Twisted Tea Christmas

by Laura Childs

  “Must have snuck up on the victim,” said Humphries. “Hence your shot from behind.”

  “No sign of that painting, either,” the officer said. “There are a couple of fancy horse paintings hanging on the wall, but no landscape painting.”

  “We’ll have to search Wolf-Knapp’s studio,” Tidwell said.

  “You won’t find it there,” Theodosia said. “That Renoir is long gone.”

  “Any ideas on where it went?” Tidwell asked.

  “I wish.”

  Drayton looked glum. “So it’s possible Miss Drucilla’s murder may never be solved?”

  Tidwell glowered. “Thirty-two years in law enforcement has taught me never to discount the impossible or improbable. Strange and bizarre information pops up where you least expect it. Someone blabs in a bar. A so-called friend turns suspicious. A trusted cohort dimes someone out. Last week we apprehended a carjacker. Turns out, the dunce had a list in his pocket that said ‘burner phone’ and ‘gun.’ ” He looked over his shoulder and shouted, “You, get away from that grave.”

  Unfazed, the cameraman stepped back a measly three paces.

  “Idiot,” Tidwell scoffed.

  “If nobody talks, if the rumor mill remains silent, we could always try to make something happen ourselves,” Theodosia suggested.

  “No!” Tidwell yelled. “This is where you step aside and I take complete control.”

  * * *

  * * *

  But that was not exactly how Theodosia saw it. In fact, she asked Drayton to drive them back to Charleston so she could sit in the passenger seat and make a couple of phone calls.

  “I don’t believe I’ve ever driven a Jeep before,” Drayton said as he backed up carefully, then turned and headed out onto the road.

  “It’s a vehicle like any other,” Theodosia said.

  “But with a storied pedigree. Weren’t these things invented during the Second World War?”

  “I think the early ones were called General Purpose Vehicles, which the GIs shortened to GP and then eventually to Jeep.”

  “Interesting,” he said. “By the way, who are you calling?”

  “Pauline.”

  “Hmm.” Still, Drayton never took his eyes off the road.

  Theodosia called the number at Miss Drucilla’s and got no answer.

  Okay, try, try again.

  When she called Pauline’s cell phone, Pauline answered almost immediately.

  “Hey!” Pauline said. “After you sent me an image of that painting, I figured you were hot on the trail. So . . . did you find it? The painting?”

  “Not exactly,” Theodosia said.

  “Oh no?” Pauline’s voice faded.

  “Hello?” Theodosia said. Now she could hear music and a burble of conversation in the background. Was Pauline at a restaurant? A club?

  “Theodosia, what . . . ?” Pauline started to say.

  Theodosia cut her off. “We need to talk.”

  “Right now,” Drayton whispered to her.

  “As soon as possible,” Theodosia said.

  Pauline picked up on the urgency in Theodosia’s voice. “What’s wrong? Has something happened?”

  “Better we meet in person. Tonight if you can manage it.”

  “I can. Wade and I were just leaving Poogan’s Porch. We had a late dinner.”

  “Can you stay there? Wait for me there? I’m maybe ten minutes away.”

  “Okay, we can do that,” Pauline said. “Wow. This sure sounds mysterious.”

  Theodosia hung up and said to Drayton, “Guess where they are.”

  “No idea.”

  “They just finished eating at Poogan’s Porch.”

  His hands tightened around the steering wheel. “Weird,” he said.

  “I’ll say. That’s the restaurant with the giant mural titled Renoir Redux painted on the side of the building.”

  “A takeoff on Renoir’s Luncheon of the Boating Party, right?” Drayton said.

  “Yup, only it features likenesses of fourteen prominent members of Charleston’s food scene.”

  “You think it’s some kind of omen?”

  “You never know.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Pauline and Wade were waiting on the sidewalk outside the landmark restaurant when Theodosia and Drayton pulled up to the curb.

  Pauline lifted a hand to wave, then pulled it back down when she saw the look on Theodosia’s face.

  “What?” she said once Theodosia and Drayton had parked and were standing there with them.

