Chapter 8
8
“Theodosia?” the woman said.
Feeling as if the world had suddenly tilted on its axis, Theodosia struggled to regain her composure as she walked toward the Celeste look-alike. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You startled me for a moment. You look exactly like…”
“Like my sister, Celeste?”
Theodosia’s answer was a sharp “Oh,” accompanied by a small puff of air.
The woman offered Theodosia a faint smile. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Celeste and I were often mistaken for twins even though I’m a year older.”
“Your poor sister, you…you have my heartfelt sympathy.”
“Thank you, I appreciate your condolences. And I suppose I should introduce myself. I’m Sabrina Haynes.”
“Won’t you come in?” Theodosia said. “And, oh, please sit down. Let me bring you something.” She was babbling slightly and knew it. “And, Drayton…” She held up a hand and gave Drayton the high sign. “A pot of strong tea?”
Drayton nodded. “Coming right up.”
Once Theodosia had brought Sabrina a pot of black orchid tea and a cinnamon scone, she sat down at the table across from her. Most of her guests were busy eating and sipping tea, so she had a few moments to spare.
“Again, I’m so very sorry for your loss,” Theodosia said.
Sabrina nodded. “I drove to the flower farm Saturday, all primped and prettied, ready for Bettina and Jamie’s wedding. And when I arrived, all I saw were two ambulances pulling away, lights and sirens going like crazy. When I was finally able to corner one of the deputies, he told me what had happened. He also told me that you were the one who’d rushed in to help. That you moved heaven and earth to pull Celeste out of that…disaster area.” Sabrina’s eyes glistened with tears. “I wanted to talk to you then, but I thought it was more important to follow the ambulance to the hospital.”
“Absolutely,” Theodosia said. She reached over and patted Sabrina’s hand.
“Not that it did any good. When I got to the ER, she was already gone,” Sabrina said.
“I’m so sorry,” Theodosia whispered. “I wish I could have done more. We had all hoped for a better…” She fished around for the right word. “Outcome.”
“From what Sheriff Ambourn told my family, you and the EMTs did all you could.” Sabrina paused as she pulled out a hankie and wiped her eyes. “The sheriff also told us that he believes the greenhouse might have been sabotaged.”
“I have to say, that’s my opinion as well,” Theodosia said. “It was too horrific a crash for it to have happened on its own.”
“So you think someone in the wedding party was being targeted?”
“I suppose you could look at it that way, though it would have been difficult to predict who’d walk through that door first. Someone from the wedding party, one of the guests, maybe a server.”
“Do you think Jamie was the intended target?” Sabrina asked. Her tears had dried and her voice had suddenly taken on a sharp edge.
“Why do you think it was Jamie?” Theodosia asked.
“I live nearby in Moncks Corner, so I’ve run into Jamie from time to time. Mostly at trendy bars like Ichabod’s and the Pickled Parrot. And because, back in the day, Jamie had a reputation as a bit of a player .”
A player? In Theodosia’s mind that meant Jamie was a ladies’ man, a serial dater. Maybe a one-night stand kind of guy.
“From what I’ve seen, Jamie has always been totally committed to Bettina,” Theodosia said. For some reason she felt the need to defend him.
“I’m sure he is. Now.” Sabrina hesitated for a moment, then added, “The other thing I wondered about…”
“Yes?”
“Celeste has a rather nasty ex-boyfriend, a guy by the name of Karl Rueff. His name is pronounced roof , like the roof of a house. He’s what you might call rough trade .”
That didn’t sound good to Theodosia. “Rough enough to kill someone?”
“Maybe.”
“But how would this ex have predicted that Celeste would be the first to rush into the greenhouse?”
“Maybe because Celeste has always been flighty and impulsive?” Sabrina said. “Always snooping around, always trying to be first in line for everything.”
“I hear you, but it still sounds awfully far-fetched.”
“Yes,” Sabrina said. “You’re probably right.” She sighed, then shoved her untouched scone aside. “I’m sorry, I guess I’m not particularly hungry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Theodosia said.
“What I really wanted was to come here and thank you.”
“Like I said, I wish I could have done more.”
“You did what you could.” Sabrina pushed back from the table and stood up. “Now I’m off to the airport to pick up my parents. They’re flying in from Chicago. The plan, as of this moment, is to hold a visitation here in Charleston tomorrow evening, then fly Celeste’s body back to Chicago for a proper funeral and burial.”
“Will you let me know when the visitation details are finalized?” Theodosia said. “I’d like to come.”
Sabrina gave a sad smile. “Of course.”
* * *
“She didn’t touch her tea,” Drayton said once Sabrina had left.
