“Oh, come on, Drayton. Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“Back home in my sock drawer, if you really must know.”
“But what if this guy turns out to be the ringleader of the gang that stormed Heart’s Desire and ended up killing Kaitlin?”
Drayton pursed his lips.
Theodosia gripped her steering wheel. “Well?” She was fired up and ready to explore.
“Then I’d prefer he be hunted down by a federal agency and appropriately charged with robbery and murder. Not tracked by Nancy Drew and an aging Hardy Boy.”
Theodosia opened the driver’s-side door. “Come on, let’s go take a look.”
Drayton got out carefully. “I think we should just stroll casually past his house. But no prowling the premises like we did last night. Agreed?”
Theodosia’s whisper floated back to him in the darkness. “Come on.”
They strolled past a drab-looking little bungalow that had probably once been painted a Caribbean blue. But wind, heat, humidity, and rain—all the elements present in typical Charleston weather—had ground it down to silvered wood. No lights shone, it looked like no one was home.
“Charming,” Drayton remarked in a droll tone. “Homey. All it needs is an old-fashioned washing machine on the front lawn. Broken, of course.”
“Don’t be snobby,” Theodosia said.
They walked past the house, turned the corner, and then walked back via a gravel alley.
“I want to take a closer look,” Theodosia said once they were standing directly behind the house.
“Not a good idea.”
“Just a peek.” Theodosia tiptoed up to the back porch, a screened-in affair, and looked in.
“You see,” Drayton whispered loudly. “Nobody’s home. I think we should go.”
“Clement isn’t here, but look,” Theodosia said excitedly. “There’s a package tucked inside. Looks like it was left by UPS.”
Drayton walked up and pressed his face to the screen door. “What do you suppose it is?”
“I’m guessing it’s the rock hammer I ordered for him.”
Drayton pulled back. “Wait a minute, you really did do that? I thought you cooked up some shaggy-dog story to lure me over here.”
“I’m gonna go in and look. See if it is the rock hammer.”
Drayton grabbed her arm. “Please don’t.”
“You worry too much.”
“You don’t worry enough.”
“Think of it as part of our investigation.”
“You’re acting just like the FBI, you know that?” Drayton said.
“Not on your life,” Theodosia said. “I don’t believe in wiretapping or trampling all over people’s rights.”
“You just don’t mind trampling your way onto their back porch.”
Theodosia pulled open the screen door. “I really wish you hadn’t said that.” And ducked inside.
“Theo!” Drayton whispered.
“Shhh, I’m checking the package.” She bent forward and scanned the label. “Yup, it’s the one I sent.”
“Get back out here.”
“I just want to . . . look around.” She wondered if maybe her rock climber had left a key somewhere. Rock climbers were casual, trusting sorts, weren’t they? Maybe hanging near the door . . . ? She ran a hand up the doorjamb to check. No luck. Or under the mat? She flipped back a rubber mat and saw the glint of something shiny. A key. “I found a key, Drayton.” Do I dare?
Drayton turned his back to her and fiddled nervously with his bow tie. “I don’t want to know what you’re going to do.”
“Then at least give me your hankie.”
“Fine,” Drayton said. He pulled a hankie from his jacket pocket and passed it to her. “Blow your nose and let’s get out of here. Because I really don’t care to participate.”
“The hankie’s so I don’t leave any fingerprints,” Theodosia said. She slipped the key into the lock. “And I don’t need you to participate, Drayton. I need you to be my lookout.”
“This really is insanity.”
Theodosia turned the key in the lock and heard a soft click. Just like that. Open sesame, quick and easy, no big deal. “I’m going in,” she whispered, a faint, eager smile on her face.
“Please don’t,” Drayton whispered back. But she was already gone.
? ? ?
Inside, Theodosia paused in what was a small kitchen. A mélange of cooking odors hung in the air. Fried hamburger, some fried onions and potatoes. The place was warm, dark, and claustrophobic, but there was a small light on above an old Hotpoint stove that made it a little easier for her to get her bearings. In fact, as she looked around, it felt as though she’d stepped inside a vintage kitchen.
No, not vintage, Theodosia told herself. A kitchen that’s never been updated. Old appliances, old curtains. Everything just . . . sad and tired.
She pulled herself back to the task at hand. Look around, she reminded herself. See if there might be something that points to Clement being a jewel thief.