  Theodosia gave a fast rundown of the situation. Quick and terse, like ripping off a bandage. Julian Wolf-Knapp gone missing. Then found dead. Buried in a shallow grave near his plantation house.

  Pauline was stunned. “Dead? The art dealer is dead?” She put both hands to her temples and pressed hard. “How?”

  “He was murdered,” Theodosia said. “Shot in the back of the head.”

  “Who would do that?” The look of utter surprise, of abject confusion on Pauline’s face told Theodosia that the girl probably hadn’t been the one to pull the trigger on Wolf-Knapp. She didn’t think a truly guilty person could fake that much shock and amazement.

  “We don’t know who killed him,” Theodosia said in a gentler voice. “We alerted Detective Tidwell, he came out, and the whole thing is obviously under investigation.”

  “His murder is related to Miss Drucilla’s murder, isn’t it?” Wade said.

  “Yes,” Theodosia said. “It’s probably all connected.”

  “But how?” Wade asked.

  “We don’t know.”

  “This is so doggone awful!” Pauline said as tears welled up in her eyes. “Another person ending up dead. I mean . . . I didn’t know him but . . .” Her voice broke off in a loud choke; then Pauline turned her head and let loose a series of heartrending sobs.

  Wade put his arms around Pauline and pulled her close, trying his best to comfort her. “It’s not your fault,” he murmured.

  “No, it’s not,” Theodosia said. Not this one anyway.

  “You say the police are there right now? Taking charge and investigating?” Wade asked.

  “That’s right,” Drayton said.

  “A second murder like this,” Theodosia said. “They’ll make it a huge priority, probably go statewide, bring in as many other agencies as possible.”

  Wade held Pauline close as she trembled in his arms. “I don’t know the circumstances that led to the art dealer’s murder,” he said. “But nobody—I mean, nobody—should end up dead and buried in a shallow grave like that poor man.”

  23

  “This is like some kind of twisted Gordian knot,” Theodosia said to Drayton. “Here I thought Julian Wolf-Knapp was the killer. Then someone snuck in stage left and killed him.”

  It was eight o’clock on Friday morning and Theodosia had barely slept a wink all night. When she did manage to drift off and catch a few z’s, her dreams had been wild and frenzied. Every bizarre event had been turned over in her runaway mind—Miss Drucilla’s murder, finding syringes at Smokey’s place, the break-in at her tea shop, Julian Wolf-Knapp’s murder. And still she was unable to figure out a logical connection and make sense of it.

  Drayton lifted the lid off a cream-colored salt-glaze teapot, peeked at the contents, and replaced the lid. “This tea is officially steeped.” He poured out a cup for each of them. “High-octane Jumpy Monkey from DavidsTea to hopefully help sharpen our focus.”

  “Better pour me a cup, too,” Haley called out. “And, guys, I hate to say this, but we’re going to need all the energy we can muster today.”

  They both turned as Haley approached the front counter carrying a large silver tray stacked high with candied fruit scones.

  “Is there something we don’t k
now about, Haley?” Theodosia asked. They’d already told her about discovering Julian Wolf-Knapp’s body last night. Haley had been circumspect about the details, listening carefully, asking only a few basic questions. Probably because she was frightened, Theodosia decided. Who wouldn’t be?

  “A couple of things,” Haley said. “First, here are two dozen fresh-baked candied fruit scones for take-out orders.”

  “Lovely,” Drayton said as he eyed the scones. “So festive.” They were light golden brown and landscaped with jeweled pieces of candied cherries, pineapple, and dates.

  “The second thing, and the most important,” Haley said. “Miss Dimple just called and said she’s real sick, so she won’t be able to come in today.”

  “No,” Drayton said. He was about to take a sip of tea but changed his mind and set his cup back in its saucer. “Today’s . . . it’s our Old-Fashioned Southern Tea this afternoon.” He sighed heavily. “This changes everything.”

  “Chill, guys. I already came up with a solution,” Haley said.

  “What’s that?” Theodosia asked.

