Chapter 22
22
Today’s tea luncheon hadn’t been billed as a special event. But Haley managed to make it special when it came to her menu.
“This is spectacular,” Theodosia said as she perused the recipe card where Haley had scrawled her luncheon offerings. “Carrot cake scones, she-crab soup, Cobb salad, prawn salad tea sandwiches, cucumber and cream cheese pinwheels, and turkey, Brie cheese, and apple tea sandwiches.”
“Oh gosh, I forgot to write down the rest of it,” Haley said. “There are also three dozen cream scones in the oven. And for dessert we have cheesecake with strawberry topping.”
“As far as that cheesecake goes…”
“Yes?”
“You need to save a couple pieces for Drayton and me.”
“Will do.”
Lunch was easy today, with all the guests loving Haley’s menu. Theodosia took orders, ran them into the kitchen, then poured tea, and served the food as it was ready.
“You holding up okay?” Drayton asked after she’d made six quick trips into the kitchen.
“If you mean do I miss having Miss Dimple here to help, then yes. She does take some of the pressure off.”
“By the way, you were going to check on her again?”
“I called her first thing this morning.”
“And she’s still not dying from strychnine poisoning?” Drayton asked.
“She said she felt fine.”
“Maybe she’s one of those rare humans who are immune to poisons and such things.”
“One of the lucky ones,” Theodosia said. “Maybe. Thank goodness she’s coming in tomorrow.”
“But you seem to be handling things well.”
“Only because I’m not too aerobically challenged,” Theodosia said. “But if I didn’t have Earl Grey to pull me out of the house most every night and pace for a couple of miles, I’d probably be gasping for air.”
“Funny,” Drayton said, his mouth twitching slightly.
By early afternoon, the lunch rush had let up. And thank goodness for that, because that’s when Babs Campbell came wandering in.
“Hi, how are ya?” Babs cried, giving Theodosia a ginormous hug.
“Great, nice to see you, too.” Theodosia was amused by Babs’s energy level. She wondered if the girl was constantly sipping the kind of high-octane coffee she had talked about serving in her soon-to-be coffee shop.
“I need to have a confab with Drayton,” Babs said.
“Drayton’s right here,” Drayton said. Babs turned slightly and found that she was standing two feet from him.
“Drayton!” Babs exclaimed. “Ooh, I have a few questions for you. Mostly about coffee. Do you know anything about coffee?”
“Tea is my expertise, but I’m fairly well-versed on coffee as well,” Drayton said. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything!” Babs cried. “Like I was telling Theodosia, I want to open a coffee shop in the university neighborhood and serve a bunch of different flavored coffees. You know, like you guys serve flavored tea.”
“Interesting idea,” Drayton said.
“Babs mentioned she might want to do almond-brittle-, berry-, and gingerbread-flavored coffees,” Theodosia said.
“I can see her serving orange blossom, blackberry, and chocolate coffee as well,” Drayton said.
“See, that’s exactly what I need,” Babs said. “Smart ideas and some gentle guidance. There’s a small shop—actually a former donut shop—off University Avenue that’s come up for rent, so I…” She stopped abruptly, dug in her purse, and pulled out a sheaf of papers. “I went ahead and wrote a business plan. I cribbed the template off the Internet and I know my ideas are pie-in-the-sky stuff, but is there any chance you guys would take a look at it and give me a few pointers?”
“I can go over it with you right now,” Drayton said. He glanced at Theodosia. “Theo, can you also…?”
“Afraid not. Against my better judgment I’ve got to run and do a podcast,” Theodosia said. “But, Babs, if you leave me a copy of your business plan, I’ll be sure to look at it when I get back.”
Babs gave a fist pump. “Super!”
* * *
Air Supply was a sound studio over on Bogard Street, a small brick building tucked between Lyle’s Laundromat and Chrysalis Lamps and Chandeliers. Theodosia walked in the fron t door and was greeted by a young man wearing a Cheap Trick T-shirt who was stuffing CDs into envelopes. He looked at her and said, “Are you Theodosia? You look like a Theodosia. Charlie’s already set up in studio B, go right in.”
“Great,” Theodosia said, her heart suddenly picking up in cadence. Could she do this? Should she do this? Well, she’d come this far; she may as well jump in with both feet.
Charlie Skipstead was sitting behind a microphone in a dimly lit studio, fiddling with dials when Theodosia walked in. She was young, late twenties, with long dark hair, green eyes, a gold nose ring, and an enigmatic smile. Today she wore a Motley Crüe T-shirt and shredded (not torn, but shredded) jeans with trendy black ballet slippers.
When Charlie saw Theodosia, she jumped up from her chair and cried, “You found us! Thrilled to have you!”
