Authors: Laura Childs
But what was it?
She inhaled again and was able to distinguish a toasty, pungent, almost sweet scent. And this time the limbic part of her brain, the primitive, reactionary reptile part, picked up on it.
Cigar smoke!
Theodosia spun on her heels and fled, running back down the walk and past the museum as though her life depended on it. Was she in danger? By the intense thudding in her chest and her fight-or-flight reaction, her body and mind were signaling yes. A resounding yes.
24
Saturday was their
short day at the Indigo Tea Shop. That is, they were only open from nine to one. So, much like their hours, their menu was abbreviated, too.
Standing at the counter, wearing a yellow Lady Gaga T-shirt and a long, pale-blue diaphanous skirt, Haley looked cute and boho-chic as she ticked off her menu.
“Cream scones,” she told Theodosia and Drayton. “And cranberry walnut bread. For lunch, I’m doing two tea sandwiches, chicken salad on cinnamon raisin bread and roast beef on whole wheat, along with cream of mushroom soup.”
“Excellent,” said Drayton.
“How are you holding up?” Theodosia asked.
Haley yawned. “Okay. I’m looking forward to some downtime, though.”
Drayton adjusted his bow tie, a red polka-dot tie that contrasted nicely with his navy jacket and gray slacks. “Pity you two have to work again tonight.”
“You could always drop by and help us,” said Haley. There was a note of hope in her voice.
“Me?” Drayton looked aghast.
“We’ll be fine. After last night we’ve got the drill down cold,” Theodosia told them both. What she didn’t tell them about was her foray into Gateway Walk. As well as the mysterious note and the scent of a sweet cigar riding on the wind. She was still disturbed that someone had tried to lure her there. To do what? Probably nothing nice.
Drayton reached up and grabbed a tin of Ming-Hung tea. “I believe I’ll brew a pot of Fukien red tea today. Be a trifle daring with my selection.”
“That’s our Drayton,” said Haley. “Ever daring.”
“Haley,” said Theodosia. “Could you help me move some boxes in my office? I’m trying to unearth a carton of strainers and tea timers.”
“Sure,” said Haley. “No problem.”
The two of them trooped into Theodosia’s office, where space was always at a premium.
“Whoa,” said Haley, looking around at the clutter and stacks of boxes. “I see the problem. You’re plum out of space.”
“I’ve been out of space for the last three years,” said Theodosia. “But that doesn’t seem to stop me from ordering more teapots, mugs, and wooden tea chests.”
“Good point,” said Haley. She grabbed two boxes off the top of the stack, let loose a little grunt as she hoisted them, and shifted them onto Theodosia’s desk. “Now, if we clear those other three boxes you’ll at least have a fair shot.”
“That’s all I’m asking,” said Theodosia. After they’d dug out the boxes, she remained in her office, putzing around, unearthing more tea ware, and finding a stack of tea magazines that had been delivered heaven knows when. “These have to go on display, too,” she said to herself. “Before
next
month’s issues show up.”
But when she came flying into the tea room, arms overflowing, she was in for a big surprise. Drayton was seated at one of the tables, along with Jed and Tim Beckman.
“You’re back,” she said to the two ghost hunters.
“We can’t seem to stay away,” said Jed.
“You and Drayton have turned us into confirmed tea lovers,” said Tim.
Drayton caught Theodosia’s eye and said, “I just received a rather interesting invitation.”
“What’s that?” said Theodosia.
Drayton smiled. “Jed and Tim have asked me to accompany them tonight on their mission to Barrow Hall.”
Theodosia’s eyes went wide with surprise. “And you’re going to do it?” Somehow it seemed out of character for Drayton. Although, truth be told, he’d certainly dazzled everyone last night with his ghostly tidbits and crazy stories.
“I don’t see why I shouldn’t,” said Drayton.
“Drayton’s our resident historian,” Jed said with a knowing grin.
“That’s right,” said Tim. “Drayton knows all the legends.”
“About Barrow Hall?” said Theodosia. She didn’t think there were any legends. Just a few details about its sad, almost sordid history as a mental institution.
“I think Barrow Hall might be an amusing foray,” Drayton told her.
“A hoot,” said Jed.
“It’ll be a hoot all right,” said Theodosia. “Just try not to pitch headfirst down a slippery stairwell. Or get lost in a warren of inmate rooms.”
“Aren’t you a bundle of optimism,” said Drayton.
