by Laura Childs
Her eyes roved across the top of his desk and landed on a ceramic mug with a pinched face sculpted into the side, the kind of mug amateur potters sell at street fairs. She reached out, tipped over the mug, and was shocked when she detected a tinkle of metal against clay and an actual key slid out into her hand. But closer inspection revealed that it was a large brass key, way too large to fit the lock on the file cabinet.
“Back to square one,” Theodosia sighed.
“Got an idea,” said Chef Toby. He grabbed a metal letter opener off the desk and stuck the tip of it into the lock. Then he proceeded to wiggle it back and forth, very gently.
“If you do that, if you force the lock or leave marks, the police are going to know we broke in here,” Theodosia told him. Part of her wanted the file cabinet open; part of her feared they might be tampering with evidence. Which was never a good thing in the eyes of Detective Tidwell. “So maybe you should…be careful.”
Chef Toby poked and prodded for a few moments, picking and probing with just the tip of the letter opener. “There’s a little metal tongue here and I think if I…”
A metallic pop finished his sentence.
“Holy buckets,” said Theodosia, a little in awe of hislock-picking skills. “You did it!”
Chef Toby slid the top file drawer open with aself-satisfied smile. “And without breaking the lock.”
Theodosia leaned forward anxiously and let her fingertips fly across the tops of the plastic file tabs. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was looking for, but had a vague, unsettled notion that she’d know it when she found it. If that made any sense at all.
She pawed rapidly through the hanging folders, finding files marked PAYROLL, BENEFITS, INSURANCE, and MENUS. Finally, toward the back of the drawer was a file marked CURRENT PROJECTS. “I think this is what I might want to look at,” she murmured softly.
“You think Parker was killed because of a restaurant deal?” Chef Toby asked.
“No idea,” said Theodosia. “I’ll admit it sounds ridiculous. On the other hand, if we can find just a nugget of information…”
But when she lifted the file folder from the cabinet, it flopped loosely in her hand. And when she flipped the file open on the desk, there was just a single blank piece of paper inside.
“That’s weird,” said Chef Toby, beetling his brows together. “From what I recall, Parker was negotiating on three or four different deals.”
His eyes slid over to meet Theodosia’s unsettled gaze. “Do you think, um, somebody could have… ?” His words trailed off.
“Stolen his files?” said Theodosia. “Yes, it’s possible. It really is.”
4
Monday morning dawned sunny and bright in Charleston’s historic district. Early-bird traffic meandered up Church Street, then made a small semicircular detour around St. Phillips, the landmark church that blipped out into the street, giving Church Street itswell-deserved moniker. Wisps of pink-and-white parfait clouds scudded across the sky, heralding the start of another lovely and warm spring day, and a faint whiff of sea air wafted in as the Chowder HoundRestaurant and Cabbage Patch Gift Shop geared up for business withwell-placed sidewalk placards advertising their specials.
But down the block, inside the Indigo Tea Shop, Theodosia sat at a small wooden table, feeling morose and a little lost.
It didn’t seem possible that Parker was gone. He was young, a couple of years younger than she was. And the last time she’d seen him, at a chamber music concert two weeks ago, he’d seemed bursting with life.
So who’d been in his office? Well, according to Chef Toby, there’d been a veritable parade of people over the past couple of days. Vendors, commercial real estate agents, possible business partners, bankers, his new girlfriend. A couple of dozen people. So if she wanted to narrow it down, try to ferret out a suspect or two, Theodosia knew she’d probably have to get Parker’s date book or access his computer in order to figure out where to start looking. Or, rather, who to start looking at.
A tea tray clattered discreetly as Drayton bore it solemnly across the empty tea room, dodging tables that were only half set.
“How are you feeling?” he asked. They were scheduled to open in another half hour and he was obviously worried.
“Awful.”
“I brought you a cup of black rose tea.” He set the tray down without waiting for an answer. A clear glass teapot held freshly steeping leaves. “And Haley’s going to be out in a moment with some nice hot scones.”
