Authors: Laura Childs
“I’d say that’s a fair assessment,” said Tidwell.
“Have you looked at past cases that Granville handled? Maybe he sent someone to prison who was recently released and wanted to exact their revenge.”
“He’s not that kind of lawyer,” said Tidwell.
Theodosia thought for a few moments. “My mind keeps circling back to Simone Asher.”
Tidwell shrugged. “Old girlfriend, shop owner, pretty girl. I interviewed her. She didn’t seem particularly malicious.”
“You don’t know what’s in her heart,” said Theodosia. She thought back to last night. “You know, Simone showed up at Granville’s home last night.”
“Did she?”
Theodosia told Tidwell about finding Simone upstairs in Granville’s bedroom, taking a last look around. And then she told him about the beige linen jacket hanging in the closet.
“And you think the thread matches?” asked Tidwell. He was starting to look interested.
“I have no idea. But . . . I have to admit it’s kind of a spooky coincidence.”
“I’m not a big believer in coincidences.”
“You should still stop by and grab a snippet of fabric. Take it to your lab and see if it matches the thread.”
“I can get in the house right now?”
“I’m pretty sure you can,” said Theodosia. “I think Delaine brought in another cleaning crew to spiff the place up.”
“You said Simone Asher was taking what you termed ‘a last look.’ Does that seem at all peculiar to you?” said Tidwell.
“Maybe. But I can see Delaine doing the exact same thing if she’d been the ex-girlfriend.”
“A lot of women might,” said Tidwell.
“No,” said Theodosia. “Not a lot of women. Just the ones who aren’t terribly realistic.”
25
Theodosia was right
about having their routine down cold. As she heated water and measured out tea, Haley quickly unpacked her Charleston cookies, lemon bars, espresso cookies, and cake pops. On this second and final night of the Summer Garden Tour, with the temperature hovering in the low eighties, an even greater number of visitors were expected.
“It’s hard to believe Drayton went off ghost hunting,” said Haley as she arranged her desserts on a large tray. “It seems so out of character for him.”
“I actually can believe it,” said Theodosia. “If you mention anything that’s remotely Southern Gothic, Drayton’s antennae automatically perk up.”
“But he’s a nonbeliever,” said Haley. “I mean concerning the spirit world.”
“Doesn’t matter,” said Theodosia. “The minute you start talking legends and lore, our Drayton can’t help being intrigued. The history buff in him just comes alive.”
“Barrow Hall sounds like a creepy place. I hope he’ll be okay out there.”
“No reason for him not to be,” said Theodosia.
“Hey,” Haley said to Delaine as she breezed into the kitchen. “You look great.” Delaine was wearing a long, black one-shouldered dress and sky-high silver sandals.
“So tell us,” said Theodosia, pouncing. “How did your meeting turn out?” She was dying to know.
“The wait is finally over,” Delaine trilled. “We went over everything with a fine-toothed comb and it’s all mine!”
“
All
of it?” said Haley. “Are you serious? Wow!”
“What exactly is all yours?” asked Theodosia. Since Delaine tended to exaggerate, she wanted specifics. “You mean this house?”
“No, silly,” said Delaine. “Not the house. But almost everything else. I’m set to receive the proceeds from Dougan’s life insurance policy as well as a tidy amount of money, some blue-chip stocks, and a number of mutual funds.”
“You’re going to be rich!” said Haley. “Correction . . . you
are
rich!”
“Almost,” said Delaine.
“Well, congrats, lady!” said Haley.
“I’m happy for you,” said Theodosia. “Well . . . pleased, anyway. Of course, I know you’d give it all up if you could just have Dougan back.”
Delaine managed a small sniffle. “I would. I really would.”
“I’m curious,” said Theodosia. “Who does own this house now?”
Delaine made an unhappy face. “It belongs to Allan Grumley. Apparently, this place was purchased through a subsidiary corporation of the law firm, so he was already a fifty percent owner.”
“That’s awfully convenient,” said Theodosia. “For him, anyway.” No wonder Grumley had been so circumspect last night concerning ownership of the house. “And what about the stepson, Charles Horton? Did he launch any sort of claim? Did he inherit anything?”
“Thank goodness, he did not launch a claim,” said Delaine. “But he will inherit Dougan’s Porsche 911 as well as DG Stogies and a tidy sum of money.” She whipped out a hanky and daubed at her eyes, taking care not to smear her eye makeup. “But not as much as I will.”
“Good for you,” said Theodosia. Besides Delaine enjoying a little one-upmanship with Horton, she’d been a mere twenty minutes away from becoming Mrs. Dougan Granville. So she was practically the next of kin.
