“No,” said Theodosia. “Not yet.”
Haley’s smile sagged.
“I don’t understand,” said Drayton. “You said it was a success.”
“It was, in a way. Timothy was kind enough to reveal his true character.”
Drayton and Haley stared at each other. They were uncertain as to what exactly Theodosia meant by this. And Theodosia, seeing their disappointment, had no intention of giving them a blow-by-blow description of Timothy Neville’s incredibly obnoxious behavior.
“Drayton, Haley,” said Theodosia. “I need to make a phone call. Trust me; this isn’t over. In fact, we’ve only just scratched the surface.”
“Now, what do you suppose she meant by all that?” Haley asked Drayton as they went out into the tea room, shaking their heads.
Flipping through her hefty Rolodex, Theodosia found the number she wanted.
“Leyland Hartwell, please. Tell him it’s Theodosia Browning.”
As Theodosia waited for Leyland Hartwell to come on the line, her eyes searched out the pale mauve walls of her little office. Along with framed tea labels and opera programs, Theodosia had hung dozens of family photos. Her eyes fell on one now. A black-and-white photo of her dad on his sailboat. Looking suntanned, windblown, relaxed. He’d been a member of the Charleston Yacht Club and had once sailed with a crew of three others in the 771-mile Charleston-to-Bermuda Race. He had been an expert sailor, and she had loved sailing with him. Handling the tiller, throwing out the spinnaker, thrilling to the exhilarating rush of sea foam when they heeled over in the wind.
“Theodosia!” Leyland Hartwell’s voice boomed in her ear. “What a pleasant surprise. Do you still have that Heinz fifty-seven dog?”
“The Dalbrador,” she said.
“That’s the one. Ha, ha. Very clever. What can I do for you, my dear?”
“I’m after some information, Leyland. Your firm still handles a considerable amount of real estate business, am I correct?”
“Yes, indeed. Mortgages, title examinations, deeds, foreclosures and cancellations, zoning, leases. You name it, we’ve got our fingers in the thick of things.”
“I’m trying to gather information on a real estate developer by the name of Hughes Barron. Do you know him?”
“Heard of him,” said Leyland Hartwell. There was a pause. “We’re talking about the fellow who just died, right?”
“Right,” said Theodosia.
“Lots of rumors flying on that one,” said Leyland Hartwell. “I was at Coosaw Creek yesterday afternoon playing a round with Tommy Beaumont. He told me Barron died of a heart attack. Then later on a fellow at the bar said he heard a rumor that Barron had been poisoned. Arsenic or something like it.”
“I really wanted to know about his business dealings,” said Theodosia. Theodosia heard a rustle of paper, and then Leyland Hartwell spoke to her again.
“Business deals. Gotcha. Is this time-sensitive?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“No problem. I’ll put one of my people on it and light a fire. We’ll find out what we can. Say, do you still sell that lemon mint tea with the real lemon verbena?”
“We certainly do.”
“Mrs. Hartwell surely does love that stuff on ice. Awfully refreshing.”
Theodosia smiled. Leyland Hartwell was devoted to his wife and always referred to her as Mrs. Hartwell. “Good, I’ll send some over for her.”
“Aren’t you a love. One of my fellows will be back to you soon. Hopefully first thing tomorrow.”
Chapter 12
Click, click, click. Earl Grey took long, easy strides as his toenails hit the blue vinyl runner that ran down the center hallway of the O’Doud Senior Home. Head erect, ears pitched forward, he was spiffily outfitted in his blue nylon vest emblazoned with his therapy dog patch.
“Hello there, Earl.” Suzette, one of the regular night nurses who had worked there a good fifteen years, greeted him with a big smile as he passed by. As an afterthought, Suzette also acknowledged Theodosia. “Hello, ma’am,” she said.
Earl Grey and Theodosia were both officially on duty, but Theodosia had long since gotten used to playing second fiddle. Once they set foot in the door, it was strictly Earl Grey’s show. And everyone, from head nurse to janitor, tended to greet Earl Grey first. It was as though
That was just fine with Theodosia. In fact, downplaying her role was the whole idea behind therapy dog work. You wanted the dog to approach residents first, in the hallways or recreation room, or even in a resident’s private room.
Let the residents themselves decide their level of interaction.
Sometimes, if a person was lying in bed, sick or infirm, they’d just smile at Earl Grey. Often he’d have a calming influence on them, or he’d be able to cheer them with his quiet presence. It was at times like those that Theodosia thought they might be remembering some lovable dog they’d once enjoyed as a pet. Earl Grey, uncanny canine that he was, seemed to understand just when a resident had gained that certain comfort level with him. When he thought the time was right, he’d rest his muzzle on the edge of their bed and give them a gentle kiss.
One elderly man who was blind and confined to a wheelchair, severely limited in his activities, enjoyed tossing a tennis ball for Earl Grey. Earl Grey would bump and bounce his way down the hallway, painting an audio picture for the man, then bring the tennis ball back to him and snuggle affectionately in the man’s lap.
Then there was the foursome of fairly active women who never failed to have a plate of treats for Earl Grey. They either coaxed relatives into bringing dog biscuits in for them, or they baked “liver brownie cake,” a strange concoction of beef liver and oatmeal. Theodosia thought the liver brownie cake
These experiences were all enormously rewarding for Theodosia, and sometimes, driving home at night, her eyes would fill with tears as she remembered a certain incident that had touched her heart. She’d have to pull the car over to the side of the road, search for her hanky, and tell Earl Grey, once again, what a truly magnificent fellow he was.
Chapter 13
Leyland Hartwell was as good as his word. The next
morning, the phone rang bright and early.
“Miss Browning?”
“Yes?” answered Theodosia.
“Jory Davis here. I’m an associate with Ligget, Hume, Hartwell. Leyland Hartwell wanted me to call you concerning information we gathered for you. He also wanted me to assure you he would’ve phoned personally, but he was called into an emergency meeting.” There was a slight pause. “Miss Browning?”
“Yes, Mr. Davis. Please go on.”
“Anyway, that is why I am the bearer of this information.”
