Ming Tea Murder (17 page)

Charlotte caught Theodosia by the arm just as she placed the last tea tray on one of the tables.

“This is just wonderful,” Charlotte burbled. “I knew I could count on you.”

Theodosia studied Charlotte's froufrou black skirt and high-necked black jacket. She didn't look exactly funereal, more like an expensively dressed vampire.

Interestingly, Harlan Duke had seated himself right next to her and was carefully ministering to her every need.

Theodosia touched Charlotte on the shoulder. “My condolences again. Helping with your luncheon was the least we could do.”

“You are such a dear,” said Charlotte. She turned and smiled at Duke. “Isn't Theodosia a dear?”

Duke beamed a solicitous smile. “She certainly is.”

Theodosia had just grabbed a pitcher of ice water when she noticed the front door opening a crack.

Oh dear, I hope it's not folks looking for afternoon tea. Not this early.

No such luck. Because the woman who slipped soundlessly into the shop and looked around tentatively was none other than Cecily Conrad!

Theodosia's heart lurched
inside her chest.

Oh no. This has major disaster
written all over it.

She scrambled toward Cecily like she was a sprinter heading for the finish line. Water splashed, chairs were bumped, a few people turned to stare.

“What are you
doing
here?” Theodosia hissed at Cecily. She wanted to head her off, turn her around, and get her out before something dire happened.

“I wanted to . . .” Cecily's voice sounded raw and dry.

“What do you want?” Theodosia was still hoping to stave off disaster. If she could just shepherd Cecily back out the door, tactfully oust the woman before too many people noticed . . .

But Cecily's feet seemed welded to the floor. And Theodosia tugging on her arm didn't seem to budge her, either.

“I wanted to be part of it,” Cecily coughed out. “After all, I was . . .”

“You! What are
you
doing here?” a shrill voice rang out. It belonged unmistakably to Charlotte.

Theodosia's shoulders slumped.
Oh, great. Now Charlotte's going to get into the act. Here comes a full-blown three-ring circus.

“How dare you show your face here!” Charlotte screamed. She scrambled to her feet, red-faced and indignant, and pointed a finger directly at Cecily. Now that she'd alerted all of Western civilization, every eye in the room turned toward Cecily.

“She was just leaving,” said Theodosia. She was aware of indignant murmurs and the sound of chairs being slid back from tables. Were people getting ready for a knock-down, drag-out fight? She hoped not.

“You have to leave,” Theodosia told Cecily. “This instant!”

But Cecily was staring at the easel that stood in the entryway. “Did
she
do that?” she demanded. “Because she never cared about him before.”

Now Theodosia heard the
clack, clack, clack
of high-heeled pumps heading toward them. Which, to her, was the sound of impending doom. Then Charlotte's face bobbed like an angry pink balloon alongside Cecily's face.

“Get out, you little hussy!” Charlotte screeched. “Get out of here before we throw you out!”

“Please,” said Theodosia, plucking at Cecily's sleeve. “It's time to leave.”

“I'll leave with my dignity!” Cecily rasped at Charlotte.

Taken aback, Charlotte blinked as if she'd been slapped in the face. Then, eyes bulging, mouth pulled into an ugly pucker, she hauled her right arm back, swung it around in an arc, and punched Cecily right in the face!

It wasn't exactly a championship knockout; the blow glanced off at the last moment. But Cecily, caught completely unaware, staggered backward. She made an indelicate noise that sounded like
ptew
or
phu
, wobbled for a millisecond, and then collapsed to the floor like a cheap card table.

“Do something,” Delaine screamed. “Somebody do something!”

Stunned beyond belief at the mayhem that was unfolding around them, Theodosia and Drayton both sprang into action. Drayton encircled his arms around Charlotte's waist and pulled her away from the scrum. Theodosia knelt down, wrestled an arm around a shocked and tearful Cecily, and basically hauled her up onto her feet.

“Get her out of here,” Charlotte seethed. She sounded dangerous, like a hissing cobra.

“Consider her gone,” said Theodosia. She pushed and prodded a shaken-up Cecily back through the curtain, past the kitchen, where Haley gazed in amazement, and into her office.

