by Laura Childs
“I still don’t see her,” Theodosia said.
“You see that slim woman in the red turban?” Drayton said, his lips curling faintly at the corners.
“Oh, good gracious. What has she got on her head?”
* * *
• • •
“Why are you wearing that?” Theodosia asked, once they’d finally homed in on Delaine. “Did you singe your hair with your blow-dryer or are you planning to tell people’s fortunes?”
“I’m in disguise,” Delaine hissed. She lifted a hand to touch the red scarf she’d wrapped around her head and pinned in place with a jeweled brooch. “A couple of exhibitors were passing around copies of Shooting Star and I was afraid someone would recognize me!”
“So what if they do?” Theodosia said.
“No, no, no, I don’t want to be associated with those awful pictures in Shooting Star. The ones that captured the horrible fight between Betty and Sissy.”
“But you weren’t in the fight, Delaine. As I recall, you weren’t anywhere near it.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Delaine said. “The fight took place at my boutique. Which means my sterling reputation might be impinged!”
“I see your cats have already won a couple of ribbons,” Drayton said, gamely changing the subject. He gestured to a wire crate where a string of blue and purple ribbons hung. Two sleek Siamese cats peeked out at them, their eyes bright with curiosity.
“Oh yes,” Delaine said. “Domino just received a purple ribbon and Dominic a blue ribbon. But of course, we’re just getting started. There’s more judging tonight and then there’s best in show tomorrow afternoon.”
“Which I’m sure you’ll win,” Drayton said.
“I’m sure, too,” Delaine said. She bobbed her head fast and then had to put a hand up to steady her turban.
Theodosia and Drayton wandered away then, over to one of the rings to watch the judging process. A judge in a three-piece suit walked from crate to crate, then reached in and gently lifted up one of the cats and took it over to a table.
“So many cats,” Drayton mused. “Must take a long time to judge.”
But Theodosia didn’t respond. She’d just seen a familiar face that brought her back to the here and now.
“Sissy Lanier is over there,” Theodosia said. “We need to go . . .”
Instead of finishing her sentence Theodosia grabbed Drayton by the arm and dragged him in Sissy’s direction.
“Sissy!” Theodosia raised a hand and waved.
Sissy saw Theodosia waving and hurried over to meet her.
“Hi there, hello,” Sissy said. “And to Drayton, too.” She shook her mane of blond hair. “Looks like the gang’s all here.”
“Sissy, I’ve been dying to hear,” Theodosia said. “How did the meeting go with the attorney? I haven’t talked to you since . . .” Theodosia was going to say since your meltdown, but stopped short. No need to bring that up.
Sissy brightened even more. “It couldn’t have gone better, Theo. Mr. Alston is working with Fidelity to track down my missing money. It turns out there could have been a clerical error on the statement. Isn’t that something?”
“So all that drama for nothing,” Drayton said.
Sissy pursed her lips. “I wouldn’t say that. Because if Delaine hadn’t dragged me over to the Indigo Tea Shop, then Theodosia wouldn’t have been so kind as to recommend her uncle to assist me.” She gave a lopsided smile. “So you see, it was meant to be.”
“Kismet,” Drayton said.
“Whatever.” Sissy shrugged. “So . . .” Her eyes lasered on Theodosia. “I heard a rumor that both Jud Harker and Bob Garver have been questioned.” Sissy gave an eager nod. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if Carson’s murder was finally solved? Then I could . . . well, at least I’d have some closure.”
“It would be a great relief to all of us,” Theodosia said.
Sissy glanced around, gave a perfunctory smile, and said, “Oops, gotta go. I’m supposed to hook up with a friend.”
“Is Sissy still on your suspect list?” Drayton asked once they were out of earshot.
“Yes, she is,” Theodosia said. “I still find her flippant attitude toward her almost ex-husband awfully disconcerting. Plus, she has an almost unholy appetite for money.”
They circled back past the judging ring and Drayton said, “Have we stayed long enough? I think we’ve seen most everything. No need to check out the vendors.” Over to the left were two dozen retail booths selling everything from cat food to tiger-striped cat beds to custom-made cat collars.
“I was just wondering . . .” Theodosia said, looking around.
“About?”
“Alexis was supposed to be here on a date with Bill Glass.”
Drayton halted in his tracks. “You’re not serious.”
