Agony of the Leaves: Tea Shop Mystery #13 (33 page)

“I heard a gunshot!” Drayton cried. “And then a woman came streaking out of that cemetery! At first I thought it was you, and then when she got closer I saw it was Majel!”

“And so…”

“I knew she wasn’t supposed to be here! I knew Majel must have engineered some kind of trap. And when she got closer, I saw she had a gun!” He put a hand to his chest and patted it. “Theo, I was so scared!”

Theodosia stared down at Majel, out cold on the ground. Every once in a while her right leg would twitch and she would let loose a little involuntary moan. “But what did you
do
to her?”

“I flung open the car door!” said Drayton. “At the exact instant she ran past. She didn’t see me and I…well, I guess I timed it just right and clobbered her!”

“You clobbered her,” said Theodosia. Car door versus woman with gun. Crazy.

“She just crumpled,” said Drayton. “She uttered a weird little
eep
, then collapsed in a heap. And, well, she hasn’t moved since.”

“Good for you, Drayton!”

But Drayton looked nervous. “You don’t think she’s going to die, do you?”

“She’s seems to be breathing okay. I suspect she’ll survive.”

“Because the last thing I want is to be charged with involuntary manslaughter.”

“Are you serious?” said Theodosia. “Majel tried to kill me! She pushed me into a grave and
shot
at me!”

“Dear Lord,” said Drayton. “Are you hit?”

“No,” said Theodosia. “I don’t think so. No, I’m not. Thank goodness she’s a rotten shot.” A few hot tears slid down her face and she let loose a shaky sigh. “She’s the one who killed Parker, not Buddy Krebs.”

Drayton took a step back. “Are you serious?”

Theodosia nodded. “Positive.”

“Oh my.” Drayton stared down at Majel and said in a voice filled with sorrow, “And then she tried to kill you.”

“That’s right,” said Theodosia. “Which means we better hurry up and tie her hands and feet.”

“And then what?” said Drayton.

“Then we’re going to drag her back into the cemetery and dump her in a grave. Cover her up and bury her alive.”

“Theodosia!” Drayton was shocked. “You can’t be serious! Even if she did…”

Theodosia gave a faint smile. “It’s what I’d
like
to do, what would make my little heart gopitty-pat right now. But what I’m really going to do is call the cops.”

“Local officers?” asked Drayton.

“And Tidwell. Gotta bring him in on this, too.”

They got some rope out of the back of Theodosia’s Jeep and bound Majel’s wrists and ankles. Then Theodosia made her calls.

“There’s another thing
,” said Drayton, as they waited. “There’s a little red car parked back there in the bushes.”

They stomped back down the trail to look at it.

“I guess that’s what I caught a glimpse of on our way in,” said Drayton.

“A Porsche,” said Theodosia. “Awfully nice car.”

Drayton scratched his head. “How could Majel afford a fancy sports car on her salary?”

“The same way she could afford her camp,” said Theodosia.

“Huh?” said Drayton.

“There is no camp,” said Theodosia. “If I had to take a wild guess, I’d say Majel was running a phony charity and siphoning off money.”

“No camp?” said Drayton. “You mean she’s…”

“A total fraud,” said Theodosia. “Along with being astone-cold killer.”

Deputy Sheriff John
Beall of Hampton County and Detective Burt Tidwell arrived at pretty much the sametime—the sheriff driving hiskhaki-colored cruiser, Tidwell arriving in ablack-and-white driven by a uniformed officer of the CPD.

Theodosia did a fast five minutes of talking while Majel, still bound and finally conscious, cooled her heels in the back of the sheriff’s cruiser.

Sheriff Beall scratched his head when Theodosia began to run out of steam and said, “So this woman…she’s part of an ongoing murder investigation?”

“That’s correct,” said Tidwell. “You heard about the death at the Neptune Aquarium?”

Sheriff Beall nodded.

“We think she’s the killer,” said Tidwell.

“Plus she knew about the bees,” Drayton suddenly blurted out.

“What’s this about the bees?” asked Tidwell.

So Theodosia had to explain about driving Aunt Libby to Dubose Bees, getting run off the road, and Aunt Libby getting stung. “It wasn’t Buddy Krebs after all,” Theodosia told
Tidwell. “I thought it was him because of the black truck, but it had to be Majel. Had to be!”

