by Laura Childs
“Does everything have to be plum colored?” Miss Dimple asked. She was arranging the plates, cups, and saucers just so on all the tables.
“Not really,” Theodosia said.
“Yes, it does,” Drayton said at the exact same time.
Miss Dimple blinked and stared at them. “I declare, you two are still all shaken up, aren’t you?” They’d told her first off about Jamie getting struck by a car last night, which had pretty much rocked Miss Dimple’s world and sent her into endless paroxysms of worry.
“We’re still a little unnerved,” Theodosia admitted. “But when Haley called a while ago, she said Jamie was doing just fine. No problems at all.”
“Jamie’s such a sweet boy,” Miss Dimple crooned. “So eager to pitch in and help.”
“I’m sure he’ll be back at the tea shop in no time at all,” Drayton said. “Limping around, still trying to decipher a Lung Ching from an Assam.”
Miss Dimple looked aghast. “Surely you wouldn’t put Jamie to work when he’s got a cast on his leg!”
“No,” Drayton said. “We’ll probably just let him lounge around on cashmere pillows and spoon-feed him foie gras topped with a quail egg.”
Miss Dimple waved a hand. “Oh, you.” She looked at the tables and said, “We should probably put out the white linen napkins?”
“That sounds perfectly lovely,” Theodosia said. “And add some crystal tumblers for water glasses.”
Up at the front counter, Drayton crooked a finger, indicating for Theodosia to join him.
She walked over and leaned forward. “What?” she said.
“Have you called Detective Riley yet?”
Theodosia bit her lip. “No.”
“I thought you might want to clue him in on last night’s extracurricular activities.”
“Why would I want to do that?” Theodosia asked.
“The scrapbook?” Drayton said. “The news clipping about the dead brother? Harker’s deep, dark past might be pertinent information.”
“Somehow I don’t think Charleston PD would be thrilled to learn that we jimmied a door and snuck in where we weren’t invited.”
“We?” Drayton said. “Last time I looked, you were the one with the mangled Visa card.”
“I guess I still haven’t decided how to play this.”
“But you’re giving me your trademark surreptitious look, which tells me you’d prefer last night remain our little secret,” Drayton said.
Theodosia tapped the counter with an index finger. “For now I would, yes.” She gazed at Drayton, trying to decipher his expression. “What about you? How do you feel about staying mum? I think it might be for the best, but I don’t want you to compromise your principles.”
“My principles went out the door once I stepped through that apartment door.”
“So what exactly are you saying?”
Drayton looked thoughtful. “Perhaps you could pay me off with hush money. Unmarked bills in a paper sack?”
“How about my undying thanks? Will that do?”
“For now, yes. And I shall remain mum for as long as you need me to.”
“Thank you, Drayton. You’re a true friend.”
“More like a partner in crime,” he said, returning Theodosia’s steadfast gaze. Then he glanced past Theodosia’s shoulder and said, “Hey, now.” His voice and demeanor were suddenly upbeat. “Look what the tabby cat dragged in.”
It was Haley. Her arms were wrapped around two large bags stuffed with groceries and she was struggling under the weight.
“Here, over here,” Drayton said, waving a hand.
Haley staggered to the counter and plopped down her bags. Drayton hastily grabbed them before they toppled over and spilled their contents.
“I’ve been shopping,” Haley said. “I had to pick up a few ingredients.”
“We see that,” Theodosia said. “But first things first, how’s Jamie?”
“He’s wide-awake and talking on his phone like crazy,” Haley said. “Taking selfies of his cast and posting them to his Facebook page. Among his friends, a plaster cast is like a badge of honor.”
“That’s all very nice and anecdotal,” Theodosia said. “But how does Jamie actually feel? What’s his health prognosis?”
“He’s says he’s uncomfortable, but not having much pain. And his doctor assured me he’s doing great.”
“A blessing indeed,” Drayton said.