* * *
Lunch was busy
with scads of tourists finding their way to the Indigo Tea Shop. A couple of months ago, Theodosia had printed colorful postcards that featured a photo of the exterior of her tea shop on one side and her menu and address on the reverse. She’d walked the postcards around to four dozen bed-and-breakfasts, inns, and hotels in the area. And her efforts had paid off almost immediately. Now they were bombarded with weekend traffic, and the shelves and cupboards in the tea room needed almost constant restocking. It seemed that between tours to the tea plantation on Wadmalaw Island, the B and Bs serving afternoon tea to guests, and the popularity of the Indigo Tea Shop, strategically located as it was in the Historic District, tea was on everyone’s mind!
“Theo,” said Haley, as the two of them fussed in the kitchen, “you think I should bake a couple more batches of cake pops?”
“You mean more than you have already, or more than you did for last night?” said Theodosia.
“More than last night.”
Theodosia thought for a couple of seconds. “Yes. I’m guessing tonight’s going to be the big push, the evening when the Summer Garden Tour gets the most visitors. So we should probably be armed and ready.”
“Yup,” said Haley. “That’s what I’ve been thinking, too.”
“You want me to help with the frosting and decorating?”
“Mmm, maybe.”
Drayton suddenly stuck his head in the doorway. “Theo. Phone call.”
“Is it Max?” She’d put a call in to him first thing and was waiting for him to call back.
“No,” said Drayton. “I think it’s Delaine.”
Theodosia ducked into her office and grabbed the phone. “Hi. Is your meeting over with already? How’d it go?”
There was a peal of laughter and Delaine said, “It really couldn’t have gone any better. That lawyer you recommended was terrific.”
“Glad to hear it,” said Theodosia. The small wire of worry that had been stretched tightly around her heart suddenly eased. Now maybe Delaine wouldn’t feel so distraught or act so compulsive. “So, what happened? Obviously there was a reading of the will. I’m assuming you received a piece of the inheritance? Did Charles Horton get anything?”
“All was revealed,” said Delaine.
“And?” After all the fuss and hysterics and drama, Theodosia wanted to be privy to all the juicy details. She’d
earned
the right, for gosh sake.
“But I think I’ll wait and tell you all about it tonight,” said Delaine.
“Delaine! Please don’t be coy.” Coy was annoying. Coy showed lack of trust.
“Tonight,” said Delaine. “I promise I’ll tell you everything tonight.”
* * *
Two o’clock came
and went, guests came and went, and still Theodosia remained at the tea shop. Drayton, whom Haley had suddenly taken to calling Mr. Sci-Fi Channel Reality Show, had left some fifteen minutes ago. Theodosia figured he’d gone home to lay out his wardrobe for tonight. A khaki jacket and slacks, maybe boots, some sort of cap. And maybe his black leather notebook, just in case he wanted to take notes or jot down the makings of a new legend.
Haley was in the kitchen, rattling pans and beating her frosting into a swirl. She wore a determined look, a look that clearly said
Do not disturb
.
Well, okay, Theodosia decided. She wouldn’t disturb her. She’d already made it known that she was available to help decorate cake pops if help was needed. In the meantime, Theodosia was up to her ears in wreath-making paraphernalia and was busily assembling two new teacup wreaths.
Starting with a wild grapevine that she’d cut, dried, and shaped herself, she loosely threaded a piece of peach-colored satin organza ribbon through the wreath. Once that was done, the fun stuff happened. Theodosia wired in small teacups that she’d found at tag sales, added a couple of bunches of silk flowers, then wired in a bunch of frosted grapes.
Just as Theodosia was debating between dried star flowers versus tiny blue silk flowers, her cell phone rang.
“Max!” she said.
“You left me a couple of phone messages,” said Max. “Last night and then again this morning. Something about a note?”
“You didn’t leave me a note, did you?” said Theodosia. “At Granville’s house last night.”
“I was at a fund-raiser last night.” Max sounded puzzled. “Until around eleven.”
“Okay, I was just checking on something.”
“Problem?”
“Not really,” said Theodosia. She thought about telling him about last night, then hastily changed the subject. Why worry him? “Are you going to be able to stop by Granville’s home tonight? I’d really love to see you . . .”
“I’m going to try,” said Max. “But I can’t promise anything.”
“I have to warn you, Haley’s really knocking herself out.”
Max chuckled. “Are we talking chocolate desserts?” Max was a dedicated chocoholic.
“You got it.”
“I’m really gonna try,” said Max.
“Try hard,” said Theodosia.
