Chapter 16
Antiquarian Books was just down the block from the Indigo Tea Shop, residing in a quaint little building with a yellow-and-white-striped awning that hung over a charming bay window.
Today there was a display of antique children’s books in that window—books that included The Borrowers by Mary Norton, Charlotte’s Web by E.B.
White, Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak, and a few Trixie Belden and Bobbsey Twins books—as well as three antique teddy bears.
“Are the teddies for sale?” Theodosia asked as she pushed her way into the bookshop.
“They’re on loan and available for adoption,” Lois said. “From Bridgeport Antiques. But the owner requires you to sign adoption papers and promise to always give them a loving home.”
Lois Chamberlain was the bookshop’s owner, a mid-fifties retired librarian with a love affair for books.
She was short and a little stocky, had a wonderfully cherubic face, and wore her long salt-and-pepper hair in a single braid down her back.
Today she was dressed Lois-style, which meant a plaid flannel shirt, jeans, and sensible brown clogs.
Pumpkin, her adorable little long-haired dachshund, lounged on a yellow dog bed in front of the enormous library table Lois used as a front desk.
“I think I’d rather adopt Pumpkin,” Theodosia said. “Much less trouble and paperwork than the teddy bears.”
“Don’t be so sure. Little Miss Pumpkin has been known to get into all sorts of mischief.” Lois held up a book that had obviously had its corners chewed. “You see this? A book on tax law. Pumpkin’s clearly not a fan of the IRS.”
“So many books, so little time, right, Pumpkin?” Theodosia said.
Pumpkin scrambled to her feet and let loose a sharp bark as if to answer.
“Another voice heard from,” Lois said.
As Theodosia gazed around the bookshop, a feeling of peace stole over her.
Just being here in Antiquarian Books, smelling the leather and bookbinder’s glue, she had an urge to start poking her way through the many bookcases that Lois had carefully labeled as History, Food & Wine, Local Authors, Religion, Fiction, and Science.
Up a spiral staircase was a loft that contained Mystery and Children’s Books, and over near the bay window were a dozen cardboard boxes that looked ready to burst.
“You’ve acquired more books?” Theodosia said.
Lois rolled her eyes. “I get them by osmosis. People are downsizing or, worse yet, someone with a huge library dies and the first person the heirs think of is me. Not the funeral director, but me.” She chuckled.
“But you don’t want to hear about my problems, you’re here for your book.
” She reached around and grabbed a small leather book from a shelf and handed it to Theodosia.
“I had to beat the bushes but I finally located your Blofeld book,” Lois said.
“Wonderful,” Theodosia said. She flipped through a few pages and found a chapter about the author’s tea journeys through China in the thirties and forties.
“This is great. How much do I owe you?”
“Ten dollars. But no need to pay me since I prefer to take it out in trade.”
“You’re on,” Theodosia said, even though Drayton adored Lois and had already promised her free tea and scones for life.
Lois placed both hands on her table and leaned forward. She eyed Theodosia carefully and said, “When I dropped by for a takeout cuppa first thing this morning, Drayton mentioned that you’re up to your eyeballs in another murder mystery.”
“You know about Mrs. Van Courtland getting poisoned at the Firefly Tea?” Theodosia asked.
“I know some of it,” Lois said, “from the newspapers.” She leaned down, scooped up Pumpkin, and set her on the table. Pumpkin stood there, posing rather regally as if to the manner born.
“There’s lots more going on,” Theodosia said. She explained about Brody’s ex-wife, Payton, showing up, Brody’s new girlfriend, Amber, and the fact that the residents of Honey Badger House might even fit into the murder.
“And to think poor Mrs. V was chairman of the Starry Starry Night Ball.”
“I take it you’re planning to attend?” Theodosia asked.
“Are you kidding? Pumpkin and I are part of the program,” Lois said. When Theodosia looked puzzled, Lois added, “Oh, you don’t know about the tableaus?”
“I might have heard something about them, but…” She shook her head.
“Well, besides the interactive Van Gogh room, they’re staging living tableaus of several of Van Gogh’s more notable paintings.”
“So it’s like a stage set?” Theodosia asked.
“Or a window display with people and props and things.”
“Sounds kind of neat.”
“It is,” Lois said. “Or at least we hope it will be. There’s going to be tableaus of Van Gogh’s Café Terrace at Night, The Potato Eaters, and Woman Walking Her Dog.” She beamed as she gathered Pumpkin in her arms. “That last one’s going to be Pumpkin and me.”
Theodosia was charmed by the idea. “I can’t wait to see it!”
Lois kissed Pumpkin on the top of her head. “My girl’s going to be a star!”
