Plum Tea Crazy

by Laura Childs

  As they jogged down Tradd Street, Theodosia decided to cut down the quaint little alley that ran directly behind the Indigo Tea Shop as well as a dozen other small businesses. It was quiet and protected from the ocean winds, which had started to really kick up. Halfway down the alley, a back door opened and a faint shaft of light fell across her pathway. Then the door slammed shut as a dark, blurry figure emerged.

  “Oh!” Theodosia cried as she pulled up short, causing Earl Grey to lurch against her.

  There was a metallic tinkling sound—either keys or a chain—and then a pleasant woman’s voice said, with a slight quaver to it, “Hello? Who’s there?”

  “Oh my goodness, it’s Alexis,” Theodosia blurted out. “You startled me.” Her heart was pounding a timpani solo inside her chest.

  Alexis James peered at her in the dim light of the alley where an old-fashioned carriage lamp flickered fitfully. “Theodosia?” she said.

  “Yes, it’s me,” Theodosia said. She was relieved to see a friendly face, relieved to realize that she had stopped directly behind Haiku Gallery. “I didn’t mean for you to think I was some kind of weird prowler.”

  “Not a problem,” Alexis said, smiling. “I’m happy to see a fellow shopowner.” Then she turned her immediate attention to Earl Grey. “Ooh, what a lovely dog we have here. Who is this fine fellow, please?” Alexis was already down on bended knee, accepting a raised paw in her outstretched hand. “And such a proper gentleman to shake hands like that.”

  “This is Earl Grey,” Theodosia said. “Also known as the tea shop dog. He’ll shake hands, love you to death, and if you scratch under his chin—or really anywhere on his furry body—he’ll give you a great big kiss.”

  “Well, he’s absolutely adorable,” Alexis said. “And please don’t mind me, because I turn into a mushy-gushy mess whenever I get around animals. Particularly dogs and cats. Although horses make me lose it as well. And any kind of fawn or baby raccoon.”

  “I’m the same way,” Theodosia said. “Love all the critters.” And then, as they walked down the alley together, said, “You’re working late.”

  “Yes, well, because of my new business, don’t you know?” Alexis said. “This gallery seems to require ten times the amount of time and energy I thought it would. But I guess I don’t have to tell you about working long hours.”

  “I hear you,” Theodosia said. “I’m still wondering when I’ll finally catch up. And the tea shop’s been open for years.”

  “Wasn’t that something today?” Alexis asked. “I mean, at the fashion show?”

  “Unbelievable.”

  “I don’t even know those women and I was embarrassed for them,” Alexis said.

  “I felt bad for Delaine,” Theodosia said. “Though I’m sure she’ll manage to bounce back from it.”

  They emerged from the alley and stood together under a lamppost. “You’re dressed very sporty,” Alexis said.

  “Running,” Theodosia explained.

  “Do you and your dog run every night?”

  “Almost every night. When the weather cooperates, that is.”

  Alexis gazed back down her alley. “I know what you mean. When it’s foggy or rainy these cobblestones get awfully slippery. Makes me nervous.”

  “Are you a runner as well?” Theodosia was sensing the possibility of a running partner.

  “Me? No, not anymore,” Alexis said. “I’ve got creaky knees from wearing high heels for too many years.” She laughed softly. “Now I work out my aggressions in a spin class.”

  “You enjoy that?” Theodosia asked. She’d heard so much about spin classes and had always wanted to try one.

  Alexis grinned. “I love it. Spinning really gets the old heart pumping like crazy. And it’s a lot of fun. You’re in there with a whole bunch of people, riding as hard as you can . . . it feels very empowering. Like riding in a peloton in the Tour de France. Only with rock music blasting.”

  “I love it!” Theodosia said.

  “You know what? You should try it sometime. I bet you’d be great at spinning. You’ve probably already built up some terrific endurance.”

  “Might be fun,” Theodosia said, deciding that a workout partner could be just as good as a running partner.

  “I’ve got an idea,” Alexis said. “Come with me tomorrow night. They do a late class for working stiffs, nine o’clock, over at Metro Spin Cycle. You know where that is?”

