“Nice to see you, too,” said Theodosia.
Delaine thrust a large black garment bag into her hands. “Here’s your gown, in the perfect size, exactly as promised.” She looked around for Earl Grey, stretched a hand out, and just like that, Earl Grey sauntered over to greet her.
If Delaine was brusque and officious with people, she was the polar opposite when it came to cats and dogs. Then she had patience, love, and empathy to spare. And animals responded amazingly well to her. Case in point, Earl Grey was suddenly rolling over on his back, legs akimbo, to get his tummy scratched.
“He loves that,” said Theodosia.
“Of course he does. Dominic and Domino love getting tickled, too.” Those were Delaine’s two Siamese cats that she was head over heels in love with. She considered them a cuter version of children and even had a meow ringtone on her cell phone.
“Would you like a glass of lemonade or sweet tea?” Theodosia asked.
“Mmn,” said Delaine, considering. “I think the lemonade.”
“Coming right up.”
Delaine eyed Theodosia’s outfit carefully. “Excuse me, but are you actually wearing spandex?” She said it with scorn, as if Theodosia were dressed in long skirts and pantaloons, like Nellie in Little House on the Prairie.
“I was about to go for a run,” Theodosia told her. She poured two glasses of lemonade and then they all trooped outside to sit on the patio. Delaine took a sip of her drink, sighed deeply, and seemed to suddenly let go and collapse in on herself.
Theodosia saw the tiredness etched on her face and reflected in her body language. “You must be exhausted after today.”
“I’m brain dead and my feet are killing me,” said Delaine. “But I have to say it was all worth it. After expenses, we raised almost twenty-two thousand dollars.”
Theodosia gave a low whistle. “That’s very impressive for just an afternoon show.”
“And thank goodness the event people I hired are doing the teardown and cleanup at my shop. I don’t think I could bear to spend one more moment facing down all that glittery Mylar.”
“But it looked great on the runway,” said Theodosia.
“It did.” Delaine massaged the back of her neck as she glanced around at the garden. “I see most of your plantings finally took hold.” Her brows pinched together. “It’s not like you have a green thumb or anything.”
“Just lucky to have a favorable climate,” said Theodosia. Her backyard had been decidedly straggly and bereft of landscaping. Under Delaine’s goading, she’d put in dozens of new trees, shrubs, and plants. Now she knew that if she wasn’t careful to keep things pruned, the plants would grow and creep and turn the place into a veritable jungle. Then again, Delaine might like that. She’d consider it exotic and verdant.
Delaine tilted her head back, looked sideways, and then did a sort of surprised double take.
“Eep!” Her lips pursed together and she emitted a shrill sound like a little mouse.
“Now what’s wrong?” asked Theodosia.
Delaine was staring fixedly across the brick wall that separated Theodosia’s cottage from Dougan Granville’s former home. “I just got startled because there are . . .” She put a hand to her heart. “There are lights burning in Dougan’s old house!”
“Oh,” said Theodosia. “Not to worry. There’s a showing tonight.”
Delaine’s face crumpled a little. “Oh no.”
“The realtor . . . I’m sorry. I probably should have mentioned it to you.”
“No,” said Delaine. She waved a hand in front of her face. “It’s okay. Really.”
“Are you sure? We can go back inside if this is going to upset you.”
Delaine gave a quick shake of her head. “It’s just that thinking about poor Dougan still makes me very sad.”
“I’m sure it does,” said Theodosia. “It takes time to recover from that kind of heartbreak.” Dougan Granville had been murdered on what would have been Delaine’s wedding day.
Delaine dropped her head forward and let her shoulders sag. “Yes, it does take time.” She sighed. “Probably a lot of time.”
“Hey!” an exuberant male voice called out. “Hey, Theodosia!”
Earl Grey raised his head and let loose a suspicious woof.
“My goodness,” said Delaine, lifting her head, suddenly alert. “I think someone is shouting your name over that fence.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’d have to say that’s rather rude.”
There was the distinct sound of crunching gravel and a rustle of leaves, and then Andrew Turner’s head poked inquisitively over the fence.
