Chapter 19
19
Forty minutes later, with most of the tea sandwiches assembled and Drayton readying all their wicker picnic baskets, Theodosia slipped away on a small investigative mission. She didn’t hold out a lot of hope that she’d be successful, but Teener’s Costumes and Tricks was only a few blocks away, so that’s where she ended up. Browsing the aisles and looking at endless racks of garish Halloween costumes as well as noisemakers, spooky masks, rubber bats, orange wigs, plastic pumpkins, and…yes, plastic skulls. Interestingly, the shop sold skulls exactly like the ones that had been placed on Jamie’s hospital tray and that she’d found in his apartment.
Theodosia lifted one of the skulls off the shelf and carried it to the checkout counter, where a teenage boy wearing a clown costume, yellow fright wig, and a name tag that said Ricky had just finished ringing up a customer.
“Did you sell any skulls like this recently?” Theodosia asked him.
Ricky stared at her, his eyes large and limpid under his scruffy wig. “Are you kidding me? We’ve sold a million of them.”
“Probably not a million,” Theodosia said. “More like, what, a couple of dozen?”
Ricky shrugged. “I guess.”
Theodosia took out her iPhone, went to the Hunt and Peck website, found a photo of Martin Hunt, and showed it to Ricky. “Did this guy buy one of your skulls?”
“I dunno.”
“Take a closer look, would you?”
Ricky gave a cursory glance. “Sorry, but we’ve been super busy all week. And I don’t pay much attention to customers.”
“This is a pretty stressful job, huh?” Theodosia asked.
“Are you kidding?” Ricky said. “A four-hour shift standing on my feet, answering questions and ringing up purchases? You try it sometime.”
“I hear you.”
“It’s darn near killing me!” Ricky cried.
“I’ll bet it is,” Theodosia said, trying hard not to laugh out loud.
* * *
On an ordinary night St. Philips Cemetery was a spooky place. Tilting tombstones loomed like rows of jagged teeth, ancient moss-covered graves carried faint inscriptions, and headless marble statues stood guard. Now add in green and purple lighting, candles sputtering atop gravestones, and tendrils of fog ghosting in from the Atlantic Ocean and you had yourself a spooky, highly atmospheric setting.
“How many people should we expect tonight?” Drayton asked Theodosia. He and Haley had set up two tables under one of the cemetery’s gigantic live oaks. One table held an array of scones, tea sandwiches, and brownie bites; the other held two large silver tea urns and stacks of paper cups. “And I must say, these paper cups are less than optimal.” His eyes flicked up. “As is that umbrella of Spanish moss dripping down above us.”
“Think of them both as biodegradable,” Theodosia said. “As for the number of guests tonight, best guess is we’ll attract the most visitors just because St. Philips is smack-dab in the heart of the Historic District. So we have to be ready. Julie Braun, who heads the marketing committee, thought we might get between two hundred and three hundred guests.”
“And they’ll all want tea and goodies?” Haley asked.
“I think…yes,” Theodosia said. “In fact, I see some early cemetery crawl folks now.”
A group of five teenage girls fluttered up to their table. They all wore black pussycat ears and had small black spots adorning their noses.
“Tea?” one of them asked.
“And brownies?” another asked.
“Right,” Drayton said, snapping to. “Help yourself to the brownies and scones while I pour you all cups of tea.”
St. Philips Cemetery was situated directly behind St. Philip’s Church and was one of the features on Charleston’s famed Gateway Walk. The walk itself ran from the Unitarian Church on Archdale Street, meandered across King Street, and went behind the Gibbes Museum of Art. When it crossed Meeting Street, things really got interesting. Lots of statuary, gardens, pattering fountains, stands of palmettos, and tall, sculpted hedges. A cryptic inscription on a plaque attached to the Governor Aiken Gates proclaimed, Through Handwrought Gates, Alluring Paths Lead on to Pleasant Places. Where Ghosts of Long-Forgotten Things Have Left Elusive Traces .
Elusive traces were haunting Theodosia right now as she greeted guests, handed out cups of tea, and, in the back of her mind—always in the back of her mind—wondered who could have had a hand in killing Celeste.
She was deep in thought when a familiar voice said, “Theodosia? Earth to Theodosia?”
Theodosia shook her head to help get rid of her thought cobwebs and saw Lois Chamberlain standing there. Naturally, Lois’s little dachshund, Pumpkin, was snuggled in her bookbag.
“Oh my gosh, Lois, I was so lost in thought that I almost didn’t see you. Apologies.”
“No apologies needed,” Lois said, chuckling as she held up a hand. “I take the liberty of spacing out all the time.”
Theodosia snapped her fingers. “You were on your way to a book sale this morning. Did you buy any books?”
“Excuse me, have we met? Of course I ended up buying the entire collection. You should see my poor old Ford Bronco. The springs are sagging from carrying so many kilotons.”
“But I bet you’ll sell every one of those books and turn a nice, juicy profit,” Theodosia said.
Lois winked at her. “That’s the name of the game, isn’t it? Don’t just make a living, make a profit.”
