by Laura Childs
Drayton shook his head. “Tragic. Simply tragic. For someone to be killed during the course of a stupid robbery.”
“Brooke is absolutely devastated,” Theodosia said. “When I left her last night, she was just wandering through the ruins of her shop. And I guess making calls to funeral homes.”
Drayton reached for a strawberry scone. They’d sat there for a while even though Haley had baked them less than an hour ago. Nobody was really hungry. “I can just imagine how terrible Brooke felt,” he said.
Theodosia, Drayton, and Haley generally got together each morning to drink tea, enjoy the quiet, and exchange pleasantries before the Indigo Tea Shop opened its doors for business. This morning all they could do was commiserate. Everyone felt on edge, a little out of sync, and extremely upset that Brooke’s event had ended so tragically.
“Not only that,” Haley said. “I ran a search on the Internet first thing this morning. It turns out that smash-and-grab robberies have become a huge trend. I read about this Bentley dealership, I think it was down in Miami, that had a jewelry shop attached to it. I guess it was so fat cats could buy a Rolex and a Bentley. Anyway, that place got knocked off by a gang of robbers, a lot like the guys that hit Brooke last night.”
“And they stole everything?” Drayton asked. He was midsixties, gray hair slicked back, and dressed in his trademark tweed jacket and bow tie. Though Drayton always appeared somewhat formal and brittle, a most proper Southern gentleman, he had a soft side to him, too. But only when you were allowed past his crusty, crunchy hard-shell exterior.
Haley was nodding solemnly. “Snatched all the Rolexes from that Miami dealership. Then they robbed the sales guys of their wallets and rolled away in a brand-new Bentley. Huh, some getaway car. It probably cost, like, three hundred grand and had six miles on the odometer.”
“Haley’s right about these bold robberies.” Theodosia looked thoughtful as she spooned a dollop of Devonshire cream onto her scone. “I heard about a jeweler in New York, I think the shop was on Madison Avenue, that was robbed the exact same way. Vandals used a stolen truck to punch a hole right through the front window, then made off with the entire inventory.”
Drayton’s brows knit together. “All these tales have me worried. I was just thinking about the Heritage Society’s Rare Antiquities Show that opens Saturday night. Maybe we should be proactive and enlist some extra security to guard our precious pieces. There’s an outside chance those thieves—those murderers—might come back.”
“Oh, I don’t think . . .” Theodosia started to respond to him just as a sudden bang sounded at the front door.
“Customers?” Drayton frowned. “Already?”
Haley popped up from her chair, pushed back the chintz curtains, and peered out the leaded-glass window. “Oh no, it’s Brooke.”
Drayton was startled. “She’s here? Now?”
“Better let her in,” Theodosia said.
Haley scurried to the front door and pulled it open. Brooke, looking red-eyed and exhausted, tottered into the Indigo Tea Shop.
“How are you doing this morning?” Haley asked as she led her over to their table.
Brooke eased herself into the captain’s chair directly across from Drayton. “Terrible.”
Theodosia leaned over and hugged her, and then Drayton and Haley hugged her as well, expressing their heartfelt sympathies over and over.
“Thank you, thank you,” Brooke said.
Theodosia thought Brooke seemed a little dazed and lost. Almost like the victim of a major, mind-shattering event, like an earthquake or hurricane. She was physically present but her mind was . . . someplace else.
Drayton poured Brooke a cup of tea and passed it over to her. “Here you go, dear lady.”
Brooke accepted the tea. “Thank you.”
Now Drayton was mock stern. “You know you probably shouldn’t even be here.”
Brooke took a quick sip of tea. “I know.” She took another sip. “Good.”
“It’ll help fortify you,” Haley said, putting a scone on a plate for her.
Theodosia figured it was probably up to her to jump-start the real conversation. The one she knew they probably had to have. “What’s going on over at your shop?”
Brooke sighed. “The police were there pretty much all night long, digging through the rubble.”
“For clues?” Drayton asked.