“What was
that
all about?” Theodosia asked Cecily. She was fuming, just this side of exploding.

But Cecily was wiping at her bloody nose, smearing the blood horribly, and trying to brush away a constant stream of tears at the same time. Then she gingerly pressed her hand against the side of her red, puffed-up face. “She hit me,” she sobbed. “Did you see that? She
hit
me.”

“Sit down,” said Theodosia, grabbing Cecily by the shoulders and pushing her down onto the tuffet chair. She flew into the kitchen, grabbed a towel and some ice, and was back. “Put this on your face. It'll help knock down the swelling.”

Cecily accepted the towel and touched it to her face. “Hurts,” she murmured.

“I'm sure it does,” said Theodosia. She felt sorry for Cecily. But, at the same time, knew that Cecily had gone out of her way to provoke Charlotte. She gazed at Cecily. “This was all so unnecessary, don't you agree?”

“I didn't mean to cause trouble,” Cecily grumped. She wiped at her face again, smearing more blood.

“Sure, you did,” said Theodosia. “Why else would you have come here? Come on, dab that towel under your nose,” she instructed, then sighed heavily. “You're a problem child, you know that?”

Cecily hiccupped loudly. “That's what my daddy always said, too.”

“Well, guess what?” said Theodosia. “It's time to grow up. Time to act like an adult.”

Cecily peered at her. “Huh?”

“Listen to me, Cecily. You've been smacked to the ground twice in three days. Does that tell you anything?”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe you should start keeping a slightly lower profile,” said Theodosia. “Stay out of the way for a while.”

“I just . . . I just . . .”

“You just what?”

Cecily sucked in air and hiccupped again. “I went to Edgar's funeral, thinking it was out of a sense of duty. Then I got there and the songs and the eulogies sort of . . . Well, all the old memories came flooding back. And I guess I had kind of a meltdown.”

“You both reacted badly,” said Theodosia. “You and Charlotte.”

Cecily looked up at her with a sidelong glance. “Do you think she killed him?”

“Do I think . . . ?” Theodosia suddenly snapped her mouth shut. Because one part of her still thought that Charlotte
might
have had a hand in her husband's death. And another part of her wasn't letting Cecily off the hook, either.

“I know the police have been talking to her,” said Cecily.

“And I know the police have been talking to you,” said Theodosia.

The girl's mouth fell open in shock. “You can't think that I . . . ?” Then her chin quivered and the waterworks started up again.

Theodosia handed Cecily a couple of tissues and waited patiently while she cried for a couple of minutes. Finally the girl sniffled, wiped at her tears, and said, “My eye and nose hurt like crazy.”

“I'm sure it does.”

She wiggled the bottom half of her face back and forth. “Do you think we should call the police?”

“You know what?” Theodosia gestured at the towel and the ice. “You can take that with you. And I think it'd be a smart idea if you left via the back door. Okay? Okay.”

• • •

When Theodosia ducked
back into the tea room, order seemed to have been restored. Tea was being sipped, the decibel level had returned to normal, and the funeral guests were munching their brownie bites and lemon bars. Even Charlotte looked relatively calm.

Drayton saw Theodosia and raised his eyebrows. “Is she gone?”

“Hopefully never to darken our doorway again,” said Theodosia.

“That was something you don't see everyday.”

“Except on WWE
SmackDown.
”

The bell above the front door
da-dinged
.

“Now what?” said Drayton.

It was Bill Glass. He stepped inside and glanced around, a slightly suspicious look on his face.

“Did I just miss something?” Glass asked.

“Hmm?” said Drayton.

“Not really,” said Theodosia.

“Because I would've sworn I saw Cecily Conrad dragging herself down Church Street,” said Glass, “looking like she'd just been in the biggest cat fight of her life.”

“Gee,” said Theodosia. “I wouldn't know.”

Glass edged closer to her. “Seeing Cecily looking so bedraggled . . . something feels a little fishy. If I had to venture a guess, I'd say something went down in here.”

Yeah,
Theodosia thought.
Cecily went down. On her keister.