* * *
By the time Theodosia returned to the tea shop, the afternoon guests had pretty much cleared out and Drayton and Haley were cleaning up. Haley wandered among the tables, picking up a random scatter of dishes and teacups, while Drayton swished his teapots under running water.
“Did Amber come back for her purse?” Theodosia asked.
“No, but she sent an Uber to pick it up,” Drayton said.
“Well, la-di-da,” Haley said. “Isn’t that special.” Then, “From what you guys have told me it looks as if she’ll be rolling in dough when she marries Brody Van Courtland.”
“Could be, but I wouldn’t hold my breath,” Drayton said.
“Do you know something I don’t?” Theodosia asked him.
“It’s just a hunch,” Drayton said. “Earlier today, when I was serving tea to Amber and Brody, they didn’t strike me as being on the same wavelength.”
“People don’t have to be on the exact same wavelength to get along,” Haley said. “Look at you, Drayton. Is anybody on your wavelength?”
“Say now,” Drayton said as Haley grinned and giggled wildly.
“You two,” Theodosia laughed as she grabbed an apron that needed washing. She was still chuckling when the phone rang, then tried to shush herself as she picked it up and said, “Indigo Tea Shop, how may I help you?”
“You can start by not expecting me to jump like a crazed wallaby every time you ask for a favor,” came a cranky voice.
“Detective Tidwell, hello,” Theodosia said. Because he sounded put out—well, maybe more than put out, maybe a little angry—she said, “Thank you so much for getting back to me.”
An awkward silence spun out, then Tidwell said, “The information pertaining to the woman’s driver’s license you sent me in your rather circuitous manner?”
“You have it already?”
“Don’t sound so friendly. Just because I’m a public servant doesn’t mean I’m always available to do your bidding.”
“I apologize if I was in any way presumptuous,” Theodosia said. She crossed her fingers, hoping he’d dug up some juicy information.
“Amber Calhoun, DOB June sixteen, twenty years old, hair blond, eyes blue, height five feet two inches, weight one ten. No glasses or contact lenses, no driving restrictions, no outstanding warrants.”
“So no criminal history at all?”
“None that I’ve found so far. Although the girl is young, so there’s still time.”
“Okay.”
“Ms. Browning,” Tidwell said in what Theodosia had come to think of as his brook-no-nonsense tone.
“Yes?”
“Please do not make a habit of this.”
“I won’t, sir. And thank you very much.”
The phone clicked in her ear. Hard.
“Problem?” Drayton asked. He couldn’t help but overhear.
“Just the same old same old. Tidwell was ticked off that I emailed him Amber’s driver’s license.”
“And let me guess, he checked and found that Amber’s not the master criminal you thought she might be?”
“Not yet anyway,” Theodosia said. She picked up a tin of jasmine tea from the counter, turned it idly in her hands, then set it back down.
“You okay?” Haley asked. She’d just wandered out from the kitchen.
“Just thinking. Off in the clouds, I guess.” Theodosia turned and managed a faint smile. “You taking off now?”
“Clock says it’s quittin’ time and I don’t mind telling you I’m pooped. I was down here at the crack of six this morning so I could proof my tea bread.”
“Then go ahead,” Theodosia urged. “Drayton and I can finish here and lock up. You run upstairs and flake out. Take a nap or curl up with your cat and watch one of your favorite reality shows.”
“I would but I’m expecting a delivery, two dozen glass ramekins from Glaser’s Restaurant Supply.”
“One of us can surely sign for it,” Theodosia said.
“Of course we can,” Drayton said.
“So it’s settled, take off,” Theodosia urged.
“Okay,” Haley said, “will do.” She gave a happy wave as she turned and scurried down the back hallway. They heard clumps and bumps as she climbed the wooden stairs to her upstairs apartment.
“Goodness, was she really here at six?” Drayton asked.
“Probably more like five,” Theodosia said. “You know Haley, always hustling.”
“Because she’s a darn hard worker.”
Theodosia straightened the tables and chairs, then followed that up with a little light sweeping.
Thinking about tomorrow—because she always liked to stay on her toes—she peeked into her highboy and wondered what tablecloths she should use for their Moulin Rouge Tea.
She had a few red tablecloths. They might help convey the cabaret mood she was trying to project.
Plus, they’d serve as a dramatic background for her Richelieu by Royal Dalton china.
“Drayton,” Theodosia said, “are you brewing Mariages Frères tea for—”
Her words were interrupted by a loud knock at the back door.
“That must be Haley’s delivery,” Drayton said.
“Want me to get it?” Theodosia asked.
“No problem, happy to do the honors.”