“Gulp,” Theodosia said.
“No, no,” Charlie laughed as they hugged. “This is going to be super easy. Heck, you worked in marketing, dealt with the media, you’re probably a pro at this.”
“Not exactly.”
“You will be by the time we’re done. Here, sit down and I’ll adjust your microphone.”
Theodosia took the chair next to Charlie’s and looked around the studio. It was small, maybe eight by twelve feet, with a soundboard and two microphones. The carpeting was thick and lush, and all four walls were covered in some kind of gray foam rubber that looked like egg cartons. She figured it helped enhance sound as well as cancel any outside noise.
“Your mike’s good to go, so now you can slip on these headphones,” Charlie said, handing Theodosia a pair of fat headphones. “That’s if you can get them over your hair. Gosh, you have great hair.”
“Thank you,” Theodosia said, giving her hair a self-conscious pat. She drew a deep breath and said, “What now?”
“Now we get to play around. I’m going to adjust sound levels and values…” Charlie fussed with a few lighted dials. “And I’m also going to record this to my laptop as well.”
“And you’re going to ask me questions?”
Charlie nodded. “That’s how it works.”
“About Celeste’s death last Saturday?”
“It’s been in the news, so it’s super, super timely. My listeners should be extremely interested.” Charlie held up a finger. “I’m going to start my theme music now, then do a quick intro. Once I introduce you and ask my first question, you jump in and we’ll go from there.”
“And we’re doing this live?”
“Right.”
“What if I flub something?”
“You won’t. But since I’m also recording this, I can go back in later and edit out any ahs, ums, or strange pauses for the archived version.”
Theodosia sat there expectantly as Charlie’s opening music filled her ears. It was an upbeat but slightly mysterious tune that seemed to promise a dose of the unexpected. Then Charlie cut in with, “This is Charlie Skipstead, host of Charleston Shivers .” Her voice was low and melodic as she said, “My special guest today is amateur detective Theodosia Browning, the proprietor of Charleston’s Indigo Tea Shop. Theodosia, I understand you’re hot on the trail of a vicious killer, someone who sabotaged a greenhouse where a wedding reception was about to take place. And—either on purpose or inadvertently—murdered the maid of honor.”
“I’m not exactly hot on their trail,” Theodosia began.
“But you have uncovered suspects?”
“Actually, yes. There are three—no, four—people who had motive.”
“And those motives would be what?” Charlie asked.
“I’d have to say revenge, anger, and financial gain.”
“Those are all powerful motives. And much to the surprise of the investigating officers, I understand you’ve uncovered an actual clue. Tell us about that.”
“It was kind of a slam dunk,” Theodosia said. “In trying to figure out how the killer approached the greenhouse, I checked out a nearby park where I figured he might have parked his car.”
“And did you find his car? Or talk to a witness? Or find tire treads?”
“Better than that,” Theodosia said. “There was a woodsy trail that led in the direction of the flower farm, and along the way I spotted a motion-activated trail cam.”
“That’s quite a lucky break. So you have an actual photo of the killer?”
“Of his shoes anyway. The camera was aimed quite low to catch images of the park’s wildlife. Foxes and mink and creatures like that.”
“That’s amazing,” Charlie said. “And I know our listeners are on the edge of their seats right about now. So let’s go to our mystery hotline. Listeners, if you’d like to ask Theodosia a question, just phone us at 1-800-MYSTERY.”
As if by magic, the phone rang. Charlie punched a button and said, “This is Charleston Shivers and you’re on the air. What’s your question please?”
There was a hollow clunk on the line, like a phone being dropped, then a gravelly voice said, “I want to know if Theodosia enjoyed her special present last night?”
“Her present?” Charlie gave Theodosia a questioning look.
Theodosia was taken aback…was this the person who’d left the skull? Her hands suddenly felt cold, and a shiver literally ran down her spine. Then she pulled it together and said, “Some joker left a plastic skull on my doorstep last night.” Her mouth was cottony and her heart thumped like a timpani drum, but she fought to sound outwardly calm. And disdainful. “I guess they wanted to scare me, but the funny thing was, I wasn’t one bit scared. I kicked the skull aside and never thought about it again.”
“You hear that?” Charlie said to the caller. “Your stupid Halloween prank backfired. Theodosia’s too smart to be scared by a cheap plastic skull. Hah! What I’d call a cheap trick.”
“Call it anything you want,” said the strange voice, “but I figured she’d want to get the buzz firsthand.” The voice paused. “That’s a clue in case you missed it.”
“A clue to what?” Theodosia asked. She was still struggling to remain calm, to keep her wits about her.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” the caller said.
