Chapter 27
Saturday morning dawned dark and rainy, hardly a dawn at all. From the relative coziness of the Indigo Tea Shop, Theodosia could hear the rain pounding on the shingled roof and gurgling down the drain spouts.
“I’m worried we won’t get many customers today,” she said to Drayton.
He dumped three spoonfuls of Moroccan mint into a bright red teapot, added hot water, and placed the lid on top.
“Is that such a bad thing? Maybe we need a bit of a break. Maybe we deserve a break. And we did talk about closing early so everyone could go home and get ready for tonight’s Starry Starry Night Ball. ”
Theodosia pulled a blue toile curtain aside and stared out at Church Street. Cars sped by, tires hissing against the wet street, but nobody was out walking. Or shopping. Or heading for her tea shop. “I wonder if this rain will put a damper on tonight’s ball?”
“Doubtful,” Drayton said. “Nothing stops Charleston society from attending a black-tie ball. Except, perhaps, thermonuclear war. And even then they’d just wear a chic Hazmat suit.”
Theodosia wandered back to the front counter. “I wish Tidwell would call. Or that Brody would call with news about Amber. Tell us it was all a huge mistake. That she’s been hanging out with a bunch of her crazy girlfriends, drinking too much wine and losing track of time.”
“We can only hope,” Drayton said.
And then, right on cue, the phone rang.
Theodosia dove for it. “Good morning, Indigo Tea Shop.”
“Miss Browning,” came a familiar baritone voice.
“Detective Tidwell!” Theodosia cried. She felt anxious, nervous, and suddenly reinvigorated—all rolled into one.
“You’re not going to believe this,” Tidwell said.
“Please tell me you found Amber.” Theodosia was practically holding her breath, praying that the girl had finally turned up.
“No such luck,” Tidwell said. “But we did figure out who set that fire last night.”
“You traced the credit card number on the receipt?”
“Traced it indeed. All the way back to Payton Van Courtland.”
Theodosia was momentarily stunned and at a complete loss for words.
When she finally recovered, she said, “Payton set the fire?” She could hardly believe it.
Payton might be a hothead and a little crazy, but was she an arsonist?
The idea was hard to swallow but it looked as if she was the guilty party.
“We have Payton in custody right now and were just about to put her through the ringer a second time,” Tidwell said, “but she hired a lawyer by the name of Bronson Graham. Know him?”
“He’s big-time. Does criminal defense,” Theodosia said.
“That he does. Anyway, right now Payton is sitting in an overheated interview room cooling her heels. Or perspiring as the case may be.”
“And she’s admitted to the arson?”
“She blubbered her way through a kind of semi-confession,” Tidwell said. “Even before her lawyer showed up. Seems she’s convinced that one of the kids at Honey Badger House was responsible for murdering her mother-in-law.”
“But there’s no evidence to prove that.”
“Doesn’t matter. Payton believes it’s so, thus Payton was attempting to set them up. To try to get the police to focus entirely on those kids.”
“She might believe one of them is the culprit, but I don’t,” Theodosia said. “I think those kids are trying hard to keep themselves on the straight and narrow.”
“Perhaps you have more faith in them than I do,” Tidwell said.
“Tell me, did Payton say anything at all about having ill will toward her ex-mother-in-law?”
“Payton swears she bears no grudge against Mrs. V and that she’s completely innocent of her murder.”
“Did you ask Payton about the poison cookies? Did she have a hand in sending Veda to the emergency room?”
“Payton said she was as shocked as we were,” Tidwell said.
“How much do you believe her?” Theodosia asked.
“At this point I’m not not believing her.”
Theodosia was momentarily puzzled by Tidwell’s words. “Excuse me, I’m not sure what that means.”
“Neither am I,” Tidwell said, “because too many weird things continue to happen. But I’ll tell you one thing, Miss Browning, that Van Courtland family seems like a magnet for disaster.”
When Theodosia hung up, she immediately told Drayton about Payton’s arson attempt.
“No!” Drayton cried. “Why would she do that?”
“Apparently Payton believes that one of the Honey Badger kids murdered Mrs. Van Courtland. So she was attempting to focus attention on them, hoping the police would dig deeper.”
“That makes no sense.”
“You’ll get no argument from me.”
“What it comes down to, then, is…Payton’s defective,” Drayton said.
“She’s…well, I guess she kind of is.”
* * *
Even though the rain was still pouring down, a half dozen customers made it to the tea room for morning tea.
