Authors: Laura Childs
“We don’t think so,” said Tim. “There’s really a huge demand for ghosts and the paranormal, and we think we bring a fresh perspective.”
“How so?” asked Theodosia.
“Besides the obvious Southern angle,” said Jed, “the other TV shows concern themselves with trying to contact ghosts of people who died years and years ago.”
“Okay,” said Theodosia, not exactly liking where this conversation seemed to be headed.
“But we want to make contact with new ghosts, recent ghosts,” said Jed.
“A-ha,” said Theodosia, though she did not share their enthusiasm.
“You see,” explained Tim, “contacting the spirit world is a little like trying to establish a radio signal. Unfortunately, the longer a person has been dead, the weaker that signal is. What we want to do is try to contact the more recently departed.”
“Because they emit a stronger signal,” said Theodosia. She couldn’t believe she was playing along with this.
“That’s exactly right,” said Tim.
“Here’s the thing,” said Jed. “We’d like you to go with us.”
“Back to Ravencrest Inn,” said Theodosia, suddenly not relishing the idea at all. “But that would require obtaining permission from the owners.”
“We’ll get it,” said Tim. “We can be very persuasive.”
“Everybody and his brother wants to be on a reality show these days,” offered Jed.
“If you go in,” said Theodosia, “you’ll find that the place isn’t all that large. So you certainly don’t need me to function as any sort of guide.”
“We were thinking of you more as a spirit guide,” said Jed.
Theodosia leaned back in her chair. “Oh, dear.”
“Because you were near him,” said Jed. “When he died.”
“And you found him,” said Tim.
“And that’s important?” said Theodosia.
“It is to us,” said Tim.
“Let me noodle around your invitation,” said Theodosia. She wanted to let them down gently. They were obviously well intentioned, but this really wasn’t something she wanted to participate in, let alone help facilitate.
Tim leaned forward, a question on his face. “Tell me, Miss Browning, when you first walked into that room, before you knew the man was dead, did you feel anything? Was there anything strange in the air?”
Theodosia thought about the electrical pulse she’d picked up on immediately. A strange anxious feeling that had tickled her nerves, as if a transformer had just exploded. A feeling that something wasn’t quite right, a sort of . . . low, menacing vibration.
“No,” she said. “I didn’t feel anything at all.”
5
As always, Haley
was a marvel in a kitchen that was roughly the size of a postage stamp. In her white smock and tall chef’s hat that looked like an overblown mushroom on her head, she whirled and twirled her luncheon ballet: plucking a pan of bubbling pepper jack cheese quiche from the oven, giving her wild rice soup a quick stir, tasting her vinaigrette and adding a pinch more tarragon.
“Are the ghost busters gone?” asked Haley. She gave a mischievous smile. “Did they vanish into thin air?”
Theodosia, who’d been setting out white luncheon plates like she was dealing out a deck of playing cards, said, “How on earth did you know about them?”
“Drayton told me,” said Haley. “Last time he buzzed through here. Though he seemed awfully put off by the whole thing.”
“The intrepid Beckman brothers have their heart set on tiptoeing through Ravencrest Inn,” said Theodosia.
Haley nodded. “Kids just want to have fun.”
“Actually, it’s a little more complicated than that,” said Theodosia. “They also want to try to make contact with Dougan Granville’s spirit.”
Haley smiled. “They think maybe he’s malingering over there on the other side?”
“Something like that, yes,” said Theodosia.
“Then maybe he is,” said Haley.
“Probably he isn’t.” Probably, Theodosia decided, Granville rested in the arms of the Lord now. At least she hoped he did.
“I bet Delaine wouldn’t mind if they tried to contact her dear departed fiancé,” said Haley. “She might even
like
the idea.”
“Drayton thinks that any sort of ghost-hunting nonsense would just cause Delaine more heartbreak,” said Theodosia. “He’s of the firm belief that we should just leave it alone.”