“Okay, thanks for…,” Charlie began.
Theodosia made a chopping motion with her hand and Charlie immediately pushed a button to cut off the call and stop recording. “Honey, are you okay?” she asked as she peered at Theodosia.
“Not really,” Theodosia said.
“You sounded fine to me, calm and in control.”
“My knees are shaking and I feel like there’s an unexploded depth charge sitting in the pit of my stomach. Because I…I think that really might have been the killer. I didn’t tell a soul about that plastic skull. But his voice…it’s like nothing I’ve ever heard before.”
“I’ve hit this a few times,” Charlie said. “Crazy anonymous callers who try to disrupt the podcast. You can download voice-changing programs off the Internet or buy a handheld device for thirty bucks. And I think that’s what your caller—or killer—was using.” She furrowed her brow. “You think it was the person who sabotaged the greenhouse and killed Celeste?”
“I do.”
“They said the word buzz was a clue. Any ideas on that?”
Theodosia shook her head. “Not really. It felt like a non sequitur.”
Charlie touched a hand to Theodosia’s arm, as if to steady her. “Are you okay to keep going?”
Theodosia swallowed hard. “I am if we don’t go too long.”
Charlie asked a few more questions, then Theodosia steered Charlie away from the greenhouse incident and talked about a mystery she’d been involved in a couple of months ago—a murder at an old grist mill.
Afterward, when the session was over, Theodosia still felt spooked. Which was why, sitting in her Jeep outside the studio, she immediately called Riley and told him what had happened.
“How very nonlinear,” he said. “Not what I’d expect at all.”
“Ditto that. Do you think you could try to trace the call?”
“What’s Charlie’s studio number?” Riley asked.
Theodosia gave it to him.
“I’ll jump right on it. Now you take care. You’re going right back to the tea shop?”
“I am.”
“Good.”
Theodosia hung up and looked around. Was anyone watching her, looking to get a reaction? There was a dark car—a sedan—parked down the street from her, maybe a figure sitting inside. Could that be the caller? The killer?
Theodosia sat there for a full five minutes, wondering what to do. Then she turned on the ignition and slowly pulled away. Looking into her rearview mirror, she didn’t see anyone following her. Thank goodness.
* * *
Back at the Indigo Tea Shop Theodosia told Drayton about the podcast and the weird person who’d called in.
Drayton listened carefully as he poured Theodosia a cup of tea, then said, “You didn’t tell anyone about the skull at your back door?” He pushed the tea across the counter to her.
“Nope. I was going to tell you, but I didn’t want to worry you.”
“That’s great because now I’m beyond worried, edging into full-blown hysteria. Theo, I think the killer has their eye on you.”
Theodosia took a sip of tea, swallowed, and said, “That’s what I’m afraid of, too.”
Drayton peered at her. “Are you really? Afraid, I mean?”
“I was when they called. Now…now I’m feeling some better. Probably more angry than fearful.”
“And you didn’t recognize the voice?”
“Like I said, they must have used some kind of voice-changing machine.”
“I’m glad you called Riley and that he agreed to try and trace the call. Maybe he’ll luck out and this will wrap up quickly. Riley will locate the killer and all will be revealed.” Drayton clapped his hands together. “Bing, bang, boom, case closed.”
Theodosia’s cell phone tinkled in her bag. “That could be Riley now.” Checking her screen, she said, “Yup,” and clicked on. “What did you find out?”
“We’ve got the number, but it’s a cell phone on one of those cheap-ass fly-by-night carriers,” Riley said. “Legal is working right now to get a subpoena to the carrier so they can hopefully provide more information.”
“That’s good.”
“That’s not good. It’s a cell phone—probably a burner bought at one of those big-box stores—and whoever owns it could pull the SIM card or toss the phone in a ditch, and we’d never find it in a million years.”
“But we have to pin down that caller!” Theodosia cried.
“But probably not via their phone.”
“Disappointing,” Theodosia said.
“That’s life in the big bad world of law enforcement,” Riley said. “We’ll keep battering away at this, but in the meantime…”
“I know what you’re going to say. Stop investigating and keep my nose clean.”
“What? There’s an echo in here? Yes, step away from the investigation and chill out. What are your plans for tonight? Stay home and read a book, I hope. A romance rather than a mystery.”
“I was going to go to the Heritage Society with Drayton. Some Halloween-themed dance thing.”
“Okay, that sounds fairly safe. But call me later, okay?”
“I promise,” Theodosia said. She hung up, turned to Drayton, and said, “I’m not exactly in the mood for this Vampyre Ballet tonight.”
“So what? Go home, get glammed up, and come anyway. It’ll help take your mind off things for a while.”