The Tea Shoppe Mysteries

by Darlene Franklin

  I saw a change on the detective’s face. After meeting Phyllis Gates, I could only imagine the man had been persuaded to believe whatever she told him. She was a force to be reckoned with, but I could tell I’d made a dent in her statement by the way he started jotting in his notebook again.

  “We doubt he stopped to get anything on his way to work because, according to his secretary, the mayor was on a diet and was only having a light lunch and dinner each day. In the past, he always ate breakfast at a local diner. They confirmed he didn’t come in for breakfast today. The secretary told us that although she was out of the office part of the day, when she got back, he was dead. And now I’ve confirmed that only one of the petit fours on the tray was missing.”

  After a few more of what Rawls called “preliminary questions,” the detective left the shop. I think Mathew and I had been holding our breath, because as soon as the door closed behind the detective, we both let out heavy sighs.

  I was still feeling rather stunned knowing that I, or at least the tea shoppe, might be accused of murder, when I felt a hand on my arm.

  I tilted my head and stared at Mathew’s hand. He was offering me comfort, but I felt numb.

  “Can you believe that?” I whispered, not really meaning for anyone to hear. Mathew heard me, though, because he hadn’t left my side.

  “No. The whole thing seems impossible. Murder just doesn’t happen in this town.”

  I spun around to face him. “What do you mean? Do you think I, we, the shop, had something to do with this murder? I don’t believe he was murdered at all. I’m sure they’ll find out it was really a heart attack or something.” My jaw was tense, and my teeth clenched. My words sounded brave but unconvincing. I was simply voicing what I wanted to be the truth.

  Mathew lowered his hand to mine. “Hey, I don’t know what happened, but I’m sure neither you, nor Tea by the Sea, had anything to do with Mayor Dalton’s death. The only thing we can do now is wait until the police have proof.”

  “Do you think they’ll do an autopsy?” My words were clipped and terse. I’d never spoken to anyone about things like murder and autopsies before.

  Mathew shrugged. “Don’t see how they can prove he was poisoned without doing one. It may take a few days for them to get the results. Until then, you shouldn’t worry about anything. Of course this town loves a good story to gossip about, so who knows what you’ll hear? I say, carry on as usual, but don’t allow anyone to get you into a conversation about the mayor, his death, or poison.” He smiled, and even though I was worried about this situation, I found his smile absolutely charming.

  I tried to relax my shoulders but had a feeling it would take a day at the spa to work out the tightness in them. I felt a giggle forming as I thought about how much tension being accused of murder could cause.

  “And he suspects you of murder?” Gran’s voice screeched so loudly I had to pull my cell phone away from my ear. I could tell she really was sick, because her voice sounded a little raspy. “Why didn’t you call me right away? I could’ve set that man straight.” She sneezed.

  “Gran, it all happened so fast, and Mathew was still here when Detective Rawls started questioning me. He didn’t actually accuse me, but he did say they think one of the petit fours I sent the mayor to sample had poison in it. We won’t know anything for sure until they do an autopsy and check the other petit fours on the sample tray. I’m sure it will all turn out to be a big mistake.”

  Gran was quiet then said, “Georgina, you haven’t lived in a small town very long. You have no idea how much damage even untruthful gossip can do. If the story gets around that he was poisoned by our food, it could put us out of business.”

  “Gran, Tea by the Sea has been around as long as I can remember. I’m sure it’s weathered gossip before. Mathew … I mean, Pastor Mathew assures me we have nothing to worry about.” I wasn’t comfortable calling the pastor by his first name in general conversation. It wasn’t the way I’d been brought up, but even Gran had referred to him as Mathew several times. We spoke a few more minutes, but I could tell the stress wasn’t good for her. She was coughing, and her voice sounded scratchy. I ended the call.

