by Laura Childs
“Where is the target sitting, ma’am?” Smithson asked.
“The target?”
“Mrs. Doyle,” Smithson said.
“Oh. Of course. Right over here.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Theodosia, Drayton, and Miss Dimple watched as Officer Smithson put his tiny listening devices around the tea room.
“What are they for?” Miss Dimple asked. “Some kind of radio broadcast?”
“Something like that,” Theodosia said.
Drayton made a noise in the back of his throat.
“Actually, the police are involved because there could be a spot of trouble here today,” Theodosia said.
“Isn’t that fascinating!” Miss Dimple exclaimed. “You people always have something exciting going on. No wonder I love working here.” She did everything but clap her hands together.
Theodosia glanced at Drayton, who simply shook his head.
“Did you see Haley’s menu?” Drayton asked, quickly changing the subject.
“Yes, and it’s spectacular,” Theodosia said. She stepped closer to the front counter. “Do you think we should tell Miss Dimple what’s really going on?”
“Why worry the poor soul? Maybe nothing will happen.”
“The police sure think something’s going to go down. There are police officers lurking in my office and several more sitting in unmarked cars outside.”
“Did you tell your friend Riley about the concealed pistol holster?”
“Not yet. Do you think I should?”
“Probably.”
“Then he’s really going to—”
There was a sudden loud noise out on the street.
“What was that?” Drayton cried.
Theodosia ran to the front door and peered out. Church Street was as busy as ever. Cars whizzed by, a horse-drawn jitney clip-clopped along slowly. There was also what looked like a walking tour ambling down the sidewalk, a dozen interested folks hitting some of the Historic District’s high spots. But nothing looked out of place. No exploding bombs. No gunfight going on. No SWAT team tossing flash bangs.
Theodosia had just taken her hand off the doorknob and stepped back, when the door flew open, just missing her by inches. “Oh!” she cried out.
As Susan Monday peered in.
“Susan!” Theodosia said, trying to recover but sounding a little rattled.
“I’m sorry, am I too early?” Susan asked.
“No, you’re perfect. It’s just that . . . well, nothing.”
Susan looked suddenly curious. “Problems?” she asked.
“Not at all,” Theodosia said. “We just had an, uh, electrical issue.”
“I hope not in your kitchen.”
“No, it’s actually in the upstairs apartment. Where my chef, Haley, lives.”
“Okay then,” Susan said. “Where would you like me to hang out?”
“At the main table. Of course.”
* * *
* * *
Theodosia did a last-minute perusal of the tea room, swept in to do a final menu check with Haley, then ran back into the tea room and grabbed her clipboard.
Good thing. Because two minutes later, a stream of guests began to arrive. Excited women wearing autumn coats, suits, and suede jackets, with the occasional jaunty hat. Theodosia was immediately engulfed in a whirlwind of greetings and warm hellos, accepting more than a few air-kisses as she checked off names and seated everyone at their assigned table.
There was a short lull during which Theodosia was able to catch her breath, and then Brooke Carter Crocker, proprietor of Hearts Desire, arrived with her friend Marlys. Then Jennie, Helen, Dawn, and Diane (all regulars) came pouring in, along with Bonnie, Becky, and Jan.
Delaine Dish arrived in a fashionable flurry, clinging to the arm of Tod Slawson, with her niece Bettina in tow.
“I hope you don’t mind that I brought Tod along,” Delaine whispered to Theodosia.
“Not a problem,” Theodosia whispered back. She knew that Delaine needed a man to feed her a steady stream of compliments, otherwise she grew twitchy. And a twitchy Delaine was a cranky Delaine.
When every table had filled except for the main table, where Susan Monday was seated, Meredith finally arrived with Alex and Bill Jacoby.
Theodosia put her arm around Meredith’s thin shoulders and said, “Meredith, how are you doing?”
Even though Meredith looked quite stunning in a powder-blue Dior suit, she pulled her mouth into a tight grimace and said, “I’m a nervous wreck. I’ve been waiting on pins and needles for that second ransom call, and it simply hasn’t come.”
