by Laura Childs
“And you think the killer knows about this? That you’ve been . . . what? Poking around? Is that why strange things are happening?”
“Could be,” Theodosia said.
Alexis opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again as a frightened look came across her face.
“What?” Theodosia asked.
“Um. Somebody came into my shop today,” Alexis said. “They looked around, but didn’t buy anything. I didn’t think much of it at the time because I was on the phone, talking to a customer in Savannah. But the person who came in acted kind of hinky.”
“Can you describe him?”
“Well, he wasn’t very well-dressed, for one thing. I think he . . .” She touched a finger to her forehead. “I think he might have been wearing a denim jacket. But not a new one, kind of old and weather-beaten.”
“Like a workman might wear?”
“Kind of.”
“Do you think it was the same person who came after you tonight?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so, but I could be wrong.”
Theodosia wondered if it could have been Bob Garver or Jud Harker. And if so, why would either one of them want to stop at Haiku Gallery? On the other hand, Jud Harker had been floating around in the wind for a few days. And Harker seemed perpetually angry. So it could have been him, even if the police hadn’t been able to pin anything on him yet.
“Come on,” Theodosia said in what she hoped was a calm, even voice. “Let’s get you home.”
Alexis grabbed her arm. “Please, Theo, promise me that when I walk into my home tonight I’ll be safe.”
“I promise,” Theodosia said. But her words felt hollow. She couldn’t be sure anyone would be completely safe until the killer—whoever he or she was—was apprehended.
“And you’ll call your friend, Detective Riley? Tell him that it would be so great if the police could kind of keep an eye on my house and my shop?”
“Of course, I’ll ask him,” said Theodosia. “And I’m sure he’ll be happy to extend a little extra protection. After all, he’s been working on this case for several days now. It’s a tangle, but I’m confident he’ll get it sorted out.”
Because if he doesn’t, I’ll have to figure it out myself.
* * *
• • •
When Theodosia arrived back home, she walked in without turning on any lights, still distracted and ruminating about everything that had happened tonight. Someone had strummed the outer edges of a spiderweb, but just who was at the center of that web?
Theodosia passed through her dining room, trailing a hand over the backs of her cane chairs, then walked into the kitchen, where Earl Grey was napping on his dog bed. Standing at the back door, she gazed out the small window into the darkness, wondering if Jud Harker was out there and making plans to come after her. She tilted her head back and looked skyward, where dark clouds scudded across a tiny sliver of moon.
Dark of the moon.
Theodosia stared at the turbulent sky for a moment, then went to her phone and dialed Drayton at home. When he picked up she said, “I’m thinking of doing something illegal and I want you to talk me out of it.”
“What are you thinking of doing?”
“Breaking into Jud Harker’s apartment.”
A few moments of silence spun out, then Drayton said, “How soon can you pick me up?”
23
Theodosia remembered the address from her sojourn with Tidwell last night. But that didn’t mean she knew how to get there.
She and Drayton drove through North Charleston down dark twisty-turny streets, spun around Park Circle, and then down North Rhett. Somewhere along the line she made a wrong turn and ended up in a cul-de-sac where some kind of sewer pipe excavation was happening.
“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” Drayton asked as their headlights flashed against a yellow dozer that sat hunkered in the street.
“Pretty sure,” Theodosia said. She negotiated a sharp K-turn and headed back to North Rhett, which was a sort of main drag. From there she drove on pure instinct.
Yes, I remember seeing Froggie’s Pizza on that corner; no I do not recall passing The Washtub Laundromat. But, Holy Hannah, I think Camden might be where we turned last night.
Theodosia jerked the steering wheel and squealed around the corner, causing Drayton to reach out and latch onto the dashboard with a death grip.
“Careful,” he said. “We don’t want to get arrested before we get arrested.”
“We’re not going to get arrested,” Theodosia said.
“No? Ah, well, I suppose your relationship with Detective Riley gives you brownie points.”
“Actually, it probably doesn’t.”
They rolled past a bowling alley, a small market, and an old fire station that had been turned into a microbrewery.
“Tell me more about your friend Alexis James getting attacked.”
“All I know is what I already told you,” Theodosia said.
“I hope the poor woman is okay, no residual damage. And I do find it terribly suspicious coming directly on the heels of Jamie’s accident.”
“That was no accident,” Theodosia said, her voice practically cracking with emotion.
“You feel responsible,” Drayton said.
Theodosia nodded in the darkness of the car and clenched her jaw. “Yes, of course I do. I think if we hadn’t started poking around in this Carson Lanier business, we probably wouldn’t have been targeted.”
“That’s what you think?” Drayton asked.
“The car hitting Jamie, the guy who jumped out at Alexis—that could have been intended for me,” Theodosia said.
“Or perhaps it was pure coincidence.”
“I don’t believe in coincidences,” Theodosia said. “Especially when they start piling up one on top of another.” She saw the outline of the old house up ahead and maneuvered her Jeep to the curb. She put it in park and they sat there, the engine slowly purring. “This is it,” Theodosia said.