  “Over on Cumberland.”

  “Then it’s settled,” Alexis said. “We’ll meet up at the front door and go in together. I think I even have a coupon for a free class.”

  “Can’t beat that,” Theodosia said.

  * * *

  • • •

  Pete Riley was waiting for her on the street when she got home. He stepped out from the shadow of a magnolia tree and said, “Tell me, do the two of you go running every night?” It was essentially the same question Alexis had just asked.

  “Almost every night,” Theodosia said. She walked right up to Riley, rose up on tiptoes, and kissed him square on the mouth.

  When he’d recovered from his surprise, he grinned and said, “How far do you usually go?”

  Theodosia grabbed his hand and led him up the front walk. “Tonight just down to White Point Garden. We maybe managed three miles at best.”

  “So you were just kind of breezing.”

  “Something like that.” Theodosia stuck her key in the lock and said, “Come on in.” She flipped on a light switch and watched as Earl Grey gave Riley a couple of good sniffs and then wandered off, looking disinterested.

  “Huh,” Riley said. “The story of my life.”

  “Somehow I doubt that,” Theodosia said. Riley was too good-looking, too sure of himself, not to be taken seriously.

  Riley reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, colorful gift bag. He handed it to Theodosia.

  She lifted an eyebrow. What’s this?”

  “Just a little something I thought you might like.”

  “A gift,” Theodosia said as she opened the bag slowly and peered in. “Oh, I love this perfume! Thank you.” It was a bottle of Maison Margiela REPLICA Tea Escape.

  “The scent reminded me of you,” Riley said.

  “Because tea is one of the actual ingredients, right?” The perfume was a blend of bergamot, green tea, lily of the valley, and jasmine. A tea-drinking Southern girl’s fragrance dream.

  “Of course.”

  “Thank you so much, but what’s the occasion?” Theodosia asked as they made their way into the kitchen.

  “To sweeten the deal?” Riley said.

  “That sounds tantalizing. And a bit scary, too.”

  “Because we have a lot to talk about,” Riley said.

  “In that case,” Theodosia said, “would you care for a bottle of water? Or better yet, a glass of wine?” She opened the refrigerator and stuck her head in. “Chablis or Merlot?”

  Riley held up a hand. “Pass.”

  “You’re still on duty?”

  “No, I just want to get the full story.”

  Theodosia grabbed a bottle of water for herself, took a quick glug, and then plopped down at the kitchen table facing Riley. “Long day.”

  “So, how was your outing with Tidwell?”

  “Not very productive, I’m afraid. We got Harker’s address okay, then drove all the way over to North Charleston to find out he wasn’t home.”

  “Maybe he was there but he was playing possum.”

  “Or maybe Harker’s slipping down a dark alley somewhere, planning more evil deeds.”

  “My, we are the suspicious one, aren’t we?” Riley said.

  “Sometimes it pays to be.”

  “You still need to bring me up to speed on a few things.”

  “I suppose if I can unburden
myself to Tidwell, I can do the same with you,” Theodosia said.

  “That’s right. So fire when ready.”

  Theodosia took another sip of water and then proceeded to lay out all the events of the day, same as she’d done for Tidwell. The insults that Sissy Lanier and Betty Bates had hurled at each other, their horrible fight, the rock through her window, meeting Garver at the gun club, and Sissy showing up at the tea shop totally bereft because her Fidelity account was missing a whole bunch of money.

  Riley listened, nodded, and, as the stories got wilder, looked slightly horrified. When Theodosia finally ended with Timothy’s threatening note, he said, “You certainly did have a full day.”

  “And I’ve got the aches, bruises, and a headache to prove it.”

  Riley reached over, pulled her closer, and kissed her again. “Poor baby,” he murmured. “Getting roped in like that.”

  “The thing is, I didn’t want to get roped in at first. But now . . .”

  “Now you’re in it up to your cute little eyeballs.”

  “I think I am,” Theodosia said. “And I have to tell you, if you asked me right now who Lanier’s killer is, I’d still put my money on Jud Harker.”