Maybe that’s a good thing? Theodosia thought.
“No matter what happens, we’re happy to have you with us today,” Theodosia said as she led Meredith, Alex, and Bill to their table. “You’ll be among friends and hopefully well protected.”
Meredith raised her penciled brows. “Will I really be? Protected, I mean?”
“I’d say it’s as tightly guarded as a fortress in here,” Theodosia said. She was joking to keep from worrying.
“Why do I not feel reassured?” Meredith said as Alex pulled out her chair.
* * *
* * *
There was always a hushed moment before a special event kicked off. Before Theodosia made her way to the center of the crowded tea room and, with every pair of eyes focused on her, bid everyone welcome. Today that moment felt endless to Theodosia, but she recovered quickly and practically fizzed with excitement as she addressed her guests.
“Welcome, my dear friends, to our first-ever Lavender Lady Tea. Which, by the way, is also a champagne tea.”
There was a round of enthusiastic applause and then Theodosia continued.
“As you know, lavender is both an herb and a flower that is well-known for inducing calm and relaxation. To that end, and to add a note of tranquility and serenity to your day, we’ve prepared a spectacular lavender-infused menu for you, as well as a house-blended lavender tea. We also have a special guest with us today. Miss Susan Monday, proprietor of Blue Moon Lavender Farm, will give a short talk on the unique properties and uses for her locally grown lavender.”
This time the applause was even heartier.
“But first things first. Drayton, will you kindly bring our guests up to date on your special tea blend?”
Drayton stepped to the center of the tea room and clicked his well-polished heels together. With his tweed jacket, bow tie, and rigid posture, he looked like a cross between a dapper Southern gent and a fencing master.
“The Lavender Lady Tea we’re about to serve you is my own special house blend. I started with Chinese black tea as a base, added a hint of bergamot, a generous amount of fresh, organic lavender buds, and finished it off with bits of vanilla and orange peel. One relaxing sip, and I guarantee you peace of mind and the feeling of being whisked away to romantic Provence!”
“And now for our menu,” Theodosia said, coming forward again to join Drayton. “First course will be a lavender scone with Devonshire cream. This will be followed by a citrus salad sprinkled with candied edible flowers.”
There was some oohing and aahing at that announcement.
“For our main entrée, we’ll be serving our famous Parmesan and prosciutto puff baby. And for dessert, lemon-lavender shortbread with lavender gelato.”
As Theodosia finished with a flourish, Miss Dimple began pouring the champagne, Drayton began serving tea, and Haley emerged from the kitchen carrying a silver tray stacked with lavender scones. Theodosia immediately began helping Haley serve the scones while encouraging her guests to help themselves to the heaping bowls of Devonshire cream.
When everyone was happily drinking tea (or champagne or both) and munching scones, Theodosia gave the high sign to Susan Monday.
Susan stood up, did a quick introduction, and much to Theodosia’s delight, gave a wonderfully entertaining and enlightening presentation. She talked about how lavender was an herb that coul
d help reduce anxiety. That lavender was often used in balms, salves, and perfumes. She explained that lavender’s dried buds could be used in cooking and how lavender flowers yielded abundant nectar from which bees made high-quality honey. Theodosia was even surprised to learn that there were two hundred varieties of lavender in the world, with colors that ranged from white to pink, to all shades of blue.
Clearly, the tea was off to a rousing start. Susan received thanks and praise while Theodosia and Drayton also enjoyed a multitude of compliments. It was only after Theodosia had served the citrus salads that she remembered Detective Riley and his merry band of men were hanging out in her office.
That brought her back down to earth with a thud.
Theodosia made sure everything was running smoothly, then surreptitiously ducked behind the curtain.
“Riley,” Theodosia said. He was sitting at her desk, fiddling with his phone. Officer Smithson was sprawled on the tuffet, wearing a set of headphones. Officer Bowie was lounging near the back door.
“What?” Riley looked up at her and smiled.
“I forgot to tell you something,” Theodosia said.