“Okay,” said Theodosia. She watched the tea leaves dance and twist in the teapot. The agony of the leaves, it was called. The tea leaves doing their dance as they gave up their essence to the steaming water. But today, the twisting leaves only reminded her of poor Parker struggling for his life in that awful tank. And then losing his battle.
Drayton waited a few moments for the tea to brew, then poured a stream of amber liquor into Theodosia’s teacup. “Have you talked to Max yet?”
Theodosia blinked. “No. He’s still in New York, visiting galleries and schmoozing the media.” Max Scofield was her new boyfriend, the one who’d pretty much replaced Parker. No, Theodosia told herself, that wasn’t it at all. She’d met Max and then kind of eased Parker out of the picture. Now, of course, she felt awful about the whole thing. Maybe she hadn’t really given Parker enough of a chance. Maybe she’d been too eager to go a little gaga over Max.
Whatever. Now it’s a moot point.
Haley breezed over with a plate that held twofresh-baked apple scones. “Here you go,” she said with an eager smile. “Still hot from the oven and amazingly fortifying. Along with a dish of the freshest Devonshire cream your taste buds have ever enjoyed.” She paused, hoping either her words or her goodies might cheer Theodosia.
“Thank you, Haley,” said Theodosia. She glanced at Drayton, who looked on tenterhooks. “Thank you both for being so kind and understanding and…” She’d somehow run out of words.
“Oh, Theo,” said Haley, her sunny manner crumbling. “We both feel so awful!”
“It’s a terrible thing,” echoed Drayton.
“At least Detective Tidwell is working the case,” said Haley. She gave a tentative frown. “You guys know that Tidwell’s not my most favorite person in the world.” Indeed, Haley didn’t care for Tidwell’s brusque manners one iota. “But he’s a smart guy. A tenacious guy. So, all things considered, I’m pretty sure this whole investigation is in good hands.”
“Is there an investigation?” asked Drayton. His eyebrows rose in twin arcs.
Haley looked startled. “Well…yeah. I think so.” Now she wasn’t so sure. “Isn’t there, Theo?”
Theodosia took a sip of tea. A lovely Keemun with a slight top note of rose petals. “I don’t know.”
“The thing is,” said Drayton, “just because one suspects foul play doesn’t mean there actually was foul play.”
“Spoken like a true doubter,” said Haley. “Me? I’m with Theo. Something about Parker’s death seems fishy to me and it’s not just the fish. I find it hard to believe he just tumbled haphazardly into that tank!”
“Accidents happen,” said Drayton.
“Then what was he doing up there?” pressed Haley. “I mean, the aquarium people were leading tours last night, but I don’t think that was one of the stops. I mean, seriously. Jellyfish Grotto, okay. Maybe Starfish Cove. But tiptoeing across a dangerous, slippery catwalk over a huge tank? Be serious.” She shook her hair back for emphasis.
“It’s a mystery,” agreed Drayton.
Knock, knock, knock!
Someone was beating on the front door.
Drayton glanced over in annoyance. “Whoever’s out there is way too early.” One of his pet peeves was tourists who banged on the door, demanding to be let in. Especially when he was in the middle of setting out teakettles and strainers, or measuring out tea. Then he practically blew a gasket.
“Maybe somebody from the neighborhood?” asked Haley. The local shopkeepers wer
e always anxious to swoop in for their morningcuppa-and-scone fix. She tiptoed to the window and slid a red chintz curtain aside. “Oh, poop,” she said, “it’s Delaine.”
“Don’t let her in,” Drayton rasped. He had alove-hate relationship with Delaine Dish, one of their neighbors and the proprietor of Cotton Duck Boutique. In other words, he loved Delaine’s prodigiousfund-raising skills but hated her sharp tongue and gossipy nature.
“You have to let her in,” said Theodosia. “She’ll just keep knocking and battering at the door. After all, she knows we’re in here. Knows we’re going to open intwenty-five minutes.”
“Twenty now,” said Drayton.
Haley scampered over to the front door and turned the latch. “Delaine!” she cooed. “What a surprise!”
Delaine barely acknowledged Haley as she barreled her way in.
