Haunted Hibiscus

by Laura Childs

  Teddy was also chomping at the bit to show Theodosia the decorations in their courtyard patio.

  And when they walked out the French doors and stepped down onto the large brick patio, Theodosia was definitely impressed.

  Teddy had hired a professional crew to decorate for Halloween, and they’d done an amazing job. Orange and white twinkle lights were strung in the trees, filmy ghosts dangled from branches, and enormous wrought-iron candle stands—like something you’d find in a church—stood everywhere, pillar candles blazing away. There were also dozens of white pumpkins clustered at the base of every tree, gnarly-looking tombstones, and gossamer cobwebs. A dozen large round tables were draped in black with centerpieces of silver pumpkins and white mums. The dishes were dark purple with black glass goblets.

  “This is spectacular,” Theodosia said as she took it all in.

  “Isn’t it fabulous?” Teddy was pleased that she was pleased. “And take a look at our little greenhouse.”

  Theodosia did. Orange lights backlit cutouts of ghosts and goblins as they capered across the large windows.

  “I’m getting chills,” Theodosia said.

  “I know,” Teddy said. “Isn’t it grand? We’ve even got floating skulls in our little pond over there. Oh, and look, we’ve got Haley’s raven cake set up on its own table. And when our jazz combo arrives we’re going to tuck them right between the gravestones.”

  “It’s all perfect,” Theodosia said. “Couldn’t be better.” She glanced at her watch and decided she should probably run back into the kitchen and check on Drayton and Haley. See if they needed any help.

  “When do the guests arrive?” Theodosia asked.

  There was a sudden murmur of voices, and Theodosia turned to see a half dozen costumed guests spill onto the patio.

  “Right now,” Teddy said.

  * * *

  * * *

  Haley’s dinner menu was spectacular. They started out with sultana raisin scones, then served a sausage apple soup along with miniature Brie cheese and cranberry pastries. The entrée consisted of roast pork with scalloped potatoes and brussels sprouts with balsamic vinegar and honey.

  Theodosia figured there had to be at least a hundred people seated in the courtyard (all in costume, no less), so she was vastly relieved that Angie had hired extra help. She and Drayton took care of serving tea, Haley and two of Angie’s regular chefs handled the plating, while six servers hustled out all the food.

  As Theodosia wandered from table to table, refilling teacups and chatting with friends, she was thrilled by all the compliments.

  “Delicious!”

  “Might there be seconds on scones?”

  “How about a doggie bag, even though I don’t have a dog.”

  Theodosia had just poured a cup of tea for her friend Brooke Carter Crockett when her cell phone jingled in her pocket. She pulled it out, saw who was calling, and said, “Hey there,” to Riley.

  “Hey there, yourself,” he said. “Am I still invited to tonight’s big Halloween extravaganza?”

  Theodosia stepped off the patio and tried to fade into the background so she could have a little privacy. “Absolutely, you are. As long as you’re feeling well enough.” She paused. “Are you? Feeling well enough?”

  “Leaps and bounds, sweetheart. I just woke up from a catnap and feel like I’m growing stronger with each passing moment.”

  Are you really feeling better, Riley, or do you just want to keep tabs on me?

  “That’s great,” she said. “When can you be here?”

  “Take me five minutes at most. But the big question is, will there be any food left?”

  “For you? Not a problem. I’ve got an in with the chef.”

  “Okay, see you soon,” Riley said.

  “Oh, hey!”

  “What?” he asked.

  Theodosia smiled to herself, thinking about the ghost bride costume and the optical illusion that was yet to come.

  “Better hurry, because I’ve got a surprise for you.”

  “What is it?”

  “You’ll have to get over here and see.”

  Theodosia hung up, then headed back inside. The servers were clearing plates, and it was almost time to bring out dessert. She ghosted along the edge of the patio, smiling to herself.

  And suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. And stopped smiling as well.

  There, sitting at one of the tables, chatting amiably with another guest, was Ellis Bouchard!

  33

  Theodosia’s first thoughts were, Bouchard? How on earth did Bouchard suddenly turn up here? Tonight of all nights?

  Somehow this didn’t feel like a coincidence. Rather, it felt . . . eerie.

  Goose bumps prickled Theodosia’s arms as she hurried inside. When she saw Angie standing behind the reception desk, talking on the phone, she waved at her and mouthed, “We need to talk!”

  Thirty seconds later, Angie hung up. “What?” she said.

  Theodosia grabbed Angie and pulled her outside. Aimed a finger at Bouchard. “You see that gentleman sitting over there? Is he one of your guests?”

  “That’s Mr. Bouchard,” Angie said matter-of-factly. “He’s been staying here for the last two weeks, renting one of the rooms in our annex. Why? Is something wrong?”

  “I hope not.”

  “What? Tell me,” Angie said.

  “He’s basically a suspect in the murder of Willow French.”

  Angie’s mouth pulled into an almost perfect oval. “Oh. I didn’t know that. Do you want me to . . . what?” She shook her head. “Ask him to leave?”

  “No,” Theodosia said. “Let’s just . . . let it go for now.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah. I’ll be okay.”

