by Laura Childs
“He’s certainly trying,” Theodosia said.
“And he’s got lipstick on his collar,” Miss Dimple said.
Drayton glanced at her and sighed. “Merely an overenthusiastic kiss from a happy customer.”
“That woman Adelle something? The one who wears so much makeup?” Theodosia asked.
“Right,” Drayton said, rolling his R.
“Hmm,” Miss Dimple said.
When Miss Dimple had finished thanking them for letting her work today, she toddled out the door, toting a bag of leftover scones.
“A long day,” Drayton observed. He was almost but not quite yawning.
“Where’s Honey Bee?” Theodosia asked.
“My next-door neighbor lady has her. The one with the adorable little shih tzu named Clover.”
“I have an idea. Why don’t we finish up here and then you come home with me for dinner tonight? Nothing fancy, not a four-course dinner or anything like that. More like soup and popovers. What do you say?”
Drayton smiled. “I’d say it’s a fine reason to pop over.”
30
“This is so relaxing and nice.” Drayton was sprawled on the living room sofa while Theodosia stood at the antique British campaign chest she used as a makeshift bar and poured them each a glass of wine. Earl Grey was curled up on his cushy dog bed next to the fireplace.
“Chilly in here.” Theodosia handed Drayton his drink and checked the thermostat.
“I could build a fire.”
Earl Grey thumped his tail. He loved the warmth of a good fire.
“I could build a fire,” Theodosia said as she sat down in the chair across from Drayton. “Of course, then I’d have to schlep outside and grab some kindling and a few logs.”
“What you really mean is you’d have to mountain-goat it over that pile of lumber and cabinet parts that’s spread out in the middle of your kitchen. It truly is a construction zone in there.”
“It’s terrible. But I keep telling myself this mess will be worth it in the end.”
“Eventually, it will pay off, yes,” Drayton said. “I remember when the workmen were refinishing my pine countertops and installing my copper sink. It drove me crackers and seemed to go on for eons.” He took a sip of wine and said, “Delicious. This is the French Malbec you told me about?”
“Yup. You’re supposed to be able to taste blackberries and a hint of violets.”
“And I do.”
They chatted about the Lavender Lady Tea, and Theodosia began to relax as she felt the wine starting to warm her. Then, as if an alarm had gone off, her mind buzzed into action again. “Do you think Meredith got her ransom call yet?”
“Search me,” Drayton said.
“Maybe this has all been a ruse.”
“Meredith seemed to think it was legitimate,” Drayton said. “The police are taking it seriously.”
“No, what I meant was, what if Fawn really wasn’t kidnapped? What if she’s in collusion with someone?”
Drayton was taken aback. “With who?”
“I’m not sure,” Theodosia said.
“You’ve certainly done an about-face. You don’t even believe that Fawn is dead.”
“Not anymore, I don’t. No.”
“What changed your mind?”
Theodosia thought for a few moments. “I guess . . . maybe it’s all been too much of a coincidence?”
“You mean Reginald getting shot and then Fawn pretty much dropping off the face of the earth?” Drayton asked.
“Exactly.”
“Well, it’s not ours to worry about anymore. I’m assuming the Charleston Police have everything under control. If that awful kidnapper person calls Meredith with instructions about delivering the ransom money, the police will probably pounce on him like a duck on a June bug.” Drayton took another sip of wine. “I hope they will, anyway.”
“They’ve probably dressed a female SWAT officer up to look like Meredith.”
“That would be a clever thing to do,” Drayton said.
Theodosia stood up. “I’m going to heat some wild rice soup and slip the popovers in the oven.”
“Need my help?”
“You stay right where you are. There’s barely enough room for me in that kitchen.”
Theodosia set her drink on the sideboard as she walked through the dining room, keenly aware of the click click click of toenails following directly behind her.
“I’m afraid there isn’t room for you in the kitchen, either,” she told Earl Grey.
The dog favored her with a baleful gaze.