“Words to live by,” Theodosia said.
Five minutes later, Babs Campbell drifted by, looking adorable in a black cashmere sweater and tartan plaid skirt.
“Burberry, right?” Theodosia said, nodding at her skirt.
“Yes, but it’s ancient ,” Babs said. “I’m one of those crazy people who hangs on to every stitch of clothing from, like, decades ago. I never feel the urge to purge, so I don’t throw anything away.”
“And when it comes back in style, you’re all set.”
“Exactly,” Babs laughed.
“Okay, now I have to ask,” Theodosia said. “What is that delightful scent you’re wearing?” Maybe because Delaine was always spritzing on perfume, “zoning it” as she called it, Theodosia was becoming more aware of what fragrances people were wearing.
“It’s called Hidden Hearts, orange blossoms with a top note of vanilla.”
Theodosia talked to Babs for another few minutes. Then, when she figured they were sufficiently cool with each other, laid a big question on her.
“Babs, do you have any idea as to who might have fiddled with the greenhouse gears and pulleys?”
“You’re a curious lady, aren’t you?” Babs said. But she said it with a warm, understanding look on her face. “Do you freelance for the police or something? Or are you writing a true crime book?”
“No, I’m just an interested party working on my own. I actually own a tea shop.” Theodosia lifted a hand to indicate the tea table, where Haley was passing out scones and Drayton was pouring tea.
“Wait!” Babs cried. “Not the Indigo Tea Shop?”
“That’s me.”
“I adore that place. You don’t know this—I mean, how could you?—but you’re kind of an inspiration to me. I’ve been thinking about chucking my PR job at Milne and Kerrison in favor of opening a coffee shop. Except my coffee shop would be super contemporary with a name like Live Wire or Hot Shots. And instead of just coffee, lattes, and macchiatos, we’d serve creatively flavored brews. You know, like almond brittle, berry, and gingerbread coffee.”
“Similar to our flavored teas,” Theodosia said.
“Exactly. Fun, huh?” Then Babs turned serious. “Other than the fact that you were catering the wedding, why are you asking questions about that greenhouse collapse?”
“Because I promised Bettina that I’d look into things.”
“You mean track down whoever might have caused it?”
“If it comes to that, sure.”
“Now I’m really impressed.”
“Don’t be. I’m just snooping around, listening to rumors and asking questions.”
“But an actual murder is nothing to fool with,” Babs said in a serious tone of voice. “You’ve got to be careful you don’t get too close to what really happened. You don’t want to put yourself in danger.”
“I’m trying not to do that, believe me,” Theodosia said, even as she remembered Madame Aurora’s chilling words about the killer having a dangerously dark nature.
“Wow, I wish I could help,” Babs said. “I still think the world of Jamie, and it makes me heartsick that he was injured so badly. And that poor woman…”
“Celeste,” Theodosia said.
“Tragic. You’re showing such care and concern for her family that I wish I could help figure something out.”
“Maybe you can,” Theodosia said. “Since you know Jamie so well…”
“Yes?”
“If you think of anything, anything that’s relevant, maybe something in Jamie’s past—a problem with a former girlfriend or someone in business—will you let me know?”
“Cross my heart, I promise I will think long and hard about that,” Babs said.
“Thank you.”
Babs melted into the crowd then, and Theodosia walked back to their tea table, only to find Adam Lynch, of the Lynch Mob fame, yukking it up with Haley.
“So I told them social media was the only way to go with this thing,” Lynch was telling her. “More and more events are advertised successfully via websites—Instagram, TikTok, or Facebook—even if the announcement only runs for a couple weeks.”
“You certainly drew a good crowd,” Haley said.
Lynch leaned in and favored her with a wolfish smile. “Say now, what time do you get off tonight?”
“Adam Lynch,” Theodosia said as she approached him. “Come to crow about what a great job you did?”
Lynch turned toward Theodosia, his pupils practically constricting at the sight of her. “I did do a good job,” he snarled. “Look at this throng of people.”
“Do you think maybe some of the folks are here because the event was featured on Channel Eight’s Good Morning Charleston ?”
“Ah, whatever,” Lynch said with a disdainful wave of his hand.
“And the fact that local businesses all put up posters?” Theodosia said.
“You think you’re tough, don’t you?” Lynch said, as his lips pulled into a sneer.
“No, but I like to think I’m smart and reasonable enough that I don’t have to intimidate people by hitting them and knocking out teeth,” Theodosia said.
“That never happened!” Lynch shouted as he turned and stalked off.
“Whoa, that’s the guy who knocked out Bettina’s tooth?” Haley said. “The one she was engaged to way back when?”
“Yes, so please try to avoid him at all costs.”
“He’s a real creeper, huh?” Haley said.
“The worst,” Theodosia said.
“Thanks for watching out for me. Lynch was coming on pretty strong.”
“No problem,” Theodosia said. She got busy then, setting out more brownie bites and unstacking some of Drayton’s dreaded paper cups.
Until a familiar voice called out, “Got a cup of tea for me?”