“Drayton thinks what?” asked Drayton, as he suddenly appeared in the doorway.
“Theodosia was just telling me about the ghost hunters,” said Haley, as she plucked a Meyer lemon from a large bowl of lemons, grabbed a paring knife, and quickly created a small mound of lemon zest.
“Such silly fellows,” said Drayton. “They’re under the illusion they can contact an actual spirit and then record it using a camera or some sort of tape recorder.”
“More like a digital recorder,” said Haley. “Tape went out, oh, I don’t know, maybe with disco music and shoulder pads the size of pillows?”
“I have no idea what you’re mumbling about,” said Drayton. He was a confirmed Luddite who basically abhorred technology. He scorned digital cameras and didn’t even own a cell phone.
“I bet you still play vinyl records,” said Haley.
“Naturally,” said Drayton. His brows rose slightly as he adjusted his bow tie. “Some things simply cannot be improved upon.”
“Haley,” said Theodosia, eager to put an end to the ghost-hunting issue, “why don’t you run through our menu for today?”
That stopped Haley in her tracks. She loved nothing better than to tick off her luncheon offerings and her tasty repertoire of baked goods. “Oh. Well. Our savories include quiche, wild rice soup, tea-simmered chicken breasts, and tomato and cream cheese tea sandwiches.”
“And for sweets?” Drayton prompted.
“That would be ginger scones and chocolate mint bars,” said Haley.
“Excellent,” said Drayton. He gave a perfunctory smile, then said, “I believe I shall brew pots of Assam and Indian spice tea. Those teas should make for excellent luncheon pairings.”
“Go for it,” said Haley, as Drayton disappeared.
Haley grabbed a soup ladle, frowned, and said, “Oh, rats.” She stepped around the counter quickly, looking distracted, and said, “I forgot to tell Drayton about my apple crumbles. She rushed out the kitchen door and called after him, “And there’s apple crumbles, plus we’ve still got apricot scones left, too.” Hurrying back into the kitchen, she dusted her hands together and said, “Okay. So we’re pretty much set for lunch.”
“Anything I can do to help?” asked Theodosia. Haley was a martinet in the kitchen, secretive of her ingredients and recipes, wanting to control every single aspect. So she rarely asked for assistance. Yet Theodosia always offered. It was simply good manners.
Haley picked up a wooden spoon and gestured at her. “If you ask me, I think you should seriously consider accepting that ghost-hunting invitation.”
“You think so?”
“Yup.”
“Like Drayton, I worry that any sort of foray back to Ravencrest Inn might cause Delaine more pain.”
“Why don’t you let her decide?” said Haley.
“You mean ask Delaine?”
“Sure,” said Haley. “In case you didn’t know, she’s sitting out there in the tea room.”
* * *
Delaine looked tired
but composed. She sat at a window table, gazing out onto Church Street where red-and-yellow horse-drawn jitneys lumbered past laden with tourists, and late-morning traffic was forced to blip around St. Phillip’s Church where it stuck solidly out into the middle of Church Street. Hence the name Church Street.
Seated across from Delaine was a woman Theodosia didn’t recognize. She was fairly young, maybe late twenties, with a pleasant expression, cool-looking narrow silver-blue glasses, and a cap of attractive brown curls. She wore a crisp khaki business suit that had a bit of a military snap to it.
Theodosia slipped past the velvet celadon green curtain that separated the tea shop from the back of the shop and threaded her way to Delaine’s table.
“Delaine?” Theodosia’s voice conveyed the fact that she was surprised to see her. “How are you doing?”
Delaine offered a sad smile. “Hanging in there.”
“I’m surprised to see you here,” said Theodosia.
“Where else would I go?” said Delaine.
Gee, I don’t know
, Theodosia thought.
Maybe a meeting with a funeral director? Or a minister?
Delaine flipped a hand toward the woman sitting across from her. “Theo, I’d like you to meet Millie. Millie Grant.”