“Oh, all right. But please be careful. Watch your paws and don’t go tripping over anything.”
Then, as Theodosia stepped into her kitchen, that’s exactly what she did.
“Uh . . . ouch!” she cried as her foot smacked hard against a stack of two-by-fours. A split second later, she’d lost her balance and was starting to fall. “No!” she cried, a flash of anger ripping through her. Theodosia flailed her arms and, at the last moment, caught herself and managed to right herself.
“Are you all right?” Drayton’s voice floated back to her.
“Perfectly fine,” she said, though her heart was still doing flip-flops.
Theodosia stood there trying to shake it off. Finally, she blew out a glut of air, leaned down, and hastily gathered up the stack of boards. “This is not how I’m going to spend the rest of the weekend.” She ground her teeth together for emphasis. “This ends now.”
Juggling her armful of wood, struggling to get the back door open, practically kicking her way outside, Theodosia carried the offending boards out and dumped them on her back patio.
“There,” she said, the boards clattering horribly as they hit the patio stones. “This stuff can sit right here until Monday morning when my cabinet guy is supposed to come back.”
Theodosia was still muttering to herself and to Earl Grey, who’d followed her outside. But she was rudely interrupted when her neighbor suddenly roared up his driveway, shattering a quiet—well, relatively quiet—evening.
Is that Steele’s Porsche making all that noise? Again?
Miffed by the racket, thinking she might do the neighbors a great favor by saying something to him, Theodosia took a few steps forward and peered through the dense boxwood hedge that separated her side yard from his driveway. The sun had dropped below the horizon, but she could still make out his car.
Look at that, tonight he’s driving his big, honkin’ BMW.
Robert Steele drove his black BMW 740i as if he were a NASCAR driver at Daytona International Speedway. Fast and furious, often taking chances. Someday, Theodosia thought, Steele was going to hit something. Cripple a person or smash another car. And then where would he be?
Probably not in court, seeing as how he’s been slipping in and out of lawsuits his entire career.
Two voices, Steele’s deep tones and those of a higher-pitched female, both raised in laughter, could be heard over the slam of car doors.
Is this another of his Saturday night special girlfriends?
Theodosia was about to turn and go inside when her curiosity reared up and got the best of her. She moved quietly along the hedge, following the sound of voices, until she came to a spot where she could peek through the leaves.
I suppose I shouldn’t be doing this . . .
She looked anyway and could hardly believe her eyes.
What?
With a startled intake of breath, Theodosia whirled about and sprinted for her house.
It couldn’t be, it couldn’t be, her brain hammered out frantically.
She was moving so fast, not watching where she was going, that she practically smacked into Drayton, who was standing just inside her kitchen door.
“Whoa there.” Drayton grabbed Theodosia by the shoulders to steady her and keep her from tumbling head over teakettle. “I wondered where you’d run off to.” He was smiling, but concern shone in his gray eyes.
“I . . . saw somethin
g that weirded me out,” Theodosia said. Her frenzied brain tried to make sense of the image she’d seen as sparks twirled before her eyes.
“Actually, you look like you saw a ghost.”
“I think I did.” Theodosia was flustered, unsure how to explain herself. Could she trust her own eyes? She’d only seen that split-second flash . . .
Drayton started to chuckle, then quit abruptly when Theodosia didn’t join in. “What?” he asked. “A ghost in a shroud?”
Theodosia shook her head. “This ghost was all gold and shimmery.” She tried to put her words together and said, “Do you remember . . . ?” Then stopped.
“Go on. What were you about to say?” Drayton urged.
“A couple of days ago Delaine was rambling on about a dress Fawn bought at her shop.”
“Okay.”
“Anyway, Delaine was rhapsodizing over this fabulous gold dress that Fawn bought at her shop. Said it made her look like she was walking in moonlight or something.”
“Wait one minute. Is that what you think you saw?”
Theodosia lifted a shoulder. “Maybe.”
“It had to be a figment of your imagination,” Drayton said. “Maybe a leftover impression sparked by that awful séance yesterday.”
