by Laura Childs
Now Drayton came over to lend his two cents. “So this is the big surprise,” he said. “Highly creative and very well done, Haley.”
“I just hope our guests like them,” Haley said.
“They’re going to love everything,” Drayton assured her.
* * *
* * *
An hour later, the psychic came swooping in. She wore a red, swirling skirt, white peasant blouse, purple velvet cape, and a matching purple-and-gold turban with a jeweled pin. She was fiftyish and jovial-looking, with frizzy blond curls that stuck out from beneath her turban.
“Madame Poporov, I presume,” Drayton said, meeting her at the door and inclining his head slightly as if she were visiting royalty.
Madame Poporov smiled warmly at Drayton. “You know who I am. Do you possess psychic powers as well?”
“No,” Drayton said. “I am simply well prepared. And your turban did give me a gentle hint.”
Madame Poporov put a hand up to touch it. “I keep forgetting I’m wearing this.”
“It’s really quite stunning,” Drayton said.
“We have you sitting at your own table,” Theodosia said, hurrying over to greet Madame Poporov. “I hope that’s okay with you.”
“Perfect,” Madame Poporov said. “And you are Theodosia?”
“Yes, it’s wonderful to finally meet you in person,” Theodosia said. “I’m so glad you could make it on such a blustery day.”
“I brought along my crystal ball as well as a deck of tarot cards,” Madame Poporov said. “Do you have a preference?”
“Whatever you feel like channeling. Or, really, whatever our guests are most comfortable with,” Theodosia said.
“Then we shall play it by ear,” Madame Poporov said.
Now Haley came slinking out from the kitchen. She gave a shy wave and said, “Hello.”
“You must be the baker,” Madame Poporov said.
Haley’s eyes widened. “You’re good. How did you know that?”
“Perhaps it’s the smidgeon of flour adhering to your left cheek?” Drayton said.
“Oh.” Haley hastened to wipe it off. Then, shyly asked, “Are you really a Lithuanian royal?”
Madame Poporov smiled, revealing an actual gold tooth. “Of course I am.”
“I thought so,” Haley said.
Madame Poporov got busy then, fluffing out her cape and arranging her table.
Haley, on the other hand, was all whipped up as she followed Theodosia and Drayton back to the counter. “Let’s ask her who committed the murder at the hot-air balloon rally,” she whispered.
Drayton plucked a tin of Pouchong tea from a shelf. “Let’s not,” he said.
Haley’s face fell. “Why on earth not?”
“Because Drayton prefers to do things the old-fashioned way,” Theodosia said. “Instead of relying on a psychic, he’d rather investigate.”
Drayton pursed his lips and shook his head. “I am not investigating. You are.”
* * *
* * *
The first guest to show up was Brooke Carter Crockett, the owner of Hearts Desire Jewelers, just down the block.
“Leave it to you, Theo, to come up with such a fun idea,” Brooke said. She was a youthful fifty with a pixie cut of silver-gray hair and an aristocratic bone structure. Brooke was also a jewelry designer who specialized in working with silver. Her specialty was silver charms that incorporated the images of Charleston—palmetto trees, sea turtles, magnolia blossoms, church spires, sweetgrass baskets, tiny sailboats, and mansions.
“Oh, you like Nancy Drew?” Drayton asked Brooke playfully.
“Who doesn’t?” Brooke cried as another dozen or so guests came pouring in behind her.
Theodosia greeted her guests, seated them at tables, and then ran back to the front door to greet a few more. Brooklyn Vance arrived, still chattering about last night’s encounter with Earl Bullitt. Then Mindy Reinert from The Bag Lady purse and hat shop and Leigh Carroll, the owner of The Cabbage Patch Gift Shop, came in. Leigh was an African-American woman in her midthirties, fairly close in age to Theodosia, with beautifully burnished skin, sepia-colored hair, and almond eyes. Upon meeting her and hearing her honeyed voice, men often fell madly in love with her.
When the tea shop was almost full, when Theodosia didn’t think they could accommodate one more dripping raincoat on their coatrack, a familiar face came bobbing through the front door.