* * *
By midafternoon Haley
decided that Theodosia could indeed help decorate the cake pops. So, robed in a long white apron, wearing plastic gloves, Theodosia dipped chocolate-frosted cake pops into various saucers filled with crushed pecans, flaky coconut, and tiny colorful nonpareils.
“This is fun,” said Theodosia. Her hands were a sticky, chocolatey mess and nonpareils crunched underfoot, but their assembly line was running smoothly as they dipped and swayed, singing along to “Moves Like Jagger” on the radio and dancing in place.
“In about two seconds I’m gonna switch to butterscotch frosting,” said Haley. She scanned the finished cake pops that were lined up like a bunch of tasty, edible Weebles. “Yup, about sixty percent are frosted with chocolate.”
“You’re working on a sixty-forty ratio?” asked Theodosia.
“I like things mathematical,” said Haley. She grinned. “Even my cake pops.”
Thump thump.
“Jeez,” said Haley. “What the heck was that?”
“Somebody at the back door?” said Theodosia. She pulled off her gloves and grabbed a damp rag so she could wipe blobs of sticky frosting from her wrists and arms. “I’ll go take a look.”
“Tell whoever it is that we’re closed.”
Theodosia hurried through her office. Probably, she decided, it was one of the neighbors from the garden apartments across the brick alley. Sometimes they popped over unexpectedly to grab leftover scones or croissants or slices of quiche.
But when Theodosia looked out the window, she saw it was Tidwell.
Surprised, she pulled open the door and said, “What are you doing back here?”
“I knocked on the front door; didn’t you hear me?”
“No. Sorry. We were working in the kitchen and had the radio turned up full blast.” She opened the door wider. “Come on in. What’s up?”
Tidwell cast a cautious glance at her as he eased his bulk through the doorway. “I was hoping you could tell me.”
Theodosia was suddenly confused. “Tell you what?” Had she said or done something to ruffle his feathers yet again?
Tidwell made a seesawing gesture with both hands. “About the murder? About your cuckoo friend Delaine?”
“No, I haven’t solved the murder,” said Theodosia. “In fact, I distinctly remember you telling me to mind my own business. As far as Delaine is concerned, she’s not cuckoo. She’s merely stressed. She was just in a meeting at Granville and Grumley. Something about the reading of the will?”
“Exactly,” Tidwell growled.
“I don’t know anything about that, either. Delaine called but was playing her cards fairly close to the vest. She told me I had to wait until tonight to hear her all her big news.” Theodosia put her hands on her hips in a slightly confrontational manner. “So . . . what have
you
been up to? Hopefully still spearheading an in-depth murder investigation that is deserving of our tax dollars?”
“What on earth smells so devilishly good in here?” asked Tidwell.
Theodosia sighed. Honestly, the man was so predictable. “We’re making cake pops for the Summer Garden Tour tonight. And, no, they’re not ready yet.”
“Yes, they are,” Haley called from the kitchen. “He can have a couple if he wants.”
“I don’t think he wants any,” Theodosia called back.
Haley stuck her head in the office and registered innocent surprise. “He doesn’t?”
“Pay no attention to your curmudgeon employer,” said Tidwell. “I would love nothing better than to partake of your excellent desserts.”
“I can stick a few cake pops in one of our take-out cartons,” said Haley. She held up a finger. “Give me a sec.”
“Bless you, child,” said Tidwell.
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” Theodosia scolded. “Taking advantage of Haley’s sweet and giving nature. You know she’s bursting with pride over her baked goods and can never refuse samples to anyone.”
“That’s precisely what I was counting on,” said Tidwell. He lurched toward the chair opposite Theodosia’s desk. “May I sit down?”
“Why not?”
“I’m afraid I’m in a pickle,” said Tidwell, facing her.
“Really,” said Theodosia. This was a first. Tidwell rarely let down his guard like this.
“We finally located the mysterious Mr. Chapin of room three-fourteen.”
“And?”
“He’s merely a traveling salesman,” said Tidwell. “And not a very successful one at that. The net result is he’s not even remotely connected to Granville.”
“So you’re back to square one,” said Theodosia. She could feel his disappointment. Heck,
she
was disappointed, too.
“That’s right. We have suspects, yes. But no clear-cut motives.”
“The suspects being . . . ?”
Allan Grumley for one,” said Tidwell. “Except that the man is already quite wealthy and had a buy-sell partnership agreement firmly in place.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that if Grumley and Granville had decided they didn’t want to work together anymore, there was a hammered-out provision for divvying up the law firm.”
“In other words,” said Theodosia, “they could have called it quits amicably. One wouldn’t have to kill the other.”