“New York!” Theodosia exclaimed. She’d been hoping she could get together with Jory Davis and coax a little information from him. Being a longtime yacht club member, he’d undoubtedly have an inside track. And with his keen lawyer’s perception, he might just notice if something seemed a little out of alignment. He could also fill her in on that historic old pistol they supposedly kept under lock and key at the yacht club clubhouse. Well, all that might have to wait.
“Our firm is representing some fast-food franchises who really got hosed by the parent corporation,” he said. “I’ve got to depose witnesses, then file papers for a class action suit. Listen, I’ll be staying at the Waldorf. If you need me for anything, anything at all, just leave a message at the desk, okay?”
“Okay. Good luck.” Theodosia hung up the phone, feeling slightly out of sorts. Gazing at the wall that faced her desk, her eyes scanned the montage of framed photos, opera programs, tea labels, and other memorabilia that hung there.
There was a photo of Earl Grey taken when she’d first found him, all ribs and scruffy fur. There was her dad posed jauntily on his sailboat. That had been taken just a year before he passed away. Another photo, one of her favorites, showed her mom and dad at Cane Ridge Plantation. That photo had been taken back in the early sixties, right after they’d gotten married. They looked so young and hopeful and so very much in love, with their arms entwined around each other. Six years after that photo had been taken, she had been born. Her mother had lived only eight more years.
Heaving a giant sigh, Theodosia told herself not to feel sad but to feel lucky. She had known unconditional love and support from her parents. Her parents’ ultimate gift to her had been to fix firmly in her mind the notion that she could accomplish anything she set her mind to.
And she had.
Stop being a goose, she scolded herself, just because Jory Davis is taking off for New York. You can always give him a buzz. He said as much, didn’t he? And you’ve got lots of other friends and plenty of pressing business to keep you busy.
Haley had accused her of wanting to solve another mystery. Is that true? she wondered. Is that why she felt so unsettled and restless? And did she really believe Oliver Dixon’s death had been anything other than a terrible, unfortunate accident?
Theodosia let the idea tumble around in her brain as she reached for one of the catalogs and slowly thumbed through it, contemplating all manner of teapots and trivets.
Chapter 5
A furry brown muzzle poked over the metal rails of the bed.
“Hello doggy.” A tiny, birdlike woman reached out and gently rested her blue-veined hand on Earl Grey’s forehead. He snuggled to her touch, and the old lady squealed with delight.
“You’re a good doggy to come visit me,” she told him. “A very good doggy.”
Standing ten steps back, allowing Earl Grey the freedom he needed to interact with the residents, Theodosia beamed. This was what it was all about. Affording older folks the joy of touch and connection with an animal that demanded nothing of them, yet offered a warm, furry presence that inexplicably seemed to render a calming effect.
Tonight, Earl Grey and Theodosia had spent most of their time visiting the rooms of residents who were bedridden. Earl Grey, who was often exuberant when chasing a ball tossed by one of the residents down the wide hallways, seemed to understand that these types of visits required considerably more restraint. And Theodosia was pleased that Earl Grey had conducted himself with a great deal of doggy decorum.
“Theodosia? Can you bring Earl Grey into the TV room?” Suzette Ellison, one of the night nurses who had worked at the O’Doud Senior Home for more than fifteen years, stood in the doorway.
“What’s up, Suzette? Another liver brownie cake for Earl Grey?”
Suzette grinned. “What else? But this is a special occasion. Your anniversary. It’s been two years since you and that nice dog of yours have been coming here, and some of our ladies and gentlemen want to thank you.”
“Surprise!” The group called out in unison as Theodosia and Earl Grey walked into the room.
Theodosia threw her hands up in surprise, and Earl Grey, immediately homing in on the liver brownie cake that rested on a low table in the center of the room, shook his head in anticipation and let out a sharp woof.
“Happy anniversary, Earl!” one of the ladies called out with exuberance. “Thanks for always making us smile.”
Suzette had laid out all the sandwiches Theodosia had brought with her on a long table and rustled up a bowl of punch. The residents wasted no time in helping themselves to snacks, and the room suddenly buzzed with the makings of a party.
Theodosia grabbed a cup of punch for herself and wandered among the residents. They smiled and nodded at her, but Earl Grey was, of course, the real star. He was the one they wanted to talk to and pet. He was the one they looked forward to seeing.
“This is a lovely picnic you brought, Miss Browning.”
Theodosia smiled down at an elderly man in a wheelchair. Freckles covered his bald head, and deep wrinkles cut into his face, but his eyes shone bright with interest.
“Glad you’re enjoying it,” she said.
“Kind of different from yesterday afternoon, eh?” said the old man.
Surprised, Theodosia sank down on one knee so she was eye level with him. He smiled at her then, a kind, knowing smile that suddenly took years off his tired, lined face.
“Oh yes,” he told her as he wagged a finger, “I heard all about the accident from my son. He was there.”
“Your son was in White Point Gardens yesterday?” asked Theodosia.
“Yup,” said the old man. “Course, he didn’t just phone me out of the blue and tell me. I read about it in the newspaper this morning. Then I called him so I could get the real poop. My son used to race Lasers with the yacht club,” he explained.
The old man stopped abruptly, as if all this talking had been a considerable effort for him.
“Would you like something to drink?” asked Theodosia. She thrust her cup of punch toward him. “Here, take mine.”
The old man eagerly grasped her drink and helped himself to several good swallows. “Good,” he croaked. Setting the empty cup aside on a nearby table, the old man stuck out a withered hand. “I’m Winston Lazerby.”
“Theodosia Browning,” she said, shaking his hand. “And your son is...?”
“Thomas Lazerby. He’s a cardiologist at Charleston Mercy Medical. You know, a heart doctor.” Winston Lazerby thumped his own skinny chest as if to demonstrate his son’s specialty. “The minute I saw that article about Oliver Dixon,” Winston Lazerby continued, “I thought of the feud.”
Tiny hairs on the back of Theodosia’s neck rose imperceptibly. “What do you mean, Mr. Lazerby?” she asked.
“The Dixon-Cantrell feud,” Winston Lazerby said, staring at Theodosia intently. “Those two families have been going at it for almost seventy years.”
Theodosia glanced around quickly. No one seemed to be paying the two of them a bit of attention. Good, she thought. “Tell me more, Mr. Lazerby,” she urged him.
The old man leaned forward. “They been fighting with each other ever since the thirties, when Letitia Dixon up and ran off with Sam Cantrell.”
“This Letitia Dixon, how was she related to Oliver Dixon?”
Winston Lazerby thought for a moment. “Aunt,” he said. “Letitia would’ve been Oliver’s mother’s sister.”
“And Sam Cantrell?” asked Theodosia.
Winston Lazerby nodded. “Related to all them Cantrells. Don’t know the full story there. But I do know Sam was a smooth-talkin’ feller, and Letitia was a young gal, eighteen years old at most, and wilder ’n seven devils.”