Ming Tea Murder (15 page)

Theodosia and Drayton got busy then. They each carried out large silver trays and placed plates of asparagus vinaigrette in front of each guest. That was followed by a slice of Haley's English tea bread placed on bread plates. As their guests chattered and openly admired the table décor, Theodosia circled back to the front counter.

“How do you think it's going?” she asked Drayton.

“Swimmingly,” he said.

Theodosia lifted an eyebrow. “Really, Drayton?”

“No pun intended, I assure you,” said Drayton, scuttling away.

As Theodosia circled one of the large tables with a teapot, an arm reached out to grab her.

“Hey there,” said Harlan Duke. “We meet again.”

“You,” said Theodosia, smiling. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I heard about this
Titanic
Tea and got intrigued,” said Duke. He pronounced it “Ti-
tan
-ic,” with his Texas twang. “And then a couple of friends had an extra ticket, so they invited me to come along.”

“I'm delighted you could make it,” said Theodosia. She was pleased this Texas transplant was fitting in so well with her native Charlestonians.

“I've still got that teapot at my shop,” said Duke. “The Chien-lung.”

“You didn't bring it along?”

“Ah,” said Duke, “I think you've got enough going on tonight.”

“Okay, now you've definitely got me intrigued.”

“Wonderful,” said Duke. “I take that as a good sign.”

While Theodosia was serving the second course, the chicken lyonnaise, she stopped to chat with Roger Greaves and his wife.

“Theodosia,” said Greaves, “this is my wife, Dolores.”

“Dolly, call me Dolly,” said the woman. She had dancing blue eyes and a swirl of puffy hair that seemed to alternate in color between champagne blond and apricot. With a pair of red half-glasses perched on the tip of her nose, she looked like a slightly ditzy librarian. “And I'm thrilled to meet you.” She gave a little shiver. “And to
be
here,” she added. “This is so much fun.”

“We're delighted you could make it,” said Theodosia. “Do you have everything you need? Can I bring you anything else?”

“We're just great,” said Greaves as he tucked into his chicken.

Seated at the table in the corner next to the stone fireplace, Percy Capers was there with two other curators from the museum.

“We came to show the flag,” Capers told Theodosia, “for Max.” He looked around. “Is he here tonight?”

“Max is back in the kitchen with Haley,” said Theodosia, “playing sous chef.”

“Well, everything has been just wonderful so far,” said one of the men with Capers. “I really didn't know what to expect, this being a tea shop and all. But your food is really delicious.”

“Then we'll expect you back,” Theodosia told him. She slid between the tables, checking to make sure everyone was happily feasting away. Then she spun around the corner and popped into the kitchen.

It was pure chaos. The stove was littered with steaming pots and pans, plates were laid out everywhere, and the temperature felt like it was ninety degrees. Haley had a red bandana tied around her head; Max had a blue one.

“Uh-oh,” said Theodosia.

Haley glanced up
from a tray of salmon. “What?”

“Trouble?” said Theodosia. It looked to her like dinner might have gone off the rails.

Haley looked puzzled. “Why . . . no. Are
you
having problems?”

“It's just that . . .” Theodosia gestured with her hands. “Everything looks so . . .”

“Chaotic?” said Haley. “Yeah, well, this is my version of
controlled
chaos. Believe me, I'm on top of it.”

“We're both on it,” said Max. He was arranging pieces of kale on each plate along with a grilled tomato and a bed of rice. Obviously, the poached salmon would be placed atop the rice.

“Yeah, he's been a big help,” said Haley. “Who'd ever guess that a PR dweeb could find his way around a kitchen. He even knows the difference between a potato peeler and a corn zipper.”

“Okay then,” said Theodosia, just as Drayton stuck his head in behind hers.

“We're ready for the next course,” said Drayton. “Are you almost ready with the salmon entrées?”

“I was born ready,” said Haley.

“Riiiiight,” said Drayton as he quickly retreated.

“How long, really?” Theodosia asked.

Haley held up two fingers. “Two minutes. I guarantee your entrées will be plated and ready to serve in two minutes.”

• • •

The poached salmon
was pure perfection. How did they know? Because their guests exclaimed and raved over it again and again.

“Lovely,” said Roger Greaves. “Just delicious.”

“I'm going to get down on my hands and knees and
beg
for this recipe,” said Dolly Greaves.

“This salmon's the best I've ever eaten,” Percy Capers told Theodosia as she poured him a glass of chardonnay.

“Success,” breathed Drayton, as he bumped into Theodosia rounding one of the tables.

“What is this delicious cream sauce with the salmon?” wondered Harlan Duke.

“That's a combination of béchamel and velouté,” Theodosia told him. “One of our chef's own creations.”

