Shades of Earl Grey atsm-3

by Laura Childs

  Drayton reached overhead and pulled down tins and jars of loose tea. “I thought I’d do pots of Earl Grey and Assam, which are nice and mellow and traditional, although this particular Assam is a trifle malty. Then I’ll mix things up with a couple blends, perhaps a cinnamon spice and a ginseng plum. Of course, if someone has a special request, we’ll oblige them as always.”

  “Wonderful,” said Theodosia. She still felt a little discombobulated from last night. After her intense discussion with Jory Davis, she’d had dreams about cat burglars all night long. Got to get my head in the game, she told herself as the door swung open and the morning’s first customers came drifting in. Stop worrying about creepy cat burglars.

  “Oh,” said Haley as she sped past Theodosia with plates of shortbread topped with her still-warm lemon curd, “I forgot to give you this.” She handed over a large brown envelope. “I guess someone must have slipped it under the door. Anyway, it was lying on the floor when I opened up this morning.”

  Theodosia took the envelope from Haley and glanced at it curiously. The envelope was a number ten, business size, made of brown craft paper. Glued to the front was a white label with a single typed word, Theodosia.

  “Wonder what it is?” she said.

  Haley, who was busy gathering napkins and placing forks on plates, shrugged. “Don’t know,” she said, unconcerned. “Maybe a thank-you note from someone who attended yesterday afternoon’s reception?”

  Theodosia grabbed a butter knife, slipped it under the gummed flap of the envelope to open it. She pulled out a piece of paper and unfurled it. As she began to read, her brows knit together and a frown creased her normally placid face. It was a note all right, but not of the thank-you variety. Instead, a very strange message had been laser-printed on a sheet of plain white paper.

  Twinkle, twinkle, little bat

  How I wonder where you’re at.

  Up above the world you fly,

  Like a tea-tray in the sky.

  “What is it?” asked Haley, suddenly aware that Theodosia had gone silent.

  Wordlessly, Theodosia handed the note to Haley and watched as she read it.

  Haley’s face changed from polite interest to utter confusion. “What the heck...?” she said. “Is this crazy little ditty supposed to mean something?”

  “It’s a passage from Alice in Wonderland,” said Theodosia.

  “Yeah, great. Fun kids literature and all that. But why send it to you? And without a signature yet. Is this supposed to be some kind of inside joke?”

  “I’m not exactly sure,” said Theodosia. “But I get the feeling that it might be...it could be... some kind of challenge.”

  “Holy smokes!” exclaimed Haley, realization starting to dawn. “Because you’ve been poking around...Hey, Drayton!” She motioned frantically for Drayton to come over to the counter.

  Drayton came hustling over immediately. “What’s wrong?” he asked, taking in the very sober looks on both their faces.

  Haley thrust the mysterious note into Drayton’s hands. “Take a look. I found it stuck under the door this morning.”

  “Addressed to Theodosia?” he asked as he reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out his glasses, and slid them onto his nose.

  They both nodded.

  Drayton studied the note intently. Finally, he looked up and met their gazes. “It’s a passage from Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking Glass,” he said.

  Haley bobbed her head eagerly. “That’s what Theodosia said. Gosh, you two are so incredibly well read. Makes me want to change my major back to English lit.”

  “Haley . . .” warned Drayton with an owlish look. “I don’t think this was intended as a lighthearted little note.”

  “Theodosia called it a challenge,” Haley told him.

  “Indeed, it could be,” said Drayton. “Witness the teatime reference that clearly relates to us.”

  “And what about the little bat business and up above the world you fly?” asked Haley.

  “I don’t know,” said Drayton. “It’s strange, I’ll give you that much. I get the feeling they’re slightly left-handed inferences as to what’s been going on around here lately. Flying around, looking around, something like that.”

  “Mm-hm,” said Haley, not completely absorbing all of Drayton’s words.

  “In other words, a taunt,” said Drayton, heavily enunciating the t’s.

  “You mean someone might be daring Theo to take them on?” asked Haley. “Someone being this cat burglar guy?”

  “I suppose one could interpret it that way,” said Dray-ton.

  “Whoooa,” said Haley. “Ain’t that a kick.”