  “Why is that?” Riley asked.

  “Because Harker seems the most unhinged. Trying to stop the weapons show has become—what would you call it? An ideological fight.”

  “But these other people—Sissy Lanier, Betty Bates, and Bob Garver—there’s much more at stake for them,” Riley said. “Much more of a financial upside in getting rid of Lanier. And they all profile as somewhat obsessive-compulsive as well.”

  “In the South we call that eccentric,” Theodosia said.

  “Except any one of them could be dangerously eccentric,” Riley said. “But that’s not for you to worry about, because you’re not going to be deputized anytime soon.”

  “Wait, what are you saying?” Theodosia asked.

  “That you need to pull back and let law enforcement run the show from here on in,” Riley said.

  “To be fair, you guys haven’t come up with all that much.”

  “But we will,” Riley assured her. “We’ll crack this whole thing wide open in another day or two.”

  “You think?” Theodosia wasn’t nearly as optimistic.

  “Of course.” Riley paused. “Now tell me about this big party Friday night. The Kitty Kat Club.”

  “You make it sound like a strip club.” Theodosia laughed.

  “Then what is it again?” Riley asked.

  “The Hair Ball. Delaine’s fancy dress ball following the big Carolina Cat Show.” Theodosia peered at Riley. “You don’t really have to go, you know.”

  “Are you afraid I’ll look like something the cat dragged in?” Riley teased.

  “That’s not it at all. I just don’t want you to feel pressure from Delaine.”

  “That’s not who I’m thinking about at the moment.” Riley leaned forward and kissed her again.

  “Well, okay,” Theodosia murmured.

  19

  Even though Theodosia had tacitly promised Pete Riley that she’d back off from the investigation, she didn’t see any harm in attending the private memorial service for Carson Lanier.

  So that’s exactly where she was this Thursday morning at 10:00 AM. Sitting alongside Drayton and Timothy in the Main Reading Room at the Charleston Library Society.

  It was a gorgeous room. Black-and-white marble floors, a skylight overhead that let in a welcome spill of sunlight, plus tall, elegant Palladian windows. Approximately forty chairs had been arranged in a neat semicircle, and every one of them was filled.

  Theodosia noted that Betty Bates was present, along with a large contingent of Capital Bank executives. Bob Garver had also shown up, though he was sitting in the back row, toying with his smartphone. Probably trying to kill two birds with one stone; nail down a real estate deal while he shoehorned in a memorial service.

  And Tidwell was there, too. Standing in the back of the room, looking like a bull in a china shop. Or maybe a bull in a library.

  But Sissy, Lanier’s soon-to-be ex-wife, technically his widow now, was a no-show. Which Theodosia didn’t find one bit surprising.

  “I wish this service would get started,” Drayton said under his breath to Theodosia. “I’m worried about leaving Miss Dimple and Jamie in charge.”

  “They’re not in charge,” Theodosia whispered back. “Haley is. And she’s a pro. She’ll make sure morning teatime runs like clockwork.”

  “And then we’ve got the Tea Trolley stopping by this afternoon.”

  “Relax,” Theodosia said. “You’ve got to relax.”

  As if Drayton’s nervousness had seeped out and permeated the atmosphere, a large man suddenly strode up the center aisle and took his place at the podium. He had a shock of white hair, a florid face, and he wore a three-piece, nondescript banker’s suit.

  “That’s Roger Grimley from the bank,” Timothy whispered.

  “I figured as much,” Theodosia said.

  Grimley carried a bronze urn in his beefy hands, and he set it down carefully, almost theatrically, on the podium for all to see. Theodosia supposed the contents therein were all that was left of Carson Lanier.

  Grimley gave a heartfelt welcome to the group, then gripped the podium with both hands and launched into a masterfully worded testimonial about Carson Lanier. He praised the man’s work ethic, his brilliance, and his dedication to community service. Then he moved on to lament Lanier’s too-short tenure at Capital Bank.

  As Grimley rambled on, Theodosia glanced about the room. Most mourners were staring stolidly ahead, a few women wiped at their eyes with hankies. Tidwell had seemingly disappeared.