“Amazing,” said Duke. He was practically scraping his plate with his fork.

Ten minutes later, with several bottles of chardonnay and white Côtes du
Rhône having been consumed and the entrees almost finished, people began to get up and move around. They table-hopped, shook hands, and exchanged air kisses. Charleston was a social town, and these people were social animals, so pretty much every dinner party or charity event evolved into a friendly, chatty love fest. Of course, they'd be seated again once the desserts were brought out.

Theodosia was standing behind the counter fixing a pot of gunpowder green tea when Percy Capers came up to greet her.

“A lovely evening,” Capers told her. “Just perfect.”

“Thank you.” She measured four scoops of tea leaves into a Blue Willow teapot.

Capers dropped his voice so he wouldn't be overheard. “I trust you found everything you needed last night? You know, the guest list and whatever else you were hunting for.”

“I did. And thank you so much for being such a knight in shining armor. Showing up like you did and giving us the new code. I know you took a risk.”

“I was mostly worried about you,” said Capers, “sneaking into the museum, especially in light of the stabbing at the big premiere party last Thursday. And then that attack last night.”

“You're talking about Cecily Conrad?”

Capers nodded. “I read all about it in this morning's newspaper. She was the woman who Edgar Webster had been seeing, right?”

“Yes, but she seems to be relatively unhurt. In fact, I paid her a visit earlier today.”

“You think it's a strange coincidence or . . . ?” His voice trailed off.

“No,” said Theodosia. “Probably not a coincidence at all.”

“Really? Whoa. That's not good. That means something fishy is going on.”

“You know what else might not have been a coincidence?” said Theodosia. “Elliot Kern was in his office last night.”

Capers looked suddenly concerned. “He was there when you went in? Oh boy, that could have made for a dangerous situation.”

“After I found what I wanted in Max's office, I saw a spill of light down the hallway. So I kind of tiptoed down there and listened outside Kern's office.

Capers gazed at her. “You like to live dangerously, don't you?” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Okay, now you have to tell me. What did you see? Or hear?”

“Just Kern mumbling something about ‘a great deal of money' and then something that sounded like ‘probably in the clear.'”

“A great deal of money for what?” said Capers.

Theodosia shrugged. “No idea.”

“Something to do with the museum?”

“I just don't know.”

Capers's eyes narrowed. “And Kern actually said something about being in the clear? Do you think he meant someone was in the clear for . . . ah . . .” He looked pained. “For Webster's murder?”

“He . . . he could have meant that, I suppose.”

“You must use extreme caution, then,” warned Capers.

“So should you. After all, you have to work with the man.”

“And promise me you'll relate your story to one of the investigating officers,” Capers cautioned. “One of the detectives.”

“I suppose I should,” said Theodosia. “Though it's still only hearsay.”

A brilliant flash startled them and left them dazed and seeing spots.

“I'll talk to you later,” said Capers.

“Did you miss me?” said Bill Glass. He dumped a heavy canvas bag filled with camera gear onto the counter. “Sorry I'm late. Got held up.” He pointed his camera into the crowd and clicked off a half dozen shots. “But I'm here now.” He leaned forward and stared into his viewfinder. “Oh, here's a good one,” he muttered. “That's not bad, either.” He glanced up at Theodosia and gave a perfunctory grin. “How ya doin', sweetheart?”

“I'm not your sweetheart,” said Theodosia.

“But you could be,” said Glass.

“And please don't disturb my guests. You can circulate on the periphery of the room, but don't go blundering up to any of the tables. And please
ask
before you take any close-up shots. Okay?”

“You really like to lay down the law, don't you, lady?”

“Really,” said Theodosia, “it's just a matter of simple etiquette.”

• • •

Theodosia circled the
tables, pouring tea, chatting with guests, watching them tuck into the chocolate éclairs and Waldorf pudding that Drayton and Haley had just delivered.

“Would you like a cup of gunpowder green tea?” she asked Roger Greaves. Dolly Greaves had jumped up earlier and was exploring the tea shop, looking at all the gift items.

“Please,” he said, sliding his cup toward her. “These éclairs are delicious, by the way.”

“Then you must be a chocolate lover,” said Theodosia.

“I think it's all the theobromine,” said Greaves. “The chemical that hits the feel-good receptor in your brain. Now Dolly . . . Dolly's not much for chocolate.” He glanced over. “Shopping's her thing. She's gaga for shopping.”

Theodosia followed his gaze. Dolly Greaves had grabbed one of their sweetgrass baskets and was filling it with jars of DuBose Bees Honey and some of Theodosia's own T-Bath products.

When Dolly saw the two of them looking at her, she grinned and gestured for Theodosia to come over and join her.