  “I made what you two would call an executive decision and called my cousin Beth Ann. As luck would have it, she’s home for Christmas break and staying with my aunt Alice and uncle Bill over in Goose Creek.”

  “Your cousin Beth Ann,” Theodosia said, tapping the counter, trying to place the name. “We’ve met her before?”

  “Maybe a couple of years ago. When she and Aunt Alice came to one of our teas.”

  “Is that a roundabout way of saying that Beth Ann’s agreed to come in and help?” Drayton asked, a hopeful gleam lighting his eyes.

  “She’ll be here by ten at the latest.”

  “Haley, that’s wonderful,” Theodosia said. “Well done. You really pulled our fat out of the fryer.”

  “Yeah, but I’m afraid it’s a onetime deal. The flip side is that Beth Ann can help out only today. If Miss Dimple’s still sick tomorrow—and I’m guessing she will be—we’ll have to find somebody else to help with the Victorian Christmas Tea.”

  “Let’s gallop across that bridge when we come to it,” Drayton said.

  Haley gave him a thumbs-up as she headed back to the kitchen. “Okay. Gotcha.”

  “Busy,” Theodosia said, gazing at Drayton, who’d finally managed to take a gulp of tea and was now stacking scones into their glass pie saver.

  “On the upside, we’re actually in the home stretch,” Drayton said. “There’s our tea this afternoon and then the grand finale Victorian Christmas Tea tomorrow. After that it’s finito and we’re closed up lock, stock, and barrel for Christmas. I for one am looking forward to a well-deserved break.”

  “And you’ve earned it,” Theodosia said. “We all have. Still, it feels as if time is ticking away and we’re still no closer to any kind of resolution.”

  “You mean about Miss Drucilla’s murder?” Drayton looked suddenly somber.

  Theodosia frowned. “And Wolf-Knapp’s, too.”

  “They’re both crazy whodunits, that’s for sure. And I hate that everything is so up in the air. But as far as investigations go, you certainly dug in and gave it your best shot.”

  “So did you,” Theodosia said, “even though we still harbor doubts about Smokey, Donny Bragg, Coy Cooper, and even Pauline.”

  “Tell you what. We’ll keep our ideas simmering on the back burner. But in the meantime . . .”

  A loud knock sounded at the front door. They both turned quickly and saw two smiling faces peeking in the window. Waving at them.

  “I know,” Theodosia said as she started for the door to welcome her early-bird customers. “In the meantime we need to focus on the task at hand.”

  Drayton nodded. “Which is to delight our customers as best we can.”

  * * *

  * * *

  But by ten thirty, with the tea shop humming and candied fruit scones and carrot cake muffins being served, Drayton was the one expressing utter delight.

  “That Beth Ann is an absolute wonder,” he whispered to Theodosia. “She’s quick and intelligent, even comprehends the different varieties of tea. I mean, she actually knows a jasmine from an orange pekoe. Kindly tell me why we haven’t engaged her services until now.”

  “Probably because she’s been away at school and doesn’t live in Charleston?”

  “Oh. Well. Perhaps for the summer, then?”

  “It couldn’t hurt to ask,” Theodosia agreed.

  “Drayton.” Beth Ann was suddenly leaning across the counter, focusing intently on him. “The ladies at table four are asking about their pot of Oriental Beauty oolong. What should I tell them?”

  “That it’s a Taiwanese white oolong and semi-oxidized so it needs to be brewed at a slightly lower temperature,” Drayton said. “Steeping requires at least three to four minutes.” He hesitated. “Do you want me to go over and explain things?”

  Beth Ann, who looked like a dark-haired Haley with her shining eyes, long hair, and youthful exuberance, said, “No, I’ve got this. I just thought it best to check with you.”

  “Check with me,” Drayton said as Beth Ann bounded back over to table four. “Isn’t that sweet? Isn’t she a darling?” He was fairly beaming.

  But his words were rudely punctuated as the front door opened with a loud BANG! Now Drayton wasn’t beaming quite so brightly.

