Devonshire Scream (21 page)

“Maybe,” Theodosia said. “If anybody could get away
with it, I have a feeling he could.” She remembered how Rinicker had chortled about the FBI dropping in on him. Who did that? Who was that brazen and calm?

“So how are we going to resolve this?” Brooke asked.

Theodosia gave a faint smile. “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe?”

“Seriously.”

“I don't know yet,” Theodosia said. “There are a lot of suspects, but only circumstantial evidence. I guess I have my work cut out for me.” She also had a nervous inkling that things might just shake out at the Heritage Society tomorrow night.

•   •   •

Back at the
Indigo Tea Shop, Theodosia decided it was time to stop dancing around Haley. In fact, she decided that she had to be open and honest and lay everything out for her.

“Haley,” Theodosia said, ducking into the kitchen. “Can we talk?”

Haley had just removed a pan of popovers from the oven. They were golden brown and super puffy, looking almost like miniature chef's hats. “Sure. About today's menu?”

“Actually, it's a little more serious than that.”

Haley set her pan down. “Uh-oh.”

“You know Brooke asked me for help.”

Haley nodded. “Sure. I was there, remember? I seconded the vote.”

“Yes, of course. And you know Drayton and I have been whispering about a few suspects . . .”

Haley picked up a jar of strawberry jam and wiped the top of it with the edge of her apron. “That's all you two have been doing. Pretty much all week long.”

“And one of our suspects . . . mind you, he's kind of on the periphery.”

Haley leaned in closer to her. “Yes?”

Theodosia took a gulp.

“Just spit it out, Theodosia.”

“Okay, I will. One of our fringe suspects happens to be your new friend Billy Grainger.”

“I knew it!” Haley slapped a hand down hard on the butcher-block table, jarring a bowl of frosting and sending a spoon clattering to the floor. “I just knew you were still suspicious of him. Even though you kind of told me you were going to drop the whole thing. It's because Billy rides a motorcycle, isn't it?”

“That and a couple of other things,” Theodosia said.

“But you're wrong about him,” Haley said. “You're so far off base it's ridiculous.” She wasn't so much angry as she was insistent.

“I'm actually glad to hear you say that.”

“In fact, you are so wrong that I'm not even going to worry about this,” Haley said. She smiled, but Theodosia thought that she saw hurt behind Haley's smile.

“Then I won't say any more,” Theodosia said. “We'll just let this whole thing play out.”

“I think that might be best.”

“No hard feelings?” Theodosia asked.

Haley shook her head. “No. Well, one question. Did you tell Detective Tidwell that you considered Billy a suspect?”

“No, I did not.”

“Really?”

“You have my word on that, Haley.”

“Okay, then,” Haley said. “That's one small load off my mind. I'd hate to think that Tidwell was dogging Billy's every footstep.”

“So we're good on this?” Theodosia asked.

Haley held up a finger. “As long as we never mention this again.”

“If that's the way you want it.”

Haley nodded vigorously. “It is. Pinky swear you're not going to bring it up again?” She held up her little finger.

Theodosia hooked fingers with her. “Pinky swear.”

“Okay,” Haley said. “Now. Do you want to know what's on the menu for lunch?”

Theodosia breathed a sigh of relief. Haley wasn't mad. In fact, she just wanted the subject dropped. “Yes, Haley,” she said, “I'm dying to know.”

“We'll be serving
a mixed green salad, pepper jack quiche, and crab salad on a croissant,” Theodosia told Drayton and Miss Dimple. “Plus cinnamon apple scones and chocolate cake for dessert.”

“Perfect,” Drayton purred. “I'm delighted to see that Haley's come up with a slightly more manageable luncheon menu since we have to turn things around fast for our Full Monty Tea later on.”

“What time is that supposed to start?” Miss Dimple asked.

“Two o'clock,” Theodosia said.

“And what's the menu for that?” Drayton asked.

“Haley says it's going to be a variation on lunch with a few extras tossed in.”

“Goody,” Miss Dimple said, practically clapping her hands.

“So in order to get our tables set up, we need to send our luncheon guests merrily on their way by one thirty at the latest,” Theodosia told them.

Miss Dimple nodded. “What should we do? Just shoo them out?”

“Nothing quite that obvious,” Theodosia said. “But it works wonders if we send Drayton over to glower at them.”

“Drayton doesn't glower,” Miss Dimple said. “That's just his serious look. He's a serious sort of gent.”

“Gent.” Theodosia was amused. “That's a funny word. Kind of old-fashioned.”

Miss Dimple looked pleased. “But that's exactly what Drayton is. Courtly and polished and a little old-fashioned.”

Drayton popped the top on a Brown Betty teapot. “If you say so.”

•   •   •

Theodosia spent most
of the lunch doing the heavy lifting. That is, running back and forth, grabbing luncheon plates, then clearing away dishes. She let Miss Dimple wander through the tea room with a pot of tea, dispensing compliments, advice, and refills.

