by Laura Childs
“Nice to see you again,” Theodosia called after them as she and Drayton sat down.
“What were they doing here?” Drayton asked as he slid a glass of wine in front of her. “Oh, and it’s Chablis rather than Chardonnay, if that’s all right with you.”
“Just fine. And it seems our FBI friends have cleared Professor Shepley of any wrongdoing. If their story can be believed.”
Drayton frowned. “Shepley? I just ran into him at the bar. He was ordering a Dubonnet.”
“He’s here?” Theodosia spun around in her chair. “Where?” Her eyes searched what had turned into a sizable crowd on the patio. “Oh, I see him.”
“We should probably leave the man in peace,” Drayton said.
At which point Theodosia jumped up and waved at him wildly. “Professor Shepley,” she cried. “Over here. Come on over here.”
Shepley noticed her waving and visibly flinched. Then, head down, he all but reluctantly strolled toward their table. The three of them exchanged somewhat formal greetings, and then Shepley didn’t waste any time mincing words.
“I’m leaving Charleston,” he told them. “Driving back to Savannah first thing tomorrow.”
“We’re sorry to hear that,” Theodosia said. “I take it your research here is finished?”
“Not at all,” Shepley said. “But I no longer feel welcome.”
Theodosia felt a flicker of guilt. Had she contributed to driving Shepley out? Probably. She’d sicced both Tidwell and the FBI on him and it had probably unnerved the man to no end. Yes, she felt guilty, but a little relieved, too. Her list of suspects was gradually being whittled down.
“I hope your research was at least successful,” Drayton said diplomatically.
“Yes . . . well . . .” Shepley edged away from their table. “That remains to be seen.” He held up a hand. “Good night.”
“You drove him out,” Drayton said in a low voice. He sounded mildly accusatory.
“I didn’t mean to,” Theodosia said as they watched him retreat. “I was only trying to help Brooke.”
“You were well-intentioned. But”—Drayton stared after Shepley—“I think you scared the pants off the old boy.”
• • •
They sat at their table for a while, enjoying the evening and the buzz of activity going on around them.
“Are we going to view any other light installations?” Drayton asked.
“I hadn’t planned on it,” Theodosia said. “But if you want to . . .”
Drayton raised a hand. “No, I think it’s been a fine evening. Let’s just leave it at that.” He looked around. “Though I would like to ask Mr. Chandler a question about his Chinese roses.”
“Go,” Theodosia urged, picking up her glass. “Go ask him.” She’d already spotted Grace Dawson across the patio and had decided to go over and say hi. Grace was looking very sporty tonight, in black leggings and a supple black leather jacket. Theodosia decided that if she had to attach a name to Grace’s distinct style, it would be sport couture.
“If you don’t mind,” Drayton said, starting to get up. “I mean, I don’t want to leave you sitting here.”
“You’re not,” Theodosia said, getting up from her chair, too. “In fact, I’ve got people to see and questions to ask.” She strolled past the bar, sipping her glass of Chablis (it really was quite nice, very buttery and light), and strolled over to where Grace was standing. Coming up behind her, Theodosia said, “Where are your beautiful dogs tonight?”
Grace spun around, caught sight of Theodosia, and smiled broadly. “I would have loved to bring them, but I was afraid they’d jump out of their skin with all the lights popping and strobing.”
“Probably would.”
“Lovely to see you again,” Grace said. “But I have a bone to pick with you.”
Theodosia took a step back. “Uh-oh, what’s that?”
“You’ve got me positively hooked on tea and scones.”
“That was my plan,” Theodosia laughed. “To turn you into one of my regulars so we can see you again and again.”
“And make me gain five pounds!” Grace exclaimed. “I swear, I’ll probably have to do an extra hour of Pilates to compensate for all the sugar I imbibed this week. Or go on a low-carb diet.”
“Like Delaine,” Theodosia said.
Grace’s eyes lit up. “Say, I ran into Delaine this morning.”
“She told me.”