“And wouldn’t you know it, Jamie feels bad about missing the Plum Blossom Tea today,” Haley said.
“Well, he shouldn’t think twice about it,” Theodosia said. “The only thing Jamie should be concerned about is rest and recuperation.”
Haley nodded. “That’s what I told him.”
“When does Jamie get out of the hospital?” Theodosia asked. “Wait, is he going back home or will he be coming here?”
“The hospital will release him tomorrow for sure, maybe even today, depending on what his doctor decides,” Haley said. “But he won’t be coming here. Too hard for him to make it up the stairs.” Haley shook back her long blond hair. “No, I’ll drive him over to Aunt LaBelle’s place in Goose Creek.”
“The one with the bad feet?” Drayton asked.
“She’s all better now,” Haley said.
Theodosia and Drayton hefted Haley’s grocery bags and carried them into the kitchen for her.
“I don’t mean to put undue pressure on you,” Theodosia said. “But we never did finalize today’s menu.”
“Oh, that,” Haley said.
“Yes, that,” Drayton said. “We know you planned for a first course of cream scones with plum preserves, but after that the details were sort of fuzzy.”
Haley reached into one of her bags and pulled out a bunch of purple asparagus. “Take a look at this.” She grinned. “I thought I’d try to make everything as plum colored and purple as possible.”
“So the purple asparagus is for . . . what?” Theodosia asked. It was colorful and probably delicious, but how exactly would Haley prepare it?
“I’m going to make an asparagus and Gruyère cheese tart on puff pastry,” Haley said. “It’s a great way to eat veggies surrounded by cheesy goodness.”
“I love it,” Drayton said. “And what of our main entrée?” He looked at Haley, then at Theodosia. “I have to plan my tea offerings. Our ladies will expect a different tea with each course.”
“Noted,” Haley said. “So I thought we’d go with turkey Waldorf sandwiches on brioche, and then a nice gooey plum crisp for dessert.”
“Sounds like the full monty,” Drayton said.
“I don’t know how you manage it, Haley, but your menu sounds wonderfully inventive,” Theodosia said. “Especially since the last twelve hours you have been preoccupied with Jamie.”
Haley gave an absent nod. “The good thing is, I’m always thinking. My brain is always whirling away like some kind of gyroscopic gizmo that’s in perpetual motion.”
“Which is good when you’re cooking up ideas, but bad when you want to fall asleep,” Theodosia said. She often experienced the same thing herself. It was one of the reasons she jogged at night and sang soothing songs to Earl Grey. To calm herself down and turn off the cares of the day.
“So, what do you need from us?” Drayton asked. He was set to grab a knife and chop away at the asparagus.
Haley gave him a beguiling smile. “Just get out of here and leave me alone.”
“You’re sure?” Theodosia asked. “You don’t want any help?”
“No!”
Drayton raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, Ms. Hell’s Kitchen, you don’t have to tell us twice.”
“That’s for sure,” Theodosia said.
* * *
• • •
“Which plum tea are you planning to serv
e?” Theodosia asked once she and Drayton were back at the counter, perusing his floor-to-ceiling shelf of teas.
“Mmn . . .” Drayton’s fingers walked across a couple of tins, paused, and then kept going. “I think maybe two different varieties. A plum-flavored Ceylonese black tea and my new house blend of Chinese black tea with bits of plum and quince.”
“Is that the one that smells a little like coffee cake?”
“It’s quite fragrant, yes.”
“And do you have a name for it?”
“I’ve been calling it Plum Crazy.”
“Hah,” Theodosia said. “A perfect name considering this past week.”
Just then, the bell over the front door did its loud da-ding.
“Customers,” Drayton said. “I hope they’re not disappointed that we’re only doing takeout.”
But it wasn’t a customer at all. It was Detective Burt Tidwell. He marched into the tea shop, glanced around, postured with his heels together like a ballet master, and said, “Where is everyone?”
“Didn’t you read the sign?” Drayton asked.