“Have you decided which teas to serve this afternoon?” Theodosia asked Drayton. She knew he liked to ruminate over what might be the most suitable teas for all their events.

“I'm thinking a Prince of Wales tea and an Irish afternoon tea,” Drayton said. “Prince of Wales is always such a popular choice in England and it has a light, slightly delicate flavor. And the Irish afternoon tea is more full-bodied and brisk.”

“And both work well with milk or sweetener. Good choice.”

Theodosia pulled out their set of Staffordshire dishes as well as two Limoges porcelain figures. There'd been no need to worry about the luncheon guests leaving on time, because they simply had. By one thirty they'd all cleared out, as neatly as if Haley had swept the leaves away from the front door.

“Let's put out the glass teapot warmers,” Theodosia told Miss Dimple. “And I'll grab a box of votive candles.”

“What about these flowers?” Miss Dimple asked. “What if I cut the stems and popped them into your short, white ceramic vases?”

“Go for it.”

Theodosia was pleased with how the tea room was shaping up. They had . . . what? Maybe twenty-eight people coming today? Not as big a group as last night but still enough guests to keep them hopping. And keep them in business, too, since that was the whole purpose of serving tea.

Oh, is it really?
she thought to herself.
Is that why I do this
?

Well, no. Theodosia knew her purpose was really to be master (or mistress) of her own destiny, enjoy the freedom of being a small-time entrepreneur who reported only to herself, and do something that she was passionate about.

And she was definitely passionate about the Indigo Tea Shop. She loved it more than anyone would ever know. This was what dreams were all about. Have a vision, build on that vision, and work hard to make sure it all came to fruition.

The front door creaked open, pulling her out of her introspection. It was Detective Tidwell.

He peered around, his broad face registering surprise at seeing the tea shop empty, yet all set up for tea service. “Are you open?” he asked in a bold voice that seemed to resonate a little too loudly in the empty shop.

Theodosia tucked one hand on her hip. “It depends. Are you here for a late lunch or are you arriving early for our Full Monty Tea?”

Tidwell's eyes glowed expectantly and he was suddenly interested. “There's a special tea? A . . . excuse me, what did you call it?”

“A Full Monty Tea.”

“Ah. You must have named your event in honor of the venerable field marshal Bernard Montgomery.”

“That'd be about right.”

“I believe I might enjoy your Full Monty Tea.”

“I'm sure you would, since Haley's come up with quite an extensive menu.”

Tidwell did everything but smack his lips and tuck a napkin down his shirtfront. “I understand old Monty always enjoyed a full complement of rations at breakfast.”

“And at teatime, as well,” Theodosia said. “Even when he was in the field commanding his troops.”

“Or sitting safely at the rear,” Tidwell said.

Theodosia led Tidwell to a table and pulled out a chair for him. “Am I to surmise you're a student of history?”

“Most definitely. In fact, I'm a bit of a World War Two buff.”

“I would have pegged you for more of a Civil War buff,” Theodosia said. “Maybe even one of those fellows who wander around old battlefields with a metal detector, looking for uniform buttons and minié balls.”

Tidwell's jowls sloshed. “That's definitely not my style.”

Theodosia brought him a cup of tea and then sat down next to him. “So what's new? What do you hear about the rock-hammer guy?”

Tidwell added a lump of sugar to his tea and then another. “Your FBI friends sniffed him up and down for about two minutes.”

“You're telling me they don't see him as a viable suspect?”

Tidwell looked smug. “If they do, I'd say they're grasping at straws.”

“Because there isn't enough hard evidence?”

“My dear, there really isn't any evidence at all.”

“I'm sorry my information about the hammer didn't pan out,” Theodosia said. “
You
seemed to think there might be something there.”

“Investigations are like living, breathing things. They're fluid and the information changes constantly.”

“Like how?” Theodosia asked. “Has something else changed?”

“Not really,” Tidwell said.

“Then tell me about the other suspects. Is the FBI hot on the trail of anyone?”

“Not as hot as this tea is.”

“Okay, if
you
could point me in someone's direction, who would it be?”

“You know I can't do that.”

“Of course you can,” Theodosia said.

“I don't want you charging in and getting into trouble.”

“I wouldn't do that.” Theodosia sat for a couple seconds with her hands in her lap, and then said, “Of course, you could drop a subtle hint. Or even a very broad one.”

“You're body punching now. You don't give up easily, do you?”

“Never. Not until the bitter end.”

Tidwell considered her words for a few moments and then said, “They've tried to downplay this, but I know the FBI is still moderately interested in Professor Shepley.”

Theodosia pounced on his words. “Because Shepley crashed Brooke's jewelry event? And possibly had an interest in the alexandrite necklace?”

“That and the fact that he's studied all things Russian.”

“You mean not just Russian literature?”

“The man spent time in Russia,” Tidwell said. “He's probably well versed in art, culture, and . . .”