  “Rats,” he muttered. “It’s those awful TV people, come back to ruin our day.”

  The gang of three loped in, looking sleep-deprived after last night, but a little expectant, too.

  Theodosia was about to tell Drayton to get busy and ignore them when she realized he’d already turned away and was scanning his floor-to-ceiling tea shelves. Looking thoroughly engaged and searching for . . . whatever.

  So it’s up to me to face off with the media monsters.

  Monica Garber grinned as she hurried toward Theodosia. This morning she wore a black leather jacket, skintight jeans, and evil-looking black leather boots with silver studs.

  “That body you guys discovered last night?” Monica gushed. “We were able to squeak some footage onto the tail end of the ten o’clock news. Thanks so much!”

  “You’re welcome,” Theodosia said. “Anytime I can be of assistance with a dead body, just let me know.”

  Monica waved a hand. “Oh, you,” she giggled. “You’re kind of fun after all, aren’t you?”

  “Not really. Not in the sense that you mean,” Theodosia said. “But I am pleased you got your big story.” She hesitated. “Which begs the question, why are you here?”

  In other words, why are you bothering me in my tea shop on a super-busy Friday morning mere days before Christmas?

  “For one thing, Miss Drucilla’s murder is a fascinating ongoing story line for our viewers,” Monica Garber said, her eyes snapping with excitement. “You know, wealthy older woman with a stolen Renoir. Very ripped from the headlines in a Vanity Fair kind of way.”

  “You’re telling me ratings are up,” Theodosia said.

  “Ratings are through the roof. Then last night . . . that art dealer turning up dead was the icing on the cake.”

  Garber paused, consciously wiped away the big smile that had snuck onto her face, and tried to reboot her attitude into something more businesslike. As if she were about to pitch something to Theodosia. And pitch she did.

  “Because of high viewer interest, I want you to be our next story,” Garber said.

  “No,” Theodosia said. She took a step backward to physically distance herself from such a ridiculous idea. “I’m not going to be your story. So really, you need to stop intruding.”

  Garber shook her head. “I can’t do that.”

  “Of course you can.”

  “I’d hate to disappoint our viewers.”

  “Please, let them be disappointed,” Theodosia said. “I b
eg you.”

  Garber fidgeted, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “Truth be told, there’s another reason.”

  “I can’t imagine what that might be.”

  “If I don’t bring back a story about you, I could get fired.”

  “There is no story,” Theodosia said. “There’s just little old me. A woman with a tea shop. See?” She gestured toward tables filled with customers, the fireplace with crackling logs, the wreaths on the walls, the front counter lined with teapots. “Cute but also kind of boring, huh?”

  “Maybe it is right now,” Monica Garber warned. “But I’m still going to keep an eye on you.”

  * * *

  * * *

  “You got rid of them,” Drayton said. “Blessings on your head.”

  “Don’t look so hopeful,” Theodosia said. “Those goofballs could come boomeranging back here any minute. They’re convinced there’s another story lurking somewhere.”

  “Heaven forbid.” Drayton put three scoops of orchid plum tea into a floral teapot, added a pinch for the pot, and said, “We’re still going to the Parade of Boats tonight, aren’t we?”

  “Oh, Drayton.”

  The Parade of Boats was an annual Christmas event in Charleston. At least fifty sailboats and motorized boats, all decorated with lights and holiday figures, paraded down the Cooper River, around the tip of the Peninsula, and then up the Ashley River. It was a gorgeous spectacle and was always capped by a huge display of fireworks.

  Drayton peered at Theodosia over his glasses. “It’s tradition. We always go.”

  “You’re right. Okay, but I can’t stay long.”

  “An hour. You can spare an hour, can’t you?”

  Theodosia held up an index finger. “One hour to watch the boats. But that’s it. And please tell me there’s nothing else I have to worry about. That the torches and actors for tomorrow’s tea are going to arrive on schedule.”

  “Everything’s good to go, I promise.”

  “Thank you.”

  Theodosia stopped by a couple of tables to say hello, greeted a gaggle of new customers, then hurried into the kitchen.