Agony of the Leaves: Tea Shop Mystery #13 (21 page)

“Ah,” said Drayton.

“I’ve got a navigation thing on my phone,” said Theodosia, “but I’m not confident about getting directions, taking pictures, and making calls all at the same time.”

“Sounds like three-dimensional chess,” said Drayton.

“Really.”

Drayton suddenly jerked upright in his seat. “There. Up ahead. You see that green signpost?”

Theodosia braked sharply, then cranked the steering wheel hard to the right.

“Easy, easy,” breathed Drayton, as they spun through the turn.

“But is this the right road?” she asked.

“Hope so,” said Drayton. “Since we’ve already committed.”

“I didn’t really get a good look at the sign,” said Theodosia, as she eased down theone-lane blacktopped road. Along with the rain, fog was starting to creep in.

“Pretty out here,” said Drayton.

“How can you tell?” asked Theodosia. Just then a huge bolt of lightning ripped across the sky, illuminating the road ahead as well as the surrounding countryside of pines and tamarack. “Oh, yeah,” Theodosia chuckled. “
Now
I see. But the question remains, is this the way to the Hot Fish Clam Shack?”

Turned out, it wasn’t.

Because after they’d driven another mile or so, the road ended in a dirt parking lot at a place called Moore’s Landing.

“Now that’s what I call a very large pier,” said Drayton. A large wooden wharf stretched from the sandy shore out into the surging Atlantic. A stiltlike arrangement of graying timbers.

“I think there’s a public ferry boat that pulls in here on weekends.”

Drayton glanced out the window. “Certainly no public around right now.”

“No ferry boat, either,” said Theodosia.

“Wrong turn,” said Drayton.

“Mmm. Looks like it.” Theodosia peered through the windshield, where the wipers continued to slosh. “There’s a sign over there. What’s it say? Can you read it?”

Drayton rolled down his window and leaned out. “I
think,” he said, above the roar of wind and waves, “it’s something about the Cape Romain Wildlife Refuge.”

“Okay, then,” said Theodosia. “We really did hook a wrong turn.”

Drayton rolled up the window, then pulled out his hanky and mopped the dampness from his face. “We probably just turned too soon.”

“Pretty place, though,” said Theodosia. “When it’s not raining cats and dogs.”

“With all the building that’s going on,” said Drayton, “all the encroachment of civilization, it’s nice to think there’s a wildlife refuge so close.”

“You think these waterways are protected, too?” Theodosia wondered.

“I hope so,” said Drayton. “We can’t just keep fishing everything to extinction. There have to be some regulations.”

“Remember the whole Chilean sea bass craze?” asked Theodosia.

“It became so popular in restaurants,” said Drayton, “that now there are hardly any authentic Chilean sea bass left.”

“Just like the sardines in Monterey Bay,” said Theodosia. “Back in the late forties.”

“Steinbeck’s
Cannery Row
certainly touched on that,” said Drayton. “The fisheries all believed there was an endless supply. And then one day they were gone. Just totally depleted.”

“I guess nothing’s endless,” said Theodosia.

“Except this scavenger hunt,” said Drayton.

That caused Theodosia a little chuckle. “So we try again.” She revved her engine, reversed her tracks, and headed back the way they’d come.

“I hope Tuesday’s Child knows how hard we’re working for them,” said Drayton.

“Majel, their director, seems like a very dedicated woman,” said Theodosia. “Who I’m positive will be most appreciative.”

When they hit Highway 17 again, Theodosia turned right and headed north. “Can’t be too far,” she said.

“Hopefully,” said Drayton, although he didn’t sound hopeful at all.

They crept along at a decorousforty-five miles an hour now, eyes straining for some sign of the elusive clam shack.

“Whoa, whoa!” Drayton called out suddenly. “I think we just passed it!”

Theodosia took her foot off the gas and coasted to the side of the road. “I didn’t see a thing.”

“That’s because the place is locked up tight. The signs aren’t even lit.”

“Holy moly,” Theodosia breathed, as she shifted into reverse and backed down the dark highway.

“Easy,” said Drayton. “Keep it straight, keep it straight.”

“Hard to see where the driveway turns in,” Theodosia complained.

“Ten, maybe fifteen more feet. Okay,
turn
!” said Drayton.

Theodosia did and ended up in the parking lot of the Hot Fish Clam Shack. It was a dilapidated little place that had probably once been painted white, but the encroachment of wind, water, and sea air had sandpapered it to aweather-beaten gray. Still, it looked like a welcoming little café with its funky wooden cutout of a smilingbig-eyed fish leaping into a fry pan with the words
HOT FISH CLAM SHACK
lettered in red and yellow. And there were big, black cauldrons planted with daisies on either side of the battered front door.

“Too bad it’s closed,” said Drayton, gazing at the shuttered windows. “We could have had ourselves a tasty little snack.”

“You’d eat here?” asked Theodosia.

“Of course.”

“I doubt they have white linen tablecloths.”

“I realize that.”

“Red plastic baskets instead of plates.”

“You seem to think I’m some kind of food snob,” said Drayton, “when I’m not.”

“But would you drink a longneck beer?”

Drayton smiled. “No, but I’d take a sweet tea.” He held up the camera. “You or me? The rain seems to be letting up, but…”

Theodosia grabbed the camera. “Me. I’m feeling decidedly guilty. I think I’ve put you through enough tonight.”

“You have,” Drayton said, with a mousy grin.

Theodosia tugged her sweater around her and hopped from the car. Hopefully, she could get a good shot and they could head back to Charleston. Try to button down the last couple of scavenger hunt landmarks.