“Politics?” Theodosia said. “Has the FBI got their underwear in a twist over his politics?”

Tidwell leaned back in his chair. “I doubt Shepley subscribes to the Communist Manifesto, but I'm sure he's not unfamiliar with its precepts.”

“We're back to the days of the Cold War again, are we?” Theodosia asked.

“That and the fact that many of today's more daring and brash jewel thieves hail from Eastern European countries.”

“That is interesting,” Theodosia said. “So you're saying Shepley might have had the wherewithal to recruit a gang?”

“No,” Tidwell smiled. “
You
said it.”

•   •   •

Their Full Monty
Tea kicked off at two o'clock sharp with the menu being, in Drayton's words, “Terribly, terribly British.”

Haley pulled out all the stops and arranged their offerings on silver four-tiered serving trays. Fruit scones sat on top, squares of mini quiche on the second tier, cream cheese and cucumber tea sandwiches occupied the third tier, and small slices of chocolate cake topped with fresh raspberries were on the bottom tier.

Miss Dimple bustled around, serving tea and cooing happy hellos to all the people she knew, which turned out to be pretty much all of the guests.

While their guests enjoyed their first course of fruit scones, Theodosia did a little song and dance about the origin of the term
the full monty
, and then it was Drayton's turn to take the floor.

He strode to the center of the tea shop, looking spiffy in his Harris Tweed jacket, cleared his throat, and said, “I thought since you were enjoying a proper British tea today, that you might also enjoy a poem. The one I've chosen to recite was penned by an anonymous London poet, and I think it speaks well to the great British tea tradition.”

A hush fell across the tea shop and then Drayton began:

Ambrosial plants! that from the east and west,

Or from the shores of Araby the blest,

Those odoriferous sprigs and berries send,

On which our wives and government depend.

Kind land! that gives rich presents, none receives,

And barters for leaf gold its golden leaves.

Bane of our nerves, and nerve of our excise,

In which a nation's strength and weakness lies.

“Bravo!” Tidwell called out. “Excellent.” He was seated at a table for four, with two women. He'd basically done his best to ignore them and, after their initial overture at friendliness, the women had decided to ignore him, too. It was a nonaggression pact of sorts.

As the applause rose and then fell, the front door suddenly popped open and Delaine rushed in. She gazed about, a look of concern clouding her lovely face. Then, once she'd spotted Theodosia standing behind the counter, raced over to talk with her.

“Theodosia!” Delaine said. “There you are.”

“Did you think I'd be someplace else?” Theodosia asked. She lifted an eyebrow as she popped a blue-and-white chintz cozy over a teapot. “Wait a minute, am I supposed to be someplace else?”

Delaine shook her head. “No, no. It's just that I'd planned to attend your tea and somehow—I have no idea how—the time completely slipped away from me.” She waggled her head back and forth, her eyes going purposely wide. “Things have been cray cray you know?” For some reason, Delaine had begun using texting phrases, like cray cray (for “crazy, crazy”) and sup (for “What's up?”) in her everyday conversation.

“So you really are here for tea?”

“Oh yes,” Delaine said. “In fact, I'd say it's a celebratory tea.”

“The occasion being . . . ?”

Delaine grinned like a Cheshire cat and batted her eyelashes. “Renaldo has decided to stay in Charleston for a few more days!”

“Lucky you.”

“Aren't I? He said he wants to take me out tonight for a fancy dinner and then escort me to the Rare Antiquities Show tomorrow night.”

Theodosia looked at her sharply. “Where did you say your boyfriend was from?”

“I didn't actually specify,” Delaine said. “But since you're interested, I'll tell you. Renaldo hails from near Nice, in the south of France. He has a chateau in a small town by the name of Beaulieu-sur-Mer.”

“Is that anywhere near Monte Carlo?” Theodosia asked. It had just occurred to her that Renaldo Gilles was new in town, too. That is, new in town since just before the robbery.

“I suppose it probably isn't all that far from Monte Carlo. It's in that ooh-la-la French Riviera vicinity, anyway.”

As Delaine drummed her fingers on the counter, her rings caught the light and flashed. Theodosia was momentarily reminded of the butterfly brooch at Heart's Desire. Before all the broken glass, before all the heartbreak. Then she pulled her thoughts back to the here and now.

“And you've known Renaldo for how long?”

“It's only been a few weeks,” Delaine said. “But when you've finally discovered your true soul mate in a world filled with treacherous, barbarous creeps, it feels as if you've been together forever.” Delaine clutched her hands together, then touched them to her heart and beamed.

“Your soul mate,” Theodosia said. “My, that is major news.” Delaine had been discovering her soul mate for as long as Theodosia could remember. First there'd been Cooper, then Charles, then Roger, and wasn't there someone named Bentley? But no need to dredge all
that
up. “Now that you mention it, you do have a certain glow about you.”