“You husband tells me you like to shop,” said Theodosia.

“I do when the products are this intriguing,” said Dolly. “Really, is this your proprietary bath oil?”

“It sure is. In fact, it's part of my T-Bath line, bath and skin-care products that are infused with various blends of tea. For example, there's Chamomile Calming Lotion, Lemon Verbena Hand Lotion, my new Hibiscus and Honey Butter, and a dozen or so more.”

“I'm going to take one of each,” said Dolly.

“Okay.”
Wow. This is going to ring up as quite a hefty sale.

As Dolly piled more products into her basket, she turned suddenly serious. “My husband tells me you're a bit of an amateur investigator.”

“Oh, not really. I'm more of a crime-show fan. You know,
CSI
or
Criminal Minds.”

“He told me that Charlotte Webster pretty much asked for your help.”

“I think she really wanted moral support.”

“Charlotte's a fairly smart lady,” said Dolly. “She wouldn't have voted against the IPO for Datrex like her husband did.”

“You think not?” said Theodosia. This conversation was suddenly veering into strange territory.

“An IPO can often raise millions of dollars and send the company's valuation into the billions,” said Dolly. “Why, just look at all those West Coast tech companies with their mega-rich shareholders! I mean . . . Paul Allen and his yacht with a helicopter and a submarine? Just incredible. And to think that Edgar Webster didn't want any part of that.” She sniffed. “He just wanted to wobble along like they always had. Ridiculous!”

“But things are about to change, aren't they,” said Theodosia. It was a statement, not a question.

“Oh,” said Dolly with a touch of smugness, “I'm fairly sure the IPO will move ahead now.” The tip of her tongue flicked out and licked her lips, not unlike the tongues of the cottonmouths that moved silently but deadly outside the perimeter of Theodosia's aunt Libby's plantation out on Rutledge Road.

Theodosia gazed at Dolly Greaves with her two-tone hair and her self-satisfied look. And suddenly, Roger's ditzy wife didn't seem quite so ditzy after all. “It sounds like you're privy to quite a few details.”

Dolly nodded. “With seventy-five thousand shares of common stock at an initial public offering of twelve and a quarter . . . why, that's a hair over nine million dollars right there.”

“And that would just be for openers,” said Theodosia.

“Right,” said Dolly with a vigorous bob of her head. She suddenly looked like she should be wearing a green eyeshade and peering at a computer spreadsheet. “I expect there'd be a nice, tasty run-up on the stock price, too.”

“So who knows how high those shares could go?” said Theodosia.

“The sky's the limit,” said Dolly.

“Interesting,” Theodosia said in what she hoped was a neutral tone, though her heart was beating a little faster. After all, murdering Edgar Webster would definitely have been a strategy to move the IPO forward. And Dolly, charming little Dolly who just
loved
to shop, had been present the night Webster was killed.

• • •

Theodosia tried to
put Dolly's talk of IPOs and yachts with helicopters out of her head for the time being. Tried to forget that Dolly seemed to have her finger on the pulse of Datrex's financial dealings. Instead, after shunting Glass out the front door, Theodosia stood there with Drayton, shaking hands and bidding farewells and saying multiple thank-you's to the guests who were slowly beginning to depart.

It was a long good-bye, replete with hugs and air kisses. But finally, everyone had gone.

“That's it,” said Drayton. “Lock the door, pull up the drawbridge, and release the killer crocodiles.”

Haley emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. She looked at Drayton, whose hat was canted at an odd angle, and grinned. “I feel like we should be playing the closing theme song from
The Love Boat.
”

“You think Drayton would get it?” Theodosia chuckled. “Do you think he's ever
heard
it?”

“Who cares?” said Haley. “It would be hysterical.” She started to warble the song in a high-pitched voice:
“Love, exciting and new. Come aboard, we're expecting you.”

Drayton gazed at her. “Excuse me?” He was not amused.

Haley broke off her singing and turned away, pulling Theodosia along with her. “Come on back to the kitchen, we saved some food for you guys. You must be starving to death.”

The kitchen didn't look half as bad as it had before. Dirty dishes had been stacked neatly in the commercial dishwasher, the stove wasn't steaming like Mount Vesuvius anymore, and Max was perched on a stool at the counter calmly eating a piece of salmon.

“How'd it go?” Max asked.

“Good. Actually, great,” said Theodosia. “Percy Capers and a couple of the other curators were here. Said they came to show the flag. Solidarity and all that.”

“I saw them,” said Max. “I peeked around the corner right after you served the main course. Everybody seemed to be chowing down with great gusto.”

“Absolutely they were,” said Theodosia.

“Though
chowing down
is a rather inelegant way to phrase it,” said Drayton as he suddenly appeared in the doorway.