  Still, Theodosia felt jittery and on edge as she helped serve dessert. Okay, she knew why Ellis Bouchard was staying here, why he’d chosen this particular B and B. It was close to the mansion he was struggling to gain control of. And close to Timothy and the Heritage Society as well.

  Too close for comfort?

  Had Bouchard known that she, Drayton, and Haley would be serving dinner here tonight? Or was it just happenstance? Should she ask him? No. Theodosia dismissed that thought immediately. Better to wait until Riley showed up. Then he could ask the questions. After all, he was the one with official credentials.

  The raven cake they cut and served for dessert proved to be a huge hit. Haley called her recipe the Blackout because it was basically dark chocolate cake with chocolate pudding filling and chocolate frosting and fondant. Sinfully rich and, judging from the way forks were scraping against plates, also quite delicious.

  “Hey.” Angie touched Theodosia’s elbow. Lightly, but it had made her jump anyway. “You okay? Still feeling rattled?”

  Theodosia shook her head. “Nope, I’m fine. Is it time for me to get into my costume?”

  Angie nodded. “I’d say you’ve got about five minutes. What I’m going to do is thank my guests for coming tonight, introduce our jazz combo, then segue into a quick fun talk about Charleston ghosts and hauntings. You know, because every B and B, hotel, and church around here is reputed to be haunted.”

  “This place, too?” Theodosia asked.

  Angie smiled. “Why do you think I chose the ghost bride costume?”

  “Okay,” Theodosia said. “Then I’ll go change. What’s my cue?”

  “When you hear me say Clarice—that’s the name of our ghost—that’s when you should come wafting out.”

  “Got it.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Theodosia bumped into Drayton in the lobby. He was carrying a teapot in each hand.

  “Would you believe I’m the ghost tonight?” Theodosia asked him.

  “Seriously?” Drayton smiled. “I like that. What do your ghostly dutie
s entail?”

  “Nothing too tricky. I’m just supposed to float out and then disappear.”

  “Ah yes, Teddy Vickers mentioned the Pepper’s Ghost trick to me. I know that many European magicians once used it. So did Harry Houdini. Best of luck with your disappearance. Take care you don’t venture too far. I’m supposed to do my reading right after.”

  Theodosia went into Angie’s office, pulled on her shroud, added the rubber mask, then placed the tattered veil on her head. She peered into a little oval mirror that hung on the wall and gasped. She really did look awful. The dreadful veil looked almost moldy while her eyes gazed out from darkened, hollow eyeholes. Oh well, it was Halloween after all. A time for ghostly, ghastly surprises.

  Theodosia stood behind the French doors, listening as Angie give her little speech, nodding along as the guests clapped. She bounced on the balls of her feet, trying to get loose, trying to get into the mood.

  Method acting?

  Sure, why not? She snicked the door latch open, poised to make her grand entrance.

  Then, when Angie uttered the name Clarice, Theodosia burst through the French doors and ran into the courtyard. She stretched her arms out wide, the better to show off her flowing shroud and veil. Then, when she hit dead center, she did a slow twirl and let out a ghostly howl.

  The applause startled her. But Theodosia quickly regained her ghostly composure and spirited herself the rest of the way across the courtyard where Angie was holding out a hand to welcome what she called her “house ghost, Clarice.”

  Theodosia barely registered the rest of Angie’s words as she glanced across the courtyard, taking in the laughter of the guests and the smiles on the servers’ faces. Then, she saw Riley, his arm in a sling, standing next to Drayton. They were outside the French doors, their heads close together. Drayton was doing all the talking, as if he were explaining something.

  Drayton just told him it was me.

  Then Riley turned and looked across the courtyard, over the heads of the guests, and spotted Theodosia. A smile lit his face. He’d seen her, probably recognized her even with the crazy costume. Now he was watching carefully, waiting for the magic trick to happen.

  Theodosia smiled inside her mask as Angie continued talking to her guests, explaining the wonderful illusion she was about to perform.

  Then Teddy Vickers was standing behind her, whispering. Telling her to stand on her mark.

  Theodosia moved into a beam of light that shone down from above. And stood there, still as a statue.

  A hush fell over the audience. Then, out of the corner of her eye, Theodosia saw a mirror image of herself projected on a screen.

  Teddy grabbed her by the sleeve and pulled her backstage as the audience began to cheer.

  “Well done,” Teddy whispered to her. “Just stay here, out of sight, and I’ll be back in a flash.”

  Theodosia stood there, wondering what was going on, wishing she could have seen the expression on Riley’s face when she disappeared.

  There was another whisper. Off to her left. Off in the shadows. Soft and hushed.

  “Theodosia.”

  Theodosia turned, hesitated, and took three steps toward the back of the stage. It was pitch-dark, and she couldn’t see a thing.

  “What?” she said. “What do I do now?”

  “This way,” the voice whispered.

  “Teddy?”

  Was it Teddy? A warning bell clanged in Theodosia’s head. What was going on?

  There was a quick flash of yellow, bright and sparkly, like sunbeams on water.

  Bright eyes, was Theodosia’s first impression. Then she turned and thought . . . No, that’s not quite right.