Drayton leaned forward and peered out the front window. “The neighborhood looks awfully desolate.”
“Just working class.”
“Could maybe use some of that rehab money.”
“Fat chance of that.” Theodosia lifted her hands off the wheel and shut off the ignition. “Well, are you coming with me?”
“What have I got to lose?” Drayton said. “Except my stellar record as a law-abiding citizen.”
They walked up the front sidewalk to the rooming house. The sidewalk was pitted and crazed with cracks; the front porch listed toward the street, as if it were about to fall off, but in slow motion.
“This place looks like it’s coming apart at the seams,” Drayton whispered.
“Pity it was chopped up into apartments,” Theodosia said. “Because this old house does have good bones.” She noticed that lights shone from first floor windows, but there were only a couple lights coming from the second floor.
“But even bones crumble eventually,” Drayton said.
Theodosia pulled open the front door and they stepped into the small entryway. The same yellow sixty-watt bulb dangled from a single wire while ancient linoleum crackled underfoot. Tonight the odor of fried fish was heavy in the air.
“Whew, the aroma of this evening’s dinner is certainly heavier than the pan-roasted salmon at Poogan’s Porch,” Drayton snorted, referring to one of Charleston’s favorite restaurants.
“Come on, Harker’s place is upstairs.”
They climbed the staircase with its threadbare carpet and walked down the dim hallway heading for apartment six. Music blared from behind a door at the front of the building, but the rear of the building was quiet.
Theodosia knocked on Harker’s door. She gave it a few moments for the knock to register, then called out
, “Anybody home?”
There was no reply.
“Try again,” Drayton said. “Maybe Harker’s fast asleep. Like we should be.”
Theodosia knocked again. They were met with dead silence.
“What do you think?” Drayton asked. “I say he’s probably not home.” He brushed the back of his hand against his cheek. “This fellow Harker has a real talent for making himself scarce, doesn’t he? He’s like a regular boo-haunt or something.”
“That’s what worries me.”
“So what now?”
“Considering everything that’s happened tonight, I’d sure like to get inside his apartment and look around.”
“Now that we’re here, I don’t know if that’s a wise idea.” Drayton glanced around. “Plus, there could be cameras.”
“In this rattrap? Hardly.”
“Breaking and entering is still illegal,” Drayton said.
“Then why didn’t you talk me out of it when I first called?” Theodosia asked. “I told you I was thinking about doing something illegal.”
Drayton pursed his lips. “You make a good point.” He glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching, then grasped the doorknob and rattled the door. “This feels like a flimsy lock. You can tell by the way the door shakes in its frame. There’s clearly no deadlock, just a latch on the doorknob.”
“Too bad we don’t have a bump key.”
Drayton raised an eyebrow. “Where on earth did you learn about that?”
“Never mind,” Theodosia said. “What if we pick the lock?”
“I’m afraid that particular skill isn’t in my repertoire.”
Theodosia dug in her handbag and pulled out a plastic credit card.
“Don’t tell me that really works,” Drayton said.
“I’ve opened doors once or twice this way,” Theodosia said. She slid her credit card into the narrow slot between the doorframe and the door. Then she angled her card slightly and seesawed it back and forth. “Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.”
“Be careful,” Drayton said. “Don’t ruin your card. You don’t want to have to explain breaking and entering to the folks at Visa.”
“I’m guessing they’ve heard it all before.”
Theodosia continued to work the card back and forth, trying to keep a deft touch.
“I don’t believe this door can be jimmied,” Drayton said.
“I think . . .” Theodosia stopped midsentence.
“Hmm?” Drayton said.
The door swung open.
“Sweet Fanny Adams, you did it,” Drayton said in a slightly admiring whisper.
“Finessing the lock was the easy part,” Theodosia said. “Now we have to go in and look around.”
“Would that be classified as a felony or a misdemeanor?”
“You don’t have a police record,” Theodosia said. “Which means you’d only be a first-time offender . . . so why worry about it?” She sounded blasé but was actually a little nervous as she slid through the doorway and disappeared into the dark apartment. Then, “Are you coming?”
“Oh my . . . I . . . yes, I suppose I am,” Drayton mumbled as he glanced around one more time and then slunk in after her.
Jud Harker’s apartment was tiny and cramped and smelled like burned frozen pizza and Marlboro cigarettes. In fact, it wasn’t much of an apartment at all, really just two rooms. A combination living room/bedroom area along with a small bathroom.
“No kitchen,” Drayton said. There was a small night-light next to the bed, so they were able to make out dim shapes and angles.
“But he’s got a hot plate and toaster oven,” Theodosia said as she ghosted past him. She reached into the bathroom and flipped on a switch. There was an immediate spill of light into the rest of the apartment.
“Do you think that’s wise?” Drayton asked.
Theodosia shrugged. “Probably not. But it makes looking easier.”
“What are we looking for?”
“I’m not sure.”
Theodosia poked through a dresser drawer, coming up with folded jeans and T-shirts, and then a smaller drawer that held a broken watch, a pile of loose change, a bunch of keys, and a keepsake ticket to a NASCAR race. Nothing earth-shattering, just guy stuff.
