Chapter 32
What to do? What to do? Theodosia’s mind was spinning like an out-of-control centrifuge.
And then, like a surprise ending in a classical Greek play, the deus ex machina—the mechanical trick that always appeared in the nick of time—pulled up in front of her.
It came in the form of a Honda Prelude. And it was driven by Ben Sweeney, Haley’s boyfriend.
As Haley and Ben stepped out of the car, they saw Theodosia frantically waving at them. They stared quizzically back at her, wondering what she was doing out here, not knowing why she looked so frantic. Then Theodosia yelled, “Quick! I need Ben’s car!”
Haley, almost tripping on her long black skirt, threw Theodosia a frightened look and said, “What?”
“Your car! I need to borrow Ben’s car! Somebody just stole Delaine’s diamond necklace and kidnapped Pumpkin!”
“Who did?” Haley asked.
“Gordon Twombley,” Theodosia called back, practically breathless now. “I have to go after him!”
Ben stood there, looking stunned at Theodosia’s request for his car. He seemingly couldn’t quite put it all together, that a necklace had been stolen and a dog had been kidnapped.
“Just give her your car keys,” Haley shouted at him.
Ben shrugged. “If you say so.” He tossed his keys to Theodosia, who stuck up a hand and snatched them out of the air.
“Thanks,” Theodosia said as she dashed around the car and jumped into the driver’s seat.
She jammed the key into the ignition and pulled her seat belt across in one quick motion.
As she was about to hit the gas, Drayton burst out of Magnolia Civic Center and ran up to the car.
Hot on his heels was Ken Lotter, still looking like a walking advertisement for a spray tan salon.
“I’m going with you!” Drayton cried as he ripped open the passenger door.
He threw himself inside like he was catching the last stagecoach out of Dodge City.
He gripped the dashboard, because the door wasn’t completely closed, and shouted, “Wait, wait!” He was still pulling the door shut as he fought to buckle his seat belt.
“I can’t wait,” Theodosia shouted back. “Twombley’s already out of sight.” She took off as if she were exiting pit row at Indianapolis, just as they heard a loud pounding on the trunk of the car. “Holy crap, what was that?”
“Ken Lotter,” Drayton said. “That nosy news guy. He wanted to come with us.”
“Not going to happen,” Theodosia said as she swerved into the street and promptly ran a red light. Then, “You think Lotter will try to follow us?”
Drayton was still holding on for dear life. “I’m almost positive he will.”
* * *
But as Theodosia sped down Broad Street, she wondered if she’d done the right thing. She’d only gotten a quick glimpse of the escaping vehicle, so she wasn’t completely sure what she was looking for.
Think. Try to remember, she told herself. Any little thing might help. After all, Twombley stole Delaine’s necklace and Pumpkin is his unwitting passenger.
Okay, the SUV Twombley had commandeered was silver and she remembered that there’d been some sort of sticker affixed to its back window. Something kind of pink and yellow? Was that right? Maybe a parking sticker?
“Drayton, have you ever seen a car with a pink-and-yellow sticker?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Think hard.”
Drayton reached out a hand to brace himself against the dashboard. “I will if you’ll kindly slow down. Right now you’re driving like a maniac.”
“Of course I am because this is a chase! At least it’s supposed to be.” Theodosia stomped down harder on the gas pedal, causing the Honda to lurch forward and take them up to sixty miles an hour. “Now think!”
Drayton pursed his lips, furrowed his brow, then said, “Drat. Nothing comes to mind.”
“Nothing at all?” Theodosia had to brake hard not to clip a Toyota Camry that had just pulled in front of her.
She maneuvered into the oncoming lane, zipped past the slow-moving car, and accelerated again.
“Maybe a parking pass? A membership sticker for a golf club? Something to do with the Medical Center?”
Drayton lifted his head. “Wait. Could it have been one of those Gold Passes? You know, the sticker you put on your car so you can access all the regional parks as well as the aquarium?”
“I bet that’s it, Drayton! That’s gotta be it.
Thank you. At least that gives us something to go on.
” Theodosia’s head swiveled left then right, scanning parked cars as well as all oncoming cars.
But it was difficult going with the rain still streaming down.
“Now we just have to find a silver SUV with a yellow-and-pink Gold Pass.”
“Like finding a needle in a haystack. Parks and Recreation must sell thousands of those passes.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Twombley’s still got to be in this vicinity. I mean, we’re only thirty or forty seconds behind him. We have to think positive.”
