. I don't know why he would bother." The bartender's unusual voice had triggered buried memories. Disturbing shapes were taking form in his mind… there was a hallway, shadows slipping past, a blur of distorted faces and voices. Oh, dear. He stared balefully at Lilah.
Lilah beamed at him and said loudly enough for the entire room to hear, "You were very sweet, Theodore. A perfect gentleman. We can discuss this later if you like."
"Let's do." T.S. loosened his collar and became conscious that the fat private investigator was beaming at him. He looked up and fairly snarled in return.
"Perhaps we should give these people their privacy," Lilah's lawyer smoothly intervened. "Gentlemen?" He graciously included Mr. Hermann in that group. "I suggest we speak to the desk sergeant about arranging for Mr. Scarborough to make an official statement. And, Mr. Hermann, you've been of great help but I'm sure we can release you for a well-earned rest. Grady will be glad to take you home. He'll be back just in time to accommodate Mr. Scarborough with the same." He hustled the two men smoothly out the door with a shower of murmured thanks. T.S. relaxed a bit. They were in good hands, indeed. Mr. Hamilton Prescott was a pro.
"Miss Hubbert?" Santos' voice filled the room with unexpected authority. Though tired, the detective looked well pleased with himself. T.S. suspected at once that Leteisha/Rodney was indeed talking. "I'm ready to take your statement now."
"You look optimistic," Auntie Lil said eagerly as she hurried to the door. "What did you find out? Tell me everything."
"Now, now, Miss Hubbert, it's your turn to do the talking, remember?" He smiled thinly. "And I'll have the whole truth this time, if you don't mind."
"Of course she doesn't mind," a commanding voice interrupted. Mr. Prescott was back and firmly in place at Auntie Lil's side. He had the unerring instincts of a highly successful counselor. "She'll answer anything I decide is appropriate with the utmost candor, won't you, Miss Hubbert?" His eyes held a warning that not even Auntie Lil would dare to ignore.
Detective Santos stared down at the lawyer. "You are?" he asked evenly.
"Her lawyer." His confident voice implied years of successful experience thrusting and parrying the finer points of law. His manner reeked of decades of research and millions of pages of knowledge at his fingertips. He saved his effort for when it counted, his demeanor made plain, and he knew clients' rights as