Haunted Hibiscus Read online

  There was a bump and a scrape, as if Riley’s phone was being handled roughly. And then someone who clearly wasn’t Riley was suddenly on the line and speaking to her.

  “Hello?” came a man’s voice, deep and resonant. Official sounding. “Is this Theodosia? Do I have that right?”

  Warning bells jangled in Theodosia’s brain. Her heart pulsed even faster. “Yes. Please tell me what’s going on. Who . . . who is this, please?”

  “My name is Ellis Starkey, and I’m one of the EMTs that came to Detective Riley’s aid.”

  “You came to his aid?” Had she heard him right? Perhaps not. “I’m confused. What sort of aid are you talking about?”

  “Ma’am,” said Starkey, “there’s been an OIS.”

  “An OIS?”

  “An officer involved shooting. Detective Riley has been shot.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Theodosia would have dropped the phone if she hadn’t been so utterly gobsmacked. As it was she kept it gripped tightly in her hand as she scrambled for her car keys, slung her purse onto her shoulder, and raced outside to where her Jeep was parked. She left her house lights on, the door unlocked, and Earl Grey staring after her in doggy amazement.

  Jumping into her trusty Jeep, lights and seat belt almost forgotten, she cranked the engine over and took off as if her life depended on it. Or Riley’s did.

  She blasted down King Street, past the City Market, then blew through a stop sign and turned onto Calhoun. From there it was just a few blocks to University Hospital at the Medical University of South Carolina. She’d weaseled the information out of Starkey and knew for a fact that this was where the ambulance was transporting Riley.

  “Where’s the ER entrance?” Theodosia muttered to herself as she tapped her brakes to slow down and fought to make her brain function a little more clearly. Scanning the unfamiliar buildings, she hesitated, then said, “Okay, I see it. Now I need a parking spot.”

  Theodosia found a spot a half block away, then jogged back to the ER entrance and flew through the electronic doors.

  “Pete Riley,” she shouted to the woman who was sitting behind the reception desk. “He was just brought in here. Where is he?”

  The receptionist, an older woman who was wearing a blue smock that said willa devore, volunteer on a lapel pin, consulted her computer. “Riley,” she said. “Randolph, Riley . . . yes, here he is.” She looked up. “Police officer?”

  “Detective,” Theodosia said. As if it mattered.

  “GSW,” the receptionist said.

  “What?”

  “Gunshot wound. The ambulance brought him in eight minutes ago. Well, more like nine.”

  “Great. Where can I find him?”

  “You can’t. At least for now anyway. You’ll have to sit tight.”

  “Why is that?” Theodosia asked.

  “Because the ER docs are with him right now. Evaluating him. Taking care of him.”

  “Making sure he’s stable?” Theodosia asked. She was shaking now.

  “Are you a relative?”

  “Girlfriend.”

  “If you’ll just take a seat, we’ll let you know when you can see him. Or at least speak with one of the ER docs.”

  “Great. Okay,” Theodosia said. But she didn’t take a seat. Instead she paced back and forth, looking at her watch, then at the receptionist, then at the door that led back to the ER bay. She was tempted to rush it and try to find Riley, but she didn’t.

  Ten more minutes crept by, then fifteen minutes. A few more people trickled in, mostly friends and relatives worried about injured friends and relatives. Theodosia felt so frustrated she was ready to jump out of her skin.

  Then Detective Burt Tidwell walked in and her brain bonked into hyperdrive. Now she had a mission.

  Before Tidwell even made his approach to the reception desk, Theodosia was in his face.

  “Do you see what you did!” Theodosia cried. “Do you? You sent Riley over there all by himself and what happened? He got shot! I should have gone along with him . . .”

  “And you might have been shot as well,” Tidwell said. His tone was restrained, his attitude maddeningly casual.

  “No. That’s not what would have happened. We would have been a lot more careful.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Neither do you!” Theodosia shouted back.

  “You’re upset,” Tidwell said.