“Hey there!” Theodosia called back. She lifted a hand in a friendly wave.
“Oops, sorry,” said Turner as soon as he noticed Delaine sitting next to her on the patio. “I had no idea you had company. Sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude or go all Peeping Tom on you.”
“No problem,” said Theodosia. “Why don’t you come on over.”
Turner’s head disappeared and they could hear footsteps scuffing against cement as he darted out into the alley. Then a few seconds later he strolled through Theodosia’s back gate, a big smile on his handsome face. As Theodosia quickly made introductions, to Delaine and to Earl Grey, she noticed that, halfway through all the pleasantries, Delaine seemed to have brightened considerably.
“So lovely to meet you,” Delaine murmured. “You’ve been . . . ah . . . touring the house next door?”
“Yes, I have,” said Turner. “And it’s absolutely gorgeous.”
“It’s stunning,” said Delaine. “Oh course, the previous owner did have some decorating help.”
“The realtor mentioned the designers at Popple Hill,” said Turner.
“As well as others who gave creative input,” Delaine said pointedly.
“You’re sure that house isn’t too big for you?” said Theodosia.
“It’s roomy, I’ll give it that,” said Turner. He glanced toward Delaine and studied her for a long moment. “Delaine Dish . . . I know a Hughes Dish from over near Goose Creek. Is he any relation to you?”
Delaine’s eyes crinkled as she nodded. “Oh yes, cousin Hughes. He’s what you might call a shirttail relative. A second cousin once removed.”
“Anyway,” said Turner, still focused in on Delaine, “your cousin, once removed that he is, bought a print from my gallery.”
“Andrew is the proprietor of The Turner Gallery,” Theodosia explained. “Over on Hopper Street.”
“Of course,” said Delaine. A dreamy look had spread across her face. Suddenly her tension lines were erased and she didn’t look quite so exhausted. In fact, she looked downright pert.
Turner persisted. “So, um, is Dish your married name?”
Delaine dimpled prettily and her eyes lit up as if South Carolina Electric & Gas had just thrown their master switch. “I’m not married,” she said in a breathy voice.
“Ah,” said Turner. He gave it the kind of inflection that indicated keen interest. “Now isn’t that a piece of luck.”
Theodosia looked from Turner to Delaine. They seemed to be gazing at each other with curiosity, eagerness, and a tiny bit of hunger thrown in for good measure.
“Mr. Turner,” said Theodosia. “Can I interest you in a glass of lemonade?” She studied the two of them still smiling intently at each other, pretty much ignoring her. “Or maybe I should break out a bottle of wine?” And leave the two of you alone?
Delaine was the first one to break the spell. “Theo, darling,” she said, “I’d love to stay and chat with you and your charming friend, but I’m afraid I’ll have to take a rain check.” Her eyes wandered back to Turner’s face. “I’d adore the chance to stay and get better acquainted, but I have two more dresses I promised to deliver this evening.”
“Of course,” said Theodosia. “Another time then.”
“We’ll definitely make it another time,” said Turner.
“I’d like that very much,” said Delaine. “It’s been
. . . delightful to meet you, Mr. Turner.”
“Andrew. Please, call me Andrew.”
Delaine gathered up her clutch purse and tottered across the patio on sky-high stilettos. She stopped at the back gate, waggled her fingers at him, and said, “And you can call me anytime!”
“She seems awfully nice,” said Turner. He was still staring at the rustic wooden gate as if hoping that Delaine might materialize once again. But she didn’t. “Do you know—and I hope you don’t think this is too forward on my part—but do you know if your friend Delaine has a date for the Art Crawl Ball?”
“I don’t believe she does,” said Theodosia. She was about to tell Turner that Delaine was in mourning. That her fiancé had been murdered only a few short months ago. Then she bit her tongue and decided not to. Because, really, Delaine had her moments of sadness. But had she been in full-bore sackcloth and ashes mourning? No, she had not. That just wasn’t Delaine’s style or way of thinking.