“About as serious as a heart attack.”
“Why on earth would an attractive, cultured woman like Alexis want to go on a date with a . . . a . . .”
“A rude, obnoxious boor?”
“Thank you, Theo, you snatched the words right out of my mouth.”
“I don’t know,” Theodosia said. “Maybe Alexis is lonely. Maybe, through some strange circumstance, she and Glass are right for each other.”
“As in opposites attract? Mars and Venus?”
“Mmn . . . something like that.”
WAH-HOO!
Theodosia jerked her head around. “What on earth was that awful noise?”
“Some kind of disturbance,” Drayton said. “Maybe . . . a fight?”
WAH-HOO!
“There it is again,” Theodosia said.
“It came from over near the vendor booths,” Drayton said.
Theodosia looked around, noticed that others in the crowd were frowning and glancing around as well. “I hope there’s not some kind of problem.”
“Amen. We’ve had enough problems lately.”
WHEEEE-OOOOH!
“Good heavens,” Drayton said, “it sounds like there’s a barn owl loose in here.”
“Or maybe it’s malfunctioning equipment?” Theodosia said. “The PA system? The HVAC?”
“No.” Drayton gripped Theodosia’s arm and gave it a little shake. “Look over there.”
Theodosia peered through the crowd and saw Bill Glass. He was bent over sharply, almost at a forty-five-degree angle. Three cameras dangled from around his neck as he pressed an enormous hanky to his nose. And sneezed again . . .
HOO-WAH!
Glass’s fourth, explosive sneeze echoed off the rafters and practically rattled all the cat crates.
Theodosia pursed her lips. “Bill Glass.”
“He must be allergic to all the cat hair that’s floating around,” Drayton said. “Somebody better toss an antihistamine down that poor man’s throat.”
“I’m surprised that he’s reacting so violently, since most of these cats have been groomed to within an inch of their lives.”
Drayton lifted a single eyebrow. “Don’t you mean nine lives?”
“Very funny. And look, Alexis is over there with him. Well, actually, she’s kind of standing off to one side, watching.”
“Does she look like she’s having fun?” Drayton asked.
Theodosia wanted to give Alexis the benefit of the doubt. But, in the end, she shook her head. “I wouldn’t count on it.”
28
Theodosia’s good mood over a successful Plum Blossom Tea carried into Saturday as well. Humming to herself, a tune from Adele’s newest album, she quickly set the tables, lit candles, and built a small fire in the fireplace. Cheered the place up, as Drayton would say.
Drayton. Theodosia looked over toward the front counter where he was whistling softly as he measured heaping scoops of tea into a pair of Shelley teapots. She decided he was probably look
ing forward to the Rare Weapons Show tonight. Formal Heritage Society events always put him in a good mood. He was after all, a kind of pomp and circumstance guy.
Theodosia walked over to the counter and said, “You know what?”
Drayton tossed a small tin of tea in the air and caught it. “What?”
“I let this percolate in my brain all night, and now I have a bad feeling about Jud Harker.”
Drayton raised an eyebrow. “I thought you figured that Harker’s unfortunate past pretty much exonerated him. That he was so traumatized by shooting his brother that he was basically anti-gun.”
She shook her head. “I think I changed my mind.”
“Why is that?”
“Reason number one,” Theodosia said, “because Detective Riley decided to hold Harker for twenty-four hours to sort of sweat him. I figure Riley knows more than I do.”
“He certainly has extensive field experience,” Drayton said. “I’ll grant him that.”
“And number two, now that I look back on it, Harker exhibited all kinds of telltale warning signs. He was angry and confrontational. And his apartment had a dismal look about it.”
“As if his surroundings reflected a guilty mind?”
“Something like that.”
“Then you’ve got nothing to worry about,” Drayton said. “The right man has been apprehended and is being held in custody.”
“Which means Timothy won’t be threatened again, and the show tonight will go off without a hitch.”
“Let’s hope so.”
“Hey guys,” Haley said. “I want you to taste something.” She walked up to the counter carrying a small plate of scones. Or were they scones?
“What have you got there?” Drayton asked.
“Griddle scones,” Haley said.
“So that was the wonderful aroma emanating from your kitchen,” Theodosia said. “I knew you were baking some kind of goodness.”
Drayton reached for one of the scones and studied it. “They’re darker than usual.”