She crunched across the parking lot, a few raindrops still splotching down. She knew if her hair got too damp, it would lift and billow like a spinnaker catching the wind. And then if it dried too fast, the dreaded frizzies might follow. Most women would kill to have Theodosia’s abundance of luxurious hair, but she found it a constant challenge. Especially in hot, humid Charleston.

Stepping up to the front of the building, Theodosia took a shot of the Hot Fish logo that was painted on the door. Then she stepped back, looked at the sign on the roof, and moved back some more. She found that moving off to the side of the building gave her a nice angle on the cutout fish. And, as a kind oflucky-strike extra, because they certainly needed one tonight, the fog seemed to have lifted and the rain had dwindled to a fine mist. Still not good for her hair, but excellent for hydrating the complexion.

Moving off to the side of the building also put her directly in the path of the breeze blowing in from the Atlantic. Though there were barrier islands farther out, the wind whipped between them as if through a venturi tube, gathering strength, buffeting everything in its path.

Theodosia gazed out to sea, really the Intercoastal Waterway, and was surprised to see two boats floating offshore. She stared at them, watching their yellow lights bob and dip. They seemed to hold their position, so they were probably commercial fishing boats. Certainly couldn’t be that ferry boat that docked at Moore’s Landing.

She watched the boats for another couple of minutes, slightly enchanted, wondering about the dedicated men who still worked this kind of difficult job. She also wondered if her little camera would be able to capture a shot of them. Better yet, if she positioned the clam shack in the foreground and the boats in the background, she might get a nice moody, sexy shot.

She took a few pictures, moving around, experimenting with different angles. When she was satisfied, she hurried back to her Jeep.

“You certainly took your time,” Drayton observed, as she pulled open the driver’s-side door. “So it must be a wonderful composition.”

Theodosia was about to respond when a pickup truck rolled in behind them and stopped. She gazed over at it, seeing only smoked windows and hearing muffled music coming from within its dark interior. Creedence Clearwater Revival, she thought. Maybe “Run Through the Jungle” or “Up Around the Bend.” After a few short moments, the truck reversed, then headed back down the main highway.

“Another hungry customer,” said Drayton. “Disappointed the clam shack is closed.”

“Probably,” said Theodosia, just as her phone rang. She half closed the car door and stood in the parking lot to take her call. “Hello?”

It was Max.

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s me!” came Max’s exuberant voice.

Theodosia was suddenly grinning ear to ear. She couldn’t help herself. “It’s so great to hear your voice,” she told him.

“How are you doing?” asked Max.

“I’m good. I’m on a scavenger hunt right now! With Drayton.”

“Uh-oh,” said Max. “Does that mean you two are sneaking around the historic district trying to find finials and lampposts to rip off?”

“No, this scavenger hunt’s actually kind of unique,” said Theodosia. “Rather than go door to door, we drive around and take photos of things. You know, like landmarks and such.”

“That sounds a whole lot easier,” said Max.

“And it’s for charity,” said Theodosia.

“I should have guessed,” said Max. “You have such a good heart, always thinking of others.”

“Our team is actually working for a great cause,” said Theodosia. “At-risk youth. In fact, it’s the same group that’s getting the proceeds from your fishbowl.”

“Of course,” said Max. “Tuesday’s Child.”

“So,” said Theodosia. “Are you guys coming home with an Impressionist painting?”

“Nah,” said Max. “It wasn’t in the cards. We had our eye on a landscape by Sisley, but basically got outbid by the Freer Gallery.”

“Bigger budget,” said Theodosia.

“Bigger donors,” said Max. “Humongous, in fact.”

“So when are you coming back?” It couldn’t be soon enough for Theodosia.

“Tomorrow night,” said Max.

“Eeh,” said Theodosia. “Tomorrow night we’re hosting the closing event for the Coffee & Tea Expo. It’s a kind of Japanese tea ceremony at the Heritage Society.”

“Then I’ll drop by and find you,” said Max.

“Really? You’ll come?”

“Of course,” said Max, “I might even write a haiku.”

“Max said he
was going to write a haiku,” Theodosia told Drayton as she climbed into thecar—haiku being a Japanese poem that was simple in form, yet conveyed elegant imagery and, oftentimes, a seasonal reference.

“Seventeen syllables to capture a bit of joy and a philosophical truth,” said Drayton. “Never easy to do.”

“You’ve written a few haiku yourself,” said Theodosia. “There was one in particular that you recited when we hosted that Japanese tea out at Magnolia Plantation last spring.” She chuckled. “When we all kind of pretended the azaleas were really cherry blossoms.”

“Hah,” said Drayton.

“You remember the poem?” she asked.

“As if it were yesterday,” Drayton smiled. He paused, then said, “Floating on spring breezes, cherry blossoms burst with joy. So does my heart.”

“Wonderful,” said Theodosia. “You really should write one for tomorrow night.”

“You think?” said Drayton.

“With your Japanese bonsai on display and our Japanese tea and food, it would be a perfect tie-in.”

“Something to consider,” said Drayton.

“Please do,” said Theodosia.

Just as Haley
had predicted, the second day of the Coffee & Tea Expo was the bigger day. Crowds thronged the floor of the coliseum as coffee perked, tea brewed, and sales reps repped. The air was filled with the mingled aromas offresh-ground beans, aromatic teas, and cinnamon.

“How’s it going?” Theodosia asked Haley. She was passing out mini bags of Drayton’s Raspberry Mojo tea, a proprietary blend of Chinese black tea flavored with raspberry and spiked with ginseng.

“Great,” said Haley, swishing back her long hair, “but I can’t wait to get out of here. I just talked to Drayton and we’ve got beaucoup reservations. Looks like today’s gonna be like. . .a luncheon marathon.”