“You see,” said Drayton, “Majel was there at Aunt Libby’s tea. She heard them talking about the bee visit!”

Sheriff Beall shook his head in disbelief, then focused on Theodosia. “You’re positive she tried to kill you?”

Theodosia’s head bobbed. “Yes,” she gasped. “She really did.”

“We’ll do gunpowder residue on her hands, you know,” said the sheriff. “And try to dig that bullet out of the grave.”

“Be my guest,” said Theodosia.

Tidwell gazed across at Majel, hunched in the backseat of Sheriff Beall’s car. “She lured you out here and pushed you in a grave.” He said it in a tone ofalmost-disbelief.

“And shot at me!” said Theodosia. She was still shaking with anger.

Drayton pulled himself to his full height and said, in his best Heritage Society orator voice, “Theodosia does not manufacture stories. This is not a case of histrionics. It really happened. I
heard
the gunshot.”

Anger finally bloomed on Tidwell’s pudgy face. “Good grief,” he said. His eyes blazed, his jowls shook with fury. “This woman wasn’t even on our radar!”

“She wasn’t on mine, either,” said Theodosia, “but…but there you go.” This time they all turned to gaze at Majel, who was scowling and mumbling to herself.

Tidwell adjusted his vest, let loose a loud harrumph, then said, “Let me make a couple of calls.”

He went back to hisblack-and-white and plopped heavily into the driver’s seat. Theodosia watched him talking away and nodding occasionally. Then Tidwell glanced over at her, then at Majel and shook his head. When he’d finally concluded his calls, Tidwell sat there for a few moments, tapping pudgy fingers against the dashboard. Then he hoisted his bulk out of the car.

“Well?” said Drayton.

“Majel Carter is under investigation for running a fraudulent charity,” said Tidwell.

“Of course she is,” said Theodosia. “It’s just too bad we didn’t figure that out earlier.”

“There have been several red flags with the City Charities Review Board,” Tidwell continued, “and the state attorney general’s office has been called in.”

“Does she own a black truck?” asked Theodosia.

“Yes,” said Tidwell. “There’s a black Ford Ranger registered to Tuesday’s Child.”

“There you go,” said Theodosia.

Tidwell rocked back on his heels as if taking all this under consideration. Then he turned to Sheriff Beall, “What do you want to do with her?”

“You’re welcome to take her back with you,” said Sheriff Beall. “This is obviously your case.”

“True,” said Tidwell, nodding. “But this is your jurisdiction and I never like to tread on anyone’s toes. My office can always negotiate a transfer later.”

“I have to warn you,” said Sheriff Beall, “our jail is pretty bare bones. We’re not exactly set up for the ladies.”

“That settles it,” said Tidwell. “You take her.” He turned to Theodosia and Drayton. “The hour is late. You two need to get back to Charleston.” His voice softened. “Theodosia, you look like you might need medical attention.”

“I’m okay,” she said. “Bruised ribs is all.”

“Better to get an x-ray,” said Tidwell.

“I’ll make sure she gets an x-ray,” said Drayton.

“Of course there’s no way you can drive your vehicle home,” said Tidwell. “Thatpassenger-side door is completely sprung and entirely unsafe.”

“Unless you want to take off both doors and go dune buggy,” said Sheriff Beall.

“No thanks,” said Theodosia. “Not tonight.”

“Tell you what,” said Tidwell, “we’ll call a tow truck and
have your Jeep hauled to the sheriff’s impound lot. Tomorrow morning, you can call your insurance agent and get it all sorted out.”

“How are we supposed to get home?” asked Drayton. “Hitchhike with you, I suppose?”

Tidwell cocked a thumb toward Majel’s sports car. “Take the Porsche. Miss Carter won’t be needing it for a good long while.”

“Are you serious?” came Majel’s outraged shriek from the backseat of the sheriff’s cruiser. “That’s
my
Porsche!” Her fingers grasped the steel mesh that separated the backseat from the front of the car and she rattled it like crazy.

