“What on earth do you want now?” asked the sister in a voice that grated like gravel. Her eyes blazed, her mouth was pulled back in a snarl.
“Excuse me,” said Theodosia, confused. “You’re Angie’s sister, Gwen?”
“Gwyn,” snapped the woman. “And you really don’t have any business showing up here!”
Theodosia was racking her brain, trying to figure out why Angie’s sister was so spitting mad at her. “Uh . . . perhaps you have me confused with someone else?” Theodosia ventured.
“You’re Theodosia, right?” spat out Gwyn. “Then you’re the one who advised the fire marshal to investigate Angie!”
“I did no such thing,” protested Theodosia.
“As if my sister doesn’t have enough problems, now she’s under investigation for
17
It was still dark when Theodosia stopped in front of Drayton’s home and tooted her horn. His small house, also located in Charleston’s historic district, had been built and occupied by a prominent Civil War doctor. Today the tidy wooden structure remained weathered, old fashioned, and slightly elegant. Not unlike Drayton himself.
“You’re wearing a jacket to go canoeing in a swamp?” Theodosia asked Drayton as he clambered into her Jeep. She chuckled to herself. “Seems a little dressy.”
“This is a bush jacket,” said Drayton, a trifle defensively. “One I ordered from L.L.Bean. Two-ply cotton duck with cargo pockets and a lined game pouch. Supposed to be water repellant, too.”
“Well,” said Theodosia, glancing at him again as she pulled away from the curb. “I’ll have to admit it exudes a certain bwana-type charm.”
“How did it go with Parker last night?” asked Drayton as they spun across the newly finished Cooper River Bridge.
“Hmm?” said Theodosia, her cheeks suddenly turning a bright shade of pink. “Oh, good. Fine.”
“I didn’t mean your
“Oh, that,” said Theodosia. She’d been replaying the tape of last evening’s encounter with Angie’s sister in her mind and had almost blanked out the part with Parker and his drink choices. “We settled on a yummy cocktail called a Black Orchid.”
“Sounds apropos,” said Drayton, stretching out his legs and leaning back. “Sophisticated name, probably very appealing to our patrons.” He tried to stifle a yawn. “Goodness, it’s early.”
“Crank your seat back and take a nap,” suggested Theodosia. “We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”
“You don’t mind?” asked Drayton. He’d already slid his billed hat down over his eyes while one hand fiddled with the seat mechanism.
“Doesn’t bother me at all,” said Theodosia. “Gives me time to think.”
Two and a half hours later, the thin layer of cloud cover had burned off and sunlight dappled the road ahead of them. An hour earlier they’d passed through Edgefield, a town known for its pottery and peach harvest. Now they were nearing the town of Carmel, just outside Hickory Knob State Park on the Georgia–South Carolina border. They’d just topped a ridge and were descending toward the Savannah River and the thousands of acres of dams, waterways, lakes, and swamps that seemed to string together and were often referred to as South Carolina’s “freshwater coast.”
As glorious as the scenery was, Theodosia found herself staring intently into her rearview mirror, snatching a glance whenever she could.
“What?” asked Drayton drowsily. He’d been awake for a few minutes and had just seen Theodosia glance into her rearview mirror for about the fifth time.
“There was a car back there that I thought was following us,” she told him.
“Are you serious?” said Drayton. He squirmed about in his seat, anxious to check the road behind them. “What color?”
“Um . . . white. Cream.”
“I don’t see a thing.”
“Neither do I anymore,” said Theodosia. “I guess it must have turned off.”
“You’re just being paranoid,” said Drayton. “In light of everything that’s happened.”
“I’ll get over it,” replied Theodosia, deciding that some time today she had to tell Drayton about the ceramic elephant, the fire marshal’s probing questions, and the outrage expressed by Angie’s sister, Gwyn. But not right now. Not when they were almost at their destination and about to embark on a swamp journey.
“You know where we’re going?” asked Theodosia. “I mean precisely?”
“Of course I do,” said Drayton. He had unfurled a little hand-drawn map and was studying it carefully. “Tommy Draper, one of the Orchid Society members, gave me explicit directions. Said this was one of his premier collecting spots.”
“And this is on private property?” asked Theodosia. “So it’s perfectly legal?”
“Oh, absolutely,” replied Drayton.
“I take it you just recently got the map from your friend?” asked Theodosia.
“Oh no,” replied Drayton. “It’s been maybe two... three years.”
Theodosia’s hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. “So it might not be such an all-fired hot spot anymore,” she ventured. “Things could have changed depending on local conditions. Dry spells . . . or wet spells?”
“I suppose,” said Drayton. “Still, this is supposed to be
“Where are we going?” asked Theodosia. “Give me a landmark.”
“We should be passing Blazetree Corners.”
“That was a half mile back.”
“Okay,” said Drayton. He studied his map again, glanced out the side window, looked suddenly startled. “Oh, goodness me, here’s our turn! Hang a right! We’re just coming up on County Road Ten.”
Cranking the wheel hard, Theodosia made the turn, and took the Jeep down a jouncing, gravel road.
“Exciting,” said Drayton, hanging on for dear life.
“Isn’t it,” said Theodosia, praying her shock absorbers would hold out.
Another twelve miles of rough road brought them to a small farm. According to Drayton’s map, this was supposed to be their start point.
“Since this is private land,” said Drayton, climbing out of the Jeep, “I have to go clear it with the owner. That was Tommy’s advice anyway.”
“Okay,” said Theodosia. Squinting, she watched Drayton approach a small white clapboard house that was badly in need of paint. A barn stood behind it, but Theodosia could spot no animals nor see any planted fields. If this was some kind of farm, she had no clue what they actually raised.
The good news, however, was that there was a small, meandering stream some forty yards away from where she was parked. The land sloped gently down, with a minimum of underbrush, so she figured she could drive her Jeep right down. Then, all they had to do was slide the canoe off the roof and toss it in the water.
Drayton came hustling back, looking pleased with himself. “I paid the landowner twenty dollars to let us launch the canoe and another thirty for any plants we might collect.”
“It sounds like a deal,” said Theodosia.
“I thought so, too,” said Drayton. “But the fellow, a Mr. Avery Walker, seemed to think we wouldn’t find many