“I’m not sure there are any,” Brooke said. “The only positive thing we have going for us right now is that the robbery was captured on CCTV.”
“What on earth is that?” Drayton asked.
“Closed-circuit TV,” Haley said. “Her security system.”
“That is good news,” Theodosia said. “Do you think there’s a chance your video cameras captured some decent images of the robbers? That the police might be able to ID them?”
“I don’t know.” Brooke swallowed hard. “The whole thing’s a complete nightmare. I can’t quite believe that Kaitlin is gone. I mean . . . I even had to meet with the medical examiner first thing this morning and . . .” She stopped, her voice trembling, unable to go on.
“I know,” Theodosia said. “It’s very hard. No . . .” She corrected herself. “It’s terrible.”
“Kaitlin wanted to be a designer,” Brooke said in a small voice. “She wanted to work with me.”
“She told us about that,” Haley said. “How she wanted to design jewelry just like you do.”
“And now, besides talking to the ME and arranging to have her poor body shipped back to her parents, the rest of my day will be spent dealing with frantic calls from multiple insurance companies, museums, private lenders, and major jewelers.”
“It sounds pretty overwhelming,” Theodosia said. “A lot to cope with.”
Brooke nodded. “It is. Plus the crime scene people are still scouring my shop, along with a couple of investigators and some private security people I brought in.”
“If there’s anything I can do to help,” Drayton said.
“Thank you.” Brooke cocked her head and fixed Theodosia with a steady gaze. “But you’re the one I’m here to presume upon. If you’re still game, that is.”
“Of course I am,” Theodosia said. “I told you I’d try my best and I will.”
Drayton’s brow furrowed. “What’s this . . . ?”
“I’ve completely imposed upon Theodosia,” Brooke said. “Enlisted her good help. You know as well as I do how smart she is when it comes to puzzling out tricky situations.”
“Really,” Theodosia said, “I’ve just been very lucky.”
“You’re also tenacious and cagey,” Haley said, jumping in. “You were the one who finally sorted out that crazy museum thing and figured out who killed that hotshot donor.”
A ghost of a smile flickered on Brooke’s face. “Yes, Theodosia was the one who finally solved the murder. I haven’t forgotten that.” She reached into her tote bag and dug out a stack of papers. “That’s why I brought all my information along. Everything I could scrabble together, anyway. My guest list, the contracts and agreements for borrowing the gems and jewelry, pretty much everything I have that pertains to last night.”
“You’re going to take a look at all this?” Drayton was focused on Theodosia now.
“I said I’d try.” Theodosia tapped the large stack of papers. “See if I can make sense out of anything.”
“Well . . . good for you,” Drayton said. He obviously approved.
Theodosia gave a faint smile. She’d been waiting for Drayton’s endorsement. Needed it. Most people regarded him as a highly knowledgeable tea master and antiques collector, but he also served as her champion. Sometimes Drayton believed in her when she doubted herself.
Drayton inclined his head toward Brooke. “So what do the police have to say? What’s the early report?”
“Not muc
h of anything,” Brooke said. “Mostly they’re still asking questions. Oh, and they informed me that the FBI is being brought in.”
“My goodness,” Drayton said. “I wonder why?”
“Bringing the feds in won’t make Detective Tidwell very happy,” Haley said.
“Not a whole lot makes Detective Tidwell happy,” Theodosia said. Then added, “Unless, of course, he gets a chance to shoot someone.”
• • •
Once Brooke had taken off, loaded down with take-out cups filled with hot tea and a bag full of scones, they set about getting the Indigo Tea Shop ready for business. Haley scurried into the kitchen to tend to her baking and luncheon prep work; Theodosia and Drayton worked on arranging the tea room.
“I’m going to use the Spode china today,” Drayton said. “Just because it’s pretty and will give our spirits a nice boost.”
“I think that’s a lovely idea,” Theodosia said. They had multiple sets of china and her collection of teacups and saucers just kept growing. Of course, if she could refrain from hitting every tag sale, auction, and antiques shop between Charleston and Savannah, then maybe they’d be able to fit all their pretty things into the limited cupboard space they had. But what fun was that?