They ducked through the front door, shaking out umbrellas and smiling when they saw a fire crackling away in the stone fireplace.
Haley had just baked two pans of cinnamon scones and Drayton had brewed a pot of jasmine tea, so deliciousness perfumed the air.
Relieved that they had guests to take care of, Theodosia seated them and set about serving tea and scones.
Then, halfway through the morning, Theodosia found herself humming as she worked.
And decided it was because the Indigo Tea Shop was warm and softly lit and felt like a cozy oasis in the midst of this inclement weather.
“This is relaxed, isn’t it?” Haley said when Theodosia popped into the kitchen. “We’re not so jammed like we usually are.”
“It does seem like a welcome break,” Theodosia agreed.
“But not for you.” Haley turned suddenly serious. “You’re still trying to figure out all this Van Courtland stuff. All this murder and kidnap stuff.”
“Nothing for you to worry about,” Theodosia said as she grabbed two small glass bowls and scooped poufs of tea-infused whipped cream into them, today’s fun substitute for Devonshire cream.
“But I do worry. I mean, it’s only been three days since a crazy person came crashing in here and assaulted Drayton.”
“Haley, I am so sorry about that. I know you were deeply upset and probably still are.”
Haley nodded her head vigorously. “And then Amber got kidnapped, Payton was poisoned, and that Honeydew House almost burned down.”
“Honey Badger House,” Theodosia said, smiling. “But, rest assured, I’ve been in fairly close contact with Detective Tidwell and we’re going to figure all this out.”
“Promise?”
Theodosia set down her bowls and put her arms around Haley and hugged her tight. “I promise. I promise that nothing bad is going to harm a single hair on your head. Or on your lovely cat, Teacake’s, head.”
“Okay.” Haley nodded, sniffled, wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron, and said, “Better now.”
“Good. Now tell me what wonderful luncheon you’re concocting for today.”
“I’m keeping it super simple with two prix fixe menus,” Haley said, happy to get back to her food. “The first menu is a bowl of shrimp chowder served with a grilled cheese sandwich and a strawberry and walnut salad. The second is chili with a slice of cornbread and a small Caesar salad.”
“Sounds good. Actually, better than good. And you know how much Drayton loves your shrimp chowder.”
“I’ll be sure to save a bowl for him.”
“And for me, too,” Theodosia said.
* * *
Lunch was almost as subdued as morning tea. But the customers that did show up loved Haley’s offerings. And because it was such a gloomy, rainy day, Drayton outdid himself by brewing pots of crème br?lée tea and his own peaches and ginger blend.
“Turns out your peaches and ginger tea is a big hit,” Theodosia told him after she made the rounds pouring refills.
“It seemed like the perfect tea for a day like this. Gently sweet and heartwarming, too.” Drayton paused and said, “At least you haven’t gotten a call from Brody yet. Thank goodness.”
“I have no idea what’s going on. I guess I’m still hoping that Amber will turn up on her own.”
“She will,” Drayton said. “I still contend she’s a ditzy, willful girl who probably just lost track of time.”
“It’s been almost three days.” Theodosia didn’t want to admit it, because she was basically an optimistic person. But she was beginning to feel her hope slowly fading away.
“Amber will show up, I know she will,” Drayton said. He grabbed a bright yellow teapot and swished it out furiously with hot water. “Because I absolutely hate the idea of you acting as intermediary in some kind of screwed-up ransom exchange.”
* * *
By one thirty the tea shop had cleared out and Theodosia was leaning against the butcher block counter in the kitchen. Drayton was there, too, enjoying his bowl of shrimp chowder as Haley scrubbed away at a couple of large cooking pots sitting in a sink full of soapy water.
“You think we’re going to get afternoon guests today?” Haley asked.
“No,” Drayton said. He was halfway through his chowder and enjoying it immensely.
“Hard to tell,” Theodosia said. Leaning sideways, she peeked out into the hallway and saw rivulets of rain streaming down the back window. “It’s still raining, so maybe not.”
“Then we can leave early, right?” Haley said. She reached for a towel and dried her hands. “Go home and get ready for tonight’s ball.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Theodosia said.
“I’m sorry you guys got pulled into all this Van Courtland trouble,” Haley said. “The murder, the sort of poisoning, and maybe a kidnapping.”
“It reads like a TV soap opera,” Drayton said.
“Only in a soap opera, when a character gets cut from the show, the producers explain it by saying they moved to River City,” Haley said.