  “It means you’ve struck a nerve,” said Drayton, looking directly at Theodosia.

  Theodosia managed a thin smile. “Gulp,” she said. She meant her remark to be humorous, but nobody laughed.

  Drayton refolded the note, handed it to Theodosia. “We’d better talk about this when we’re not so busy.”

  Theodosia was still standing at the counter with the folded note in her hand when Aerin Linley came bustling in a few moments later.

  “Hey there,” she greeted Theodosia. “Can I get a couple cuppas to go? Anything you’ve got ready is fine. As long as it’s not sweet.”

  “Absolutely,” said Theodosia, sliding the note across the counter and putting a little green Staffordshire teapot on top of it for safekeeping.

  “You okay?” asked Aerin.

  Theodosia looked up sharply. “Pardon?”

  “Oh, you looked a little worried there for a moment. I would think you’d be doing handsprings right about now. Folks really went ga-ga over your T-Bath products yesterday afternoon. I hope you’ve called in a big reorder to your supplier.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Theodosia as she poured streams of freshly made Assam tea into dark blue take-out cups. “That’s at the top of my to-do list today.” Aerin’s good humor was contagious and Theodosia was suddenly caught up in her enthusiasm. “I’m so glad you and Brooke were able to stop by.”

  “You know, I was perfectly serious about the TV show idea,” Aerin said as she cocked her head and smile at Theodosia. In her pink cotton crewneck sweater, khaki slacks, and beige leather slip-on shoes, she looked very sporty, far younger than her thirty-six or thirty-seven years. “You’d be great on-air,” Aerin said with encouragement. “You’re so pretty and vivacious, I’m sure you could deliver a great segment.”

  “Actually,” said Theodosia, warming up to the idea, “I’d love to do a tea segment. A few folks are still under the illusion that tea is the drink of choice for blue-haired ladies in pillbox hats. Nothing wrong with blue-haired ladies in hats, of course, but tea’s really come into its own as a contemporary drink.”

  “You’re darned right it has,” said Aerin. “When kids are chugging premixed chai like water, you know tea has hit mainstream! Ohh . . .” she exclaimed as Haley rushed by with another tray of short bread and lemon curd. “Is that lemon curd? Real lemon curd? The kind you slave over a hot stove for?”

  So, of course, Theodosia had to fill a small, square jar with lemon curd for Aerin to take along with her.

  Jory Davis didn’t call until they were caught up in the whirlwind that was lunch. “Hello?” said Drayton, deftly balancing the phone, a tray stacked with fruit and cheese plates, and a pot of tea.

  “Hi, Drayton,” said Jory. “Is Theodosia around?”

  Drayton peered out over the tearoom and crooked a finger at Theodosia. She caught his meaning and signaled back. “She’ll be with you in a second,” Drayton told Jory.

  Theodosia hurried across the room and snatched the phone up. “Hello?”

  “Hey there,” said Jory Davis.

  “Hey there, yourself,” said Theodosia. “You realize everyone here thinks I was soothed by music from Rigolletto and La Traviata last night.”

  “Well, you almost were,” he said. “And admit it, wasn’t snuggling under a full moon better?”

  “You�
�ll get no argument from me. Like I said last night, I can always listen to it on CD.”

  “Say,” said Jory, “I know you’re busy, heck, we’re both busy, but I was able to work in some fast investigating this morning.”

  “Terrific. What did you come up with?” she asked.

  Jory Davis sighed. “Nothing.”

  “Nada,” said Jory. “No record. The guy’s clean as a whistle.”

  “That’s weird. I had a feeling there might be something.”

  “I couldn’t even find an unpaid parking ticket,” said Jory. “He’s a model citizen.”

  “Hmm.” Theodosia gazed out over the tea shop, noting that every table was filled and that Drayton and Haley were running around like chickens with their heads cut off. “Listen, why don’t you come by for dinner tonight.” She wanted to clue Jory in about the note that had been slipped under the door this morning, but right now wasn’t the best time.

  “Great!” said Jory.

  “Hold on,” said Theodosia. “I’m thinking about inviting Drayton and Haley, too.”

  “Oh, a working dinner,” said Jory, with no less enthusiasm.

