Chapter 3
Monday morning at the Indigo Tea Shop found Theodosia, Drayton, and Haley sipping cups of English breakfast tea and munching apple fritter scones slathered with Devonshire cream.
“Did anyone get any sleep last night?” Drayton asked as he wiped a few crumbs from his mouth.
“Not much,” Haley said.
“When I finally drifted off to sleep, I dreamt about fireflies and shady intruders,” Theodosia said.
“How did Aunt Libby fare?” Drayton asked.
“I think she’s still stunned to have found herself with a walk-on part in a genuine murder mystery,” Theodosia said.
“You’re driving her back to Cane Ridge today?” he asked.
Theodosia made a lemon face. “Not exactly. Aunt Libby’s decided she wants to stick around for a while.”
“And bunk with you?” Haley asked.
Theodosia shook her head. “That was the plan. Until last night when Aunt Libby booked a room at the Featherbed House B and B and had me drop her off there this morning.”
“How long does she intend to stay there?” Drayton asked.
“Aunt Libby said a few days, but I think she really means until Mrs. Van Courtland’s murder is solved,” Theodosia said.
“That could take a while,” Haley said. “Unless…”
“Unless what?” Theodosia asked.
“Well…” Haley wrinkled her nose and tucked a hank of blond hair behind her left ear, “unless you get involved.”
Drayton stared across the table at Haley. “Don’t,” he cautioned.
“Why not?” Haley said. “Theodosia’s just as clever as your average police detective. I mean, she figured out who killed that poor maid of honor at the flower farm wedding.”
“That was pure luck,” Theodosia said.
“Actually, now that I think back, that was rather fine detective work on your part,” Drayton said.
Theodosia rolled her eyes at Drayton. “Please don’t say that. And don’t encourage Haley. Or me, for that matter.”
“Come on,” Haley said. “You know dang well that Aunt Libby wants you to look into Mrs. V’s death.”
“I don’t think she’s the only one,” Drayton said as his eye caught a figure as it hurried past the window that looked out on Church Street. Then, as if on cue, the front door flew open with a resounding WHAP, and Delaine Dish rushed into the tea shop with all the force of an unwelcome hurricane.
“Oh good!” Delaine cried when she spotted the three of them sitting at a table next to the fireplace.
“I made it here before you opened for business.” She was all atwitter, her heart-shaped face glowing, blue eyes flashing.
Her gray tweed Chanel jacket and matching slacks were the only sedate thing about her this morning.
“Rats,” Theodosia said under her breath. She had a fairly good idea why Delaine had come zooming in like a flying banshee.
And she was right.
“Theo, after last night’s complete disaster you absolutely have to put on your Sherlock Holmes cap and help figure out this murder!” Delaine screeched.
“No, I really don’t,” Theodosia said. She had a busy week ahead of her with a number of events that included a Queen Victoria Tea, Moulin Rouge Tea, and a catering gig at the Featherbed House B and B.
The last thing she needed was for everyone to gang up on her and force her to jump feet first into a nasty murder case.
“I’ve already met with your Aunt Libby, as well as Angie Congdon at the Featherbed House, and we’ve all agreed that you’re perfect for this task,” Delaine said in a brisk tone.
“I hope you also realize that our dear departed Mrs. Van Courtland was honorary chairwoman for this Saturday’s Starry Starry Night Ball!
” Delaine gave an emphatic stomp of her foot to make her point, then plunked herself down in the chair next to Theodosia.
“What is that again?” Theodosia asked. Delaine had been yapping about the Starry Starry Night Ball forever and had twisted her arm to buy two rather expensive tickets. But right now Theodosia couldn’t recall what the ball was about.
Delaine stared at Theodosia in sudden horror, as if Theodosia had produced an unflattering noise at the dinner table. “We’re raising money for the Children’s Art Association,” Delaine said, enunciating each syllable carefully. “I assure you it’s an extremely worthwhile cause.”
“I’m sure it is,” Theodosia said. Besides being the owner of Cotton Duck Boutique, Delaine was a social whirlwind when it came to raising money for charities that were near and dear to her heart. Cats, kids, and dogs being her favorites.
