Besides, Theodosia decided, if Parker knew she was hip deep in this murder and arson investigation, he might worry about her safety and ask her to quietly extricate herself. And that was the last thing Theodosia wanted to do right now.
Pop. Theodosia loosened a bungee cord and let it snap against the back window of her Jeep.
“Careful,” said Parker. “Those things ricochet like crazy.” He moved in to help. “Here, let me . . . I’ll lift it down.”
Theodosia retreated to a safe distance, watching him unload the canoe, hoping he was distracted enough to drop his line of questioning.
She followed Parker into his garage as he carried the canoe, stooping to go through the doorway. “Watch out!” she told him as he hefted it up onto two metal struts that stuck out from the wall. “Be careful of your fishing stuff.”
Parker slid the canoe onto the rack and peered at Theodosia in the dim light of the garage. “You want to come in?
I have to be at Solstice in an hour or so, but there’s time for a quick drink.”
Of course Theodosia wanted to join him. But she also didn’t want Parker to start asking his probing questions again. Better wait, she decided. There were a few things she had to check out first. Then there’d be time, plenty of time, for the two of them.
The next order of business was Earl Grey. Theodosia had contemplated taking the old boy along this morning. Now she was thankful she’d left him at home. It would have been tricky enough to have a squirming, curious dog in the canoe, and a terrible disaster if he’d been swept over the falls with them. Unthinkable, really.
Once Theodosia got home, she changed into a T-shirt, leggings, and running shoes. Then she snapped a lead onto Earl Grey’s collar and the two of them took off. Loping gently down Church Street, cutting over at Tradd, then hitting Meeting Street.
At this time of night Charleston’s historic district was a sight to behold. Enormous three- and four-story mansions were bathed pink and purple from the sun’s final rays. Lights twinkled from tall windows, wide verandas beckoned. One could imagine baked oysters and soft-shelled crab being served on gleaming silver trays, sparking crystal, and the gentle pop of wine corks.
When they hit the broad vista of White Point Gardens, Theodosia and Earl Grey pounded past the lineup of antique Civil War cannons. Hugging the shoreline, they reveled in the salty air that rode the insistent Atlantic breeze. Underfoot, bits of flotsam mingled with rough sand and broken shells.
They passed the Bogard Inn where Angie and her relatives were holed up. Then slowed their pace as they came upon the burned-out hull of the Featherbed House. Poking jaggedly into the night sky, the remnants of the old B and B
looked eerie. Spooky almost.
As Theodosia reached front and center of the Featherbed House, she came to a stop. Stared up at it, wondered if it would ever be brought back to its former grandeur. Her thoughts were interrupted by . . .
Swish, swish.
Theodosia stared at her dog as he stared back at her.
What’s that weird sound? she wondered.
Tiptoeing up the front sidewalk, Earl Grey at her side, Theodosia peered toward the Featherbed House. Large pieces of plywood were nailed where doors and windows had once been. So there was no way anyone could be inside.
Theodosia and Earl Grey ducked under a tangled flutter of black-and-yellow police tape, then stepped gingerly around the side of the Featherbed House, staying on the sidewalk as best they could, but mindful of the charred timbers and debris that were scattered about. Theodosia supposed it wouldn’t be long before workers in huge dump trucks showed up to cart everything away. Then Angie would be faced with a really tough decision—rebuild or tear the whole thing down.
Swish, swish.
That sound. There it was again. Theodosia and Earl Grey rounded the house, heading toward the backyard. Finally as they drew closer, Theodosia could make out a single figure laboring away in the dim light.
Teddy Vickers was using a kitchen broom to clear away debris from the back patio.
Theodosia’s first inclination was to laugh. Teddy looked so strange and the scene was so incongruous. Trying to clean up a major disaster using just a simple broom!
Once she got over her initial surprise, Theodosia began to wonder exactly what Teddy was doing here. Sure, Teddy had been an assistant manager. But that was over now, wasn’t it?
“Teddy,” Theodosia called out. Her voice sounded hollow and low, dampened by the fog that was starting to roll in.
Teddy jumped as though someone had touched him with an electric wire. He straightened up spasmodically, his head jerking left, then right, until he finally spotted Theodosia standing in the shadows, Earl Grey at her side.
“What are you doing here?” Teddy called out, sounding a trifle unnerved.
“A better question might be, what are you doing here?” replied Theodosia.
“I work here,” answered Teddy as he continued sweeping.
“Are you planning to open for business in the near future?” Theodosia asked him. “Because things do seem a trifle iffy right now.” She stepped closer and gazed around. The patio that had once been so gorgeous, had served as a model “Charleston garden,” lay in utter ruin. Flowers and shrubbery were a sodden mess. Part of the roof had collapsed on top of the gazebo. A sooty scum of ashes floated atop the small fish pond. Theodosia wondered briefly if the charming little goldfish that had darted about so joyfully in the pond had perished. Decided they probably had. The thought of those tiny lives lost saddened her heart.
Teddy pointedly ignored Theodosia’s words.
“Does Angie know you’re here?” asked Theodosia. She glanced toward the carriage house, where lights shone from inside. “Are you living here?” she asked.
Teddy stopped sweeping and leaned on his broom, staring at her now. “Somebody has to keep watch,” he said in a flat tone. “You never know what could happen. Anyone could just walk in.”
But Theodosia wasn’t particularly impressed by Teddy’s sudden show of loyalty. “Why,” she asked him, “did you make Angie an offer to buy this place?”
Teddy continued to stare at her. “Because I love the Featherbed House. Because I don’t for one minute believe it’s finished.”
“You think it can be rebuilt,” said Theodosia.
“Read your history,” snapped Teddy. “Anything can be rebuilt. Look at London after World War II. Or Dresden.”
“Your history lesson notwithstanding,” said Theodosia, knowing a flimsy smoke screen when she saw one, “please tell me why you want to take this on?”
Teddy stood there for a while, contemplating his answer. Finally, he spoke slowly. “I know some investors,” Teddy told her. “Real estate people who’d put up money to rebuild this place.”
Sparks ignited inside Theodosia’s brain. Finally, finally they were getting to the heart of the matter. “Rebuild this place as the Featherbed House?” she asked him. “Or something else?”
Now Teddy looked more than a little uncomfortable.
“Some real estate people approached you, didn’t they?” said Theodosia, filling in the blanks herself. “Probably condo or hotel people. And asked you to be their go-between.”
“What if they did?” said Teddy. “There’s no law against it.”
“What about Angie?” asked Theodosia, trying to appeal to his better side. “Think of her. She’s upset over Mark’s death and shell-shocked from this fire. That puts her in an extremely vulnerable position.”