“You’re right. It was probably nothing,” Theodosia said.
She tried to dismiss it, banish the fleeting image of the golden girl from her mind, but she couldn’t. It was stuck there like a visual earworm that wouldn’t go away, no matter what.
“Or maybe it was something. Maybe I really did see . . . Fawn,” Theodosia said haltingly.
Drayton frowned at the mention of Fawn’s name.
An ember of uncertainty burned in Theodosia’s brain. “I have to know. And there’s only one way to find out for sure.”
Now Drayton’s brows shot up. “What are you saying?”
Theodosia touched a hand to his arm. “Come with me. I have to get a second opinion on this, or I’ll go crazy.” She turned and grabbed her keys, then darted out the back door, and ran lightly across the patio.
“Are you quite mad?” Drayton asked, but he lurched after her anyway, closing the door on Earl Grey.
“Come on.” Theodosia had already wedged herself into the boxwood hedge. She figured if she wiggled and squiggled she could push all the way through to her neighbor’s yard.
“You want me to sneak over there with you? In the dark?” Drayton’s voice was a low whisper. He was keenly aware of voices coming from the other side of the hedge.
“Yes, right now in the dark.”
“This is preposterous,” Drayton said, holding up both hands to caution her. “Like kids sneaking into a graveyard on a dare.”
“Don’t be so dramatic, Drayton. I just . . . Ouch . . .” Theodosia flinched. She was firmly wedged inside the hedge, unable to go any farther, a dozen sharp branches poking her ribs like dull knives. “I think I might need some help here.” She was hopelessly trapped among the unyielding branches.
“Good grief. Give me your hand, and I’ll try to . . .”
Theodosia held out her hand for Drayton to grasp. He pulled, tugged, tried to maneuver her sideways.
“Nothing’s working,” he said, looking perplexed.
“Pull harder.”
Drayton finally rammed his entire arm in and shoved back several sharp branches. Then he gently eased Theodosia back out.
“Now that you’ve been extricated, I suggest we take a civilized walk around this hedge. That’s if you’re still bound and determined to investigate,” Drayton said.
“I am,” Theodosia said. She had to settle her burning curiosity, one way or the other.
They crept down the stone walkway that ran alongside Theodosia’s house, reached the end of the hedge, then turned and tiptoed up Robert Steele’s cobblestone driveway.
“This is crazy,” Drayton muttered. He kept tripping on the uneven cobblestones.
Theodosia put a finger to her mouth as they crept past hydrangeas and late-blooming dahlias. “Shhh.”
Steele’s mansion loomed up before them in the dark. It was an enormous Gilded Age mansion that had been built just after the Civil War. Columns and triangular pediments graced the front of the house, and a fanciful cupola sat on top. Inside were crystal chandeliers, hand-carved marble fireplaces, and Tiffany stained glass. Theodosia knew this because she’d been inside.
Voices floated in and out of range, like a radio with a faulty signal.
“I think they’re still out back,” Theodosia said. No light escaped from around the edges of the heavy draperies, so she figured that Steele and his lady friend hadn’t gone inside yet.
Drayton nodded as he gamely made his way along.
And lo and behold, as they reached the corner of the mansion, the voices floating back to them grew louder and more recognizable.
They peeked around the corner at the back patio, where a gas firepit lit up the night. It was showy and modern, built in a perfect square with jets of flame hissing upward. Two people sat in wicker chairs drawn up next to the firepit.
“That’s Robert Steele, but it’s difficult to make out who the other person is,” Theodosia said.
Drayton shook his head. “I’m not sure, either.” As the night cooled, fog from the nearby harbor slowly crept in, giving everything a soft-focus appearance.
“We need to get closer.”
They shuffled dangerously close, staying hidden in the shadows, trying to get a better look. And then . . .
There, on the back patio, curled up in a lounge chair and silhouetted against flickering orange and yellow flames, was Fawn Doyle.