“Now another committee member will be forced to step in,” Delaine said, offering her best grumpy face.
“The ball can’t be canceled?” Drayton asked.
Color flared on Delaine’s already blusher-swept cheeks and she pounded a small fist on the table.
“Not under any circumstances! The Starry Starry Night Ball has been in the planning stages for more than six months. It’s promising to be one of Charleston’s major black-tie charity events.
They’re even staging an interactive event for the guests.
You know, a room with projections of Van Gogh’s art on the walls and floor, as well as actual tableaus of a few of his famous paintings. ”
“Hence the name Starry Starry Night,” Drayton said. “I assume you’re expecting serious press coverage?”
Delaine nodded. “Naturally. Especially since we’re having a red carpet with Hollywood-style lights and photos. So you see, Theodosia”—at this she spun in her seat—“out of respect to Mrs. Van Courtland, to her memory, we really, sincerely, need your help.”
“It’s no use. Detective Tidwell is sure to freeze me out of the investigation,” Theodosia said.
Delaine waved a hand. “Foof, that’s never stopped you before.”
“And then there’s Riley,” Theodosia said. “He’s sure to be upset if I somehow get involved.” Pete Riley was Theodosia’s significant other and a detective D-2 who worked for Burt Tidwell.
“I happen to know that Riley’s out of town until this weekend,” Drayton said.
“Doesn’t matter,” Theodosia said. “He’d still disapprove.”
This time Delaine made a zipping motion across her mouth. “Trust me, the man never has to know.”
“Oh, he’ll find out,” Theodosia said. “You forget, he is a detective.”
“But you’re a better one,” Delaine said.
“Far more clever and devious. Face it, Theo, you have a knack for understanding motives and sniffing out suspects.” She leaned back in her chair and made a big show of looking around the tea shop.
“Plus, you own a tea shop. Which means you hear things. You have an ear to the whisperings and goings-on of the community.” She dropped her voice a notch. “You’re privy to all the good gossip.”
“Delaine’s right, you know,” Drayton said. “I hate to say this but Mrs. V’s case is right up your alley.”
Theodosia stared at their faces. Delaine, Drayton, and Haley. They all looked hopeful and expectant. As if they trusted her to poke around, ask questions, and conjure up an answer.
Well, what if I could?
What would it hurt if she looked into things all casual like?
Ran a kind of shadow investigation. She’d take care to stay off of Tidwell’s radar while asking a few innocent questions.
And if those questions warranted a closer look, a law enforcement look, then she could call him and make a few gentle suggestions.
“Okaaay,” Theodosia said slowly. “I suppose I could look into things. But cautiously and very discreetly.”
“That’s all I’m asking,” Delaine said, a pussycat grin finally lighting her face. “Just be prudent.”
At which point Haley grinned and gave an approving nod.
Never in her life had she known Theodosia to be wary or guarded.
To her, Theodosia had always been a rush-in-where-angels-fear-to-tread kind of girl.
And, truth be known, Theodosia excelled at it.
Which meant this so-called shadow investigation should prove to be pretty dang interesting.
* * *
By nine thirty the Indigo Tea Shop was busy with guests who’d popped in for morning cream tea.
Many were regulars from shops and boutiques up and down Church Street; some were referred by friends who owned hotels and B and Bs in Charleston’s Historic District.
Theodosia bustled from table to table serving cream scones, apple fritter scones, and lemon tea bread.
Drayton was at his perch behind the front counter.
Half-glasses balanced on the tip of his nose, he selected various tins of teas from his floor-to-ceiling shelves.
Then, with the care of a chemist, measured out and brewed at least a half dozen different pots of tea.
“Where are we with the spiced plum tea for table three?” Theodosia asked him.
“Brewed to perfection,” Drayton said as he slid a yellow teapot across the counter to her. “And I also have that pot of English breakfast tea, only kindly inform your guests that it needs to steep another two minutes in order to reach optimum flavor.”