“Funny,” said Drayton.
“I think I saw that episode,” Theodosia said. She toed a white vinyl bag of trash with her foot. “Say, you want me to take this trash out and dump it?”
“I can do it,” Drayton said mid-slurp.
“You’re still eating,” Theodosia said. “Let me.”
Haley eyed a tray of scones sitting on the counter. “If we’re not going to be busy, I’m thinking I should package these up and freeze them for next week. Unless, of course, you guys want to take some home?”
“Nope, I’m good.” Theodosia grabbed the bag of trash, carried it down the back hallway, and ducked outside into the alley.
It was still pouring rain as she hurried to the dumpster, half wishing she’d waited for a break in the weather.
If her hair got too wet, it would expand and frizz beyond belief. Then where would she be for tonight?
She stuffed the trash bag into the dumpster and was sprinting for the back door when a throaty roar exploded down the alley. Theodosia stopped dead in her tracks and turned around, only to find a red DeLorean hurtling toward her.
“Brody,” Theodosia said under her breath as the car skidded to a stop next to her, spraying water everywhere.
Then the driver’s side window slid down and an angry-looking Brody said, “Get in.”
Theodosia was instantly on alert. “Why? What happened?”
“I got the call,” Brody said. He jerked a thumb at a blue gym bag that had been haphazardly tossed into the back seat, and added, “I got the money, too.”
Theodosia was already shaking her head. “I can’t.”
“Don’t you want to get Amber back? I thought I could count on you.”
“Do the police know you got a call from the kidnapper?”
“Of course they know, but I’ve got a faster car so I was able to outrun them. Still, I’m guessing they’re only a few minutes behind me so we gotta move fast!”
“I don’t know…” Theodosia wanted to help Brody; she really did. But was this the smartest thing to do? No, probably not.
“Come on,” Brody said. “This thing is a ticking time bomb and we don’t know when it’s going to go boom.
” He pressed his foot down on the gas, practically redlining the engine and making the entire car shudder like a racehorse in the starting gate.
He was upset, frantic, and unwilling to take no for an answer.
“Come on,” he cried again, his voice sounding strangled and choked.
“You’re the only person I can count on to help get Amber back”—he swallowed hard and added—“and maybe solve my mother’s murder, too. ”
That did it. Theodosia jumped into the car.
* * *
Brody drove like a Formula 1 race car driver, doggedly cutting through traffic like a shark terrorizing a school of fish.
He zig-zagged into the oncoming lane, ran yellow lights, and basically broke every law in the book.
He was skidding horribly on the wet road as his windshield wipers sloshed back and forth like a crazed metronome.
But they were moving and picking up speed. Brody zoomed past the Medical University and spun left onto Spring Street. They crossed over the Ashley River, which was lost in fog, and headed south on US 17.
“Where are we going?” Theodosia finally asked. “Where are we supposed to make the exchange?”
“The Old Sheldon Church Ruins,” Brody said, his eyes never leaving the road.
“In the woods near Beaufort,” Theodosia said, testing the idea and not liking it. “Where all those old graves are.”
“Right,” Brody said between clenched teeth.
Theodosia had visited the Old Sheldon Church Ruins years ago.
And just thinking about it made her shiver.
Legend held that the Old Sheldon Church had been torched by the British in 1779 during the Revolutionary War.
It was rebuilt, but again burned to the ground during General Sherman’s infamous march to the sea.
For more than a century now, the ruins—mostly a series of Roman-style pillars, brick walls, and several dozen surrounding graves—had been left to the elements.
Tourists sometimes ventured out to survey this ancient relic situated among majestic oaks and bordered by a large swamp.
And so did ghost hunters. The place was reputed to be haunted and any number of folks had witnessed glowing orbs and filmy figures wafting among those crumbled ruins.
“Have you ever been there?” It was getting steamy in the car and Theodosia felt her scalp start to prickle. Or maybe it was from anxiety.
“Never been there,” Brody said, “but I understand those ruins are a dismal place. And it pains me to think of Amber being left out there all alone.”
“Maybe she’s not alone,” Theodosia said. “Maybe the kidnapper will be there. Waiting for us. Or watching from the shadows.”
“That’s why I brought this,” Brody said. He slid a gray snub-nosed revolver out of his jacket pocket. “Just in case.”
“Bad idea, Brody. Pointing a gun at someone usually buys more trouble.”
Brody’s lips pulled into a sneer. “Trouble they’ll pay dearly for.”