  Theodosia craned her neck around, looking for him. But Tidwell really was gone. Slipped out like a rat abandoning a sinking ship.

  Twenty-five minutes later, Grimley ran out of breath. Red-faced and gasping now, he thanked everyone for coming and urged them to stay for coffee and sweet rolls.

  “Sweet rolls,” Drayton hissed under his breath. “They’re serving industrial-mix sweet rolls when they could have had something civilized like scones.”

  “Not everyone has your exemplary taste,” Theodosia told him. “Or knowledge of artisan scones.”

  “That’s obvious.”

  But as the mourners rose to leave—or stay for refreshments, as the case might be—Theodosia pushed her way through the crowd and raced after Bob Garver. She buttonholed him just as he was about to step into the hallway.

  “Mr. Garver,” Theodosia said. “May I have a moment of your time?”

  Garver looked up from poking at his cell phone. “Hmm?” Then he seemed to focus more carefully. “You. I remember you.”

  “I’d like to ask you about . . .”

  Garver shoved past her, all businesslike and brusque. “No time,” he called over his shoulder. His lips twitched into a sneer. “No interest, either.”

  “How rude,” Theodosia said. It was the second time Garver had brushed her off as if she were an errant mosquito.

  “I wanted to talk to him, too,” said a voice at her shoulder.

  Theodosia turned to find Betty Bates staring at her. Betty didn’t exactly have a toothsome, friendly look on her face, but she didn’t have murder in her eyes, either. Unless she was cleverly hiding her real intent.

  “He’s a prime suspect,” Theodosia said of the departed Garver.

  “And thanks to you, so am I,” Betty said. Now she did sound angry and bitter. “I’ve been forced to answer probing questions directed at me by two different detectives. Both pushy, rude detectives, I might add.”

  “Poor you,” Theodosia said. Betty Bates was clearly no blushing little flower. She was hard-shell tough and a real business pro. If she could fight her way up the corporate ladder, she probably posse
ssed a good deal of smarts and cunning. In fact, Theodosia figured it wouldn’t be long before Betty was able to bull her way into Lanier’s old job. There was a vacancy, after all.

  “You think I was having an affair with Lanier?” Betty asked. She kept her voice purposely low, but it shook with fury. “You are so off base.”

  Theodosia met her gaze. “That’s not what Sissy Lanier says.”

  “Sissy Lanier is a nutcase. She wasn’t able to hang on to her husband, so now she spews vicious lies wherever she goes.”

  “Sissy happens to be missing a great deal of money,” Theodosia said. “And she’s worried that her husband spent it on whoever he was having an affair with.”

  “Well, it certainly wasn’t me,” Betty said. “So it has to have been somebody else!”

  * * *

  • • •

  Miss Dimple’s face split into a wide grin when Theodosia and Drayton arrived back at the Indigo Tea Shop.

  “There you are,” Miss Dimple exclaimed. Then her look turned sorrowful. “How was the service? Haley said you were attending a memorial?”

  “It was fine,” Drayton said. “But more importantly, how is our tea service going?”

  “No problems whatsoever,” Miss Dimple said. She was a happy octogenarian who had done their bookkeeping for a number of years. Besides still handling receivables and payables, she also delighted in filling in at the tea shop whenever needed. “And this sweet young fellow you have working here?” Miss Dimple leaned in closer to Drayton. “My advice is to keep him. Jamie’s an absolute treasure.” Plump little Miss Dimple let loose a chuckle that set her entire five-feet-one-inch body into motion, from the tidy bun in her hair and her apple-cheeked face to her dainty size-five feet.

  “Indeed,” Drayton said. He fingered his polka-dot bow tie and frowned.

  “That’s high praise coming from you, Miss Dimple,” Theodosia said.

  “Oh, and a package arrived for Drayton,” Miss Dimple said. “I placed it on one of his tea shelves for safekeeping.”

  Theodosia slipped a black Parisian waiter’s apron over her head and tied the strings. “So, what’s happening? Where are we at?”