“Do you think it would be presumptuous if I invited her to the Art Crawl Ball?” Turner seemed to be fumbling his words a bit. “No, I guess what I’m really saying is, do you think it’s too late to ask her to the Art Crawl Ball? Because I certainly don’t want to insult her with a last-minute invitation.” He gave a rueful smile. “Some women can be kind of prickly about that.”
“I don’t think Delaine would be one bit insulted,” Theodosia told him. Truth be told, she knew that Delaine would be over-the-moon thrilled by Turner’s invitation. Delaine had even confessed to her last week that she was dying to go to the ball.
“So you think she’d go with me?”
“I think,” said Theodosia, “that if you called Delaine at five o’clock on Saturday afternoon, she’d still say yes.”
“That’s all I needed to hear!”
Theodosia strolled with him to the back gate. “You really like the house?” she asked.
Turned nodded. “It’s amazing. Just what I’ve been looking for. Thanks for kind of introducing us.”
“You’re welcome.”
Turner turned to her, a look of concern on his face. “You’re going to the funeral tomorrow?”
Theodosia nodded. “Yes, both Drayton and I are going.”
“Me, too,” said Turner. He shook his head. “The whole murder is just so . . . bizarre. I mean, this was really just a kid. He wasn’t even involved in the business all that much.”
“It’s very strange,” Theodosia agreed.
“And there aren’t even any suspects?”
“None that I know of,” said Theodosia.
Turner seemed almost down. “Just a shame,” he lamented. “A darned shame.”
• • •
Theodosia thought she might wander next door and say hi to Maggie Twining. But when she saw that the house was dark, she decided to just go for her run.
Once she and Earl Grey got out onto the street, she saw that Delaine had been right. There was a full moon tonight. Silver beams dappled the leaves and cast a moon glow on the streets.
It was late, almost ten o’clock, and Theodosia rarely went out this late for a run. But she’d continued to ponder the murder long after Andrew Turner had left, and she felt a little unsettled. Also, her talk with Georgette Kroft had left her wondering if the woman really was a viable suspect. And her encounter with Tanya had left her feeling oddly sad. The young woman had obviously loved Drew, but had probably been covering for him, too.
Enabling was what professionals called it.
Theodosia wondered if Jordan Knight had enabled his son, too. Had he known about Drew’s drug problems? Had he simply turned a blind eye to his son’s drug addiction? If so, that was heartbreaking, to say the least.
Earl Grey gave a tug on his leash, as if trying to pull Theodosia’s attention back to him.
“You’re right,” she told him. “I’ve got to let this thing go for a while. Enjoy the evening and your fine canine company.”
Earl Grey tossed his head in agreement.
“So what’s it going to be tonight? A jog through White Point Gardens?”
Those were the magic words. Earl Grey tugged again and they were off. Down King Street and headed for the Battery. They ran through the dark night past palatial homes tricked out with pillars, columns, and balustrades, sitting shoulder to shoulder with each other like rich dowagers in their fancy lace and diamonds. Lights twinkled in the windows and Theodosia caught fragments of elegant libraries, crystal chandeliers, and cozy dining rooms.
Then they were at the park, running beneath a canopy of trees that seemed to stretch forever. A stiff breeze hinted at salt, enormous waves, and high adventure as the water rushed in from the Atlantic to pound the shoreline with its oyster shell beach.
It was a good night just to enjoy being alive. To run like the wind and feel your leg muscles warming to the beat.
They turned down Lenwood and slowed their pace, back among the houses now, heading for home. It was full-on dark now, and the old-fashioned round street lamps looked like a string of rosary beads stretching down the cobblestone street.
Nobody was out tonight. No other joggers, dog walkers, or strolling tourists. Probably, Theodosia decided, all the tourists were snugged inside the B and B’s and historic inns, sipping their wine, planning their itinerary for tomorrow.
A dark car slid by on the cross street ahead of her. Slowed for a moment, then kept going. Probably tourists rolling in late.
When she hit Tradd Street, Theodosia hooked a right and jogged past the Morgan-Albemarle Home. It was one of Charleston’s oldest landmarks, still occupied by Albemarle descendants, and once a year, during the autumn Lamplighter Tour, they graciously threw open their doors for public tours.