Instead, she said, “Cecily dropped in but left immediately.”

“I'm afraid she wasn't really welcome,” said Drayton.

“That's it?” said Glass.

“That's it for now,” said Theodosia.

Glass eyed them both suspiciously, then his head swiveled toward the café, and he said, “You guys got any of those dinky little sandwiches left?”

Relieved that Bill Glass seemed ready to drop the subject, Theodosia said, “Sure. In fact, there's a place open at Delaine's table.” She led Glass over there and said, “Have a seat.”

“What?” said Delaine, suddenly looking horrified. “He's going to sit
here?
”

“Is there a problem?” said Theodosia.

Delaine saw the set of Theodosia's jaw, and said, “Why, no. Actually, we were just leaving.” She got up, slapped her hat on her head, and said, “Come along, Auntie.”

“Have a nice day, ladies,” said Glass, giving a mock salute.

“Hmph,” said Aunt Acid.

• • •

As Roger Greaves
and his employees started making motions to leave, Theodosia hurried over to them.

“This isn't the time or the place,” Theodosia said to Greaves, “but I desperately need to talk to you.”

Greaves stared at her. “About?”

“I just have a few questions.”

“And why would
you
be asking me questions?”

“Because I promised to help Charlotte any way I could,” said Theodosia. She knew it was a little white lie, but she wanted to get Greaves alone and on the hot seat. “You remember, when I brought the basket over to Charlotte? You were there, you heard her ask me.”

He softened. “When you put it that way . . . I suppose.”

“Thank you,” said Theodosia, touching his arm gently. She knew men liked it when a woman touched their arms. It implied that you were addled and slightly helpless in their presence, and completely obscured the fact that you were manipulating the crap out of them.

“You can drop by my office later today. You know where we're located?”

“Um . . .”

“We're Digital Corridor members, so we've recently relocated over in the University District.”

“Great,” said Theodosia. “Many thanks. I look forward to meeting with you.”

“Mmn,” said Greaves.

• • •

As the luncheon
dwindled to a close, a few of the guests wandered over to the highboys in the corner, where Theodosia had arranged a fresh stash of tea, honey, T-Bath products, antique teacups, and decorated sugar cubes.

“They're charmed by your shop,” Drayton told Theodosia as they observed the luncheon guests mingling and looking about.

“You think?”

“Oh, absolutely. You've created everyone's ideal of what a tea shop should look like. The Indigo Tea Shop is small, cozy, and exudes that chintz-and-china aura . . . It's perfection.”

“But they really come for our tea,” said Theodosia. “As well as our sweets and savories.”

“And for you,” Drayton smiled.

“Excuse me?” said a male voice.

Theodosia turned to find Harlan Duke gazing at her intently. “Yes?” she said.

“Charlotte was wondering if she could have a word with you,” said Duke.

Theodosia wondered who'd died and made him messenger, and then she remembered—Charlotte's husband had died. So she probably shouldn't be quite so snarky, as Duke seemed to be playing the nice guy and running interference.

“Of course,” Theodosia said.

“It's a private matter,” said Duke.

“Okay.” Now her curiosity was piqued. She pointed over her shoulder. “In my office, then?”

“Perfect,” said Duke. “I'll send her in.”

• • •

Charlotte was fidgeting
nervously as she walked into Theodosia's office.

“Won't you have a seat?” Theodosia said. She indicated the chair that Cecily had vacated some twenty minutes ago. The irony was not lost on Theodosia.

Charlotte plunked herself down and carefully arranged her black skirt. Then she looked up with a smile on her face. “Theodosia, dear, I want to ask you something.”

“Yes?” Theodosia said. Warning bells started to clang in her head. Every time someone addressed her as “Theodosia, dear,” they were generally trying to wangle something for nothing. Or trying to pull the wool over her eyes. But she wanted to give Charlotte the benefit of the doubt. After all, it had been a hard day for her. A hard couple of days.

“I'm chairperson of the Historic District's big Halloween event this year,” said Charlotte. “But after everything that's happened . . .” She glanced around, exuding an air of helplessness.