“Do you really think you can make heads or tails out of all the papers Brooke gave you?”
“I don’t know,” Theodosia said. “But I’ll give it a try.”
“Bless you,” Drayton said. He had just set glass tea warmers on the tables and was lighting the little votive candles he’d placed inside. The flickering flames leapt and danced, lending a cheery note. One that was sadly needed.
• • •
The tea room was half-full when Burt Tidwell ghosted in. Theodosia decided that he didn’t so much enter a room like a normal person did, but rather stalked in. Head swiveling, eyes casting about, movement fairly contained, he always seemed to be cold-bloodedly hunting down his prey. She was constantly surprised that he was so light on his feet for such a large man. But she wasn’t surprised when he stepped up to the front counter, rested his forearms on it, and then leaned in heavily so he could watch as she and Drayton prepped the tea.
Tidwell finally aimed an index finger at Theodosia and said, “You,” in an omnipotent voice. “I need to talk to you.”
“I figured as much,” Theodosia said. She glanced at her watch. She had three pots of tea to brew for their existing customers and lunch was only forty minutes away. There’d soon be dozens of customers coming in for takeout as well as sit-down. “Only problem is,” she told him, “I need to keep making forward progress here. I have to get things ready for our luncheon crowd. Could you please just ask your questions while I work?”
Tidwell lifted a bulky shoulder. “If you insist.”
Drayton turned and fixed him with a gaze. “And I obviously need to be here, too.”
Tidwell released a sigh. “Naturally.”
Theodosia reached up and pulled a Chinese blue-and-white teapot off an overhead shelf. “Anything you have to say you can say in front of Drayton.”
“Anything?” Tidwell raised a single bushy eyebrow.
“I meant within reason.”
“Of course.”
Theodosia set the teapot down and grabbed a tin of Darjeeling tea. “And I have a few questions myself.”
“I’m not surprised,” Tidwell said.
Theodosia measured out two scoops of Darjeeling and dumped them into her teapot. Then she added a pinch for the pot. “Are there any suspects?”
Tidwell shook his head. “Nothing concrete as of yet.”
“Any clues?”
“Some. As well as the few bits of information you shared with me last night. Like you, I’ve been tossing around the idea that the smaller hand might have belonged to a woman.”
“Are there women robbers?” Theodosia asked.
“It seems to be a growing trend.”
“Interesting.”
“Even more so when you factor in the notion that the blue lines on that smaller wrist might have been a tattoo,” Tidwell said.
“Seems like everyone’s getting tattoos these days.”
“Not me,” came Drayton’s slightly scolding voice.
“Do you have anything else?” Theodosia felt frustrated at the lack of information Tidwell seemed willing to share. After all, the police had been at Heart’s Desire all night long. They must have found something. “Surely somebody must have noticed something definitive about the three robbers?”
“It would appear not,” Tidwell said, “though we questioned all the guests extensively. An awful lot of them claimed to be curled up in a fetal position, nursing cuts and bruises. Trying to avoid the noxious gas.”
“It wasn’t exactly poison,” Theodosia scoffed. “I’m still here. All the other guests are still here.”
Tidwell reached a chubby hand toward a tray of scones Haley had put there and helped himself to a strawberry scone. “The gas was your garden variety smoke bomb.”
Theodosia slid a plate and butter knife across the counter to him. “Was it military grade?”
“Not even.”
“Then what’s it used for?”
“Goofy pranks, probably.” Tidwell took a bite of scone and chewed thoughtfully. “We did recover the SUV, however.”
Theodosia perked up. Here was something tangible. “Where did you find it?” She put a dab of Devonshire cream in a small bowl and gave it to him.
“Dumped in an alley near Hampton Park.”
“So that tells you what?” Theodosia asked. “That the robbers live in the area?”
“Doubtful,” Tidwell said.
“Then where did they disappear to? Outer space?”