Tidwell shook his head. “What sign?”
“On the front door,” Theodosia said. “We’re only doing takeout this morning because we’re getting ready for a private party.”
“Who’s the private party?” Tidwell asked. He was like that. Nosy. Maybe it came with the territory of being a hotshot detective, or maybe he just liked to bark out questions and sift through answers.
Theodosia came around the counter. “We’re hosting the Broad Street Garden Club for a special Plum Blossom Tea.”
Tidwell tilted his head back and sniffed the air suspiciously, like a wolf searching for carrion. “Then where are the plum blossoms?”
“I’m glad you mentioned that,” Drayton said. “Hopefully, they’re on their way from the florist. Although . . .” He reached for the phone. “I’m going to call Floradora right now and check on our order. It should have been delivered by now.”
“Is there something I can help you with?” Theodosia asked Tidwell.
Tidwell peered at her. He was dressed in a tweed sport coat that strained mightily over his bulging form. The pockets sagged and the collar flopped up in back. “The strangest reports have been coming across my desk.”
“In your position of authority, I’m sure you deal with unusual problems on a routine basis.” Theodosia flashed a warm smile. A smile that said, Please don’t ask me too many questions. Please don’t dig too deeply.
Tidwell smiled back, but with very little warmth. “This week has been stranger than most. Off the charts, in fact.”
“How nice and challenging. It must make your work very interesting.”
“First came the murder of Mr. Lanier,” Tidwell said, unfazed. “Followed by bizarre front-page photos of two contenders for the Women’s Wrestling Federation crown.”
“You read Shooting Star?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Tidwell drawled. “Of course, you popped up on my radar as soon as you started dogging that real estate developer, Bob Garver.”
Theodosia tried her best not to look guilty.
But Tidwell wasn’t finished. “Then you decided that lady bank executive, Betty Bates, was a prime suspect, after which you tangled with Jud Harker, and, of course, Timothy Neville was threatened with bodily harm. To top it all off, your young employee and your shopkeeper friend from down the street were both assaulted last night.” He rocked back on his run-down heels, looking smugly satisfied.
“Nobody planned any of that,” Theodosia said. “And nobody saw it coming, either.” She fought to maintain her cool. Tidwell wasn’t just brusque and maddening, he was scary smart. He knew she’d been investigating, that she was poking her nose where it didn’t belong.
“And what is the common denominator?” Tidwell continued. He lifted a hand and pointed a chubby finger at her. “You.”
“You think all this happened because of me?”
“I think you’ve been doing a fine job of fanning the flames.”
Theodosia put both hands on her hips and stared at him. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“You’ve become a magnet, a flash point. A nexus of trouble, so to speak.”
“Seriously?” Her voice came out in a squeak, but she fought to get it under control. “No. I don’t think so.”
“Then tell me,” Tidwell said. “What were you up to last night?”
“Last night?” Does he know I creepy-crawled Harker’s apartment? Has someone been tailing me? “After I left the hospital, I went home.” That much is true. Besides, if he didn’t want me investigating Jud Harker, he shouldn’t have let me tag along with him two nights ago.
Tidwell studied her carefully, as if he was trying to divine her thoughts.
“Hmph,” he said.
“Where are my manners?” Theodosia said suddenly. “May I offer you a scone?” When faced with Tidwell’s onslaught of questions, she’d learned to ply him with sugar. It was his downfall. His kryptonite.
“You’re trying to change the subject,” Tidwell said in a gruff voice.
“Certainly not,” Theodosia said. Of course I am, is it working?
She lifted the glass top on the pie saver where an assortment of baked goodies was on display, and waved a hand as if she were a show hostess on The Price Is Right.
“Let’s see, now. We’ve got cream scones, strawberry muffins, and, oh yes, chocolate tea bread.”
“Chocolate tea bread?” were the words that sealed Tidwell’s fate.
Gotcha.