“Gracious me!” Tawney Kingsley cried. She stopped dead in her tracks and touched a hand to the hollow of her neck. “I came here hoping for a simple lunch and it looks as if you’re having some kind of marvelous tea event.”
“It’s our Nancy Drew Tea,” Theodosia told her.
Tawney’s face lit up with enthusiasm. “What a fabulous idea. Dare I ask . . . is it too late to get a reservation?”
“You know what?” Theodosia said, consulting her seating chart. “You’re in luck. We happen to have two seats left.”
“Fabulous!” Tawney cried. She flung off her coat to reveal a pink Chanel suit and an armload of jangling gold jewelry.
“In fact, I think . . . yes. Since you already know Brooklyn Vance, I think I’ll seat the two of you together,” Theodosia said.
“That would be wonderful,” Tawney said.
“The perfume you’re wearing is quite intoxicating,” Theodosia said as she led Tawney to her table. “May I ask what it is?”
Tawney fluttered her manicured fingers. “Just a fun fragrance I had custom blended at Le Fleur Parfumerie in Miami. Asian lotus and almond with a top note of bergamot.”
“Mmm, bergamot. I thought I recognized that scent. It’s the same oil that tea masters add to Earl Grey tea,” Theodosia said.
Brooklyn Vance was thrilled to have Tawney sitting across from her. “Like old times,” she said. “Even though we’ve only met once before.”
“But it feels like more,” Tawney said. “Like we really know each other.”
“Indeed it does,” said Brooklyn.
“I have to confess,” Tawney said, leaning forward and whispering to Theodosia and Brooklyn, “I’m dying to learn as much about tea and tea etiquette as is humanly possible. That way I’ll be able to serve afternoon tea to all my guests at my fabulous new B and B.”
“I’m sure,” Theodosia said to Tawney. “And I’ll be right back with your pot of tea.”
At the counter, Drayton leaned forward and said to Theodosia, “I think your friend Tawney wants to learn the drill so her waitstaff can serve tea to her guests. Just from a fast first impression, I doubt she’ll be any kind of hands-on innkeeper.”
“You never know,” Theodosia said. On the other hand, if it turned out Tawney had killed her husband, she might be doing twenty to life at the Women’s Correctional Center in Columbia where having just a single tea bag would be a luxury.
Theodosia and Miss Dimple each grabbed pots of tea to deliver. As Theodosia slipped a Brown Betty teapot onto the table that Brooklyn and Tawney were sharing, Tawney touched a hand to her arm.
“I’d like to invite you to my husband’s memorial service tomorrow.”
Brooklyn’s eyebrows shot up. “They’ve released his body?”
“Just this morning,” Tawney said. “Anyway, the service is going to be short and sweet, just the way Donald would have wanted it. We’ll do a private cremation, then friends and colleagues will gather for a few graveside prayers in Magnolia Cemetery where his family has a small plot.”
“That sounds lovely,” Theodosia said.
Brooklyn bobbed her head. “Dignified.”
Tawney’s smile was sad as she gently squeezed Theodosia’s arm again and said, “I feel like we’ve also become good friends. I hope you can make it tomorrow. Brooklyn, if you could come, too?”
Brooklyn nodded as Theodosia said, “O
f course.” Though Tawney featured on her suspect list, the poor woman had just lost her husband. And no matter what petty grievances the Kingsleys had harbored between each other, they had been husband and wife. So how could she not go and support Tawney? And, as a lucky strike, do a little more snooping. See if a killer turned up at the grave.
* * *
* * *
Haley’s anxious face peered out from between the velvet curtains. “Are we ready to start yet?” she mouthed to Theodosia.
Theodosia gave an exaggerated nod. Yes, it was definitely time for her and Drayton to kick off the luncheon. Delaine was supposed to be here but hadn’t shown up yet, even though she’d specifically reserved and paid for two seats. But they couldn’t delay the luncheon one second longer. After all, crab quiche waits for no one.
Theodosia strode to the center of the room, smiled, and rang a tiny bell. The buzz of conversation died down immediately.
“Welcome, everyone, to our first-ever Nancy Drew Tea,” Theodosia said.