Riley made a rolling hand motion, an Okay, tell me now gesture.
“I found out that Huntley’s Ltd., the same people who delivered Drayton’s hunting vest to Creekmore Plantation, also delivered a concealed pistol holster.”
29
“A what!” Riley bolted from his chair so fast it almost flipped over backward. He stared at Theodosia with blazing eyes.
“A custom-designed—”
Riley’s palm shot in her direction. “Stop. I heard you the first time.” He stared at her, trying to process this new information. “And you waited until now to tell me?”
“I just found out this morning,” Theodosia said. “Like, five minutes before my guests arrived.” She knew she was fudging on the time, but whatever. She was telling him now, bringing him into the loop. Surely, that had to count for something.
“And who exactly was this concealed pistol holster delivered to?”
“Huntley’s Ltd. doesn’t seem to know. They just had instructions to deliver it to Creekmore Plantation.”
“When?”
“The day of the hunt? Last Sunday?” Theodosia said.
“Are you asking me or telling me?”
“Telling.”
“Well . . . holy crap,” Riley said. He clapped a hand on top of his head and scrubbed at his hair. “So somebody . . .”
“. . . in the shooting party had to have shot Reginald Doyle,” Theodosia said. So there, she’d told him about the concealed pistol holster and helped him make the connection. She felt slightly . . . unburdened.
“You sure you didn’t know about this sooner?” Riley asked.
“No.” Theodosia waited to see if Riley would say anything more. Or how he’d react. Would he call Tidwell? Would he go charging over to Huntley’s Ltd.? When nothing happened, she said, “So what are you going to do with this information?”
Riley stood there for a moment looking perplexed. Then he said, “Theo, I have no idea.”
* * *
* * *
Back in the tea room, Theodosia helped Miss Dimple serve the Parmesan and prosciutto puff babies. This was Haley’s special concoction of cheese and prosciutto wrapped in layers of puff pastry and baked to a golden brown in a hot oven. Luckily, the individual entrées remained gorgeously inflated as they were served.
That taken care of, Theodosia grabbed two more bottles of champagne and began working her way around the tables, refilling glasses.
“Bless you,” Bill Jacoby said when she got to him. “I don’t mind if I do have a second glass. I was afraid this affair would be as dry as a church supper.”
“And you’re enjoying everything?” Theodosia asked.
“I thought a tea party meant dinky little cucumber sandwiches, but this couldn’t be better.”
Which was exactly what Theodosia said to Drayton when she went up to the counter.
“This tea couldn’t have turned out better,” she said. “Even with the police lurking in the back office and outside.”
“It is going smashingly well,” Drayton agreed. “Even though Alex hasn’t been off his phone for a single moment and Jacoby won’t lay off the scones and Devonshire cream.”
“Those are the least of our worries.”
“And nothing has happened with Meredith.”
Theodosia nodded. “Her phone hasn’t rung, hasn’t even vibrated. There’ve been no calls, texts, or e-mails.”
“Thank goodness for that,” Drayton said, just as the front door opened and Guy Thorne walked in. Thorne took three steps into the tea shop, then stopped in his tracks and frowned.
Theodosia hurried over to greet him. And to halt any more forward progress. “Mr. Thorne, how can I help you?” Maybe he’s come for takeout?
But no.
“I need to speak with Meredith,” Thorne said. He wasn’t exactly confrontational, but he wasn’t super friendly, either.
“That’s fine, but we’re right in the middle of our Lavender Lady Tea right now,” Theodosia said.
Thorne raised his brows in a dismissive manner. “This is important.”
“I’m sure it is. Maybe if you could . . .”
“Explain my problem?”
“I was going to say come back,” Theodosia said.
But Thorne wasn’t about to budge.
“Here’s the thing: Meredith called me last night, crying hysterically and pleading with me to buy her share of Trollope’s Restaurant. She’s trying to raise money for—”
Thorne stopped suddenly and gave Theodosia a condescending look.
“You’re the town busybody, so you probably know exactly what’s going on.”
