by Laura Childs
“But I think I’ll wait and tell you all about it tonight,” said Delaine.
“Delaine! Please don’t be coy.” Coy was annoying. Coy showed lack of trust.
“Tonight,” said Delaine. “I promise I’ll tell you everything tonight.”
* * *
Two o’clock came and went, guests came and went, and still Theodosia remained at the tea shop. Drayton, whom Haley had suddenly taken to calling Mr. Sci-Fi Channel Reality Show, had left some fifteen minutes ago. Theodosia figured he’d gone home to lay out his wardrobe for tonight. A khaki jacket and slacks, maybe boots, some sort of cap. And maybe his black leather notebook, just in case he wanted to take notes or jot down the makings of a new legend.
Haley was in the kitchen, rattling pans and beating her frosting into a swirl. She wore a determined look, a look that clearly said Do not disturb.
Well, okay, Theodosia decided. She wouldn’t disturb her. She’d already made it known that she was available to help decorate cake pops if help was needed. In the meantime, Theodosia was up to her ears in wreath-making paraphernalia and was busily assembling two new teacup wreaths.
Starting with a wild grapevine that she’d cut, dried, and shaped herself, she loosely threaded a piece of peach-colored satin organza ribbon through the wreath. Once that was done, the fun stuff happened. Theodosia wired in small teacups that she’d found at tag sales, added a couple of bunches of silk flowers, then wired in a bunch of frosted grapes.
Just as Theodosia was debating between dried star flowers versus tiny blue silk flowers, her cell phone rang.
“Max!” she said.
“You left me a couple of phone messages,” said Max. “Last night and then again this morning. Something about a note?”
“You didn’t leave me a note, did you?” said Theodosia. “At Granville’s house last night.”
“I was at a fund-raiser last night.” Max sounded puzzled. “Until around eleven.”
“Okay, I was just checking on something.”
“Problem?”
“Not really,” said Theodosia. She thought about telling him about last night, then hastily changed the subject. Why worry him? “Are you going to be able to stop by Granville’s home tonight? I’d really love to see you . . .”
“I’m going to try,” said Max. “But I can’t promise anything.”
“I have to warn you, Haley’s really knocking herself out.”
Max chuckled. “Are we talking chocolate desserts?” Max was a dedicated chocoholic.
“You got it.”
“I’m really gonna try,” said Max.
“Try hard,” said Theodosia.
* * *
By midafternoon Haley decided that Theodosia could indeed help decorate the cake pops. So, robed in a long white apron, wearing plastic gloves, Theodosia dipped chocolate-frosted cake pops into various saucers filled with crushed pecans, flaky coconut, and tiny colorful nonpareils.
“This is fun,” said Theodosia. Her hands were a sticky, chocolatey mess and nonpareils crunched underfoot, but their assembly line was running smoothly as they dipped and swayed, singing along to “Moves Like Jagger” on the radio and dancing in place.
“In about two seconds I’m gonna switch to butterscotch frosting,” said Haley. She scanned the finished cake pops that were lined up like a bunch of tasty, edible Weebles. “Yup, about sixty percent are frosted with chocolate.”
“You’re working on a sixty-forty ratio?” asked Theodosia.
“I like things mathematical,” said Haley. She grinned. “Even my cake pops.”
Thump thump.
“Jeez,” said Haley. “What the heck was that?”
“Somebody at the back door?” said Theodosia. She pulled off her gloves and grabbed a damp rag so she could wipe blobs of sticky frosting from her wrists and arms. “I’ll go take a look.”
“Tell whoever it is that we’re closed.”
Theodosia hurried through her office. Probably, she decided, it was one of the neighbors from the garden apartments across the brick alley. Sometimes they popped over unexpectedly to grab leftover scones or croissants or slices of quiche.
But when Theodosia looked out the window, she saw it was Tidwell.
Surprised, she pulled open the door and said, “What are you doing back here?”
“I knocked on the front door; didn’t you hear me?”
