Devonshire Scream (3 page)

Monday morning should
have been filled with excitement and promise for the coming week. Instead, it was a rehash of horrors from the night before.

Theodosia, Drayton, and Haley huddled together at a small wooden table in one corner of the Indigo Tea Shop. It was a cool day and they'd started a fire in the little flagstone fireplace. But no matter how merrily the flames crackled and danced, it couldn't lift the chill in their hearts.

Theodosia had slowly and sadly filled Drayton in on all the details of last night's debacle, Haley jumping in wherever she could. Her tea master had listened gravely, sitting ramrod stiff, allowing only his gray eyes to betray the concern he felt.

Finally, when Theodosia had exhausted herself with the details of the robbery, Drayton took a sip of his Assam tea, brewed extra strong today, and set his cup down in his saucer with a tiny
clink.
“So that's what this type of crime is typically called? A smash-and-grab?”

“That's what the police are calling it,” Theodosia said. “As well as a homicide.”

Drayton shook his head. “Tragic. Simply tragic. For someone to be killed during the course of a stupid robbery.”

“Brooke is absolutely devastated,” Theodosia said. “When I left her last night, she was just wandering through the ruins of her shop. And I guess making calls to funeral homes.”

Drayton reached for a strawberry scone. They'd sat there for a while even though Haley had baked them less than an hour ago. Nobody was really hungry. “I can just imagine how terrible Brooke felt,” he said.

Theodosia, Drayton, and Haley generally got together each morning to drink tea, enjoy the quiet, and exchange pleasantries before the Indigo Tea Shop opened its doors for business. This morning all they could do was commiserate. Everyone felt on edge, a little out of sync, and extremely upset that Brooke's event had ended so tragically.

“Not only that,” Haley said. “I ran a search on the Internet first thing this morning. It turns out that smash-and-grab robberies have become a huge trend. I read about this Bentley dealership, I think it was down in Miami, that had a jewelry shop attached to it. I guess it was so fat cats could buy a Rolex and a Bentley. Anyway,
that place
got knocked off by a gang of robbers, a lot like the guys that hit Brooke last night.”

“And they stole everything?” Drayton asked. He was midsixties, gray hair slicked back, and dressed in his trademark tweed jacket and bow tie. Though Drayton always appeared somewhat formal and brittle, a most proper Southern gentleman, he had a soft side to him, too. But only when you were allowed past his crusty, crunchy hard-shell exterior.

Haley was nodding solemnly. “Snatched all the Rolexes from that Miami dealership. Then they robbed the sales guys of their wallets and rolled away in a brand-new Bentley. Huh, some getaway car. It probably cost, like, three hundred grand and had six miles on the odometer.”

“Haley's right about these bold robberies.” Theodosia looked thoughtful as she spooned a dollop of Devonshire cream onto her scone. “I heard about a jeweler in New York, I think the shop was on Madison Avenue, that was robbed the exact same way. Vandals used a stolen truck to punch a hole right through the front window, then made off with the entire inventory.”

Drayton's brows knit together. “All these tales have me worried. I was just thinking about the Heritage Society's Rare Antiquities Show that opens Saturday night. Maybe we should be proactive and enlist some extra security to guard our precious pieces. There's an outside chance those thieves—those murderers—might come back.”

“Oh, I don't think . . .” Theodosia started to respond to him just as a sudden bang sounded at the front door.

“Customers?” Drayton frowned. “Already?”

Haley popped up from her chair, pushed back the chintz curtains, and peered out the leaded-glass window. “Oh no, it's Brooke.”

Drayton was startled. “She's here? Now?”

“Better let her in,” Theodosia said.

Haley scurried to the front door and pulled it open. Brooke, looking red-eyed and exhausted, tottered into the Indigo Tea Shop.

“How are you doing this morning?” Haley asked as she led her over to their table.

Brooke eased herself into the captain's chair directly across from Drayton. “Terrible.”

Theodosia leaned over and hugged her, and then Drayton and Haley hugged her as well, expressing their heartfelt sympathies over and over.

“Thank you, thank you,” Brooke said.

Theodosia thought Brooke seemed a little dazed and lost. Almost like the victim of a major, mind-shattering event, like an earthquake or hurricane. She was physically present but her mind was . . . someplace else.

Drayton poured Brooke a cup of tea and passed it over to her. “Here you go, dear lady.”

Brooke accepted the tea. “Thank you.”

Now Drayton was mock stern. “You know you probably shouldn't even be here.”

Brooke took a quick sip of tea. “I know.” She took another sip. “Good.”

“It'll help fortify you,” Haley said, putting a scone on a plate for her.

Theodosia figured it was probably up to her to jump-start the real conversation. The one she knew they probably had to have. “What's going on over at your shop?”

Brooke sighed. “The police were there pretty much all night long, digging through the rubble.”

“For clues?” Drayton asked.

“I'm not sure there are any,” Brooke said. “The only positive thing we have going for us right now is that the robbery was captured on CCTV.”

“What on earth is that?” Drayton asked.

“Closed-circuit TV,” Haley said. “Her security system.”

“That
is
good news,” Theodosia said. “Do you think there's a chance your video cameras captured some decent images of the robbers? That the police might be able to ID them?”

“I don't know.” Brooke swallowed hard. “The whole thing's a complete nightmare. I can't quite believe that Kaitlin is gone. I mean . . . I even had to meet with the medical examiner first thing this morning and . . .” She stopped, her voice trembling, unable to go on.

“I know,” Theodosia said. “It's very hard. No . . .” She corrected herself. “It's terrible.”

“Kaitlin wanted to be a designer,” Brooke said in a small voice. “She wanted to work with me.”