“I imagine you’re referring to the ransom demand?” Theodosia kept an even tone. No way was she going to let this bully push her around.
“Bingo,” Thorne said. “So Meredith is begging me to buy her out—like, instantly.”
“Can you do that? Will you do that?” Theodosia asked. Time to apply a little judicious pressure.
This time Thorne wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Truth be told, I’m a little short on cash right now. Interest rates are still in the toilet, the stock market’s been yo-yoing like mad, and business is . . . well, I’m up against an awful lot of competition.”
“Uh-huh,” Theodosia said.
Maybe Thorne should engage the financial prognostication services of Madame Emilia? Or maybe he could just stop gambling away the profits?
“Anyway,” Thorne said, “I gotta talk to her.”
“All right,” Theodosia said. In the back of her brain, she still worried that Thorne could, in fact, be a killer and a kidnapper. Two nasty criminal acts rolled into one.
Theodosia let Thorne into the shop while she kept an eagle eye on him, but still, nothing awful happened. He had a whispered conversation with Meredith and then left. More tea was served along with the lemon-lavender shortbread and gelato. A few guests got gently tipsy from the champagne, but nobody was overly raucous. As conversations dwindled and the afternoon wore on, guests gathered up their lavender sachets and soaps and made ready to leave.
More air-kisses were exchanged and heartfelt thank-yous were said. Everyone, it seemed, had thoroughly enjoyed the tea party.
“Thank you,” Theodosia said to Susan Monday as she walked her to the front door. “You were a huge hit.”
“Your tea was the hit,” Susan said, eyes twinkling. “Everything was just wonderful.”
Finally, when Meredith and her gang of two left, so did the police. Quietly and unobtrusively, without a by-your-leave. Ten minutes later, all that was left were candles guttering in their silver holders and a few stray bundles of lavender.
Drayton dropped his shoulders and exhaled loudly. He was none the worse for wear except for a smudge of lipstick on his shirt collar.
“Absolutely nothing happened to disrupt our tea,” Drayton said.
“No mysterious ransom demands, no hysterics, no police rushing in to slam some miscreant to the floor and handcuff them.”
“We lucked out,” Theodosia said.
Drayton’s mouth twitched. “I imagine you’re right. But . . . what about Fawn? What about the ransom demand? We’ve heard nothing so far.”
“Maybe the kidnapper will call Meredith tonight. I mean, the police will still be protecting her, listening in . . .”
“Probably be all over her like bees to honey,” Drayton said. “So it looks as if we’re out of the picture now.” He dusted his hands together. “Just like that.”
“You sound a little disappointed,” Theodosia said.
“I have to admit, this isn’t how I thought our event would end,” Drayton said. “I imagined fireworks, screaming, maybe even a few shots fired.”
“A Bruce Willis Hollywood movie–type ending.” Theodosia laughed.
Theodosia, Drayton, and Miss Dimple continued to work, picking up dishes, straightening tables, sweeping the floor.
“That’s it,” Theodosia said. “We’re done and it’s getting late. Time to go home.”
“You said a mouthful,” Miss Dimple said. “I am seriously tuckered out.”
An earsplitting ROWR-ROWR-ROWR suddenly exploded in the back alley. It rose to a crashing crescendo then subsided to a low rumble.
“What is that horrible racket?” Drayton cried.
Haley rushed out of the kitchen, looking a little frantic. She’d changed out of her chef’s white coat and mushroom-shaped hat into a black leather jacket, jeans, and boots.
“Don’t anybody worry, that’s just my date,” Haley called out.
“Driving a Sherman tank?” Drayton asked.
“It’s a motorcycle,” Haley said.
“A Saturday night date? On a motorcycle?” Drayton asked.
“Chill, Drayton,” Haley said. “We’re going to a concert.”
“Well—” Drayton was about to say more when he checked himself and stopped abruptly. He waggled his fingers in a goodbye gesture and said, “Kindly wear a helmet, will you?”
“Very good,” Miss Dimple whispered to Theodosia. “Drayton is making excellent forward progress.”
