“Hmm. That might be a bit awkward.” Theodosia thought for a few moments. “Tell you what, we’ll shove it in a plastic garbage bag and tuck it away for safekeeping. Then, if the police start to focus on Nardwell, we can introduce the box as evidence. You know, to help seal the deal.”
“Where exactly do you intend to store this magnificent trove of evidence?”
“In your garage?”
“Because I have so much extra room?”
“Mostly because you don’t have a car,” Theodosia said.
“My stars,” Drayton said. “I’ve been shanghaied again.” He gazed down at his shoes. “And all I have to show for tonight’s work is a spatter of red sauce on my loafers. Honestly, your Mr. Nardwell eats meatball sandwiches for lunch?”
“Not everyone can have a refined palate like yours, Drayton.”
“Is that a jab?” Drayton asked. “On the surface it sounds like a compliment, but it’s really a jab, isn’t it?”
“No, Drayton,” Theodosia said. “It’s simply the truth.”
* * *
* * *
Theodosia was still keyed up when she arrived home, so she changed into a sweatshirt, leggings, and tennis shoes. Then she snapped a leash on an excited Earl Grey and headed out for a run.
They jogged down Meeting Street for about four blocks, taking it easy, warming up, blowing out the carbon. At Water Street, Theodosia and Earl Grey turned left and picked up the pace. They sprinted past the Old Market, which was closed for the night, danced past Rainbow Row, and then ran down a block where several of the homes dated back to the Colonial period. Theodosia loved the fact that Charleston, with its historic homes, churches, civic buildings, parks, and narrow alleyways, was basically a living museum. In fact, almost every other building she passed had some sort of commemorative plaque.
Including Philadelphia Alley, one of Theodosia’s favorite places.
Dark, secretive, and lined with row houses, the alley dated back to 1776 and had once been called Cow’s Alley. Probably because cows had originally grazed there.
Stepping lightly down the narrow alley, Theodosia was mindful of the cobblestones underfoot, stucco walls, hidden doorways, and lush canopy of trees overhead.
Wind chimes sang faintly, and there was a smoky aroma in the air, as if someone might be grilling a late supper in one of the walled gardens.
Smells good. Reminds me that I haven’t eaten yet.
Just past a towering wall of bricks that had been stained terra-cotta red, Theodosia turned a corner.
And there they were. Two dark shapes. Quick, furtive, moving fast in her direction.
Meaning to harm me?
Theodosia had a smart, instant-flash-to-the-brain reaction. She turned, tugged on her dog’s leash, and started to run.
Earl Grey had other ideas.
Instead of fleeing alongside Theodosia, he dug in his heels and spun around, ripping the leash clean out of her hands. A low growl rose from his throat as he lowered his head and lunged at the two shadowy figures. It was an aggressive move, clearly out of character for the normally docile Earl Grey. But he’d been startled badly, just as his dear human had.
“Earl Grey!” Theodosia cried. She skidded to a stop, turned to look back over her shoulder, and shouted, “Earl Grey, come!”
But no.
Confronted by the snarling, aggressive dog, the two figures were suddenly in full retreat. They started down the dark street, Earl Grey hot on their heels and gaining with every step. Seconds later, the dog’s haunches bunched and he launched himself at one of the figures. Snapping his jaws hard like an angry crocodile, he found purchase on their right pants leg, just below the knee. As Earl Grey pulled the figure to a screeching, skidding halt, he spun them around in a frenzied half circle and chomped down hard.
Whoever he’d grabbed did a crazy, frantic, one-legged dance, trying desperately to shake Earl Grey off. All the time making a high-pitched ee-ee-ee sound. Dog and figure spun wildly, tangling for another few seconds, then Earl Grey released his grip and ran back to Theodosia.
“Good boy,” she said, grabbing his leash and giving him a well-deserved pat on the shoulder. “Good guard dog.” She wondered if the two mysterious figures—they were gone now, disappeared down the block—had intended to harm her. Could they have been shadowing her? Or were they opportunistic muggers simply looking for an easy target?
In either case, they were stupid, she decided. Especially since I had a dog with me. A good guard dog who will always protect me. Then she stood up, gave her dog another pat, and headed for home.
Coming up her back alley, just breezing along now, she was surprised to see lights on in the mansion next door to her. She knew the lawyer who owned it hadn’t returned from England yet, so maybe the property had been leased to someone else? Theodosia hoped that wasn’t the case. She didn’t want to deal with any more crazy neighbors.
Or any crazy street drama.
Home again, doors securely locked, Theodosia felt both tired and a little revved up from her strange adventure. She grabbed an apple, a hunk of Swiss cheese, and a bottle of Fiji water out of the fridge and went upstairs while Earl Grey lapped thirstily from his dog bowl.
Post shower and snack, Theodosia changed into a snuggly nightgown and thought about the two muggers again. Had they been waiting for her? Or had they been a couple of tweakers out to try and grab some fast cash? It had been so dark she really hadn’t gotten a good look at them. Too bad.
Sighing, putting them out of her mind, Theodosia turned and surveyed her bedroom suite. She’d been thinking about changing the lighting. Maybe get a slightly stronger floor lamp for her reading alcove and switch out the two small lamps on her dresser for something more elegant. She’d seen a pair of Chinese ginger jar lamps in an antique shop on King Street a week ago. They might be just the ticket. But only if she could afford them.
Flopping onto her bed, Theodosia grabbed her laptop and checked her e-mail. There wasn’t much. A notice from her Jeep dealership for twenty bucks off an oil change, a note from a tea shop in Beaufort saying they wanted to reorder some of Drayton’s house blends, and an invitation to a show of miniature portraits at the Gibbes Museum of Art.
And one e-mail from an address she didn’t recognize.
Curious, she clicked on that one and frowned as a weird graphic appeared on her screen. A red swirl—a kind of whirlpool—that spun around then suddenly dissolved into hundreds of tiny pixels to reveal . . .
My face? What is this?
It was a photo of her face all right, staring directly out at her. And, bizarrely, it had been superimposed on a tiny, cartoonlike body. The little arms waved helplessly as arrows suddenly appeared out of nowhere and flew at her, piercing her body, her head, her eyes. It was a terrifying image but fascinating at the same time. Theodosia couldn’t look away; it was as if she were a mongoose being taunted and hypnotized by a wily cobra.