  I didn’t want to talk to any customers about the mayor’s death, so I closed up the shop, making sure to turn off all the lights and lock the front door. I doubted in a town this small anyone would try to break in. Plus, everyone knew we didn’t keep any cash in the register overnight. However, the idea niggled at the back of my mind that maybe, just maybe, if the mayor had really been poisoned eating one of our petit fours, then someone had gotten in and put poison in it.

  How would someone know exactly which petit fours I would put on the sample tray? I wondered. We’d sold many of the petit fours from that batch during the day, and no one else had complained about negative effects. Unless there was a crazy person running around town putting poison in random food, then someone must have poisoned the petit four after I placed it on the tray.

  It had stopped snowing, so I decided to put off boot shopping for at least one more day. As I strolled toward my apartment, watching small flakes blowing in the wind, I kept running different scenarios over in my mind. When I reached my door, not one proved to provide any possible way the one specific petit four could have been poisoned before I set it on the tray.

  I pushed open the apartment door and entered. The room was rather stark, with only a couch, coffee table, and small kitchen table. I’d been in town a short time, and major furniture shopping was not at the top of my to-do list. I didn’t really like the apartment. Since I’d decided to stay in Sea Side, I hoped I might find a small house, so I didn’t want to waste any money on furniture I might have to replace.

  I tossed my coat on a chair, grabbed a can of soda from the fridge, slouched down on the couch, and turned on the television. I desperately needed the distraction from my thoughts. After channel surfing for fifteen minutes and realizing there was nothing interesting on, I finally put down the remote and headed for a shower.

  As the warm water soothed my aching shoulders, a despairing thought suddenly flashed through my mind. What if the detective decided to close the tea shoppe? That really could destroy the business.

  CHAPTER 4

  I glanced at the calendar hanging on the kitchen wall in the tea shoppe the next morning. It was Tuesday. I wanted to finish making the baskets today so I’d be prepared for the upcoming Victorian Christmas Festival, which started on Friday night. If there was any chance the shop would be closed by the police, we couldn’t afford to miss out on the advertisement from the festival. Plus, the church needed the funds we would raise selling off these baskets.

  I glanced around the shop. I hadn’t been here long, but I already loved everything about the business. Even though Gran was planning eventually to pass the reins to me, she would be devastated if we had to close, especially under suspicious circumstances. She’d owned the tea shoppe in Sea Side for as long as I could remember.

  Our baker had been at the shop since early in the morning, preparing for the day. When the trays of treats were ready, I opened the front door. Within a few minutes, customers started to fill the shop. At first I was surprised at the increased number of people but quickly realized morbid curiosity was bringing them in. Although most of the customers were willing to risk a cup of tea and one of our Christmas cranberry scones, no one ordered a single petit four. The number of customers pouring in gave me hope that none of them really suspected the mayor was poisoned by me or anyone at the tea shoppe, at least not on purpose.

  As soon as our waitress showed up for the day, I removed myself from the front. No customers outwardly questioned me, but all the sideways glances were enough to make me feel uncomfortable. I decided to stay behind the scenes for the day.

  I moved toward the table where all the supplies for the baskets were and sighed. I knew, with some good effort, it wasn’t going to take as long as I first imagined, but it wasn’t going to be my favorite activity. I sat down, pick
ed up some ribbon and the glue gun, and began creating.

  A few hours later, the back door opened again, and a brisk breeze chilled the room. Mathew stepped through the doorway. When my eyes met his, I couldn’t help but catch my breath. He was very good-looking. I wondered why he wasn’t already married. I was sure that by now the Bible Study Ladies would have matched him up with a nice, quiet woman in the congregation.

  Mathew shook off a few snowflakes that had settled on his broad shoulders.

  I pulled my thoughts together. “Why are you using the back door?” I asked in a rather sharp tone.

  “Hello, Georgina.” He emphasized the pleasantry, which made me feel a bit ashamed of my abrupt words. “I thought I’d come by and help with the baskets.” He strolled across the room and stopped at the end of the table. “That is, if you need help.” His eyes moved around the room where baskets were piled up. “Looks like you’ve got it well in hand.”

