Chapter 13 #2
Theodosia found herself in an entryway that was kitted out like a school locker room.
There were a dozen wooden lockers as well as a row of pegs where folks could hang their jackets and backpacks.
Turning to her left, she walked into a large, well-lit parlor where a half dozen kids were lounging on overstuffed sofas and chairs.
Most were reading, doing homework, or working on laptop computers.
It looked like an updated version of the movie Cheaper by the Dozen.
“Anybody know where I can find Lenny?” Theodosia asked.
A girl in an Army green jumpsuit and twists in her hair yelled, “Lenny!” at the top of her lungs. And, seconds later, Lenny magically appeared. He stared at Theodosia, cleared his throat, and said, “Everybody, this is Theodosia. She’s the tea shop lady I gave the flowers to.”
Theodosia lifted a hand and gave a little wave. “Hi.”
There were nods and several shy “hellos.”
But Lenny still seemed flustered. “Was there a problem with the flowers?”
“Not at all,” Theodosia said. “In fact, I delivered them to Mrs. V’s sister some fifteen minutes ago.”
“That’s great,” Lenny said. “Thanks.” Then he seemed to remember his manners and said, “I should introduce you around.” He waved a hand at a bespectacled youth tapping away on a laptop.
“That’s Eugene. He’s a computer whiz. His parents threw him out of the house because he kept trying to hack into the World Bank.
Over there is Jemma. She ran away because her stepfather wouldn’t stop putting his hands on her. ”
A girl in a hot pink sweater and black Lycra bike shorts lifted a hand. “Howard and his Magic Hands. Just couldn’t keep ’em off me.”
“I’m so sorry for your circumstances,” Theodosia said.
“Don’t be,” Jemma said. “Life got a whole lot better when I moved here. At least here I got allies.”
“And that big, ugly-looking guy over there with the bandage on his leg is Mikey,” Lenny said. “He’s got a sprained ankle.”
“How’d that happen?” Theodosia asked.
“Running away,” Mikey said. “And don’t ask from what.”
“I don’t think I want to know,” Theodosia said.
“Come on,” Lenny said, once he’d introduced the rest of the kids. “Let’s go in the kitchen where we can talk privately and get something to drink.”
When beverages were poured—orange juice for Lenny, a Diet Coke for Theodosia—Theodosia said, “Tell me about the guy on the front porch.”
“The one smoking weed?”
“The one who tried to shake me down.”
“You mean Desi? Yeah, he’s got a crazy streak, but he’s pretty much harmless.”
“Are you sure about that?” Theodosia asked.
Lenny stared at her, the slightly sad, knowing gaze of someone well beyond his years. “What are you thinking? That Desi had something to do with Mrs. V getting killed?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me what you know.”
“About Desi or the murder?”
“Let’s start with the murder,” Theodosia said.
“You’re sure you’re not a detective?”
“Amateur maybe.”
“Well, I don’t know much at all,” Lenny said. “Only what the cops told us. That someone slipped a drug in Mrs. V’s dessert and she choked to death. They said it might have been someone who snuck in dressed like a waiter and that you chased after them.”
“I tried to but it didn’t work out all that well,” Theodosia said.
“And now you think Desi might have been involved?”
“Actually, I don’t know. I think the person I chased after was taller. And heftier.” Theodosia paused. “You got anybody like that staying here?”
“Maybe.”
“Care to give me some names?”
“Let me think about it,” Lenny said.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Okay,” Theodosia said. “Just don’t think about it too long. Because the police will be back to ask the same questions. And they’re not nearly as polite as I am.”
* * *
When Theodosia finally walked into her house, the phone was ringing. She grabbed it off the kitchen wall and said, “Hello?”
A warm voice greeted her with, “Hi, sweetheart!”
“Riley! Where are you?” Theodosia was hoping he’d finished early at his conference and was back in Charleston.
“Still in Minneapolis.”
“Rats, I was hoping you’d be home by now.”
“No such luck. But I have to say, this conference on terrorism and mass-casualty events is eye opening, particularly the terrorism part.”
“So you’re learning a lot, to help keep us safe?”
“I certainly hope so. What’s up with you?”
“Oh not too much. Things are humming along at the tea shop.” Theodosia really didn’t want to tell him about Mrs. V’s death at the Firefly Tea.
“Good to hear.”
“Riley, I have to ask, do you think you’ll be home in time for the Starry Starry Night Ball this Saturday?”
“You mentioned that before,” Riley said, “and it struck me that even the name sounded ominous, like some kind of fancy-pants event that requires men to wear a tuxedo, which is the basic equivalent of a straitjacket.”
“Or maybe even tie and tails.”
“Aagh! I knew it had to be bad. If I do make it home early, couldn’t we just order a bucket of hot honey chicken and flake out at your place? Get everything all sticky and watch old movies?”
“Cop movies?” Theodosia was quite familiar with Riley’s preferred genre.
“Can’t beat Die Hard or The French Connection for classic action flicks.”
“The thing is, I already bought tickets to the ball. Well, truth be known, Delaine forced me into buying them.”
“Spare me the details and please take Drayton as your plus-one. I know how he loves to put on a monkey suit and cruise around at those society events.”
“You sure you don’t want to go?” Theodosia asked.
“Full disclosure?”
“Of course.”
“I’d rather be dragged over hot coals.”