“Theodosia!” she exclaimed. Her stiletto heels maderapid-fire click-clacks against the pegged wooden floor as she headed for Theodosia. Her eyes blazed and hershoulder-length dark hair flew out around herheart-shaped face. She wore atomato-red suit with patent leatherblue-and-white spectator stilettos. When spring’s warm weather came barreling into Charleston, Delaine and her wardrobe were good to go.
“I’m so sorry about your friend,” said Delaine. She thrust a yellow gift bag into Theodosia’s hands and plunked herself down in the chair across from her. “I tried to talk to you last night, but you were…how shall I put it? Occupado? Talking to that awful man Tidwell.”
“What’s this?” asked Theodosia, focusing on the gift bag. A gift? From Delaine? Surely this had to be a first.
“Just a little something,” Delaine told her, as she reached into her navy Chanel bag and pulled out her cosmetics purse.
A bouquet of yellow daffodils poked out of the bag Delaine had handed Theodosia. Along with something else.
Theodosia stuck a finger into yellow tissue paper and plucked out a small tube of essential oil. She held it up and read the label. “Lavender.”
Delaine swiped a smear of red across her full lips, then snapped the cap back on her lipstick. She tapped an index finger against her inner wrist. “Essential oil to dab on your pulse points,” she explained. “Lavender is supposed to be…” She glanced into her pocket mirror, then nodded approval at her newly rouged lips. “Soothing.”
“Thank you,” said Theodosia, “how very kind of you.”
Delaine forced her face into an overexuberant smile. “What are friends for?”
“A lovely gesture,” said Drayton. He plucked another cup and saucer from the serving board, set it in front of Delaine, and filled it with tea.
Delaine turned bright eyes on Theodosia. “But you can’t feel all that bad,” she trilled. “After all, it’s been a good while since you broke up with Parker. And you do have a wonderful new boyfriend.”
“That’s not really the point,” said Theodosia. “Parker and I were still friends.” At least she thought they were friends. On the other hand, she didn’t know a whole lot about what Parker had been up to in the past couple of months. Maybe he’d hadn’t missed her at all; maybe he’d gotten on wonderfully well with his lifepost-Theodosia.
Delaine took a sip of tea and said, “Just think, Theo, now you’re dating my old flame and I’m dating yournext-door neighbor. It’s like that old saying, politics makes strange bedfellows.”
“How’s that, Delaine?” asked Drayton.
“Just that we’re both rapturously happy with who we ended up with,” said Delaine. She reached across the table and patted Theodosia’s hand. “Can you believe it, my Dougan right next door to you. Fancy that.” Dougan Granville was Delaine’s latest catch and Theodosia’snext-door neighbor; also the former owner of her small house, which had once been part of Granville’s rather grand estate. Delaine squeezed her eyes shut and said, “Just think, if Dougan and I ever decide to get married, we’d be neighbors! Wouldn’t that be a scream!”
“It’d be a shocker,” Theodosia agreed. And I might even have to move.
Delaine opened her eyes, tipped her head back, and gazed at Theodosia with a slightly accusing look. “But not as shocking as those headlines in this morning’s paper.”
“The ones about Parker drowning at the Neptune Aquarium?” asked Drayton. He pulled out a chair and sat down at the table with them.
“That’s right,” said Delaine. She pursed her lips. “Ghastly. Couldn’t come at a worse time.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Theodosia. Delaine seemed to be babbling more than usual.
“Just awful publicity for the grand opening of the Neptune Aquarium,” Delaine lamented. “After all, Dougan is on the board.”
So that’s what this is about, thought Theodosia. Her boyfriend being on the board.
“Yesterday’s events weren’t so nice for Parker, either,” Theodosia spat back.
Delaine seemed to realize that her words must have sounded a little cold and struggled to make amends. “I realize that, honey. I didn’t mean anything by it.” She suddenly looked confused. “I’m just talking silly, I guess. I’m not the best person in the world when it comes to offering soothing words and comfort. Just too doggone direct, I guess.”
“I guess,” said Theodosia.
“Really,” said Delaine, batting her eyes and trying to look as sincere as she could manage, “I do apologize.”