Grace looked surprised. “How did you . . . ? Ah, you were at the spa, too?”
“Don’t I wish,” Theodosia said. “No, Delaine popped in for a late lunch and mentioned that she’d run into you there.”
“That Delaine is such a little jitterbug. Running all over town, her fingers stuck in all sorts of different pies. You know, she’s been putting pressure on me to join the board of directors of one of her animal rescue groups. Apparently she’s a big wheel in two or three different ones?”
“Probably because she’s such a successful fund-raiser,” Theodosia said. “I think Delaine single-handedly raised something like a million dollars just to get Madison’s House Small Animal Rescue built.”
Grace let loose a low whistle. “Very impressive. I take it Delaine’s a confirmed dog lover?”
Theodosia shook her head. “Delaine thinks all critters are wonderful, but she’s seriously into cats. She thinks cats are smarter and way more esoteric.”
“Cats are great,” Grace laughed. “Even Sultan and Satin love cats.”
“Sure they do,” Theodosia said in a tone that implied No, they don’t; the two women laughing together at her little joke.
“You know what?” Grace said. “We should all get together for a spa day sometime. Really do the works—nails, hair, massages, sea scrubs, you name it.”
“That sounds like fun.”
“We could invite Sabrina Andros along, too.” When Theodosia fixed Grace with a quizzical look, she explained. “I also bumped into Sabrina this morning while I was getting my mani-pedi. I understand she’s a regular there.” Grace dropped her voice. “Please don’t ever tell Sabrina I said this, but I think she was getting her roots done.”
“She stopped by for tea a couple of days ago,” Theodosia said. “Along with her husband, Luke.”
“The yacht guy,” Grace said. “I hear he’s doing a gangbuster business. Sabrina mentioned that he received a call from some big muckety-muck bank president in Rio de Janeiro who’s hot to buy a custom yacht. So Luke is cruising one of his yachts down there tomorrow night.”
“Is Sabrina going along?” Theodosia asked.
Grace waved at someone sitting across the patio. “I don’t know. Maybe.” She waved again. “Probably.” Then she pulled away. “Excuse me, my assistant is looking positively frantic. He probably has six calls holding and a couple of last-minute invitations.” And she was gone. Poof.
Theodosia pondered this new information about Sabrina and Luke Andros. Tomorrow night, for all intents and purposes, they would be leaving the country. Sailing into international waters.
Snapping her head around, Theodosia quickly located Drayton. He was standing near the makeshift bar, talking to Teddy Vickers, the man who managed the Featherbed House just down the block. Well, she would just have to interrupt him.
“Theo,” Drayton began when he saw her. “Teddy was just telling me that . . .”
“I’m sorry,” Theodosia said to Drayton. “But we have to go. Like . . . now.”
• • •
“What was so all-fired important that we had to leave poor Teddy standing there like that?” Drayton asked as Theodosia propelled him across the patio and into the Rosewalk Inn. She glanced around hurriedly, looking for a private spot to talk, and then yanked him into a side parlor. Painted a soft robin’s-egg blue and decorated with a rag rug, the room featured some loosely rendered w
atercolor paintings as well as a pale-blue love seat with needlepoint cushions.
“Sabrina and Luke Andros are sailing to South America tomorrow night,” Theodosia told him a little breathlessly.
“What?” Drayton’s reaction was one of stunned surprise. He grabbed one of the cushions and gave it a squeeze.
Theodosia slowly related everything Grace had revealed to her.
“Are they leaving before or after the Rare Antiquities Show?” Drayton asked.
Theodosia shook her head. “I have no idea, but that’s a very good question.”
Drayton looked thoughtful. “Well, the timing matters.”
“It certainly does. But just how are we supposed to find out their exact departure time? I don’t expect it’s noted in any maritime log.”
“Maybe,” Drayton said, looking thoughtful. “Maybe we should just go and ask them? Not flat out, but in a kind of casual way?”
“Huh,” Theodosia said. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
Drayton beetled his brows together. “Because I did.”