“I feel like an enormous weight has been lifted from my shoulders,” said Delaine. She grabbed a Charleston cookie, munched a bite thoughtfully, then popped the rest into her mouth. “I feel so much more relaxed and unstressed. You know . . .” She shook an index finger at Theodosia and Haley. “I think this is going to be a truly memorable evening. I’m even feeling . . . very good vibes.” And with that she flounced out of the kitchen.
“Get a load of her,” said Haley. “Delaine’s all happy and chipper over the reading of the will, but Granville’s murder still hasn’t been solved.”
“And Tidwell doesn’t seem to be one bit closer,” said Theodosia.
Haley straightened out a row of cookies, then glanced at her. “What about you? Are you any closer?”
Theodosia shrugged. “Not really. And Delaine’s interest has definitely waned. She’s no longer pressing me to explore different angles.”
“Doesn’t matter,” said Haley. “Because Delaine’s always been flighty. The big question is, will you continue to pursue this?”
“I’d like to see justice served if at all possible.”
“That’s because you’re a law-and-order kind of gal,” said Haley.
“I never thought of it that way. But . . . yes . . . maybe I am.” Theodosia’s father had been a prominent Charleston attorney. And, early on, she’d toyed with the idea of following in his footsteps. Then she’d gotten interested in advertising and marketing, and an account executive position had sort of been dropped into her lap. That experience had been fun for a while, but it was a hustle-bustle, go-go experience at best. When she finally transitioned to the Indigo Tea Shop, life was better. She got out of it exactly what she put in. For every cause, an effect. For every action, a reaction. And, of course, all the tea she cared to drink!
Haley continued to peer at her. “What about Charles Horton? He was blipping like crazy on your radar screen just a few days ago.”
“As a murder suspect, he doesn’t feel right anymore,” said Theodosia. “I think he really is a stepson who wanted to reconnect with his stepfather.”
“And get a piece of the action at the law firm?” said Haley.
“I suppose you can’t fault him for being a go-getter. Or wanting to be a junior partner.”
“What about Allan Grumley?” Haley asked.
“I still think he’s a possible suspect.” Theodosia reminded herself that Grumley, smooth talker that he was, could have easily urged Granville to indulge in a little prewedding cocaine. And then had somehow overpowered him. Plus, Grumley had been wearing a light-colored jacket the day of the wedding. The thread she found could have belonged to him.
“But you’re not sure.”
“The
police
aren’t sure,” said Theodosia.
“Maybe they missed something. Or you missed something.”
“I probably did. But I don’t know what. And I don’t know what to look at next.”
“I’ll bet you’ll figure it out,” said Haley. “You’re pretty good at solving mysteries and things.”
“I don’t know . . . maybe. At least I hope so. But right now, if we don’t kick it into high gear, we’re going to disappoint our guests.”
They got busy then, Theodosia brewing tea while Haley worked on her desserts. Still, Theodosia continued to ponder the murder. And the strange invitation she’d found last night. And the significance, if any, of the cigar smoke. She turned everything over and over in her mind as if working a string of worry beads. She was well aware that greed, jealousy, and anger were all powerful drivers. Any one of them could compel a person to commit murder. The question was, which motivator had driven which person over the edge?
* * *
“Our table looks
good, huh?” said Haley.
They were outside on the back patio. Pitchers of sweet tea sat on the table and the tea samovars were filled and ready to dispense cups of Russian Caravan and black spice tea. Haley’s assortment of bars, cookies, and cake pops were beautifully arranged, making it look as if the Sugar Plum Fairy had swept in and waved her magic wand. And once again, the patio and gardens looked elegant and amazing. Delaine had asked the gardeners to change out the bulbs in the lights flanking the patio, taking out the white bulbs and replacing them with soft pink bulbs. So now the patio was bathed in a dreamy light. Very conducive to romance and reverie.
Suddenly, the back door clattered open and high-pitched laughter punctuated the night.
“Somebody’s here,” said Haley. She glanced at her watch. “And they’re a good ten minutes early.”
“I thought Delaine told the security people to hold everyone at the front door until seven,” said Theodosia.
In a fast-moving blur of hot pink, Nadine, Delaine’s sister, suddenly appeared on the arm of a tall, good-looking man. The same man who’d accompanied her to the tea shop this afternoon.
“Who’s the guy?” Haley asked under her breath.
“No idea,” said Theodosia. “He was at the tea shop earlier today and, for some reason, Nadine chose not to introduce us.”
Haley nudged her with an elbow. “I’ll bet five bucks you can finagle your way around that.”
Theodosia grinned and decided it might be fun to try.
“Good evening, Nadine,” she called. “Looks like you and your friend are the first ones to arrive.”
Nadine tossed her head, her crystal earrings flashing and reflecting the color of her hot-pink dress. “Not quite,” she said. “We just spoke with Delaine as we came through. Along with a few of the organizers and the ushers or security people or whoever those rather large gentlemen are.”