  “When we get this cat burglar thing figured out,” said Theodosia, “I promise dinner for two. With a full complement of candlelight and wine.”

  “And I shall bring the roses,” laughed Jory. “Although I think I’ll bring wine tonight as well. What time shall I plan to arrive on madame’s doorstep?”

  “Eight. And since you volunteered to bring wine, kindly make it white.”

  “I’ll spend the rest of my day pondering the merits of a fine Vouvray versus a Chenin Blanc.”

  “Bye bye,” she told him, laughing.

  “My gosh,” said Drayton, “I must have looked like the juggler in Cirque du Soleil, what with teapots in one hand and fruit and cheese plates in the other. Sometimes I yearn for the good old days when we only served tea.”

  “Adding a lunch service really has livened things up,” agreed Theodosia.

  “Even on Graham Carmody?” Theodosia asked with surprise.

  “And contributed nicely to our bottom line,” added Drayton.

  Theodosia was keenly aware that they had run in the red for more months than she cared to think about. Now, this last year, they had clearly been in the black, with the last six months veering toward very respectable profits.

  “Today will be a push from now on,” declared Haley. “Friday afternoons are never all that busy. I guess people must take off early or go shopping or something. Anyway,” she looked over at the three tables that were still occupied, “they’re not here.”

  “How would the two of you like to join me for dinner tonight?” suggested Theodosia.

  “Really?” squealed Haley. “I’d love to. I didn’t have anything special planned.”

  “What about you, Drayton?” asked Theodosia. “I’ve invited Jory Davis to dinner, too.”

  “I’d be delighted,” he said. “May I bring anything. Or do anything?”

  “That goes for me, too,” said Haley.

  “Drayton, you just get yourself to my place by eight o’clock. Haley, if there’s some leftover shortbread and lemon curd, maybe you could package it up and bring it along for dessert.”

  “Oops,” said Haley, cupping a hand to her mouth. “We just served the last piece of shortbread. But there’s still tons of lemon curd to use as topping. How about if I pop a cake in the oven?”

  “Fine idea,” declared Drayton.

  “Only if it isn’t too much work,” said Theodosia. “After all, we’re all still recovering from yesterday.”

  “I’m sure Haley can manage just fine,” offered Dray-ton. “And if I could interject a thought, might I suggest a coconut cake?”

  “Haley, can you manage?” asked Theodosia, amused by Drayton’s ravenous desire for cake.

  “Seeing how much it means to Drayton,” she said, assuming an exaggerated hands-on-hips stance, “I’ll try.”

  Detective Tidwell pushed open the door, eased himself into the tearoom. He let the door close behind him, yet made no effort to move to a table, preferring to stand there in an ill-fitting tweed jacket and pork pie hat, surveying the premises with a slightly haughty air.

  Haley noticed him first. “Uh-oh,” she said under her breath. “That detective is here again.”

  Theodosia looked over and gave a quick wave.

  “He looks like he’s been shrink-wrapped in tweed,” murmured Haley.

  “Ssssh,” warned Drayton as he tried to stifle a grin and Theodosia hurried forth to greet Tidwell.

  “Detective Tidwell, nice to see you again,” said Theodosia in her best tea shop hostess patois. “Won’t you have a seat?”

  Tidwell shuffled to a table, lowered his bulk carefully.

  “Can I offer you some tea?” asked Theodosia. Goodness, she decided, in the wake of Tidwell’s sullenness, I sound hideously chirpy.

  Tidwell gave a faint nod.

  “Do you have a taste for anything in particular?” she asked.

  “Surprise me,” said Tidwell in an uncharacteristic move.

  Theodosia bustled into the kitchen to scrounge a muffin while Drayton busied himself with a fresh pot of tea.

  “Surprise him,” Drayton muttered under his breath. “I’d like to surprise that fellow, all right.”

  Tidwell was already sipping his tea when Theodosia came back with a reheated muffin and small pot of peach jam.

  “And this tea is . . .” said Tidwell, still not wasting any time on pleasantries.

  “Earl Grey,” said Theodosia. “Taste the bergamot?”

  Tidwell gave a perfunctory nod. “I do. And a hint of something else, too.”