  “No kidding.”

  “Please,” Tidwell said. “Just calm down and wait here while I see what’s going on.”

  Theodosia crossed her arms and got out of the way. But she did not sit down. Or calm down for that matter.

  Tidwell had a whispered consultation with the receptionist, then came over to talk to Theodosia.

  “A doctor will be coming out to talk with us,” Tidwell said. “Give us a prognosis.”

  “Good.” She tapped a foot. “When will that be?”

  “Anytime now.”

  But it was a good half hour before a tired-looking doctor in blue scrubs finally emerged from the ER bay. He glanced at Theodosia and Tidwell and said, “I’m Dr. Benjamin. You’re the ones waiting for news on Mr. Riley?”

  “Detective Riley,” Tidwell said as they both popped out of their chairs.

  “What can you tell us?” Theodosia asked.

  “He’s been stabilized and is in good condition,” the doctor said. “Because he’s relatively young and physically fit, his vitals and respiration are excellent. He’s not injured too badly even though the bullet went through his left arm.” The doctor indicated a spot on his own upper arm. “Right here. He doesn’t need surgery, but he does need some, um . . . repair.”

  Theodosia swallowed hard and whispered a prayer.

  Theodosia and Tidwell waited together for another forty-five minutes, barely speaking to each other, until, finally, mercifully, they were told they could go up to the fourth floor where Riley was now resting in a private room.

  * * *

  * * *

  “Riley.” Theodosia tiptoed to his bedside and gazed down at him.

  Riley turned and smiled up at her. His face was pale, but he looked comfortable enough with pillows and white blankets fluffed all around him.

  “Hey, kiddo,” he said.

  “Hey, kiddo, yourself,” Theodosia said. “I’ve been worried sick about you. How are you feeling?” She wanted to cry but tried to smile instead.

  “Mostly just sleepy,” Riley said. Then he noticed Tidwell, who was standing with his back pressed up against the wall.

  “Sir,” Riley said. “Sorry about this. I guess I forgot to duck.”

  Tidwell crept closer to Riley’s bed. “What happened, Detective?”

  “I went to the victim’s apartment, walked in, and before I even had a chance to look around, someone fired on me.”

  “You mean they shot you,” Theodosia said.

  “You had no idea anyone was there?” Tidwell asked.

  “I’d literally just turned the key in the lock and opened the door,” Riley said. “Hadn’t even hit the light switch. Maybe I . . .” He stopped and shook his head.

  “Maybe you what?” Tidwell asked.

  “Maybe I interrupted a burglary?” Riley said.

  “Or an ambush,” Tidwell said. “Were you able to get any kind of look at the shooter?”

  Riley grimaced. “Unfortunately not. Too dark.” He touched his wounded arm, threw a sheepish look at Theodosia, then turned his attention back to Tidwell. “What happened at the murder house?” he asked. “Did you run the scene? Were there cameras that might have picked something up?”

  “There were no cameras,” Tidwell said. “We checked. But all these questions can wait until you’ve had a good night’s rest and are feeling some better. For now, we’d best just say
goodbye.”

  Tidwell stepped back, allowing Theodosia to have a private moment with Riley. And then, seconds later, they were back outside his room walking down the corridor and into the elevator.

  Theodosia didn’t have much to say, though she was fuming inwardly.

  When they reached the waiting room, Tidwell said, “He was lucky.”

  “He was not lucky!” Theodosia cried.

  “No, it could have been much worse,” Tidwell said in his maddeningly cool and observant voice.

  “You think?”

  “Rest assured, we will deal with this.”

  “Will you really?” Theodosia snapped. Then immediately regretted her flare-up. They were on the same side here, and she hadn’t meant to be quite so sharp and accusatory. If Tidwell wasn’t deeply concerned about one of his own detectives getting shot, then he wouldn’t be standing here looking just this side of devastated.

