Shades of Earl Grey

Chapter 6

The notes from Pachelbel’s Canon drifted through Theodosia’s upstairs apartment, a cozy fire crackled in the bright fireplace, a chapter from a new mystery novel beckoned. But try as she might, Theodosia just couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t relax.

After that rather jarring meeting with Timothy Neville, she and Drayton had tried to formulate some sort of battle plan. But nothing had seemed to gel. There didn’t seem to be any real clues. After all, if no one person stuck in their minds as a potential suspect, what exactly could they do? Nothing. Nothing at all.

Theodosia lay her book facedown on the sofa, kicked off the afghan she’d been snuggled under, and gazed about, a slightly disgruntled look on her usually serene face.

She loved her little place above the tea shop. It was elegant, cozy, and suited her perfectly. This past summer, she’d taken the big plunge and painted the walls. But instead of a conservative palette of eggshell white or cream, she’d opted for a rich ochre base coat, then sponged a second layer of flaxen yellow on top of it. The result was a sun-washed feel reminiscent of a Tuscan villa. Now the cinnamon and gold Oriental rug she’d always had in the living room really came alive. As did the gleaming seascape oil paintings on the walls. Flanking the double doorway that led to her small dining room, she’d installed two antique wooden columns as plant stands for her Boston ferns.

What had once been very shabby chic had suddenly become the picture of Southern elegance.

That’s good, she had told herself. The nature of a home should shift and mature along with its owner.

But tonight, the upstairs apartment she’d worked so hard and lovingly on just felt confining.

Enough, she decided as she padded into her bedroom, rooted around in the bottom of the closet for her Nikes, and pulled a pair of leggings from a chest of drawers.

When in doubt, go for a jog.

Earl Grey, suddenly alert and convinced something wonderful was about to take place, sprang to his feet. Toenails clicking against hardwood floors, he circled her repeatedly, ears pitched forward, tail beating a doggy rhythm in double time.

“You got it, fella, let’s go,” said Theodosia as she grabbed his leather leash off the hook in the kitchen.

Ecstatic now, Earl Grey tumbled down the stairs ahead of her, ready to charge out and own the night.

Heading down Church Street past the Chowder Hound Restaurant, Cabbage Patch Needlepoint Shop, and Floradora, her favorite flower shop, Theodosia and Earl Grey cut over on Water Street to East Bay. The night was cool but not cold. The atmosphere, laden with humidity, lent a soft focus to the light that streamed from the old mansions, garden lanterns, portico and street lamps. Charleston, always highly atmospheric to begin with, positively glowed at night.

The first six blocks they kept it down to a fast walk. Theodosia wanted to stretch her legs, ease out the kinks. She loved to run, had been a runner for some ten years now. But she also knew the cardinal sin in running was to skip the warm-up and zoom right into high gear. That was the absolute wrong way to do it. That’s how muscles got pulled, tendons sprained.

But by the time she and Earl Grey hit Battery Park at the very tip of the peninsula, they were warmed up and ready to blow out the carbon.

Theodosia gave a fast look around, didn’t see anyone who remotely resembled the pooch police. Excellent, she thought with a tiny stab of guilt as she unclipped Earl Grey’s lead. And with that, the two of them bounded down the pathway that snugged the shoreline.

A salty wind whipped Theodosia’s hair out in streaming tendrils, oyster shells crunched beneath her feet. They pounded past a trio of Civil War cannons, past a huge stack of old cannon balls, past the bandstand where so many weddings and wedding party photos had taken place. To their left was the surging harbor with its marker buoys and flickering lights, to their right loomed the dark city of Charleston, the Kingdom by the Sea that Edgar Allan Poe had immortalized in his poem Annabelle Lee.

Theodosia took a right where Legare Street intersected and Earl Grey bounded along beside her. They flew down the block, the dog maintaining his easy, loping stride in order to stay even with his beloved owner. Now they were deep in the heart of the historic district again. Streets were canopied over with trees, cobblestones paved a warren of narrow walkways and secret alleys, and large, elegant homes butted up against each other. Theodosia cut to the right, down Atlantic, and whistled softly for Earl Grey to follow. He did.

They skimmed past the tiny brick Library Society building with its ornate wrought iron fence, then turned down a narrow, hidden pathway that ran behind the building. Theodosia slowed her pace, then pulled to a stop just outside the Library Society’s lush courtyard garden. In the dim light, she could make out the three-tiered fountain, columns of lush oleander, and large camellia bushes.

Time to reel her dog in, she decided. Time to start the cool-down. Theodosia knelt down, clipped the leash back onto Earl Grey’s leather collar, and gave him a reassuring pat.

And in the moment of silence that followed, heard footsteps coming up behind her.

Had someone been following her?

She remained kneeling in the back alleyway, her breath coming faster now, her heart pounding.

If someone had been following her, she reasoned, they probably hadn’t realized she’d stopped. Which meant they’d be coming around that corner any second. Hastily, she unclipped Earl Grey’s leash and wound it around her right fist. The leather and metal snap would make a dandy weapon and Earl Grey would be far more effective as a guard dog if he were free to move about on his own.

Earl Grey stood expectantly now, as did Theodosia, listening to rapidly approaching footsteps.

Suddenly, the nighttime runner was upon them. Startled, obviously not expecting to see someone blocking the pathway, the man, a tall man, skidded to a stop and gaped at Theodosia, his breath coming in hard gasps.

“Theodosia?” he said.

Theodosia stared back, relief suddenly flooding her. The mysterious runner was none other than Cooper Hob-caw.

She put a hand to her heart. “Oh my goodness,” she laughed, “you startled me.”

Cooper Hobcaw looked equally rattled. “Yeah . . . sorry. Are you okay?” he asked.

Theodosia knew he was probably wondering just what she was doing here, standing in this dark pathway, looking like an idiot.

“I was just putting the leash back on Earl Grey,” she explained, “and heard someone coming.” When she’d realized who it was, she had quickly loosened the leather leash from around her hand. There was no reason to let Cooper Hobcaw know she’d been prepared to launch an all-out assault on him.

Now Theodosia bent down and clipped the leash onto Earl Grey’s collar. “There,” she said as it made a satisfying snap. “Sorry we startled you.”

“Hey,” he breathed, “same here. You can’t be too careful after what happened last night.”

“Exactly my thought,” replied Theodosia.

“Strange goings-on,” said Cooper Hobcaw. “Have you heard . . . is the fellow who got knocked on the head, the security guard, going to be okay?”

“I think so.”

“Good,” he said. Cooper Hobcaw peered at her in the darkness. “I thought I was the only nutcase who went running through the historic district at night.”

“No,” she said. “There are actually quite a few of us.”

Cooper Hobcaw nodded. “The professional’s dilemma, right? Work all day, exercise at night.”

She nodded back. “ ’Fraid so.”

“I like your buddy here.” He reached out and rubbed Earl Grey behind the ears. Earl Grey responded by tossing his elegant head and inviting a scratch under the chin. “Nice dog,” said Cooper Hobcaw. “Friendly, too. I like that.”

It was only after Cooper Hobcaw had jogged off that Theodosia remembered he lived over on the other side of Calhoun and not in the historic district at all.