“It is her!” Theodosia said in a shocked-bordering-on-triumphant whisper. She finally had a positive ID!
Drayton was completely stunned. “My stars! Fawn’s come back from the dead!”
“No, she’s come back from wherever she’s been hiding out,” Theodosia whispered. She felt angry and betrayed. And could only imagine how awful Meredith and Alex would feel when they found out that Fawn was alive and well. And that this selfish, conniving girl had put them through an ocean of worry.
“It’s shocking to see her looking so . . . happy,” Drayton said.
Theodosia didn’t give a crap about Fawn’s state of mind. She was suddenly furious with the girl, furious they’d all been duped. “Fawn’s been working some kind of con,” Theodosia said. “Maybe a kidnapping scheme that . . .” She held up a hand to stop herself. “Wait, let’s try to listen in.”
They leaned forward, straining hard to hear the conversation. And were stunned when they realized that Steele and Fawn were sniping at each other, having a sort of argument.
“Come on, I thought we were going to the Charleston Grill for dinner,” Steele said in a petulant tone. “You’re all dressed up and I made reservations. Now you’re backing out on me?” He made a rude sound with his mouth. “Plus, you want to borrow my car again?” He was obviously a man who was used to getting his way and didn’t much tolerate being trifled with.
Fawn reached out and took Steele’s hand. Her voice was soft and wheedling, but it was almost impossible to make out her exact words.
“Where are you running off to now?” Steele asked. “Dang, woman, you’re the most mysterious person I’ve ever met.”
“Holy cats,” Theodosia whispered.
“Something very important has come up,” Fawn said. “Something that simply can’t wait. But I don’t want you to worry, because I promise to bring your car back safe and sound.” She laughed, a high, tinkling laugh, as if she were privy to some private joke. “I won’t be long, so let’s just plan for a fashionably late dinner.”
They couldn’t make out the rest of Steele and Fawn’s exchange, but they did hear a jingle of keys and then the sound of a car door opening and closing. Seconds later, there was a throaty roar from the BMW.
Theodosia and Drayton streaked back down the driveway and dived behind a clump of palmetto trees that sat in the elegantly landsca
ped front yard.
They watched in awe as Steele’s black BMW shot past them, Fawn at the wheel looking grim and determined. Then Theodosia said, “Come on, we have to follow her!” They were thirty yards from where her Jeep was parked on the street.
“You mean chase after her?” Drayton was seriously reluctant. “That’s a terrible idea!”
But Theodosia was already running, pounding across the lawn in the dark, leaping over a flower bed, dodging a clipped topiary. She had a good head start on Drayton as she reached her Jeep, jumped in, cranked the ignition, and flipped on the headlights. There was no stopping her now, no pulling her back. She revved her engine in a high, trembling whine.
And then . . .
Drayton hesitated for a moment more, then he bolted for the passenger door. “Wait for me!”
31
Theodosia drove one-handed as she grappled for her cell phone in the bottom of her bag. When she found it, she thumbed through her CONTACTS list, hit a button, and prayed that Riley would answer.
He did. On the very first ring.
“This is Riley. What’s up?”
“Riley, this is super important,” Theodosia said with as much urgency as she could muster. “I need to know . . . did the ransom call come through to Meredith? Did someone call and tell her where to drop the money?”
“I’m not supposed to talk to you about that. I’ve been warned.”
“Duly noted. But here’s the thing, I’m following Fawn Doyle right now as she’s blasting through town. And I’m wondering if maybe—”
“You’re what?”
Theodosia frowned, tapped the phone against her steering wheel, then put it back to her ear. “Do we have a bad connection or something? I just said that I’m following—”
“Pull over! Stop right this instant!” Riley shouted at the top of his lungs.
Theodosia gunned her engine as she shot through a red light. “That’s not going to happen.”
“You’re chasing Fawn Doyle? You mean she’s actually alive?”
“She’s not only alive, she’s actually a pretty reckless driver. I’m having a heck of a time . . .”