  Tidwell was clearly hurt by her words. “You don’t expect I’d let one of my best detectives get shot and do nothing about it, do you?” Now his manner was both serious and brusque. “This will be handled expeditiously and swiftly, I assure you.”

  “But which case will get top billing?” Theodosia asked. “Willow’s murder or Riley getting shot?”

  “I promise you they’re both equally important,” Tidwell said as they walked out the front door of the hospital and into the cool air. He glanced at the dark street. It was late, ticking toward midnight now, and there was no one else around. “Where are you parked?”

  Theodosia waved a hand. “Over . . . there.”

  She wanted to be alone right now. To let the cool night air wash over her like a refreshing balm and maybe help her sort things out. But Detective Burt Tidwell thought otherwise.

  “I’ll walk you to your vehicle,” he said. Like most law enforcement personnel, he referred to it as a vehicle rather than a car or Jeep.

  “That’s not necessary,” Theodosia said.

  “Listen to me.” Like a dancer executing a sharp pirouette, Tidwell stepped in front of her and stopped in his tracks, bringing Theodosia to an abrupt halt as well. He was a large immovable object that was suddenly peering down at her, a mix of concern and determination evident on his face.

  Theodosia paused, afraid of what Tidwell was about to say, knowing full well that he was going to say it anyway.

  “Please do not attempt to insinuate yourself into this investigation, Miss Browning,” Tidwell said, fixing her with a hard gaze. His beady eyes were pinpoints of darkness, and his ample jowls shook as if to punctuate each sentence.

  “Please don’t be paternal,” Theodosia said.

  Tidwell’s mouth twitched. There, she’d struck a nerve. But seconds later, he was back, his voice and manner sharp as a serpent’s tooth.

  “I warn you, Miss Browning. Don’t you dare get involved in any of this.”

  “Right,” Theodosia said.

  But the only thought that ran through her brain like chase lights on a theater marquee was, I’m already involved. So why on earth wouldn’t I stay involved?

  4

  Drayton and Haley stared at Theodosia in almost total disbelief.

  Finally, Drayton managed to choke out a single word. “No.” Then, with a visibly shaking hand, he tried to place his teacup back in its saucer, spilling some of his prized Fujian oolong tea in the process.

  “Yes,” Theodosia said. “As a matter of fact I’ve already been to the hospital. Stopped there first thing this morning.”

  “Riley’s going to be okay?” Haley asked. “I mean, even though he was shot?” She looked both nervous and scared as tears sparkled in her eyes.

  “He’s doing about as well as can be expected,” Theodosia said.

  It was eight thirty Monday morning, and the three of them were seated at one of the small tables in the Indigo Tea Shop. Theodosia had just dropped her bombshell. Obviously, Drayton and Haley already knew about poor Willow being murdered, but they hadn’t heard about Pete Riley getting shot. Needless to say, her tea shop cohorts, really her two best friends, had reacted strongly to her stunning news.

  Now Haley dropped her head in her hands, her long blond hair falling forward like a curtain around her face. “First Willow, then Riley. Why is this happening? What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know,” Theodosia said.

  “It’s some sort of bizarre crime wave,” Drayton said.

  “It’s more than that,” Theodosia said. “There has to be a powerful motive that’s driving all this.”

  “I can’t imagine what that might be,” Drayton said.

  Haley lifted her head and stared damp eyed at Theodosia. She was young, in her twenties, their chef and baker extraordinaire. Always an optimist, ever trusting, Haley was a joy to be around. Now she struggled to hold her emotions together.

  “Willow was engaged to be married, you know,” Haley said.

  Theodosia looked startled. “Willow was? Really?”

  Haley nodded. “The wedding was coming up soon. In a matter of weeks.”

  “That makes it all the worse,” Drayton said.

  “Willow had even asked me to make her cake topper. For her wedding cake,” Haley said.

  “I’m so sorry,” Theodosia said. “I know you two were good friends.”

  “We were,” Haley said. Then, casting a sideways glance at her, she said, “Are you going to get involved with the police? Help investigate this craziness and try to figure out what happened? Figure out why it happened?”