Millie threw Theodosia a warm smile. “I’m Mr. Granville’s secretary,” she explained.
“Oh,” said Theodosia. “How very nice to meet you. Considering the, um, circumstances.”
Millie nodded and seemed to blink back tears. “It’s been hard on all of us.”
Theodosia glanced around and saw that Drayton had things under control for the moment, so she sat down with them.
“Where’s Nadine . . . is she still in town?” Theodosia asked Delaine. Nadine was a divorcée from New York. But, to Delaine’s great consternation, she seemed to be spending more and more time in Charleston. Theodosia figured Nadine was biding her time until she could move in permanently with Delaine, and thus be a permanent source of discord.
“Some help she’s been in all of this,” said Delaine, making a dismissive gesture. “She’s either crying herself silly or dashing out the door.”
“Well, if you need help with anything, I’ll do whatever I can,” said Theodosia. “Please don’t hesitate to ask.”
Delaine’s eyes suddenly shone brightly with tears. “Thank you, Theo. I
do
need your help. After being interrogated and browbeaten by Detective Tidwell, I’m extremely upset!”
“If you’d like me to speak to him,” said Theodosia, “just say the word.”
Delaine reached across the table and gripped Theodosia’s hand. “Theo, I need more than
talk
. I need action!”
“What did you have in mind?” asked Theodosia. “You need some help planning a memorial service or . . . ?”
Delaine did a double take, popping her eyes wide open and dropping her lower jaw. “Are you serious?” she screeched. “I want you to do what you
always
do. Snoop around, ask questions, figure things out! Help clear my good name!”
“You’re saying you want me to investigate?” said Theodosia.
“Yes! Of course!” Delaine gave a quick glance around. “Did I just walk into a parallel universe or something? That’s what you’re
good
at!”
“Not really,” said Theodosia.
“You are!” said Delaine. “You’ve figured out crimes before!” She tapped an index finger against her head. “So we need to put your smarts to work on this!”
“But who exactly would I investigate?” asked Theodosia, knowing she was treading on eggshells.
“Simone, of course!” spat out Delaine. “Dougan’s skanky ex-girlfriend. Really, Theo, the woman hates me. No, let me rephrase that, she
despises
me!”
“I somehow doubt that,” said Theodosia.
But Delaine thought otherwise. “It
had
to be Simone who gave Dougan the drugs. She knew he’d had a minor flirtation with them a couple of years ago.”
Theodosia tried to get a word in. “But why would she . . . ?”
“Simone was obviously trying to appeal to Dougan at a weak moment,” said Delaine. “She was trying to get him high and then change his mind about marrying me!”
“Delaine, be reasonable,” said Theodosia. “If Simone still had feelings for Dougan, she certainly wouldn’t have
murdered
him.”
“You don’t know her like I do,” said Delaine. “She’s extremely cold and conniving. She probably figured that if she couldn’t have him, then neither could I!”
Theodosia had to admit there was a small kernel of twisted logic there. Somewhere.
“Okay,” said Theodosia. “If it’ll make you feel any better, I’ll pay a visit to Simone.”
For about two minutes. Just to say that I did and satisfy Delaine’s craving to snoop.
“Where exactly would I find her?”
Delaine fumbled in her Prada bag and pulled out a slip of paper. “Here. I wrote it all down for you. Simone owns a vintage shop by the name of Archangel. It’s over on King Street.”
“Near all the antique dealers,” Theodosia murmured, as Drayton suddenly appeared at their table. His tray held a pitcher of sweet tea along with three tall, frosted glasses.
“My special Honey Hibiscus Sweet Tea,” said Drayton. “Egyptian chamomile tea blended with hibiscus blossoms, rose hips, and a touch of honey.” He nodded solemnly at Delaine. “I do hope you’re feeling some better.”
“Some,” said Delaine.
“And hello to you,” Drayton said to Millie.
“This is Dougan’s secretary,” said Delaine.
