Death By Darjeeling

Chapter 16

Turns out, the Crab Shack was the exact same place where she and her dad had eaten, a quaint little roadside shack where you studied the hand-painted menu on the side of the building, then went to the window and ordered your food. All dining was outdoors, at sun-bleached wooden picnic tables with faded blue umbrellas. Because of her fond memory and the fact that it was almost noon, Theodosia ended up ordering crab cakes and a side of cole slaw. She and Tanner Joseph sat on wobbly wooden benches, enjoying the sun, salty breezes, and surprisingly tasty food.

Throughout lunch, Tanner spoke convincingly about the mission of the Shorebird Environmentalist Group, how they were dedicated to the preservation of coastlines and natural marshes, as well as nesting grounds and marine sanctuaries. He also filled her in on his credentials, his degree in ecology and his graduate work in the dynamics of ecosystem response.

“What does one actually do with a degree in ecology?” asked Theodosia out of curiosity. “What avenues are open?”

Tanner Joseph shrugged. “Today, you can go any number of ways. Work for the Forest Service, the EPA, or Department of Natural Resources. Go private with literally thousands of corporations to choose from, including groups like the Nature Conservancy or Wilderness Society. Or”—he spread his arms wide and grinned—“you can work for a struggling little nonprofit organization. Try to drum up public interest, writing brochures, illustrating them—”

“Those are your drawings?” Theodosia interrupted.

“One of my many talents.” Tanner Joseph smiled. “And duties. Along with writing dozens of grant requests to various foundations in hopes of getting a thousand dollars here, two thousand dollars there. That is, if I’m lucky enough to touch a responsive chord with a sympathetic foundation director.”

“Sounds tough,” said Theodosia.

“It is.” Tanner Joseph popped a French fry in his mouth. “But I wouldn’t trade it for the world. After grad school, I spent a year in the Amazon studying land surface–atmosphere interaction. It was amazing how just building a one-lane dirt road through an area of jungle severely impacted the ecosystem. I was able to observe all the effects firsthand. I understand now how important it is for a community to plan and manage growth. It’s okay to think big, but it’s generally more prudent to take small steps.”

“What about the newly expanded road out here? It makes the commute a lot easier to Johns Island from Charleston proper.”

“Sure it does. But it’s also probably a mistake,” said Tanner Joseph, “although no one thought so at the time of construction. But think about it. There are hundreds of acres of saltwater marshes out here and almost a dozen species of wildlife on the yellow list, the nearing endangered list.”

“And the Edgewater Estates?” asked Theodosia.

Tanner Joseph grimaced, set his crab salad sandwich down, and gazed intently at Theodosia. “You just touched a raw nerve. Our group was opposed to that development from the outset. Everything about it was fraudulent. The developers lied to the eighty-two-year-old farmer who sold them the land. And the shark lawyers who represented Goose Creek Holdings pressured the local town council for some fast zoning changes. We think they had two council members in their pocket.”

“You fought a good fight,” said Theodosia. “Got lots of press from what I hear.”

Tanner Joseph snorted angrily. “Not good enough. We lost, and the damn thing got built. Right on twenty-five acres of prime snowy egret nesting ground.” He shook his head with disgust. “To make matters worse, the place is a monstrosity.” He peered at Theodosia sharply. “Have you seen it?”

Theodosia nodded.

Tanner Joseph picked up his sandwich again, held it in both hands like an offering. “Do you believe in karma, Miss Browning?”

Theodosia brushed back a ringlet of hair and smiled. “Some things do seem to have a way of coming full circle.”

“Well,” he said, staring at her intently, “Edgewater Estates turned out to generate some very bad karma for one of its developers. The so-called money man, Hughes Barron, died three days ago.” The statement hung in the air as Tanner Joseph narrowed his eyes and smiled a tight, bitter smile. “It looks as though cosmic justice may have been at work, after all.”