“Not much in his closet, either,” Drayton said.
“Did you look on the top shelf, especially way in the back? And down on the floor?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“Still nothing. At least, I don’t see any hidden compartments or loose boards.”
Theodosia pawed through an old TV console and found the usual jumble of cords, plugs, and wires.
“Harker doesn’t seem to have much of anything,” Drayton said. “He’s a bit of an ascetic when it comes to possessions.” He threw Theodosia a nervous glance. “We should go.”
“Getting cold feet?”
“You know me. Warm heart, cold feet.”
“Give me one more second.” Theodosia got down on her hands and knees and peered under the bed. It was a low bed with a nondescript brown coverlet.
Probably just dust bunnies underneath.
But, no, there was something.
“Something here,” Theodosia said.
“What?” Drayton was idling near the door, looking nervous and twitchy, anxious to leave.
Theodosia stuck an arm under the bed, hooked the handle of a battered suitcase, and pulled it out.
Drayton glanced over. “Probably empty.”
Theodosia flipped open the two metal latches anyway. Then she lifted the lid. Inside was a worn-looking leather book, what looked like an old scrapbook. She lifted the book out and studied it. The book was constructed of good leather, probably cowhide, but it was showing its age. The whole thing was barely a half inch thick, and the inside pages felt dry and crinkly.
“What is it?” Drayton asked, but he sounded disinterested.
“Some kind of scrapbook, I guess.” Theodosia opened the book and turned a few pages. Most were blank, a few had keepsakes tucked between them. A handout for a car rally, a program for a Christmas play, but from many years ago.
It was the fifth page that held the stunner. A newspaper article, old and yellowed, cracked where it had been folded many times. The headline said TRAGEDY IN GREEN POND. Green Pond was a small town located halfway between Charleston and Savannah.
Theodosia bent forward and squinted in the dim light, doing her best to read the story on the faded newsprint.
“Oh no,” she breathed.
“What?” Drayton asked.
“This is an old newspaper article from . . . let’s see . . . um, from 1986.”
“Ancient history.”
“Not for Jud Harker,” Theodosia said.
Drayton fixed her with a questioning gaze. “What are you talking about?”
“That’s the year he accidently shot and killed his ten-year-old brother.”
* * *
• • •
“What a horrible thing to have hanging over your head,” Drayton said as they crept down the back stairs. “It’s heartbreaking, in fact. Even though the article mentioned that Harker had been absolved of the crime, that it was purely accidental, killing his brother must have scarred him for life.”
“No wonder Harker is so vehemently opposed to guns and gun shows,” Theodosia said. “If he’s carrying around that kind of guilt.”
They pushed through the back door and came out in a dark parking lot, just a black rectangle of cracked asphalt with spots for six cars.
“The question remains,” Theodosia continued, “did the incident with his brother tip Harker over the edge psychologically or did it make him incredibly vulnerable?”
“I’m not sure what you mean by that,” Drayton said.
>
“If Harker is being held prisoner by his terrible mistake, then maybe he’s willing to do whatever’s necessary to put an end to guns and gun collecting,” Theodosia said.
“You mean Harker still could have shot Carson Lanier?”
“Well, he didn’t shoot him with a gun, did he?”
“No, he didn’t.”
They stopped and stared at the six parking spaces that were delineated with haphazard streaks of white paint. Each spot also had a hand-lettered number. Four cars were parked there, but the number six slot that corresponded to Harker’s apartment was empty.
“He has a car,” Theodosia said.
“I’m not surprised,” Drayton said. “So what are you thinking now?”
“Harker could still be the one who clipped Jamie.”
Drayton nodded. “We need to get a look at his car.”
24
Friday morning dawned sunny and bright with clear blue skies over Charleston and sunbeams streaming through the leaded pane windows of the Indigo Tea Shop. Quite a lovely contrast, considering all the doom and gloom of last night.
And even though it was fairly early in the morning, not quite nine o’clock, the Indigo Tea Shop was a hive of activity. Haley hadn’t arrived yet—she’d just called in and promised to be there in about ten minutes—but Theodosia, Drayton, and Miss Dimple were already in the throes of preparing for their Plum Blossom Tea. Drayton had hung a sign on the front door that said CLOSED FOR PRIVATE PARTY, BUT TAKEOUTS ARE WELCOME, so that took some pressure off them. Takeout, as he defined it, was just tea and scones. Which meant they could concentrate on getting the place shipshape for their garden club luncheon guests.
Theodosia had pulled out a set of Johnson Brothers china with a lovely plum blossom design. She’d found the set at a tag sale over in Mount Pleasant last year and paid a song for it. But the set included lovely cream-colored plates, saucers, and teacups with ribbed rims and painted purple plum blossoms. And since plum was the watchword of the day, the dishes were perfect.
“You know,” Drayton said, wiping a teaspoon against a towel, “Mikasa also makes a plum blossom pattern. But their color is much more blue than plum.”