“Let me put a slice in a take-out box for you,” Theodosia said. “Better yet, I’ll make up a nice assortment. And Drayton . . .” She gestured frantically at Drayton. “Could you please fix Detective Tidwell a cup of tea, to go?”
* * *
• • •
And Tidwell finally did go. Clutching his goodies and his cup of tea, he was carefully, gently, with kid gloves, shown the door. It was all done on the pretext that they had to get ready for the Plum Blossom Tea. Which they actually did, of course.
After placing plum-colored tea lights in frosted glasses, Theodosia set about arranging the Japanese artifacts that Alexis had loaned her. There were elegant silk fans in lacquer holders, geisha dolls in colorful silk kimonos, ceramic koi, enamel vases decorated with cranes, and a pair of fierce-looking bronze dragons. She put all of these items on the tables, then stood back to study her handiwork.
“Your tables look lovely,” Miss Dimple said.
“Our tables,” Theodosia said.
Miss Dimple wrinkled her brow. “But we’re still missing the plum blossoms.”
“Oh no, we’re not,” Drayton said. He suddenly swept into the tea room, carrying a tall vase brimming with purple plum blossoms.
“Oh my goodness,” Miss Dimple exclaimed. “What a gorgeous arrangement.”
“Fantastic,” Theodosia said. “Drayton, I had no idea you were so talented when it came to flower arranging.”
“Isn’t this technically ikebana?” Miss Dimple asked, brushing a hand against a sweep of blossoms. “At least that’s what they call it in Japan when flowers are arranged to correspond with the seasons or a special event.”
“You’re quite right,” Drayton said, placing the plum blossoms on one of the tables and then stepping back to admire them. He’d arranged a number of branches in an artful, almost windswept design, so the plum blossoms looked as if they were being caressed by a gentle breeze.
“Because Drayton is such a skilled bonsai master,” Miss Dimple said, “it stands to reason he’d be good at ikebana, too.”
“You’ll get no argument from me,” Theodosia said. She gazed around the tea room, which fairly glowed from all the plum and pink colors they’d incorporated into their décor. “In fact, it looks like we’re all set.”<
br />
“We are,” Drayton said. “All I have to do is put the rest of the plum blossoms in vases.”
“I’d love to help,” Miss Dimple said.
“I would welcome your more-than-capable assistance,” Drayton said. He glanced over at Theodosia and waggled his eyebrows.
“And I have a short errand to take care of,” Theodosia said, picking up on his prompt.
Drayton nodded. “Yes, I thought you did.”
25
It was the perfect time for Theodosia to duck out of the tea shop. They still had a good hour before their guests were scheduled to arrive, and she was itching to get a look at Jud Harker’s car. Hopefully, he was hard at work at the Stagwood Inn today. Doing his odd jobs, or plumbing work, or whatever.
Theodosia covered the few blocks in no time at all, then skipped up the steps and entered the lobby. A couple was standing at the front desk, checking out, so she had to wait a few minutes. But when it was her turn, she smiled at the young woman who was manning the desk and said, in a breezy tone, “Hi there, have you seen Jud Harker today?”
The young clerk looked thoughtful for a few seconds, then said, “Maybe, like, twenty minutes ago?”
Good, he’s here.
“So he’s working here today?”
“I think he’s probably around somewhere,” the desk clerk said. “I know the kitchen sink hasn’t been draining properly.”
“I just wanted to drop something off for him,” Theodosia said, trying to sound conversational, as if she and Harker were old buddies. “And, um, I’m guessing his car is parked out back? In the lot?”
The desk clerk bobbed her head. “Should be.”
“Great.” Theodosia turned away, then turned back as if she’d forgotten something. “Remind me again, will you. Jud drives a . . . ?” She left her question hanging in the air.
“He still has his Mustang,” the desk clerk said.
Theodosia cocked a finger at her. “Right. Thanks.” Then she was down the back hallway, ducking past Mitchel Cooper’s office, and stepping outside.