“She told us about that,” Haley said. “How she wanted to design jewelry just like you do.”

“And now, besides talking to the ME and arranging to
have her poor body shipped back to her parents, the rest of my day will be spent dealing with frantic calls from multiple insurance companies, museums, private lenders, and major jewelers.”

“It sounds pretty overwhelming,” Theodosia said. “A lot to cope with.”

Brooke nodded. “It is. Plus the crime scene people are still scouring my shop, along with a couple of investigators and some private security people I brought in.”

“If there's anything I can do to help,” Drayton said.

“Thank you.” Brooke cocked her head and fixed Theodosia with a steady gaze. “But you're the one I'm here to presume upon. If you're still game, that is.”

“Of course I am,” Theodosia said. “I told you I'd try my best and I will.”

Drayton's brow furrowed. “What's this . . . ?”

“I've completely imposed upon Theodosia,” Brooke said. “Enlisted her good help. You know as well as I do how smart she is when it comes to puzzling out tricky situations.”

“Really,” Theodosia said, “I've just been very lucky.”

“You're also tenacious and cagey,” Haley said, jumping in. “You were the one who finally sorted out that crazy museum thing and figured out who killed that hotshot donor.”

A ghost of a smile flickered on Brooke's face. “Yes, Theodosia was the one who finally solved the murder. I haven't forgotten that.” She reached into her tote bag and dug out a stack of papers. “That's why I brought all my information along. Everything I could scrabble together, anyway. My guest list, the contracts and agreements for borrowing the gems and jewelry, pretty much everything I have that pertains to last night.”

“You're going to take a look at all this?” Drayton was focused on Theodosia now.

“I said I'd try.” Theodosia tapped the large stack of papers. “See if I can make sense out of anything.”

“Well . . . good for you,” Drayton said. He obviously approved.

Theodosia gave a faint smile. She'd been waiting for Drayton's endorsement. Needed it. Most people regarded him as a highly knowledgeable tea master and antiques collector, but he also served as her champion. Sometimes Drayton believed in her when she doubted herself.

Drayton inclined his head toward Brooke. “So what do the police have to say? What's the early report?”

“Not much of anything,” Brooke said. “Mostly they're still asking questions. Oh, and they informed me that the FBI is being brought in.”

“My goodness,” Drayton said. “I wonder why?”

“Bringing the feds in won't make Detective Tidwell very happy,” Haley said.

“Not a whole lot makes Detective Tidwell happy,” Theodosia said. Then added, “Unless, of course, he gets a chance to shoot someone.”

•   •   •

Once Brooke had
taken off, loaded down with take-out cups filled with hot tea and a bag full of scones, they set about getting the Indigo Tea Shop ready for business. Haley scurried into the kitchen to tend to her baking and luncheon prep work; Theodosia and Drayton worked on arranging the tea room.

“I'm going to use the Spode china today,” Drayton said. “Just because it's pretty and will give our spirits a nice boost.”

“I think that's a lovely idea,” Theodosia said. They had multiple sets of china and her collection of teacups and saucers just kept growing. Of course, if she could refrain from hitting every tag sale, auction, and antiques shop between Charleston and Savannah, then maybe they'd be able to fit all their pretty things into the limited cupboard space they had. But what fun was that?

“Do you really think you can make heads or tails out of all the papers Brooke gave you?”

“I don't know,” Theodosia said. “But I'll give it a try.”

“Bless you,” Drayton said. He had just set glass tea warmers on the tables and was lighting the little votive candles he'd placed inside. The flickering flames leapt and danced, lending a cheery note. One that was sadly needed.

•   •   •

The tea room
was half-full when Burt Tidwell ghosted in. Theodosia decided that he didn't so much enter a room like a normal person did, but rather stalked in. Head swiveling, eyes casting about, movement fairly contained, he always seemed to be cold-bloodedly hunting down his prey. She was constantly surprised that he was so light on his feet for such a large man. But she wasn't surprised when he stepped up to the front counter, rested his forearms on it, and then leaned in heavily so he could watch as she and Drayton prepped the tea.

Tidwell finally aimed an index finger at Theodosia and said, “You,” in an omnipotent voice. “I need to talk to you.”

“I figured as much,” Theodosia said. She glanced at her watch. She had three pots of tea to brew for their existing customers and lunch was only forty minutes away. There'd soon be dozens of customers coming in for takeout as well as sit-down. “Only problem is,” she told him, “I need to keep making forward progress here. I have to get things ready for our luncheon crowd. Could you please just ask your questions while I work?”

Tidwell lifted a bulky shoulder. “If you insist.”

Drayton turned and fixed him with a gaze. “And I obviously need to be here, too.”

Tidwell released a sigh. “Naturally.”

Theodosia reached up and pulled a Chinese blue-and-white teapot off an overhead shelf. “Anything you have to say you can say in front of Drayton.”

“Anything?” Tidwell raised a single bushy eyebrow.

“I meant within reason.”

“Of course.”

Theodosia set the teapot down and grabbed a tin of Darjeeling tea. “And I have a few questions myself.”

“I'm not surprised,” Tidwell said.

Theodosia measured out two scoops of Darjeeling and dumped them into her teapot. Then she added a pinch for the pot. “Are there any suspects?”

Tidwell shook his head. “Nothing concrete as of yet.”

“Any clues?”

“Some. As well as the few bits of information you shared with me last night. Like you, I've been tossing around the idea that the smaller hand might have belonged to a woman.”

“Are there women robbers?” Theodosia asked.

“It seems to be a growing trend.”

“Interesting.”

“Even more so when you factor in the notion that the blue lines on that smaller wrist might have been a tattoo,” Tidwell said.