“Enough!” Tidwell snapped. Then he grabbed Majel’s bag, which had been sitting on the back fender of his car, ransacked through it, and pulled out a set of keys. He tossed them to Theodosia. “Have fun. Try not to break any laws.”

A look of surprise lit Theodosia’s face as she caught the keys. “Uh…okay.” She walked back to the Porsche and pulled open the driver’s-side door. Gazed in at the cushy leather seats, burled wood steering wheel, and awhiz-bang control panel that practically rivaled a fighter jet. The car was sleek, elegant, and teched to the max. In other words, expensive.

“Don’t let her drive that car!” came Majel’s muffled squawk. “Excuse me, I’m talking to you people!” Her voice rose in a pitiful shriek. “That’s asixty-five-thousand-dollar auto, if you don’t mind!”

Theodosia smiled to herself as she eased herself into the plush interior. “I don’t mind at all,” she said.

“You’re okay
to drive?” asked Drayton.

“I’m okay,” said Theodosia. They’d just passed through Parkers Ferry and were headed for Highway 17 and back to Charleston.

“Because I can drive if your ribs are bothering you.”

“Better now,” said Theodosia. She’ddry-swallowed two Motrin tablets and they’d kicked in.

“You’re sure?” said Drayton.

“Have you ever driven a stick shift?” asked Theodosia.

“Excuse me,” said Drayton, “I grew up driving a stick shift. Before you were born.”

Theodosia smiled in the dark. He was probably right. “This is a lovely car, though.”

“Ill-gotten goods,” said Drayton.

Theodosia cruised over a narrow bridge, listening to the boards rattle beneath her tires and thinking about what a nimble, responsive little car this was. Maybe, when it was time for a trade-in…

“What
is
that irritating rattle?” asked Drayton.

“Not sure,” said Theodosia. There was a rattle, but she’d just assumed it was part and parcel of the car. A result of itssuper-low chassis perhaps? A temperamental exhaust system? Or was the noise coming from inside the car?

“Honestly,” said Drayton, “it’s starting to drive me batty. Does this auto have a loose tailpipe or something?”

Theodosia lifted her foot off the accelerator and let the car coast down the dark road for a good fifty yards. When she’d bled off some of the speed, she turned her head and ventured a quick look in back. What she saw startled her. “Holy smokes, Drayton. It’s the doggone fishbowl!”

Drayton didn’t pick up on her reference at first. “With actual fish?” he asked.

“No, no,” said Theodosia, hitting the gas again and accelerating. “It’s the big glass bowl that’s been sitting in the rotunda at the Gibbes Museum for the past month. You know, the charity bowl, where people make cash donations.”

“Good Lord,” exclaimed Drayton, “Majel was going to abscond with that money, too? Is there no end to the woman’s greed?”

“Apparently not,” said Theodosia. But following on the heels of their outrage was the thought,
Now what am I supposed to do with this?

She thought about all the people who’d peeled tens and twenties out of their wallets only to be flimflammed. They’d tossed their money into the fishbowl, confidently expecting it would go to a worthy, worthwhile, aboveboard charity. And it would have all gone to Majel.

So what to do now? How to make it right? Just…give the money back to the museum? Or turn it over to the police? Theodosia figured that was probably the most reasonable course of action. Except for the fact that the money would get counted and cataloged and probably sit in an evidence
room for the next ten years, doing no good for anybody at all.

That’s right, no good at all.

Theodosia drove the next few miles in silence, thinking, mulling over this latest development. It was warm and humming inside the little leather cocoon with itsnew-car smell. And, pretty soon, Drayton’s head began to nod. Not two minutes later, he slumped halfway down in the passenger seat and began to snore gently.

Theodosia drove through the darkness in silence. Thinking about Majel’s scam, thinking about Parker’s murder. Thinking about how nice it would be to get home. To kiss her dog and crawl into bed. To sleep really late tomorrow. Then cook dinner for Max and tell him all about this. Hopefully share a laugh. Hopefully.

But when the large green sign that said Meeting Street flashed overhead, Theodosia didn’t turn off.

As they crossed over the Cooper River Bridge, Drayton stirred slowly and lifted his head. He blinked a couple of times and said, in a creaky voice, “We’re not going home?”

“Not quite yet,” Theodosia told him. She wore a thin, resolute smile on her face.