  My cheeks felt warm. “I’ve been at it all morning, so I’m actually almost done, but I appreciate the offer.”

  He moved toward the front room, slipped the door open an inch, and peeked out. With a wag of his head, he closed it and returned to the table. “As I suspected. You’ve got most of the gossips in town out there.”

  My mouth opened, and I stared at him in disbelief. I was aware his statement was true, but it wasn’t something I expected to hear from a pastor.

  “I know that doesn’t sound very nice, but the truth is the truth. I do my best from the pulpit to curb the tongues in this town, but the fact is, gossip is our church’s biggest problem.”

  My shoulders sagged. If that was true, then the shop’s reputation was at risk, especially if the autopsy proved the mayor was poisoned, and if they found the poison was in the petit four he ate.

  “Pas—Mathew, can I get you a cup of tea?” I stood up and walked toward the door to the front room.

  “Yes, that would be nice.”

  I pushed open the door and walked toward the teacups. Several of the customers’ heads lifted, and their eyes locked on me. I hadn’t felt so awkward since my disastrous singing debut in the sixth-grade school play. I turned my head and kept my eyes staring straight ahead of me. I reached the counter where we kept teacups and pots of hot tea, filled a cup, and quickly made my way back into the kitchen. When the door closed behind me, I couldn’t help but let out a breath.

  “Curiosity killed the cat,” I joked, immediately wishing I could take back the statement. “I mean …” I looked at Mathew, hoping he could see the regret I felt.

  “Don’t worry, Georgina. That’s what I was talking about.” He had slipped his coat off. “This town is full of people who are too curious for their own good. They look for things to talk about and things to construe. Just be yourself, and they won’t have any fuel to add to their fires.”

  “I hope so.” I handed him the saucer with the full teacup on it, then sat down across from where he had already pulled up a chair for himself. I grabbed the scissors and began working on a basket.

  Mathew took a sip of the tea and gave an appreciative sigh. “That hits the spot.”

  I’d grown up in a house where men drank coffee, so I wasn’t used to seeing a man enjoy tea. I suppose, I somehow thought it would make him look, well, weak. In Mathew’s case, however, that wasn’t true. He was a fine specimen of a man, and holding a Blue Willow teacup in his hand, drinking green tea, didn’t oppose that image.

  Mathew set down the cup. “Georgina, after seeing the crowd out front, I think there’s something we should do.”

  I lifted my head. “What’s that?” I glanced at the baskets I’d been working on for hours and wondered if he wanted me to make even more.

  “I think we should look into the mayor’s death ourselves.”

  I dropped my scissors, and they clattered on the table. “What?”

  “It’s going to take several days for the autopsy report. If the mayor was poisoned, the detective will start his own investigation. All of that will take time and will interfere with your business and the Victorian Christmas Festival.”

  I groaned. Everything he said was true, even though I didn’t want to believe it.

  “If we looked into it now, perhaps we could solve the whole case before the festival.” Mathew clapped his hands and rubbed them together, as if playing sleuth was something appealing.

  “And what if he actually was poisoned by the petit four? You realize it would definitely destroy the tea shoppe’s reputation, right?”

  “We’ll start off with that as the assumption.”

  I was surprised. “So you believe the mayor was poisoned by the petit four?”

  “For now, we will just assume that’s the case. If we can prove anything different, then that’s great. But if not, then we need to prove that neither you nor anyone at the tea shoppe poisoned the mayor. You say you didn’t put the poison in it, and it seems impossible that it was a random act, so we need to figure out exactly who had the opportunity to poison the petit four.”

  “And the motive!” I added emphatically.

  “Yes, and the motive.”

  I’m sure I looked skeptical, but there was something about his suggestion that made sense. At least we would be proactive, instead of sitting around worrying and waiting for the autopsy results.