  “Theodosia shouldn’t get involved,” Drayton said hurriedly. Though Drayton could be strong-willed and tough as nails when he wanted to be, he tended to err on the side of conservatism and moderation.

  Theodosia didn’t have that particular problem.

  She lifted both hands and spread them apart in a Why wouldn’t I? gesture. “I’m already involved,” she said simply.

  “Where was Riley shot?” Haley asked.

  “Like I explained, he was at Willow’s apartment conducting a follow-up investigation on . . .”

  “No. I mean where exactly on his person?” Haley asked.

  “Oh. His left arm,” Theodosia said.

  “Ouch,” Drayton said.

  “Two crimes,” Haley said. “One person murdered, one seriously injured. So what are you going to do about it?” she asked again, this time ramping up her intensity, staring at Theodosia with searching, hopeful eyes. “I mean seriously.”

  “She’s going to let the fine detectives of the Charleston Police Department do their job. After all, Pete Riley is one of their own,” Drayton said. “Willow’s murder, this attack against Riley are going to be of top concern to all of them.”

  Haley shook her head slowly. “Sure, the police are good, they’re supposed to be good. But my money would still be on Theodosia.”

  “I don’t think her getting involved is a particularly prudent idea,” Drayton said. “We’re all a little too close to the situation.” He reached over and patted Haley’s hand as if the conversation was hereby closed.

  It wasn’t.

  “But Theo has to do something,” Haley said, gazing at Theodosia. “Don’t you?”

  “I’ve been warned not to,” Theodosia said.

  “Tidwell is a very prudent man,” Drayton murmured.

  Haley squirmed in her chair. “But Willow was my friend. Riley’s your boyfriend.” She clenched her small hand into a fist and pounded the table, making her pink-and-gold teacup clatter and jump in its saucer. “You have to get to the bottom of this!”

  Theodosia sighed. “Perhaps you’re right.”

  * * *

  * * *

  But first things first, because there was a tea shop to get ready. Haley disappeared into their postage stamp–sized kitchen to tend to her morning baking while Theodosia bustled about the te
a room. She put out cups and saucers, sugar bowls and cream pitchers. Then she added small tea lights in glass holders. Floradora Florists had delivered bundles of orange mums, yarrow, and bittersweet earlier this morning, so Theodosia cut and arranged the blooms and greenery in ceramic vases and placed one on each table.

  Even though Theodosia worked with a heavy heart this morning, fussing about her tea shop still brought her enormous joy. The Indigo Tea Shop was located on Charleston’s famed Church Street and had been the culmination of almost a year’s worth of work and planning. Theodosia had lovingly refurbished the little cottage with its leaded windows, pegged floors that uttered an occasional squeak underfoot, and small stone fireplace. She’d shopped endless antiques shops and tag sales to find vintage teacups, teapots, glasses, and silverware. And it had all come together in the end. She’d wooed Drayton away from his culinary teaching position at Johnson & Wales University and found Haley through a simple help wanted ad. That had all happened a few years ago. Now the tea shop was a Church Street jewel and the three of them worked as a well-oiled team, delighting their friends, neighbors, and visitors with a dazzling array of fine teas, baked goods, amazing lunches, and special events.

  Theodosia lit the last of the small white candles, then stepped back for an appraising look. The place really did look lovely. Candles flickered, polished wood gleamed, and the brick walls that were hung with grapevine wreaths and antique prints made the place look cozy and inviting. Overhead, the more recent addition of a small French glass chandelier added sparkle and a wash of soft light. There were additional vintage touches as well. Toile café curtains, a blue-and-persimmon-colored Persian rug just inside the front door, two antique wooden highboys that held retail items such as tins of tea, mugs, tea strainers, fancy sugar cubes, jams, jellies, honey, and bunches of lavender. To a visitor’s eye, the Indigo Tea Shop was a delightful amalgam of vintage, antique, and country French decor.