  “A touch of white tips,” said Theodosia. “Just to lighten things up.” White tips meant, literally, the white tips or most prized leaf of the plant.

  “Excellent,” said Tidwell, finally uttering a positive word. “I take it this is one of your own special Indigo Tea Shop blends?”

  “Drayton created it. He calls it Shades of Earl Grey.”

  “Rather pleasant,” responded Tidwell.

  Theodosia smiled patiently. She was getting used to these strange exchanges with the venerable detective. They so often started out adversarial then veered toward semi-politeness.

  Tidwell dribbled a spoonful of jam onto his muffin. “Not that you’d be interested, Miss Browning, but there has been a report of another theft in your neighborhood.”

  “Is that a fact?” said Theodosia. Play it cool, she told herself. He’s bursting to tell you, but if you ask him outright, he’ll probably clam up.

  Tidwell shook his jowly head. “A rather expensive collectible disappeared last night from the Hall-Barnett House.”

  Built in the mid-eighteen-hundreds and located over on Tradd Street, the Hall-Barnett House had first served as a convent and then a private home. Now it was a small museum, a period house, furnished with the trappings of the era and open to the visiting public.

  “I only mention it to you,” added Tidwell, “because one of the items missing is a tea caddy.”

  Theodosia stared at him. The tea caddy from the Hall-Barnett House was missing?

  “Ah,” said Tidwell, noting her surprise, “you’re familiar with that particular piece?”

  “Of course,” said Theodosia. “It’s a lovely tea caddy crafted from tortoiseshell and inlaid with ivory. It’s probably from the mid-eighteen-hundreds yet still in excellent condition.”

  “Yes,” agreed Tidwell. “Worth quite a pretty penny, I’m told.”

  Several thousand dollars, Theodosia thought to herself. “And it’s disappeared?” she said to Tidwell.

  “That’s the strange thing,” replied Tidwell. “Mrs. Roman, the woman who was guiding the tours yesterday afternoon, swears she saw the tea caddy sitting in its rightful place on the fireplace mantel. Right before she locked up late yesterday.”

  “Do you believe her?”

  “No reason not to.”

&
nbsp; “Then what do you suppose happened to it?” asked Theodosia.

  Tidwell’s eyes burned brightly even as his face assumed a hangdog expression. “I suppose, Miss Browning, it could have caught the fancy of your cat burglar.”

  “The Hall-Barnett House was broken into?”

  “Let’s just say a window was open upstairs.”

  Theodosia conjured up a mental picture of the Hall-Barnett House. Built completely of brick, it was tall and stately, fashioned in the Italianate tradition. Hard to clamber up the side of a brick building, though, she decided.

  “Did the police find a ladder anywhere?” she asked. “Lying in the yard or stashed in the carriage house out back?”

  “Nothing,” said Tidwell. “If I had to hazard a guess, although I prefer not to, I’d say your cat burglar probably scaled a nearby tree then made a rather heroic leap.”

  “Why do you keep calling him my cat burglar?” asked Theodosia, somewhat testily.

  “Because you were the first one to put forth the cat burglar theory,” said Tidwell. “Pray tell what’s wrong? Aren’t you pleased? Here I thought for sure that you’d be pleased.”

  “No, of course I’m not pleased,” she cried out, and the frustration that had built up inside her for the past week suddenly began to explode. “Poor Drayton and Timothy Neville are worried sick about the public opening of the Treasures Show tomorrow night. Captain Buchanan was killed at the Lady Goodwood Inn... probably in an accident caused by this very same cat burglar. And now, because someone, presumably this cat burglar, stole Delaine’s watch and stashed it in Claire Kitridge’s desk, Claire stands to lose her job! So no, Detective Tidwell, I am in no way pleased. I am angry, frustrated, and worried beyond belief, but the very last thing I am is pleased!”

  Drayton, upon hearing Theodosia raise her voice to Tidwell, suddenly grabbed a pot of tea and hustled over to their table.

  “Everything okay here?” he asked as he approached.

  “Fine,” said Tidwell, putting a chubby hand over his teacup. “No need for a refill.”

  Drayton pointedly ignored Tidwell and focused his lined countenance squarely on Theodosia. “Are you okay?” he inquired.