“Then let’s just say you two are the first to tour the garden area tonight,” said Theodosia. “And enjoy our tea and treats.” She sidled closer to Nadine’s date and offered what she hoped was a winning smile. “Hello, I’m Theodosia Browning. You were in my tea shop this afternoon? I’m not sure we were ever properly introduced.”
“This is my fella,” Nadine blurted hastily. Even though she was draped possessively on the man’s arm, she snuggled even closer. “He’s quite the catch if I do say so myself.”
Theodosia continued to smile at Nadine’s date as she said, “How about if I pour you a cup of tea, er . . . ?” She gave an inquisitive cock of her head, a visual prompt for him to fill in his name.
But he never did. Or at least he never had a chance to.
“We’d
adore
some tea!” Nadine squealed. “And something to eat, too. We’ve been so busy running around that we pretty much breezed past dinner. Never did stop to eat.”
“Okay, then,” said Theodosia, giving up. “On second thought, maybe you should just help yourself.”
* * *
The evening unfolded
rather magically. Guests drifted in, exclaiming over the house, the tea table, and, finally, the elegant gardens. Mostly, Theodosia hung out in the kitchen, ready to restock desserts or hustle outside with more tea.
“I think we might be running low on that spice tea,” said Haley, as she eased her way in through the butler’s pantry.
“Good thing I’ve got two more pots brewing,” said Theodosia.
“You know, it really is a madhouse out back. Tons of people are milling around and wandering through the garden.”
“I guess that’s why they call it a garden tour,” said Theodosia.
“Yeah . . . whatever,” said Haley. She began to unpack another basket stacked with plastic containers. “Oh, and that guy Allan Grumley is outside. He was looking for you.”
“Interesting,” said Theodosia. She grabbed her two pots of tea. “I’ll have to go see what he wants.”
Outside, Theodosia refilled the samovar and glanced around, on the lookout for Grumley.
She didn’t have to look far. He was standing on the patio some ten feet away from her talking to, of all people, Frank and Sarah Rattling. Not wanting to intrude but curious as to what they were talking about, Theodosia busied herself with straightening out one of the dessert trays while she cocked an ear toward their conversation.
“This really is a great house,” said Frank Rattling. “And in a far better location than we have now.”
What you had
, Theodosia thought to herself.
You don’t own Ravencrest Inn anymore. The owner foreclosed on you. With a little help from Dougan Granville, of course.
“And I took a peek in the kitchen!” Sarah Rattling rhapsodized. “So modern and spacious! What I couldn’t do in there. This place could be much more than just an inn, it could be an ultra luxe bed-and-breakfast.”
What? The Rattlings are talking to Allan Grumley about buying this place? Oh my goodness! Please no!
Theodosia hurried over to insinuate herself into the conversation.
“Excuse me. I didn’t mean to listen in,” she said to Frank Rattling. “But, am I right? You and your wife are thinking about
buying
this place?”
Rattling turned to her, an earnest look on his hawkish face. “It would be a dream come true. We’re head over heels in love with this house.”
“I didn’t think it was for sale,” said Theodosia. She focused her gaze on Grumley, who gave an offhand shrug.
“Never say never,” said Grumley.
“That’s right,” said Frank Rattling. “For the right price . . .”
Theodosia was amazed at Rattling’s bravado. He and his wife had been foreclosed on for not making monthly payments on Ravencrest Inn. Now they were talking about buying an even more expensive piece of property? Was this just big talk, or was it some kind of weird payback against Granville? Even though the man was dead.
Grumley aimed a finger at Frank Rattling. “Toss out a number,” he said, as he moved away. “You never know.”
“Are you two serious?” said Theodosia. Her heart was fluttering and she was on the verge of panic.
“Absolutely,” said Frank. “I get a feeling that, for the right price, Grumley really might be amenable to selling.”
And then you’d be my next-door neighbor
, Theodosia thought to herself.
Wouldn’t that be a funhouse chock-full of monkeys?
Theodosia forced herself to calm down. “I suppose it never hurts to float him a number.”
“We’re going to do just that,” said Sarah.
“Good luck,” Theodosia said without much enthusiasm. She knew in her heart that if the Rattlings put in a serious offer, she was going to have to consider moving. No way did she want them as neighbors. No way could she tolerate them as neighbors.
When she returned to the kitchen, Nadine and her boyfriend were fussing about, talking to Haley.
“All I need,” said Nadine, “is a scissors. I have this teensy little thread on the hem of my dress that’s driving me crazy. Tickles every time I move.”
Haley had pulled open a couple of cupboard drawers and was pawing through them. “I thought I saw a scissors here somewhere. Sorry. I’m just not used to this kitchen. I’m afraid I don’t know my way around here.”
“You really don’t, do you,” said Nadine.
Nadine’s boyfriend tugged at her arm. “Come on, I think there’s one in the drawer of that pine chest in the dining room.”