“Nor her scone,” Theodosia said. “Too upset, too sad.”
“Yes, I overheard most of your conversation. Such an awful thing, her sister’s young life cut so short.”
“Sabrina wondered if maybe Jamie was the intended target and not Celeste.”
“It’s certainly a plausible theory, though there’s still no actual proof. For all we know it could have been a random thing,” Drayton said as he measured six scoops of Pouchong into a bright orange teapot.
“Maybe.”
But deep down, Theodosia didn’t think it had been random at all. And that worried her. Especially in light of the fake skull yesterday. It felt like someone very crafty and super nasty was targeting Jamie Wilkes.
“Sabrina also mentioned a guy by the name of Karl Rueff, who is Celeste’s ex-boyfriend. She said he was kind of a hard case.”
“Meaning?” Drayton said.
“Sabrina didn’t go into the particulars, and I didn’t ask.” Theodosia gazed at Drayton. “Maybe I should have.”
“And maybe Sabrina is just terribly sad and everything looks bleak to her,” Drayton said.
“You’re probably right. But now that I know about Karl Rueff, I wouldn’t mind knowing a little more.”
“See?” Drayton said. “You’re investigating.”
* * *
Some thirty minutes later, when the Indigo Tea Shop was redolent with spicy aromas and kettles chirped like anxious birds, Delaine and Bettina came bursting in.
“How’s Jamie?” was Theodosia’s first question.
“Much better,” Bettina said, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “He’s getting out of the hospital tomorrow. And I just got a call from Celeste’s family. Apparently, the medical examiner determined that she died from a shard of glass that punctured her chest and collapsed a lung.”
“Sliced right through her collarbone,” Delaine said in a harsh voice.
“Celeste’s sister was just here,” Theodosia said.
“You’re talking about Sabrina?” Bettina said. “I hope you don’t mind, but I told Sabrina that you were, like, a first responder. That you rushed in to help before anyone else did.”
Delaine made a noise in the back of her throat. She knew darn well that she’d stood there like a statue. Paralyzed with fear.
“Delaine?” Theodosia said. “You seem awfully upset.”
Delaine shook her head fiercely. “Because I really can’t bear to talk any more about the accident.”
“Stop calling it an accident,” Bettina hissed to her aunt as Theodosia led them to a table. “I for one am spitting mad about this and intend to get to the bottom of it. I mean, was Jamie the intended target or was it Celeste? I need to know !” She pulled out her chair and plopped down hard.
“Just off the top of my head I’d probably say Jamie,” Theodosia said.
Which caused the normally stiff-upper-lip Bettina to burst into tears.
“Shush,” Delaine warned as she took a quick look around, then sat down. “Please don’t make a scene.”
Tears streaming down her face, Bettina fixed Delaine with an incredulous look. “Don’t make a scene ? My wedding was a total catastrophe, my best friend is dead, and my fiancé is in the hospital. Now you’re telling me not to make a scene ?” Bettina dabbed at her reddened eyes with a hankie. “You’re one to talk. You’re the Queen of Scenes. You throw a hissy fit if your pantyhose gets a run, if you lose an earring.”
“I do not,” Delaine pouted.
“Ladies,” Theodosia said. “Let’s stick to the issue at hand, shall we?”
“Sure, okay,” Bettina said with a sniffle. “The thing is, why would someone want to hurt Jamie? Or, worse yet, try to kill him? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Not a bit,” Delaine said.
“And that skull yesterday? What was that all about?” Bettina said.
Delaine gave a little shudder. “So creepy.”
“I don’t know what the skull was for,” Theodosia said. “Unless someone wanted to frighten Jamie.”
“But who?” Bettina asked. “And why? Jamie’s a pussycat, the sweetest guy you’d ever want to meet.”
Delaine nodded. “Sweet.”
Theodosia wondered about Sabrina’s assessment of Jamie. She’d called him a player. Was Jamie a player, a ladies’ man? Was there an ex-girlfriend out there who wanted to target him? Or what about Martin Hunt, the man Jamie mentioned yesterday? Hunt might still have been smarting over his financial losses and finally decided to retaliate. Lots of theories were swirling in Theodosia’s brain, but nothing had started to gel yet.
“I have to tend to my guests right now,” Theodosia said. “But if you two ladies want to stick around for lunch, we can talk more afterwards.”
“Well, I…,” Delaine started to say.
“Absolutely,” Bettina said.
* * *
Taking a page from Downton Abbey , Haley had come up with three prix fixe luncheon choices: the Mrs. Patmore, the Mrs. Hughes, and the Lady Violet Crawley. All included a cinnamon scone and a bowl of tomato bisque, but they differed on entrées. The Mrs. Patmore entrée was a ploughman’s lunch of turkey meat loaf, cheddar cheese, and sourdough bread. The Mrs. Hughes a chicken salad and grape tea sandwich. And the Lady Violet Crawley a crab salad tea sandwich.
