“Hey, buddy,” she said, giving his ears a gentle tug. “How was school today?” Theodosia employed a dog walker, a retired schoolteacher by the name of Mrs. Berry, who came by most afternoons. They all called it school (K through 9? K9?) even though it was mostly Earl Grey, a Scottie dog named Mr. Misty, two schnauzers, and a toy poodle named Tootsie that the dog walker led through the tony neighborhoods on most afternoons. The dogs had the time of their lives, sniffing and romping to their heart’s content, dragging their human handler down narrow, seldom-traveled cobblestone pathways such as Stoll’s Alley and Longitude Lane.
Theodosia hung up her jacket and bag and walked through her dining room into the kitchen. Ignoring the ugly cupboards that she still wanted to change out, she pulled open the refrigerator door and scanned the contents inside. Some lobster bisque that she could heat up, a slice of leftover quiche, lots of fruit and cheese.
Was she hungry? She decided no. Not at this very moment, anyway. So maybe a jog was in order to blow out the carbon and help her relax? She thought that might just do the trick.
Ten minutes later, dressed in workout pants, a hooded anorak, and Nike trainers, Theodosia and Earl Grey were out the door and bouncing down the back alley. It was full-on dark now, and as she raced through the historic district, some of the lighted windows offered glimpses of life in Charleston’s grandest homes.
A dining room table was being set with gleaming silver and china. Drinks were being imbibed in a wood-paneled library. A man in a wine-colored jacket (was that really a smoking jacket?) poked at logs in a crackling fireplace. Lights were snapped on and, finally, heavy curtains drawn across elegant, arched windows.
Theodosia chugged along at a fairly brisk pace, idly wondering if the robbers from last night had ever cased homes such as these. Down here, along East Bay Street and Murray Boulevard, the enormous Georgian, Federal, and Victorian-style homes were the cream of the crop. They sold for multimillions in today’s hot real estate market and housed many of Charleston’s bankers, lawyers, and doctors. Their contents—antiques, artwork, silver, Oriental rugs, Chippendale furniture, what have you—were probably worth a small fortune. She hoped it all remained safe.
Earl Grey matched Theodosia stride for stride, his legs chugging along, his ears laid flat against his fine-boned head. Her heart filled with love for this wonderful dog that had become her dear companion. She’d found him, several years ago, as a shivering, frightened, homeless pup cowering in the alley behind the Indigo Tea Shop. She’d picked him up, wrapped him in a warm blanket, whispered to him, and never let him go. Now he’d grown into a magnificent dog—smart, friendly, good with people.
In fact, Earl Grey was now a registered therapy dog with the Big Paw organization. Several times a month, he’d don his bright-blue nylon service-dog cape and they’d visit hospitals and nursing homes. Sometimes just laying his head in the lap of a patient made their face light up. And sometimes the patients’ sad smiles, as they no doubt remembered their own dogs from long ago, made Theodosia brush away tears of her own.
They ran down Tradd Street, hit Church Street, and hung a left, running past the darkened Indigo Tea Shop. Two more blocks and then they swung right again, running toward Heart’s Desire.
Theodosia pulled back on Earl Grey’s leash as they approached. When she heard voices and saw black-and-yellow tape flapping in the wind, she crossed to the other side of the street. It looked as though there were still some police officers present, along with two men in white overalls who were unloading large sheets of plywood from the back of a pickup truck that had the name JUNI’S HARDWARE painted on the doors.
Going to board up the store. Too bad that’s the only thing that’s being done right now.
Theodosia headed over to Concord and ran along the high embankment of the Cooper River. Lights from several small boats shimmered in the fog that was slowly beginning to drift in. Farther down, she could just make out the large docks where commercial vessels pulled in to unload cargo.
She slowed her pace and they veered off the path. Jogged along dry grass and over to a rocky patch. They stopped, both of them breathing hard from a good, long workout.
Off in the distance, a boat horn tooted mournfully, then a small tugboat came puttering into sight. Theodosia looked down at the river as the boat churned by. The water looked gray and cold and turgid. She shivered and thought of poor Kaitlin, lying in some mortuary on a cold slab.
Who would answer for her?
Who had put her there?
Who could have masterminded that robbery?
Theodosia clenched her jaw as she shivered in the November cold. She intended to pull out all the stops and find out who was responsible.
Make sure they were punished for their crime.
7
Just as Theodosia and Drayton were primping and priming the Indigo Tea Shop for Tuesday morning tea service, wouldn’t you know it? The FBI showed up.
Theodosia took one look at their conservative dark-blue suits, white shirts, and narrow ties and thought FBI. They looked like they’d come directly from central casting. Or had stepped right out of an episode of Criminal Minds.
Drayton wasn’t quite as observant. Or maybe he thought they looked more like front men for a retro doo-wop group.