She was halfway down Tradd, now heading for home, when another car slid by her. Theodosia wasn’t sure, but she thought it might be the same car she’d seen just a few minutes ago.
She felt a small prickle of apprehension work its way up her spine. She was never frightened when she was out alone at night, but she was always mindful. Charleston tended to be a peaceable city. Then again, she’d just been witness to a murder a couple of days ago.
Picking up the pace, Theodosia and Earl Grey sprinted the last couple of blocks, blasted down their alley, and arrived at their back gate. With no further feelings of uneasiness whatsoever.
In the kitchen, Earl Grey headed for his water dish and Theodosia grabbed a bottle of spring water. It had been a good run, a chance to blow out the carbon and unwind after kind of a crazy day. She took another slug of water and headed upstairs. Now the big question was—hot, steamy shower or bubbly bath? She grabbed a beige cotton robe out of her closet, what she called her spa robe, and stopped in her tracks.
Something up here felt funny. But what?
She frowned, sniffed, and looked around. Something felt . . . different. As if the air had been stirred up, the ions had shifted.
Theodosia stiffened. Had someone come into her house while she and Earl Grey had been out running? Could that happen? Had that happened?
Shivering now, even though she was still warm from her run, Theodosia padded back downstairs. She started at the back of her house and worked her way to the front, checking to make sure the doors were locked, double checking the windows.
Like every woman who lived alone, she had dark, creepy thoughts and secret worries that lurked in the deep recess of her mind. Ax murderers, maniacs in ripped straitjackets, zombies. Well, maybe not zombies.
One of the windows in her living room was unlatched.
Whoa.
But nobody would dare enter her house from the street side, would they? Wouldn’t they get hung up in the rhododendrons and spine-tipped Spanish yucca? Wouldn’t they be noticed immediately if they crawled though her front window?
“Earl Grey.” Theodosia said it calmly and quietly. Her dog was at her side in a heartbeat, lifting his muzzle and looking up at her, sensing her concern.
“Good dog. Take a look around, will you?”
Earl Grey padded through the dining room and into the kitchen. She heard rustling and snuffling for a few minutes, and then he came pacing back to her. He cocked his head and threw her a questioning glance, as if to say, “Are you still worried?”
“Let’s go upstairs, fella,” she said. “Time for bed.” She had a funeral to attend tomorrow morning so she still had to pick out some suitable, somber clothing. And then, of course, there was their Downton Abbey tea. All in all, a very busy day.
In her bedroom, Theodosia ambled into the turret annex she used as her reading room. Her laptop computer was sitting on top of a small spinet desk and she decided to do a quick check of her e-mail. But when she sat down at the desk, something seemed off. A stack of papers looked like it had been shifted. A small drawer was slightly open.
Theodosia racked her brain. Did I do this? In my haste and hurry, did I leave things like this?
She hoped so, because the alternative was much too frightening to contemplate.
Touching a hand to her cheek, Theodosia stroked it gently as she finally let her mind travel in that direction.
Then she dropped a finger to her track pad and called up her search history.
Turned out the last thing she’d been searching for was green alien.
Had someone snuck into her house, looked around, had the nerve to come into her bedroom, and stumbled upon her computer? And then, for some bizarre reason, checked her search history?
The thought chilled her to the bone. Maybe she was over-reacting, maybe she was just being paranoid. But first she decided to check her locks again.
11
Magnolia Cemetery, located on the banks of the Cooper River, was the oldest public cemetery in Charleston. Always a place of beauty, peace, and prayer, today it was also a place of great sadness. Long shafts of sunlight filtered down through overhead trees and bounced off Drew Knight’s silver metal casket as it rested on a carved wooden bier.
Theodosia and Drayton, seated in the last row of rickety black metal chairs, bowed their heads as the minister, in his somber black suit, said his final words and prayers over Drew’s casket. Never having met Drew, except for that horribly unfortunate scene at the winery, Theodosia was still aware of the palpable sorrow that was felt by all the mourners.
Steeped in Evil (A Tea Shop Mystery) Page 10