Theodosia took orders, delivered tea, and checked in with Haley.
“Our guests are going wild for your luncheon specials,” she told Haley. “They all love the Downton Abbey characters so much and think you’ve perfectly matched the food to their personalities.”
“Good to hear,” Haley said as she ladled tomato bisque into six waiting bowls. “And kind of easy to do, too.” She dusted her hands together and said, “Okay, what else?” Then, “Croutons. How could I forget croutons?” She grabbed a plastic container full of homemade croutons and liberally sprinkled them on top of the bisque. “Say, I saw Delaine and Bettina out there, what do they want for lunch?”
“Why don’t you make up two orders of the Lady Violet Crawley,” Theodosia said. “They’ll for sure love that.”
As their guests sipped tea and enjoyed their luncheons, Theodosia and Drayton both made the rounds, pouring refills on tea and chatting away. Finally, Theodosia had a chance to sit down with Bettina and Delaine again.
“How’s lunch?” Theodosia asked. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
Delaine tapped a scarlet-tipped fingernail against the table and said, “How about a little help?”
Theodosia’s brows shot up. “Excuse me?”
Delaine nudged Bettina with an elbow. “You ask her.”
“Look, I’m just going to come right out and say this,” Bettina said. “We need your expertise.”
“Regarding…?”
“Celeste’s murder. And Jamie. Especially Jamie.”
“I’d say you’ve probably got all the help you need,” Theodosia said. “Sheriff Ambourn is undoubtedly interviewing witnesses, and Riley promised to follow up on the footprint casts, trail cam video, and skull—as well as conduct some of his own interviews.”
“That’s all well and good, but we want you ,” Delaine said emphatically.
Theodosia shook her head. “No, you really don’t.” It was an interesting case—well, actually it was downright fascinating—but she had a lot on her plate. Didn’t she?
“Excuse me,” Delaine said. Suddenly, she’d morphed into full Miss Bossy Pants mode. “But you’re the one with the rather stellar track record when it comes to solving strange cases.”
Theodosia shrugged. “I’m not exactly Miss Marple. All I did was get lucky a few times.”
Delaine waved an index finger at her. “No, sweetie, you got smart! You’ve got a computer for a brain, an investigator’s curiosity, and a killer instinct.”
“It’s a tricky case, I wouldn’t want to get in the way,” Theodosia said. In fact, I’ve been warned not to.
“Please reconsider,” Bettina begged. “You saw how distraught Sabrina is and how badly Jamie was hurt. Just go have another conversation with Jamie, will you? He’s feeling better—thanks to a boatload of pain pills, I guess—but maybe you could ask him a few more pertinent questions. See what’s really going on with him, figure out if he has any serious enemies out there.”
I know he does , Theodosia thought to herself, but said to Bettina, “I would think you’d know more about that.”
“No, I…I’ve been so focused on my wedding that I kind of defocused on Jamie. If that’s an actual word.”
“Oh, it is,” Delaine assured her.
“Okay, tell me what you know about Martin Hunt,” Theodosia said.
“Who?” Bettina asked.
“Hunt owns Hunt and Peck,” Delaine said. “A men’s shop geared toward men who don’t actually own a yacht or a polo pony, but are into that stuck-up, high-end sporty look.”
Bettina looked nervous. “Why are you asking about this Martin Hunt person?”
“Because Jamie told me that Hunt lost a pile of money with his investments at Hamilton and McLaughlin.”
“I didn’t know that,” Delaine said.
“Neither did I,” Bettina said. Then, “Jeez, since when is losing money a reason to kill somebody?”
“Are you serious?” Delaine said. “These days people are shot and killed for less than twenty bucks.” Her eyes grew bigger and her voice more strident. “I mean, cars are hijacked for the sake of a joyride. Flash mobs invade drugstores just to steal cold medicine and razor blades. Razor blades , for heaven’s sake!”
In the end, after all Bettina’s pleading and Delaine’s histrionics, Theodosia agreed to look into things. Promised to talk to Jamie again, put out a few feelers, and try to get a meeting with Martin Hunt.
Bettina and Delaine thanked Theodosia profusely and left, seemingly satisfied by her promise of a semi-shadow investigation. But once they were gone, Theodosia wondered exactly how she was going to manage her tea shop along with all that investigating. Which was precisely when Pete Riley walked through the front door.
Was this perhaps a light at the end of the tunnel? Did he have some good news for her?