Her words prompted a spatter of applause and a few rich chuckles.
“To celebrate our favorite girl detective we’re going to lavish you with a wonderful luncheon today. We’ll start out with Bess’s ginger scones slathered with Devonshire cream. Our main course will be Hannah Gruen’s crab quiche accompanied by a mixed green salad. And for dessert we have George’s favorite chocolate cake pops along with apple tarts.”
“Bravo!” came an excited voice, one of the guests who could hardly wait to get started.
Theodosia held up a finger. “And of course we have tea.” She smiled at Drayton and said, “Drayton?”
He stepped forward into the middle of the room.
“The tea you’re drinking now is Reading Nook Tea from the Plum Deluxe Tea Company. It’s a Chinese black tea blended with rosebuds, lavender, and chamomile. Very apropos with scones. Our crab quiche will be accompanied by Harney & Sons Chinese Silver Needle tea. And for a dessert tea I’ll be serving cardamom tea as well as Black Velvet, my private house blend.”
“Our resident psychic, Madame Poporov, is also with us today,” Theodosia said. “So whenever you’re ready to cut the cards or gaze into her crystal ball for a peek at the future, just head over to her table and say hello.”
“Tell them about the contest,” Drayton said.
Theodosia continued. “On the tables are various clues that relate closely to Nancy Drew books.”
There was an immediate, excited gasp from the guests as they studied the tables more carefully. Then one woman said, “I see twisted candles.” Another woman spotted a pot of lilacs. “Ooh, lilacs! Must be from The Mystery at Lilac Inn.” A third woman said, “There’s an old leather diary on my table. Is that from The Clue in the Diary?”
“I’ll pass out pencils and paper,” Theodosia said, “so you can write down all the clues along with the book titles.”
“Map! I see a map!” another guest shrieked.
“Has to be from The Quest of the Missing Map,” Brooke said.
Drayton nodded. “Bravo. It looks as if you all might score an A and win a prize.”
* * *
* * *
Just as Theodosia and Miss Dimple were serving the crab quiche, Delaine burst through the front door. She had a crazed look on her face and was dragging Tod Slawson behind her.
“Apologies, I know we’re frightfully late!” Delaine called out loudly, basically interrupting the tea to announce her delayed arrival to everyone. “I put the blame squarely on this fiendish weather.”
Theodosia turned toward her, teapot in hand, and said, “That’s . . .”
It was the only word she was able to get out of her mouth.
Upon seeing Tod Slawson, Tawney Kingsley stood up so fast her chair tipped over backward and crashed to the floor. Then Tawney was pointing an index finger iced with a bloodred-painted nail and shrieking like a crazed banshee caught in a leg trap. Her words were so shrill and babbled together that it was difficult to make sense of them.
“Youyoumurderer!” Tawney screeched in a high-pitched voice at Slawson. “Itwasyou. Wanthastupidflag. Doanythingtogetit!”
There was dead silence in the tea shop. Everyone stopped eating, you could’ve heard a pin drop. Slawson’s face turned Valentine red. Delaine let loose a strangled cry.
A split-second later, Tawney launched into “Act Two.” Grabbing a silver butter knife off the table, she raised it high above her head. And with a murderous look on her face, she rushed directly for Tod Slawson!
15
“No, no, no!” Theodosia cried as she and Drayton both launched themselves like bottle rockets. Making a mad sprint for Tawney, they batted wildly at her butter knife–wielding arm, trying to stop her from jabbing a cowering Tod Slawson in the eye.
“No, you don’t!” Drayton shouted at Tawney as he got a hand on her and wrenched her arm sideways.
“Drop it!” Theodosia ordered.
“That man’s a killer!” Tawney shrieked as she flailed away, still trying to stab Slawson.
“You lunatic!” Delaine yelped at Tawney. Then she fought to get in a quick punch at the woman. “What do you think you’re doing to my poor Toddy?”
Now Miss Dimple rushed to join the fray. “Do you think I should call 911?” she quavered.
“No,” Drayton panted. “I’ve got . . .” He was still wrestling with Tawney, trying to gain control of her right arm. “Theo, grab her around . . .”