“So maybe Sabrina and Luke are over at the yacht club right now,” Theodosia said, warming to the idea even more. “Getting ready to . . .” She broke off her words. “You know what, Drayton? Asking them point-blank is kind of in-your-face, but it’s also a smart way to put them on alert.”
“Exactly,” Drayton said. “We let Sabrina and Luke know that we know they’re planning to leave town.”
Theodosia nodded. “If they’re guilty, they’ll figure we’re keeping an eye on them.”
• • •
Theodosia had left her Jeep parked nearby, so it was a simple matter of hopping in and driving over to the Charleston Yacht Club.
“Not so much going on over here,” Drayton observed as they drove along.
“I don’t know,” Theodosia said. “The yachts are all supposed to be lit up.”
“Well, I don’t see . . .” Drayton did a sudden double take as they spun around a corner and the harbor came into view. “Oh my, you’re right. The boats are all lit up.” He smiled, a smile so heartfelt and genuine that Theodosia knew he was utterly charmed. “Look at them, just gliding back and forth across Charleston Harbor. Like pirate ships sailing off to Neverland.”
About three dozen sailboats had been lit, stem to stern, with multiple strings of white lights. And, just as Drayton had said, they appeared to glide gracefully across the surface of the gilded moonlit water.
“Now all we have to do is find Sabrina and Luke Andros,” Theodosia said, turning into the parking lot at the Charleston Yacht Club.
But that was going to be a piece of cake. Because the very last pier, where two enormous yachts tugged at their moorings, was lit up like a Christmas tree. And so were the yachts.
“Two yachts,” Theodosia said. “He’s brought another one in.”
“It would appear there’s a party going on,” Drayton said as music and the hum of many voices floated toward them. “And judging from all the people on deck, it looks like Gold Coast Yachts is having a fairly large shindig. Do you think it’s a going-away party? Or should I say anchors aweigh?”
“This will make it even easier for us,” Theodosia said. “It means we can waltz in, hop on a boat, mingle with the crowd, and ask our innocent little question.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
But the best-laid plans often went awry. Or at least were met with serious obstacles. Because halfway down the pier, Theodosia and Drayton were stopped in their tracks by a very burly man in an ill-fitting navy-blue blazer.
“Sorry,” the man told them as he crossed his arms and blocked their way. “But this is a private party.”
Theodosia offered him a winning smile. “We know. We’re good friends of Sabrina and Luke.”
The security man touched a hand to the velvet rope that stretched across the pier, blocking their passage. “In that case, you folks probably have an invitation?”
“Not exactly,” Theodosia said.
“Are your names on the guest list?”
“We just thought we’d drop in and say a quick hello,” Theodosia said.
“Or a quick good-bye,” Drayton added with a hopeful note. “Since we know that Sabrina and Luke are leaving tomorrow.”
“For South America,” Theodosia said.
The behemoth simply shook his head. “Sorry,” he growled. “If you’re not on the list, I can’t let you by.”
“Really?” Theodosia said in a slightly wheedling tone.
“I don’t make the rules,” the security guard said.
“Sheesh,” Theodosia said. They turned and headed slowly back down the dock. “I’m disappointed. And what’s with that velvet-rope crap?”
“Pretentious,” Drayton said. “Just like the old Studio 54.”
Theodosia turned to look at him sharply. “What do you know about that place?”
Drayton gave a shrug. “I wasn’t always so buttoned-up. And I did reside in New York for a time.”
Theodosia grinned. “Well . . . Drayton.”
25
Theodosia wasn’t exactly in the mood to try on dresses. But Delaine had been so insistent about it the other day that her defenses had pretty much crumbled. So here she was, on a cool, slightly overcast Saturday morning, standing outside Cotton Duck, hoping like crazy that Delaine wasn’t inside to harangue her and make the process even more painful.
“Hello,” Theodosia called out as she entered the boutique. “Anybody here?”
“I’ll be right with you,” a voice called back.