“Millie,” said Millie, nodding.
“Lovely to meet you,” said Drayton. “My sincere sympathies to you, too.”
“Thank you,” said Millie, as Drayton moved off.
Theodosia poured out glasses of sweet tea for all of them. When she handed a glass to Millie, the girl gave a little shiver and said, “I never met a real-life investigator before.”
“Well, I’m not one,” said Theodosia.
But Millie was not to be dissuaded. “Delaine was bragging to me earlier about how smart you are. How good you are at finding clues and figuring things out.”
“Sometimes I get lucky,” said Theodosia.
“Well, it sure is nice to have you on our side,” Millie continued. “Especially after . . .” Her voice faded as she gazed sorrowfully at Delaine.
“What?” said Theodosia. “Did something happen?” Tidwell again?
Delaine sniffled, then dug into her bag for a tissue. “There was another nasty scene this morning,” she whispered.
“What?” said Theodosia. What she really meant was,
Now what?
Millie turned toward Theodosia with sorrowful eyes. “When Delaine showed up at Granville and Grumley, I’m afraid she was given a rather cool reception.”
“Seriously?” said Theodosia. Delaine was treated rudely at her fiancé’s law firm? Her
dead
fiancé’s law firm? Shouldn’t they have been bend-over-backward nice to her?
Millie nodded. “To be honest, they were perfectly awful.”
Theodosia stared at Delaine. “Who was awful to you?”
“Pretty much everyone,” sniffed Delaine. “Although Allan Grumley, Dougan’s partner, was the worst.”
“His
partner
?” said Theodosia. She found this totally bizarre, especially since Granville and Grumley had been known all over Charleston for being a hotshot team of lawyers, the kind of gunslinging attorneys that could intimidate and negotiate with the best of them. Her assumption had always been that the two men were arrogant, freewheeling, and extremely like-minded. That they got along famously.
“I was totally shocked,” said Delaine. She sniffed again and daubed at her eyes with a hanky.
“Why did you even go there?” asked Theodosia.
“Just to obtain some paperwork,” said Delaine. “But who knew I’d be met with such fierce resistance? Except, of course, for Millie. She was the one saving grace.”
Millie reached across the table and patted Delaine’s hand. “You know I’ll always be there for you.”
“I know you will, sweetie,” said Delaine. “You were devoted to Dougan and don’t think I don’t appreciate it.”
“Thank you,” said Millie. Now she looked like she was ready to cry.
Her eyes going hard, Delaine gazed across her sweet tea at Theodosia. “I want revenge,” she hissed. “Sweet revenge. My life’s been ruined and the one man who loved me despite all my foibles is
dead
!” She took a gulp of sweet tea. “He loved me unconditionally and didn’t think it was one bit odd that I talked to cats.”
“Of course, he didn’t,” said Theodosia.
Women are considered odd only when they collect dozens of cats.
“I know it’s asking a lot of you, Theo,” said Delaine, “but will you
please
go with me to Granville and Grumley tomorrow afternoon? Will you be my advocate? My ally?”
“Why do you even have to go there?” asked Theodosia.
“There are papers and things she needs to see,” said Millie.
“Can’t you take care of those things?” Theodosia asked Millie. “Run interference for her?”
Millie snorted. “Me? Are you kidding? I’m just a lowly secretary. Not even on par with a paralegal. Nobody there listens to me.”
“Please, Theo?” said Delaine. “We need you.
I
need you.”
“Of course, I’ll go with you,” said Theodosia. She hated the fact that Delaine had been treated badly. Rude behavior and taking advantage of people when they were hurting were two things that radically ruffled her feathers.
“The thing is,” said Delaine, “I really don’t trust Allan Grumley.”
“Maybe he’s still in shock, too,” said Theodosia. “Maybe he’s trying to figure out how the firm can move ahead and he’s just crazed with worry.” She figured there had to be a legitimate reason for Grumley’s bad behavior, if that was what it really had been.