“Apology accepted,” said Theodosia, thinking this was the first time she’d ever seen Delaine so solicitous. Except, of course, when she was cuddling and fussing with her cats.
Delaine stood up and smoothed the front of her jacket. “There’s just oneteeny-tiny thing I need to confirm before I take off.”
“What’s that?” asked Theodosia.
Delaine pulled her mouth into a hungry smile. “The scavenger hunt for City Charities kicks off Thursday afternoon. And I wanted to make sure you’re still fielding a team.” She held up an index finger and waggled it back and forth. “Remember, Theo, it’s a benefit.”
“I remember,” Theodosia told her. How could she not? Delaine had been pounding away at her for the last month.
“And,” Delaine continued, “you did agree your team would help raise funds for Tuesday’s Child.”
“Yes, but I…” Theodosia stammered. In lieu of what had just happened last night, how could she possibly go tripping off on a scavenger hunt? It was almost unthinkable.
But Delaine seemed to read her thoughts. “In fact, I’m bringing the executive director of Tuesday’s Child here for lunch tomorrow. For the sole purpose of meeting you!”
Theodosia shook her head, tiredly. “I don’t know…” Her brain was still numb from Parker’s untimely death, she had two major tea parties to stage, the Charleston Coffee & Tea Expo kicked off this week, and now Delaine was haranguing her about a scavenger hunt.
Delaine’s expression of concern suddenly switched to one of abject horror. “You have to participate, Theo! I’m counting on you! The at-risk children who benefit from Tuesday’s Child are counting on you!”
Oh dear. “I suppose when you put it that way…” said Theodosia.
“Honestly, Theodosia!” said Delaine, jumping to her feet. “You’ve got to pull yourself out of this…this morass. And just get moving!”
Theodosia did get moving then, scurrying about the Indigo Tea Shop, placing bone china cups and saucers just so, arranging tiny silver butter knives, setting out glass bowls filled with sugar cubes, polishing silver sugar tongs.
“Splendid,” said Drayton, as he fussed right alongside her.
Cozy and charming, the Indigo Tea Shop featured walls festooned with antique engravings depicting rice plantations and various views of the Charleston harbor, as well as Theodosia’s handmade grapevine wreaths decorated with miniature teacups. Antique plates were propped on several wooden shelves along with collectiblecup-and-saucer sets. A highboy held tins of tea, jars of Dubose Bees Honey, and Theodosia’s selection of T-Bath products.
When Theodosia a
nd Drayton finally arranged chairs, lit candles, and set three different pots of tea to brewing, they stood together and gazed about the little shop. It sparkled and shone to perfection while steamy notes of Darjeeling, Pouchong, and orange spice hung in the air.
“You don’t think we’re being too…futsy, do you?” Theodosia asked.
Drayton reared back. “Nonsense, this is perfection! Every aspect of composing a tea shop experience is akin to creating a perfectstill-life painting. We do a splendid job and you know it. All our customers tell us so.”
“That they do,” Theodosia admitted.
“So why would you question our commitment to putting on an exquisite tea service?” asked Drayton, his feathers slightly ruffled.
“I’m just…having a bad morning, I guess,” said Theodosia.
“Poor dear,” said Drayton. “I do feel so bad for you.”
“I’ll be okay,” said Theodosia. Draping a long black Parisian waiter’s apron around her neck, she tied it from back to front, resolving to be positive. If only for their customers.
“Say now,” said Haley, stepping out from the back. “You feel up to running through today’s menu?”
Theodosia nodded. She knew she had to pull herself out of her blue funk and carry on. “Of course. What have you got for us?”
Haley flipped open a small spiral notebook and squinted at herleft-slanted handwriting. “We’ll be serving tomato basil soup with crostini spread with Brie cheese and fig jam. Chicken salad tea sandwiches on homemade cinnamon bread. And a citrus salad with oranges, mangoes, and walnuts.”
“Quite an eclectic selection,” said Drayton. “Makes me think today’s the day to pull out all the stops and serve my new butter truffle tea.”
Haley wrinkled her nose at him. “Run that by me again, mister. Butter truffle?”
“It’s one of Drayton’s new house blends,” Theodosia told her.