Good, Theodosia thought as she recognized the voice. Janine, Delaine’s overworked, overstressed assistant, was here. But it would appear that Delaine wasn’t. So, blessed be, there’d be no nagging, rolling of eyes, or overwrought hysterics.
Theodosia couldn’t help smiling as she gazed around the sparking jewel box of a shop and slowly fell under its spell. Racks of long gowns hung next to circular racks jammed with silk tops and suede slacks. Peekaboo camisoles and demi bras were nestled in satin boxes that sat on antique highboys. Strands of opera pearls mingled with gold necklaces, turquoise and coral pendants, and clover necklaces made of gold and mother-of-pearl. Glass shelves displayed reptile and supple leather handbags. Even though Theodosia wasn’t a dyed-in-the-wool fashionista, she found it all wonderfully enticing.
“Janine?” Theodosia called out as she perused a rack of leather bomber jackets. “It’s me, Theodosia.” She reached out and touched one. It was soft as butter. “I think Delaine pulled some dresses for me to try on?”
Thirty seconds later, Janine came huffing toward her.
“Yes, yes,” Janine said. She was red faced and always seemed to be in a perpetual state of distress. “Delaine phoned me first thing this morning and gave strict instructions to put the dresses in a fitting room for you.”
“Great,” Theodosia said, not really meaning it.
“Three cocktail dresses, right?”
Theodosia shrugged. “I guess.”
Janine smiled warmly at her. “Must be nice to get all dressed up and go to fancy parties.” Janine was short, slightly stooped, and had wavy brown hair and large brown eyes. She was wearing a skirt that covered her knees and her blouse was untucked.
Theodosia suddenly felt horribly ungrateful.
“Some of those events are nice,” she told Janine, then put an arm around the woman’s shoulders. “In fact, you should come along sometime.”
Janine brightened as if the sun had suddenly burst out from behind the clouds. “Really?”
“Yes, really. In fact, if you’d like to come to the opening at the Heritage Society tonight, I can certainly get your name on the list.” Theodosia knew that Drayton wouldn’t mind one bit.
“I can’t make it tonight,” Janine said. “But maybe some other time?”
/> “Sounds like a plan.” Theodosia was starting to feel more and more upbeat by the minute. Being kind to people, having a charitable attitude, was good for the body and the soul. “Now, where are those dresses you have for me?”
Janine pushed back a plum-colored velvet drapery and led the way into a fitting room. “Hanging up right here.” She reached out and smoothed one of the dresses. “And I have to tell you, Delaine was very insistent that all the dresses be short and black.”
“Cocktaily,” Theodosia said.
“That’s right.”
“Okay, I’ll give them a try.”
Janine pulled the privacy curtain across and said, “Once you’re changed, Theodosia, be sure to come out and give us a fashion show.”
But the first dress Theodosia tried on was so wrong. A clingy jersey number that was too short, too tight, and had a flouncy skirt that looked like it would blow up and reveal everything with just a paltry puff of wind.
No way.
The second dress wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t great, either. A one-shouldered gown with a wrap-around shrug that reminded Theodosia of something a Sicilian widow might wear.
Two strikes against me so far.
The third dress didn’t look like much on the hanger, but when Theodosia put it on, the black silk slithered over her beautifully. It flattered her midsection and hips, while the modified sweetheart neckline made her neck and shoulders look positively swanlike.
Okaaay. This is more like it.
Theodosia slipped into a pair of strappy black high heels that Janine had put in the fitting room and walked out into the shop. She knew the real proving ground would be the three-way mirror.
“Oh, Theodosia,” Janine exclaimed when she saw her. “That dress fits you perfectly.”
Theodosia tiptoed up to the three-way mirror and peered into it. And smiled at her reflection. The sheath dress did look pretty good on her. Very sophisticated.
“You look like you should be posing in front of a stone fireplace in some ginormous mansion, getting your picture taken for the society section of Charleston Trends magazine,” Janine said.