Sweat Tea Revenge (26 page)

“But nothing’s working here,” said Drayton. His head spun around nervously. “Is it?”

Theodosia glanced up and caught a faint flicker of light on the ramp’s upper walls.

“Maybe somebody’s using some sort of equipment,” said Tim.

Theodosia’s eyes were still glued to the walls above them. Shadows of light and dark suddenly played against it, like some weird psychedelic light show. Even as she wondered what might be causing this strange phenomenon, her ears picked up a louder, more repetitive clacking sound.

“Gotta be machinery,” said Jed, glancing backward again.

That was when Theodosia saw it. Like an apparition from a Freddy Krueger movie, an old metal gurney was suddenly rocking and roaring its way down the ramp directly toward them! And whatever had been piled on top of it—old newspapers, rags doused in kerosene, whatever—had been set on fire!

“Holy crap!” said Tim, in an almost reverent voice. “It’s . . . it’s . . .”

Theodosia stared in disbelief as the flaming gurney hurtled toward them, clacking and swaying madly, flames shooting high into the air. Above their heads, a strange chuckle rose up.

“Dear Lord!” cried Drayton, as the strange contraption roared toward them, streaming flames and belching noxious smoke. “It’s a Screaming Lula!”

29

“The thing’s headed
right for us!” Jed shouted. He seemed mesmerized, rooted to the ground.

The demonic gurney careened directly toward them. It was twenty feet away and still gaining speed. Then fifteen feet. Just as it was about to crash headlong into them and mow them down in a fiery storm, Theodosia popped the top off her thermos and flung it at the conflagration! Sweet tea spilled and spattered everywhere, landing on the fire, causing it to hiss like a dozen demon cats, then sputter into a swirl of white smoke.

They all jumped out of the way as the gurney flew by and crashed headlong into the opposite wall in a dreadful fusion of smoke, sparks, and screaming metal.

“What. On. Earth?” said Tim.

“Cigars,” said Theodosia. “Somebody set those dang Cuban cigars on fire and tried to kill us!” Anger sank its talons into Theodosia, and she suddenly lurched forward as if a starting gun had been fired. Waiting for no one, she raced headlong up the cement ramp.

“Theo! Don’t!” Drayton called after her, but there was no stopping her.

Theodosia pounded her way up, intent on catching whoever had meant to harm them. Reaching the top of the ramp, she glanced around fast and saw a slender figure pause in the far doorway.

“Who is that?” she cried in a throaty, angry growl. It looked to her like a woman.

“Simone, is that you!” Theodosia screamed out. “I see you! You’re not getting away from me!” She spun across the entry hall, kicking up plaster, shards of glass, and dust in her wake. Down the steps she pounded, slowly gaining on the fleeing woman.

The woman had a head start, but Theodosia was fast, angry, and determined. She pounded her way across the gravel, her legs driving like pistons, toned and tuned from her daily sprints with Earl Grey.

Just as she was twenty feet from the woman and closing in, a black-and-white cruiser roared into the parking lot. Its siren whooped madly while its light bar pulsed red and blue. Two seconds later, the driver’s-side spotlight flashed brightly.

The woman, whoever she was, was suddenly silhouetted in the brilliant glare!

“Tidwell!” Theodosia cried out. Thank goodness he’d gotten her message and commandeered a cruiser! Thank goodness he’d responded!

But the fleeing woman, backlit in a haze of driveway dust and light from the spotlight, suddenly panicked, changed course, and dashed left.

The black-and-white’s passenger door popped open and suddenly Tidwell was out and sprawled across the hood of the car, revolver in hand.

“Get down!” Tidwell shouted.

Theodosia barely comprehended his warning. As the woman jogged left, she’d darted after her, angry and determined to chase her down!

“No! No! No!” were Tidwell’s frantic words as the two of them disappeared from sight around the side of the building.

*   *   *

Theodosia heard the
woman’s footsteps as she sprinted through the weedy, rubbish-strewn side yard. But she couldn’t actually see her.

Still she cried out, “Simone! I see you!”

Upon hearing Theodosia’s words, the woman made a sudden misstep and crashed heavily into a wooden gate. Disoriented for a split second, she spun around, stumbled, then rallied and continued her frantic pace.

Theodosia picked her way after her. It was pitch-black behind Barrow Hall, the moon having once again vanished behind a tangle of clouds. And it was dangerous going. Theodosia rushed pell-mell past old farm implements, rusty but still dangerous, as well as heaps of refuse that were scattered everywhere. She just prayed there wasn’t an old well or cistern whose gaping hole had been pried open.

Easing back on her pace slightly, Theodosia felt the terrain shift beneath her feet. What had been gravel or sand with head-high weeds had now turned into a soggy mess. Where was she? Heading into a swamp? Old farm fields?