“No. Sorry. We were working in the kitchen and had the radio turned up full blast.” She opened the door wider. “Come on in. What’s up?”
Tidwell cast a cautious glance at her as he eased his bulk through the doorway. “I was hoping you could tell me.”
Theodosia was suddenly confused. “Tell you what?” Had she said or done something to ruffle his feathers yet again?
Tidwell made a seesawing gesture with both hands. “About the murder? About your cuckoo friend Delaine?”
“No, I haven’t solved the murder,” said Theodosia. “In fact, I distinctly remember you telling me to mind my own business. As far as Delaine is concerned, she’s not cuckoo. She’s merely stressed. She was just in a meeting at Granville and Grumley. Something about the reading of the will?”
“Exactly,” Tidwell growled.
“I don’t know anything about that, either. Delaine called but was playing her cards fairly close to the vest. She told me I had to wait until tonight to hear her all her big news.” Theodosia put her hands on her hips in a slightly confrontational manner. “So . . . what have you been up to? Hopefully still spearheading an in-depth murder investigation that is deserving of our tax dollars?”
“What on earth smells so devilishly good in here?” asked Tidwell.
Theodosia sighed. Honestly, the man was so predictable. “We’re making cake pops for the Summer Garden Tour tonight. And, no, they’re not ready yet.”
“Yes, they are,” Haley called from the kitchen. “He can have a couple if he wants.”
“I don’t think he wants any,” Theodosia called back.
Haley stuck her head in the office and registered innocent surprise. “He doesn’t?”
“Pay no attention to your curmudgeon employer,” said Tidwell. “I would love nothing better than to partake of your excellent desserts.”
“I can stick a few cake pops in one of our take-out cartons,” said Haley. She held up a finger. “Give me a sec.”
“Bless you, child,” said Tidwell.
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” Theodosia scolded. “Taking advantage of Haley’s sweet and giving nature. You know she’s bursting with pride over her baked goods and can never refuse samples to anyone.”
“That’s precisely what I was counting on,” said Tidwell. He lurched toward the chair opposite Theodosia’s desk. “May I sit down?”
“Why not?”
“I’m afraid I’m in a pickle,” said Tidwell, facing her.
“Really,” said Theodosia. This was a first. Tidwell rarely let down his guard like this.
“We finally located the mysterious Mr. Chapin of room three-fourteen.”
“And?”
“He’s merely a traveling salesman,” said Tidwell. “And not a very successful one at that. The net result is he’s not even remotely connected to Granville.”
“So you’re back to square one,” said Theodosia. She could feel his disappointment. Heck, she was disappointed, too.
“That’s right. We have suspects, yes. But no clear-cut motives.”
“The suspects being . . . ?”
Allan Grumley for one,” said Tidwell. “Except that the man is already quite wealthy and had a buy-sell partnership agreement firmly in place.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that if Grumley and Granville had decided they didn’t want to work together anymore, there was a hammered-out provision for divvying up th
e law firm.”
“In other words,” said Theodosia, “they could have called it quits amicably. One wouldn’t have to kill the other.”
“I’d say that’s a fair assessment,” said Tidwell.
“Have you looked at past cases that Granville handled? Maybe he sent someone to prison who was recently released and wanted to exact their revenge.”
“He’s not that kind of lawyer,” said Tidwell.
Theodosia thought for a few moments. “My mind keeps circling back to Simone Asher.”
Tidwell shrugged. “Old girlfriend, shop owner, pretty girl. I interviewed her. She didn’t seem particularly malicious.”
“You don’t know what’s in her heart,” said Theodosia. She thought back to last night. “You know, Simone showed up at Granville’s home last night.”
“Did she?”
Theodosia told Tidwell about finding Simone upstairs in Granville’s bedroom, taking a last look around. And then she told him about the beige linen jacket hanging in the closet.
“And you think the thread matches?” asked Tidwell. He was starting to look interested.