  In the instant it took for Theodosia’s brain to form that singular idea, a crushing weight struck her on the back of her head. A galaxy of stars exploded before her eyes, followed by a dark and sickening image of a deep, wildly swirling whirlpool. Theodosia was falling, softly, almost floating ever downward, like gentle snow descending on aspen leaves.

  And then Theodosia was truly gone, her mind a total blank, her body as helpless and compliant as a rag doll.

  Which made it easy for her attacker to toss her hastily and carelessly into the van.

  34

  Pain. Darkness. And a sickening sense of motion.

  Theodosia regained consciousness little by little. Slowly, methodically, she became aware of the fact that she’d been struck on the back of her head. Struck hard. Maybe even concussion hard since she was having a terrible time gathering her thoughts and recalling what had just happened to her.

  Gradually, as her memory came back in fleeting images and flashes, she realized that she was lying on her left side with her cheek pressed against some sort of prickly, smelly carpet. And that, wherever she was, it was swaying slowly.

  Theodosia opened her eyes. Darkness but not a total blackout.

  Where am I? Trunk of a car?

  She forced herself to move, to reach out and explore the space around her.

  No, there’s lots of room. I must be in some sort of van.

  Her knees were drawn up to her chest, as if she’d been haphazardly loaded into a vehicle.

  Or pushed. I think I was pushed.

  Theodosia rolled over slowly and eased herself up onto her knees. She was shaky at best. Unsteady.

  Getting her balance now, Theodosia slipped off her shroud—the mask and veil had disappeared somewhere—and reached out tentatively. She felt something slithery. What was it? Her fingers touched it again. Something smooth and cool. Plastic? That’s what it was. A thin sheet of plastic like you’d drape over a dress to keep it clean.

  Theodosia sat bolt upright, her mind pinging with fear along with a smattering of remembrances. The faint odor of dry cleaning fluid that had lingered on the Sherlock Holmes costumes. The bit of plastic she’d found stuck to Earl Grey’s collar. The smell of dry cleaning fluid right now.

  She eased herself forward in the van, moving cautiously toward the faint light of the vehicle’s cab. And saw that a grate separated the back of the van from the front. A crisscross piece of metal. Like you’d see in a prison van.

  So what is this? I’m in the back of a dry cleaner’s van? But why?

  And then the reality of the situation came rushing at her.

  Somebody’s taken me prisoner? Who?

  Frantically searching her memory for a sliver of a clue, Theodosia kept coming up blank. Until she finally remembered an insignificant conversation from a few days earlier. A conversation about paying the bills and . . . working for a dry cleaner?

  “Sybil?” That single word came out as a dry croak.

  There was no answer. Only faint road sounds coming from outside.

  “Sybil?” Theodosia tried again. “Is that you?”

  Again, nothing.

  “What’s going on? What’s happening?” And then, in an almost plaintive voice, “Why am I here?”

  Theodosia crawled toward the front of the van on her hands and knees, blinking rapidly to clear her vision, and stared through the metal grate.

  Sybil was sitting behind the wheel, ignoring her as she drove. And she was wearing a pair of stunning yellow diamond earrings.

  Willow’s Hibiscus Diamond earrings. Oh, this is not good. This is so not good!

  “Sybil?” Theodosia tried again. She knew she had to make a convincing appeal, somehow persuade Sybil that kidnapping her was all wrong.

  Without taking her eyes off the road, Sybil said, “Shut up back there.”

  “Sybil, no. This is me, Theodosia. We know each other. We’re friends. Don’t you remember when you served tea with Drayton and me at the Heritage Society? You were so sweet and lovely to help us.”

  “I said shut up.” Sybil’s voice was like gravel. “You weren’t supposed to wake up this fast. I should have hit you har
der.”

  “What’s going on?” Theodosia asked. “Will you please tell me what’s going on?” Then, in a more demanding tone, “Sybil, you know this is wrong!”

  “You know what’s wrong?” Sybil shouted back. “Me working two jobs and being saddled by massive debt. Me playing gopher for everybody who snaps their fingers while Miss Fancy Pants natters on about her big fat wedding.”

  “I completely understand,” Theodosia said. She didn’t really but knew she had to keep Sybil talking, keep trying to communicate. “You were under pressure and you cracked.”

  “No, honey, I cracked the code. It’s easy street from now on.”

  “You won’t get away with this.”

  But Sybil ignored Theodosia’s words. Instead of answering, she turned on the radio. Immediately, a blast of music filled the van, something with incoherent lyrics and a thumpity-thump beat that rattled Theodosia’s teeth and made her aching head pound that much more.

  As Theodosia tried to make sense of what was happening, what struck her as extremely peculiar was the fact that Sybil was wearing a white zip-front Tyvek jumpsuit. It was the kind of disposable uniform that workers in clean rooms wore.

  Why would Sybil do that? Theodosia wondered. What was she up to that she had to protect her clothes?

  Then the answer came to Theodosia in a terrible, unholy wallop.

  Sybil wanted to protect her clothes from getting all bloody.

  Bloody? From my blood?

  Theodosia clamped both hands over her mouth to stifle her scream.

  Oh dear Lord! How am I going to get out of this?