A quick glance around held the answer. An assortment of crumbling tombs, wooden crosses, and tilting stone tablets met her eyes.

Cemetery.

She was running through Barrow Hall’s old cemetery.

Theodosia shivered. This was where the poor unfortunates who’d resided here had ended up. In this spooky, dank place that had basically been abandoned for decades. And just who was this woman she was giving chase to? This woman was strong. And fast!

Maybe too fast for me?

Gonna get her. Gonna run her down
, Theodosia vowed to herself.

Even though her breath was coming in short wheezes and grunts, Theodosia redoubled her efforts. She dropped her head, balled her fists, and kept going. But when she lifted her head a few moments later, the woman was gone! Vanished!

What? Where? Where’d she disappear to?

Theodosia decided the woman had to be hunkered down behind one of the tombs or tilting headstones. But which one?

Cautiously, Theodosia slowed to a stop and surveyed the overgrown cemetery. Without a caretaker or inmates to tend the grounds, trees, scrub brush, and buckthorn had sprouted everywhere. Kudzu had also run rampant and turned some of the trees into leafy green shrouds. Mosses and lichens had encroached on ancient tablets and gravestones, giving them a strange hunchback look.

Feeling suddenly uneasy, Theodosia pondered what to do next, how to handle this bizarre situation. Try to flush this person out of her hidey-hole? Drive her back to the front of the building where Tidwell waited? It seemed reasonable. But just how was she supposed to accomplish this?

Theodosia bent down and scooped up a handful of sharp rocks. Jiggling them in her hand, she clawed her way through the dense bushes and foliage. Then she eased her way down the sloping hillside, where it seemed to dead-end in a swampy morass. When she was finally on the far edge of the cemetery, fairly sure the woman was somewhere between her and Barrow Hall, she let fly a few rocks. They banged loudly off gravestones and rolled harmlessly away.

Try again.

Theodosia tossed another couple of rocks into the center of the cemetery. This time she was rewarded with a slight scrabbling sound. Had her rock found its target? She hoped so.

She wound up and pitched a few more rocks. This time she detected a distinctive “Oof.” Something told her she’d found her mark.

That was all Theodosia needed. Snatching up a splintered hunk of wood, pretty sure it had once been the crosspiece in a crucifix, she rushed toward the center of the graveyard.

Like a jackrabbit startled from its hiding place, the woman suddenly leaped to her feet and took off in a flash. Theodosia pounded after her. Now she was the one in charge! Driving the woman back up the hill toward Barrow Hall!

“Tidwell!” Theodosia screamed. “We’re coming right at you!” She hoped he could hear her. Hoped he’d be ready!

Dodging between graves, taking care not to twist an ankle, Theodosia stayed in hot pursuit. The woman wasn’t more than fifteen feet in front of her and she could hear her ragged breathing. Now if she could just see her face!

“Tidwell!” Theodosia cried out again. Her hip slammed into a metal post, causing her to wince in pain and miss a step, allowing the woman to gain a little ground.

I’m gonna lose her.

Gamely, Theodosia galloped on. Now she was the one who was gasping for air, limping a little, and losing momentum with every stride.

Gotta . . . try.

Suddenly, the woman stopped dead in her tracks. Then Theodosia saw her bend down and grab something off the ground.

The woman hefted a metal rod over her shoulder and turned back toward her. “Come on,” the woman snarled in a low voice. “Come and get me.”

Theodosia hesitated. Was this what she wanted? A slugfest behind an abandoned asylum? No, this was pure craziness!

The woman moved a step toward her and waved the rod in a threatening gesture. “Try me,” she said, in a throaty, defiant growl.

Footsteps sounded up on the hill. For a few seconds, the woman didn’t bother to turn and look. Then the moon slid out from behind the clouds, icing everything in dark silver, and the woman’s curiosity got the better of her.

Tidwell stood at the top of the rise, feet planted wide apart in a classic police shooting stance.

“Put down your weapon!” Tidwell shouted. “Or I’ll shoot!”

Like a cornered animal, the woman leaped directly toward Theodosia. As she did so, a tangled cry rose in the back of her throat, a cry of rage and supreme frustration.

“Stop right now!” Tidwell screamed again.

The woman didn’t stop. She raised her metal rod at the same moment Theodosia lifted her piece of wood. They came together in a cataclysmic collision, like two medieval knights in a joust to the death. Parrying and thrusting, Theodosia was spun dizzily around in a complete circle.

“Oh, no!” Theodosia rasped out. Now that she was finally within a hair’s breadth of the woman, she recognized her face!

“Out of the way!” Tidwell screamed. “Get down, get down
now
!”