“Huh. We’re checking on that.”
“Were there any fingerprints in the vehicle?”
“Wiped clean. These people were pros.”
“You know . . .” Theodosia paused to recall the sights and sounds of last night. The robbery, as it unfolded, had blazed past like a bad experimental film. But there was one thing that had stuck in her brain. “I think there might have been a motorcycle, too. I’m pretty sure I heard the roar of a big motorcycle engine just as they were taking off.”
Tidwell inclined his head toward her. “That’s what another witness said, too.”
“Well, did anyone see the bike? I mean, it wasn’t ridden into Brooke’s shop or anything, so it must have been waiting outside.”
“So probably an outrider,” Tidwell said. “A lookout.”
“That’s the feeling I got, too,” Theodosia said. “So there were four people in this gang? But no motorcycle has been recovered? No bikes reported stolen or found stashed in a back alley somewhere?”
“Not yet.”
Drayton, who’d been listening the entire time, turned and placed a teacup in front of Tidwell and poured him a cup of tea. “We might have a small problem,” he said.
Tidwell picked up his teacup and inhaled the aroma. “This is an oolong?”
Drayton nodded. “A fancy Formosan oolong.”
“Ah yes. I’m picking up a slight oxidation now.” Tidwell gazed over his teacup, his eyes slightly bulging. “And what exactly is your problem, Mr. Conneley?”
“The thing is,” Drayton said, “the Heritage Society’s Rare Antiquities Show kicks off this Saturday night.”
“I see your concern and can easily put your mind at ease,” Tidwell said. “I shall be happy to assign additional officers for added security.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Drayton said. “Since we have some particularly valuable items coming in for the show.”
Tidwell didn’t seem all that worried. “And those items would be . . . ?”
“Well,” Drayton said, looking suddenly thoughtful as his brows pinched together. “There is the matter of the F
abergé egg.”
4
Theodosia had been reaching for a tin of Japanese green tea. She stopped, mid-reach, still balancing on her tiptoes and said, “What?” Had she heard Drayton correctly? The Heritage Society was going to put a priceless treasure on display? “You’re putting a Fabergé egg on display?” she asked, her voice rising in alarm. She didn’t know what the going price of jeweled eggs was these days, but she figured they weren’t cheaper by the dozen and probably sold for a pretty penny. Especially since there weren’t many reigning czars around anymore to wave their scepter and commission one.
“A genuine Fabergé egg?” Tidwell asked. Now he seemed startled by Drayton’s announcement as well.
Drayton looked suddenly proud of the Heritage Society’s big coup. “Oh yes. We managed to obtain an honest-to-goodness Peter the Great egg on loan from Virginia’s Thuringer Museum.”
“When is it supposed to arrive?” Theodosia asked.
“We’re expecting it any day now,” Drayton said.
“And what is the egg’s value?” Tidwell asked.
Drayton fidgeted with his bow tie. “Oh, I don’t know exactly.”
“I’ll bet you could make a good guesstimate,” Theodosia said. “Come on, stun us with a ballpark figure.”
Drayton looked around quickly, as if fearing he might be overheard. “By recent auction estimates, this particular Fabergé egg is worth somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty to thirty million dollars.”
Theodosia’s eyes went wide. “It’s worth millions? Dear Lord. That must be some fancy egg.”
“And some fancy neighborhood,” Tidwell said.
“Well, yes,” Drayton said. “The egg is practically priceless. So you can see why I might be worried.”
Theodosia thought for a moment and decided they’d probably have ample security guards. “You know, you probably shouldn’t sweat it.”
Tidwell shook his head vigorously. “Oh no, he definitely should.”
“What?” Theodosia said. “Seriously?” Now she put herself smack-dab in Tidwell’s face. “But you’re the one who’s hard at work on this Heart’s Desire mess, and the FBI has also been called in. I was assuming the robbery would be solved in a matter of days. That the jewels would all be returned to their rightful owners, and the robbers apprehended and cooling their heels in a nice dank jail cell.”