Theodosia grabbed Tawney around the waist and squeezed her with a python’s grip. Tawney gasped for air and bent forward slightly. She wiggled clumsily as she clutched her knife tightly and levered it at Slawson’s face.
Finally, with one explosive jerk, Drayton pried the butter knife out of Tawney’s hand. “I’ve got it,” he cried with a triumphant gasp as he held it high in the air.
“Don’t think I’ll hesitate to rip those cheap eyelash extensions off your face!” Delaine screeched at Tawney. “How dare you attack my beloved Toddy!” When push came to shove, Delaine could be as mean and scrappy as a junkyard dog.
“Delaine, no,” Theodosia said. She’d lowered her voice in an effort to lower the temperature in the room.
Didn’t work. Everyone was still in a red-hot frenzy. Delaine was muttering threats, looking like she was going to smack Tawney in the mouth. Tawney was still shrieking like a madwoman with steam pouring out of her ears. And the guests in the tea room were held utterly spellbound by the bizarre tableau. It was a train wreck of epic proportions.
“That man killed my husband,” Tawney cried out. She wept copiously now, trying to catch her breath as she flailed away, still trying hard to batter at Slawson’s head.
“Hush, you don’t know that at all,” Theodosia said, struggling to put herself between Tawney and the embarrassed, squirming Tod Slawson.
“Well, somebody did,” Tawney cried, trying for one final punch. When her fist failed to connect again, her shoulders drooped and her arms dropped to her sides. Her eyes glazed over as if she’d just plum run out of steam. She tottered on her high heels and began to slowly collapse against the overburdened coatrack.
Theodosia juked sideways to keep the coatrack from crashing over, while Drayton grabbed Tawney, pulled her up by the shoulders, and spun her around like a top.
“Get a grip on yourself,” Drayton said.
Tawney dropped her head forward and let her tears flow harder. “You don’t know what it’s like . . .”
“Get that crazy woman out of here before she tries to attack Toddy again,” Delaine yelped. “Before I beat her head into tomato paste.”
As Tawney blubbered uncontrollably, Theodosia physically took her by the arm and dragged her down the hallway in front of the stunned luncheon audience. She pulled Tawney into her office, shut the door, and sat her down in the chair across from her desk. “Sit. Stay,” she commanded, as
if she were talking to Earl Grey.
Tawney obeyed.
Sighing deeply, Theodosia handed Tawney a box of Kleenex tissues. Tawney continued to weep for a few minutes, and then pulled out a couple of tissues. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Dabbed at her eye makeup, too, which had smeared horribly and caused two dark rivulets to run down each side of her face. She looked, Theodosia thought, like a sad French clown.
“Tawney,” Theodosia said when Tawney’s sobs had finally quieted down. “Why on earth do you think Tod Slawson killed your husband?”
Tawney gazed at her with questioning, red-rimmed eyes. “Because Slawson was negotiating so hard to buy the flag! He was absolutely desperate to get his hands on it, wanted it more than any of the other buyers.” One of Tawney’s false eyelashes had come unglued and now it flicked up and down like a small jumping spider.
Theodosia let Tawney’s words sink in for a moment and then said, “Wait a minute, you know who the other buyers are? Your husband confided this to you?”
“Yes. Well, somewhat.”
Still skeptical, Theodosia lifted an eyebrow. “Somewhat?”
“Donald and I still talked,” Tawney said in a reluctant tone of voice. “It’s not like we wanted to work things out between us, because we had serious relationship problems. Money issues, too. But we weren’t exactly scratching each other’s eyes out, either.”
“So who were they? The buyers, I mean?”
Tawney emitted a series of sharp cries and hiccups as she choked out her words. “Tod Slawson, Earl Bullitt, and Brooklyn Vance were the main ones. But there were a couple of other people, too.”
“Do you know who they are?”
“No, I don’t,” Tawney said. She gave a loud honk into her tissue.
“But you’re positive Slawson was desperate enough to harm your husband?”
“I think so.”
“That’s not exactly positive,” Theodosia said.
“What do you want from me?” Tawney shot back.