Suddenly cognizant of Tidwell’s barked orders, Theodosia’s brain sorted out his words and she leaped sideways and hit the ground like a base runner sliding into home plate. Shards of gravel sliced her palms and knees, the taste of rotting earth filled her mouth and throat, and she was aware of three tremendously loud bursts.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

She was also acutely sure she felt the searing hot trajectory of Tidwell’s bullets as they passed just inches above her head.

And then she heard . . . an ungodly scream!

30

Millie Grant, Dougan
Granville’s former secretary, screamed like a dying banshee. Hissing and spitting and writhing in stinking mud, she clutched her shoulder frantically and yelled, “I’m hit! I’m hurt!”

Mouth hanging open, stunned beyond belief, all Theodosia could do was lift her head and stare blankly.

“Are you okay?” Tidwell screamed at her. “Are you hit?”

“I’m hit, I’m hit!” shrieked Millie.

“Miss Browning!” Tidwell thundered. “Answer me!”

“I’m okay,” Theodosia gasped. She was shaking and suddenly ice cold, barely able to muster a shred of energy. “I’m . . . fine.”

Well, not really.

Struggling mightily, Theodosia finally managed to pull herself to her feet. Then she tottered over to Millie and said, in a quavering voice, “It was you all along!”

“Help me!” Millie pleaded. She tried to pluck at Theodosia’s slacks with her fingers. “Call an ambulance. I’m hurt baaad.”

Theodosia stared down at her. “Did you kill him?” she asked, putting some harshness into her voice. “Did you?”

Millie’s face twisted into a grimace. “Stupid, two-timing jerk. He
deserved
to die. He loved me, not that stuck-up, prissy friend of yours. It was me!
Me
!”

Theodosia was distantly aware of Tidwell hovering nearby, and she saw that the uniformed officer he’d brought along was having a terrible time keeping Drayton, Jed, and Tim away from them.

Theodosia felt totally drained as she pointed a finger at Millie. “She killed Granville. You all heard her.”

Tidwell peered into Theodosia’s face and saw a strange mix of exhaustion coupled with relief. Then his gaze shifted to Millie. “The secretary?” he said, frowning down at her. He sounded positively gobsmacked. “From the law firm?”

“Millie Grant,” Theodosia spat out. “She was in love with Granville, but she killed him anyway.”

“Help meeee!” Millie moaned piteously. Clutching her bleeding shoulder, she rocked back and forth, drumming her heels on the ground.

Now Drayton pushed forward anxiously. “But why?” was his only question. And this was directed at Theodosia. “Why would she kill him?”

“Jealousy,” said Theodosia. “Rage. Because she didn’t want Delaine to have him.” Her lip curled and her voice dripped with disdain. She put a hand up to pat her hair and saw that her fingers were caked with mud. She looked down and saw that her silk outfit, so cute and festive earlier, was mud-spattered and shredded at the knees.

“Goodness,” said Drayton. He gaped at Millie as the uniformed officer knelt down and hastily pressed a compress to Millie’s wounded shoulder.

“Goodness had nothing to do with it,” said Theodosia. “Millie Grant is pure evil. She seduced Granville with cocaine and made a final, impassioned plea to him, hoping he’d change his mind about marrying Delaine. When that didn’t work, she killed him.”

“Just like that,” said Tidwell.

“And she knew about the cigars, too,” said Theodosia. “Knew they’d been delivered out here. Knew that Granville owned this place. That it was one of his real estate white elephants.”

“Does he own it?” asked Drayton.

Theodosia shrugged. “Probably. Millie probably knew all of Granville’s little business secrets.”

“And she knew we were coming here,” said Drayton. Now he sounded accusatory. “She sat with us last night, listening to stories, knowing Jed and Tim planned to explore Barrow Hall.”

“I guess she didn’t want you guys intruding and finding her little stash,” said Theodosia. “I’ll wager there’s more than contraband cigars hidden out here. I wouldn’t be surprised if she siphoned off artwork and other valuables.”

“Wow,” said Jed. He was cradling his camera in one arm as he listened to Theodosia’s explanation. “I’m impressed. That’s some story you pieced together, lady.”

“That’s our Theo,” said Drayton, pride coloring his voice. “Quite the amateur detective.”

“Maybe we should do a reality show on
her
,” said Tim. He made a motion to Jed, who lifted his camera just as the high-pitched
whoop-whoop
of an ambulance siren pierced the night. It was probably three minutes out, speedballing toward them.

Jed aimed his camera at Theodosia, who stared point-blank into the lens. Then he shifted his camera toward a growling, grimacing Millie and said, “This
would
make a great story. Do you think I could shoot her?”

“No need,” said Theodosia. A hint of a smile played at her mouth as she ducked her head and looked sideways, exchanging a meaningful glance with Burt Tidwell. “Detective Tidwell seems to have beaten you to it.”