“I have no idea. But . . . I have to admit it’s kind of a spooky coincidence.”
“I’m not a big believer in coincidences.”
“You should still stop by and grab a snippet of fabric. Take it to your lab and see if it matches the thread.”
“I can get in the house right now?”
“I’m pretty sure you can,” said Theodosia. “I think Delaine brought in another cleaning crew to spiff the place up.”
“You said Simone Asher was taking what you termed ‘a last look.’ Does that seem at all peculiar to you?” said Tidwell.
“Maybe. But I can see Delaine doing the exact same thing if she’d been the ex-girlfriend.”
“A lot of women might,” said Tidwell.
“No,” said Theodosia. “Not a lot of women. Just the ones who aren’t terribly realistic.”
25
Theodosia was right about having their routine down cold. As she heated water and measured out tea, Haley quickly unpacked her Charleston cookies, lemon bars, espresso cookies, and cake pops. On this second and final night of the Summer Garden Tour, with the temperature hovering in the low eighties, an even greater number of visitors were expected.
“It’s hard to believe Drayton went off ghost hunting,” said Haley as she arranged her desserts on a large tray. “It seems so out of character for him.”
“I actually can believe it,” said Theodosia. “If you mention anything that’s remotely Southern Gothic, Drayton’s antennae automatically perk up.”
“But he’s a nonbeliever,” said Haley. “I mean concerning the spirit world.”
“Doesn’t matter,” said Theodosia. “The minute you start talking legends and lore, our Drayton can’t help being intrigued. The history buff in him just comes alive.”
“Barrow Hall sounds like a creepy place. I hope he’ll be okay out there.”
“No reason for him not to be,” said Theodosia.
“Hey,” Haley said to Delaine as she breezed into the kitchen. “You look great.” Delaine was wearing a long, black one-shouldered dress and sky-high silver sandals.
“So tell us,” said Theodosia, pouncing. “How did your meeting turn out?” She was dying to know.
“The wait is finally over,” Delaine trilled. “We went over everything with a fine-toothed comb and it’s all mine!”
“All of it?” said Haley. “Are you serious? Wow!”
“What exactly is all yours?” asked Theodosia. Since Delaine tended to exaggerate, she wanted specifics. “You mean this house?”
“No, silly,” said Delaine. “Not the house. But almost everything else. I’m set to receive the proceeds from Dougan’s life insurance policy as well as a tidy amount of money, some blue-chip stocks, and a number of mutual funds.”
“You’re going to be rich!” said Haley. “Correction . . . you are rich!”
“Almost,” said Delaine.
“Well, congrats, lady!” said Haley.
“I’m happy for you,” said Theodosia. “Well . . . pleased, anyway. Of course, I know you’d give it all up if you could just have Dougan back.”
Delaine managed a small sniffle. “I would. I really would.”
“I’m curious,” said Theodosia. “Who does own this house now?”
Delaine made an unhappy face. “It belongs to Allan Grumley. Apparently, this place was purchased through a subsidiary corporation of the law firm, so he was already a fifty percent owner.”
“That’s awfully convenient,” said Theodosia. “For him, anyway.” No wonder Grumley had been so circumspect last night concerning ownership of the house. “And what about the stepson, Charles Horton? Did he launch any sort of claim? Did he inherit anything?”
“Thank goodness, he did not launch a claim,” said Delaine. “But he will inherit Dougan’s Porsche 911 as well as DG Stogies and a tidy sum of money.” She whipped out a hanky and daubed at her eyes, taking care not to smear her eye makeup. “But not as much as I will.”
“Good for you,” said Theodosia. Besides Delaine enjoying a little one-upmanship with Horton, she’d been a mere twenty minutes away from becoming Mrs. Dougan Granville. So she was practically the next of kin.