“Please slow down before we positively crash,” Drayton begged.
Theodosia slowed only slightly as it began to dawn on her why Twombley was running.
He’d stolen a diamond necklace, yes, but was that the only reason?
No, there had to be more to it, had to be a much bigger reason.
But what? Her mind searched for an answer but it all felt fuzzy.
Then, as if emerging from a fog, Theodosia’s thoughts congealed into a kind of crystal clarity.
What if Twombley was the one who murdered Mrs. V? And poisoned Veda and kidnapped Amber?
“Oh my Lord, it was Twombley,” Theodosia suddenly blurted out.
“What?” Drayton said.
“Twombley’s the man behind all this chaos. The murder, the kidnapping, the poisoning. He’s the one who’s been pulling the strings.”
“Gordon Twombley?” Drayton seemed shell-shocked.
“Edward Shipman, the book dealer, was the one who initially exposed him. Told me Twombley wasn’t British at all. That he was a poser.”
“You think?” Drayton said.
“I do, but we still need to prove it, Drayton. Which is why we have to find Twombley. Right now he’s a danger to everyone.”
“All the more reason to involve the police,” Drayton said.
“You’re right. I…” Theodosia glanced in her rearview mirror and saw two headlights coming up fast behind them. “I think somebody’s following us.”
“Maybe Twombley circled around?”
Theodosia shook her head. “I don’t think so.
He was only a couple blocks ahead of us when we took off so he wouldn’t have time.
” She looked in the mirror again for a split second.
Then her eyes were back on the wet road.
“Is the vehicle following us a van?” she asked as she tried to drive while scanning any SUVs she passed.
Drayton spun in his seat. “Um, I think so.”
“A news van?”
“Maybe. Hard to tell with all this rain. And the back window’s all fogged up.”
“Gotta be Ken Lotter with his camera crew,” Theodosia said. “Dang, all these windows are fogged up. Where’s the defroster in this buggy?” She searched the dashboard. “Oh, here it is.” Theodosia flipped a switch and said, “Okay, is the van white with a dish on top?”
“Could be,” Drayton said.
“That’s Lotter.”
“Are you going to try and lose him?”
Theodosia shook her head. “No. If anything we could use reinforcements.”
Drayton slumped in his seat. “Oh dear. We really should call the police.”
“And tell them what?”
“Exactly what you just told me.”
“But we don’t know where Twombley is,” Theodosia said. “No, better if we try to track him down first.”
* * *
Theodosia was trying to follow a grid. As much as Charleston’s streets would allow anyway.
She sped along Queen Street, turned left on Legare, then turned left again on Broad Street.
She passed Oak Steak House, St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, the Bank of South Carolina, and Ladue’s Wine Bar.
The rain seemed to be coming down harder now and reflections from streetlights, neon signs, and car headlights made everything blurry and out of focus.
“Where could Twombley be headed?” Drayton muttered. He was gazing out the passenger-side window, straining to see.
If I were on the run, where would I go? Theodosia wondered.
She spun that thought around in her mind for a few moments, like she was playing three-dimensional chess.
Then decided that maybe, just maybe, if she was being chased by a dogged amateur investigator, she’d duck down one of Charleston’s hidden cobblestone lanes and lie low.
The alleys and lanes, some of which were two hundred years old, were narrow, super private, and, at this time of night, completely shrouded in darkness.
It would be easy to hunker down in nearby Longitude Lane or Price’s Alley and not be seen by prying eyes.
Then, when the coast felt clear, when your dogged amateur investigator had finally given up, you could slip into a stream of traffic and drive out of the city.
Deciding she had nothing to lose, Theodosia drove down Meeting Street and turned into Price’s Alley.
Narrow moss-covered brick walls immediately rose up on either side of her.
Trees leaned in and tented the alley so it was like driving down an eerie dark tunnel.
Copper lanterns and old hitching posts graced the backs of some of the old homes; a few had small doors set into walls.
Unfortunately, the alley was deserted tonight. No cars hunkered down, nobody even walking their dog. Just darkness and rain. So much rain.
Disappointed, Theodosia emerged on King Street, then circled back to Church Street.
“You’re going to stop at the tea shop?” Drayton asked. Then added, “Might as well, we’re not turning anything up this way.”
“No, I’m going to try Stoll’s Alley,” Theodosia said. “Just on the off chance.”
“If you say so.” Now Drayton just sounded weary. “Maybe it’s good we didn’t call the police. They’d say we were just chasing shadows.”