  “I’m in. Where do we start?” I bubbled. I noticed that his eyes lit up when I said that.

  “Hmm, well, we will assume the poison was put in the petit four after you put it on the tray. Tell me who had access to it.”

  Before I spoke, I grabbed a notebook from the table and flipped it open to a clean page. On the top, I wrote, “Suspects.”

  “I put the petit four on the tray, and no one in the shop went near it. I think we can forget about our waitress or baker or any delivery people. In fact, I can only think of two people who had access to it. The mayor’s secretary, Phyllis Gates, and the mayor’s opponent, Don Johnson.”

  I explained Don Johnson’s strange behavior and how Phyllis Gates was definitely unhappy with the mayor. Both of them had motive, and both of them had time to poison the petit four.

  “However, Mr. Johnson wasn’t sure I had a tray made. I think he actually came by to put in an order for his political rally, but when he got here, he realized the mayor had already hired us. I doubt he was walking around with poison in his pocket just in case he had the opportunity to kill the mayor.”

  Mathew nodded. “I agree, but there is a slight chance there, so we still need to look into him a bit more. What about Phyllis?”

  “She took the tray from here to his office. I did have it taped so she couldn’t sample any herself, but I don’t know if she gave it to the mayor with the tape still on. She had enough time to poison the petit four, but again, was she just carrying around poison? Does she even know anything about poison? The mayor may not take her advice, but without him in office, she will probably lose her job, so it doesn’t make sense for her to have killed him.”

  I could see my two-sided arguments, for and against both suspects, were frustrating to Mathew. He stood up and began to pace back and forth in front of the table. He stopped behind me and read the notes over my shoulder.

  “This is all good information, but it’s not enough. We need to follow up on Don Johnson and Phyllis Gates and find out if anyone else had the opportunity or motive to poison the petit four. The sooner we get started on this, the better. Can you sneak away from the shop?”

  I stood and wiped my hands on my apron then slipped it off. I’d just finished the last basket, and I knew the waitress could handle all the customers. I turned to Mathew and said, “Sure, where should we start?”

  A grin spread across his face. “Where else, but the scene of the crime? The mayor’s office.” Mathew picked up his coat, did an about-face, and marched out of the kitchen. I flung down the apron, grabbed my coat, and scuttled after him.

  The mayor’s office wasn’t far from the tea shoppe, so we walked. Actually, Mathew w
alked, and I jogged to keep up with his long strides. He carried my notebook and several times reread what I’d written. I wondered why a pastor seemed so interested in murder.

  “Um, Mathew, are you an undercover detective?” I asked in a joking tone. He stopped and turned around to face me. I saw red creep up his neck.

  “I do love to read mysteries, but I assure you, I didn’t offer to help you in order to act out the part of a cheap novel. I’m genuinely concerned about the tea shoppe and the effect this could have on the festival. The church gets its support from the festival. I also don’t want anyone in my congregation falsely accused of murder.”

  As he spoke, he took my hands in his.

  I stared at his hand for a few seconds, blinked, then turned back toward the mayor’s office. We both began to walk again.

  “What’s our plan?” I asked, my voice beginning to shake with anxiety. I wasn’t sure going to the mayor’s office was the right thing to do.

  “I think if we just look around a bit, talk to everyone in the office, we can start to get an idea of exactly who saw the mayor that day and who had the opportunity to poison the petit fours.”

  I nodded my head reluctantly. Since I had no better idea, I would just do what Mathew thought was best.

  CHAPTER 5

  Sea Side City Hall was a fairly new building. It was not as pretty as some of the businesses in the historical downtown area, but it was decorated for Christmas with lights and a large silver wreath. The Christmas lights were turned off during the day. The front door of the building wasn’t taped off, so we assumed the police had only closed off the mayor’s office. I entered the building and stomped the slush off my feet, noting how quiet it was. Word of the mayor’s death had obviously spread. Either everyone in the offices was out, or they were observing silence out of respect.