“I feel like an enormous weight has been lifted from my shoulders,” said Delaine. She grabbed a Charleston cookie, munched a bite thoughtfully, then popped the rest into her mouth. “I feel so much more relaxed and unstressed. You know . . .” She shook an index finger at Theodosia and Haley. “I think this is going to be a truly memorable evening. I’m even feeling . . . very good vibes.” And with that she flounced out of the kitchen.
“Get a load of her,” said Haley. “Delaine’s all happy and chipper over the reading of the will, but Granville’s murder still hasn’t been solved.”
“And Tidwell doesn’t seem to be one bit closer,” said Theodosia.
Haley straightened out a row of cookies, then glanced at her. “What about you? Are you any closer?”
Theodosia shrugged. “Not really. And Delaine’s interest has definitely waned. She’s no longer pressing me to explore different angles.”
“Doesn’t matter,” said Haley. “Because Delaine’s always been flighty. The big question is, will you continue to pursue this?”
“I’d like to see justice served if at all possible.”
“That’s because you’re a law-and-order kind of gal,” said Haley.
“I never thought of it that way. But . . . yes . . . maybe I am.” Theodosia’s father had been a prominent Charleston attorney. And, early on, she’d toyed with the idea of following in his footsteps. Then she’d gotten interested in advertising and marketing, and an account executive position had sort of been dropped into her lap. That experience had been fun for a while, but it was a hustle-bustle, go-go experience at best. When she finally transitioned to the Indigo Tea Shop, life was better. She got out of it exactly what she put in. For every cause, an effect. For every action, a reaction. And, of course, all the tea she cared to drink!
Haley continued to peer at her. “What about Charles Horton? He was blipping like crazy on your radar screen just a few days ago.”
“As a murder suspect, he doesn’t feel right anymore,” said Theodosia. “I think he really is a stepson who wanted to reconnect with his stepfather.”
“And get a piece of the action at the law firm?” said Haley.
“I suppose you can’t fault him for being a go-getter. Or wanting to be a junior partner.”
“What about Allan Grumley?” Haley asked.
“I still think he’s a possible suspect.” Theodosia reminded herself that Grumley, smooth talker that he was, could have easily urged Granville to indulge in a little prewedding cocaine. And then had somehow overpowered him.
Plus, Grumley had been wearing a light-colored jacket the day of the wedding. The thread she found could have belonged to him.
“But you’re not sure.”
“The police aren’t sure,” said Theodosia.
“Maybe they missed something. Or you missed something.”
“I probably did. But I don’t know what. And I don’t know what to look at next.”
“I’ll bet you’ll figure it out,” said Haley. “You’re pretty good at solving mysteries and things.”
“I don’t know . . . maybe. At least I hope so. But right now, if we don’t kick it into high gear, we’re going to disappoint our guests.”
They got busy then, Theodosia brewing tea while Haley worked on her desserts. Still, Theodosia continued to ponder the murder. And the strange invitation she’d found last night. And the significance, if any, of the cigar smoke. She turned everything over and over in her mind as if working a string of worry beads. She was well aware that greed, jealousy, and anger were all powerful drivers. Any one of them could compel a person to commit murder. The question was, which motivator had driven which person over the edge?
* * *
“Our table looks good, huh?” said Haley.
They were outside on the back patio. Pitchers of sweet tea sat on the table and the tea samovars were filled and ready to dispense cups of Russian Caravan and black spice tea. Haley’s assortment of bars, cookies, and cake pops were beautifully arranged, making it look as if the Sugar Plum Fairy had swept in and waved her magic wand. And once again, the patio and gardens looked elegant and amazing. Delaine had asked the gardeners to change out the bulbs in the lights flanking the patio, taking out the white bulbs and replacing them with soft pink bulbs. So now the patio was bathed in a dreamy light. Very conducive to romance and reverie.
Suddenly, the back door clattered open and high-pitched laughter punctuated the night.
“Somebody’s here,” said Haley. She glanced at her watch. “And they’re a good ten minutes early.”
“I thought Delaine told the security people to hold everyone at the front door until seven,” said Theodosia.