Rinicker blew into cupped hands. “The weather’s started to shift. Temperature feels like it’s really dropping.”
“Autumn’s like that in Charleston,” Theodosia said. “One day it’s eighty degrees and sunny and the azaleas are out, the next day, boom. The bottom drops out.” She paused. “But you must be used to cool weather. You said you were from Luxembourg? That’s what I’d classify as northern Europe.”
“I lived there most recently, yes. For almost twelve years.” His eyes took on a faraway look. “The Grand Duchy of Luxembourg.”
“It must be a beautiful country. Lots of forests and mountains.” Theodosia was thinking about the rock hammer Tidwell had shown her earlier.
“The Ardennes mountains,” Rinicker said. “Spectacular, just nothing like them. Of course, there’s the Kneiff and Buurgplaatz, too.”
“I’ll bet it’s picture-postcard gorgeous.” Theodosia glanced at her watch. She was running late. Probably Rinicker was, too. “You’d better get inside if you’re appearing on Charleston Today,” she told him. “They really like to hustle their guests along.”
Rinicker stepped away and gave a friendly wave. “You’re right. Gotta go drum up some big-time interest for our Rare Antiquities Show.”
Theodosia smiled after him. She hoped that, when Sunday came, the collection would still be intact.
15
Theodosia knew she was definitely running late. She had to get home and do her makeup (thank goodness her brows were already in great shape), get gussied up, and then pick up Drayton at seven o’clock on the dot.
But first—well, she had to make a detour. Because ever since Tidwell had shown her that picture of the rock hammer this afternoon, ever since she’d seen the name Clement scrawled on the back of the paper, that nasty little tool had been percolating on the back burner of her mind.
She touched her brakes as she coasted down Maccorkle Avenue. There were lots of unusual stores over here that you didn’t see in the Historic District, her regular stomping ground. Geo’s Natural Foods, Power’s Running Store, the Digital Café, Jelly & Craig’s New Age Gifts. But where was . . . ? Oh, there it was. Up ahead on the left. Triple Peak. What Tidwell had told her was Charleston’s only climbing store.
Theodosia pulled into a parking spot, plugged a quarter into the meter, and danced her way across the busy street. Her heart gave a little thump-bump as she pushed into the shop.
And what an unusual shop it turned out to be. The first thing that struck her was the multitude of rope. One entire wall was covered with loops and coils of colorful nylon and cotton rope that, she supposed, was one of the most important tools a climber would ever need.
There was lots of other gear, too. Wicked-looking ice axes, fingerless gloves, chalk bags (whatever those were), carabiners, all manner of unusual shiny hardware, climbing shoes, nylon clothing, and an infinite array of safety helmets.
A clerk looked up casually from where he’d been pecking away at a computer terminal and smiled at her. He was probably twenty-three or twenty-four years old, all angles and long sinewy muscles, like a snake. His long hair was pulled back into a high, short ponytail in the style of a samurai warrior, and he had a thin scruff of beard.
“Help you?” he asked.
“I’m looking for a piece of equipment,” Theodosia said.
“For rock climbing, ice climbing, big wall, or canyoneering?”
“Um . . . rock climbing, I guess,” Theodosia said. She hadn’t realized there were so many specialized aspects to climbing. To her it was just about ascending a scary-looking cliff. “I’m looking for a rock hammer.”
The clerk gestured at the case in front of him. “We carry lots of different kinds. They’re pretty much our bread and butter.”
“The thing is . . . I’m looking for a particular type. I believe it’s manufactured by Petzl?”
“Yeah,” the clerk said, scratching his flat stomach idly. “We definitely carry that brand.” He was dressed in Lycra leggings, a T-shirt that said ROCK AROUND THE CLOCK on the front of it, and some flat, rubber-soled shoes that Theodosia surmised were climbing shoes. “We keep them over here.” He walked over to another glass case, bent forward, and slid open the back door. “Yup, here you go.” He pulled out a Petzl hammer and handed it to Theodosia. “Pretty cool, huh?”
Theodosia hefted the hammer in her hand. It felt sleek, well balanced, and deadly. The kind of hammer you could whack someone in the head with and really get the job done. Or crack open a bunch of glass display cases in a hurry. Better yet, it looked like the one she’d seen the black-suited vandal wielding.
“This is perfect,” she said. She was so excited, the hammer almost felt like it was vibrating in her hand. “I have a friend who had one just like this and then lost it up near Table Rock State Park.”