“Because they’ve been cooked on a griddle rather than baked,” Haley said.
“So somewhat nontraditional,” Drayton said.
“Actually, griddle scones were a tradition until conventional ovens were invented,” Haley said. “C’mon, try one. Take a bite.”
Drayton took a bite and chewed thoughtfully.
Haley gazed at him. “Well? Whad’ya think? Be honest, now.”
“Delicious,” Drayton said. “Quirky but flavorful.”
“They’re from one of my granny’s old receipts,” Haley said. Receipt was the old-timey Southern way of saying “recipe.”
“Your griddle scones are delicious,” Theodosia said. She’d tried one as well. “Maybe slightly chewier than traditional baked scones.”
“That’s good, huh?” Haley asked. “Gives it that farm-to-table cachét?”
“Sounds like smart marketing to me,” Drayton said. “Did you make enough so we can put them on the menu?”
“Sure did.”
“When are you going to pick up Jamie?” Theodosia asked. Today was the day he was being released from the hospital.
“As soon as we close up here,” Haley said. “I’ll probably get to the hospital around one-thirty. Load up Jamie and all the baskets of flowers and fruit that he’s gotten from well-wishers. I’ll take him to Aunt LaBelle’s and then stay with him for the weekend. Drive back Monday morning.”
“You’re a treasure, Haley,” Theodosia said, just as the phone rang. “Jamie is blessed to have you as his cousin.” She reached over, grabbed the phone, and said, “Indigo Tea Shop, how can I help you?”
“You can help by not blowing a gasket,” Pete Riley said.
“Why? What happened?” Theodosia asked.
“We had to release Harker.”
Theodosia’s heart caught in her throat. “So soon? But I thought you were going to hold Harker for most of the day.”
“Funny thing about that,” Riley said. “His public defender, a particularly zealous fellow by the name of Arthur Pinckney, saw things differently.”
“So Harker is out and walking around,” Theodosia said. She looked at Drayton, who was watching her closely, and shook her head. Haley had drifted back into the kitchen.
“For all I know, Harker’s back at the Stagwood Inn by now,” Riley said. “Painting soffits or laying tile or whatever it is he does there.”
“But what if he’s the killer?” Theodosia tried to keep the rising tide of fear out of her voice, but wasn’t very successful. All she could think about was Harker coming back and storming into the Indigo Tea Shop!
“All I can tell you right now is that Detective Tidwell has decided to pursue other angles.”
“Wait a minute.” Riley’s words had thrown her for a loop. “Like what? Who?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Sure, you can,” Theodosia said. “In fact, you have to.”
“Sorry,” was all Riley said.
Theodosia dropped the phone to her chest and thought for a few moments. She put it back up again and said, “Tidwell’s put all his money on Bob Garver, hasn’t he?”
There was a long pause and then Riley said, “Doggone it.”
“I think Tidwell’s wrong. In fact, you’ve got to convince him that he’s dead wrong.”
“Hey, I work for the man. When he says jump, I say ‘How high?’”
“Then I’ll tell him,” Theodosia said.
There was a soft chuckle and Riley said, “Good luck with that.”
“They released Harker?” Drayton asked, once Theodosia had hung up the phone.
“Under Tidwell’s order,” Theodosia said. “And, I guess, the public defender.”
“And you think Tidwell’s wrong?”
“I do, but . . .”
“But what?”
Theodosia hesitated, then tried to pick her words carefully. “On the other hand, Tidwell’s a professional with thirty years of law enforcement under his belt.” She shrugged. “I’m just an amateur with an opinion.”
“Yes, but you have something Tidwell doesn’t have.”
“What’s that?”
Drayton smiled. “You’re blessed with intuition.”
* * *
• • •
They got busy then, welcoming guests, seating them, pouring tea. And, for the next couple of hours, the issue of murder suspects was forgotten. Haley’s griddle scones were a hit, of course. Along with her crab salad tea sandwiches and Greek meat loaf.
“You look vexed,” Drayton said as he handed a pot of green tea to Theodosia. “That’s for table four, by the way. Tell them it needs to steep an additional two minutes.”
“I’m still thinking about Tidwell’s decision to release Harker,” Theodosia said. “Upset about it. I think he made a huge mistake.”
“Maybe it’s time to let this go,” Drayton said. “I know Timothy asked you to step in and help ferret out suspects—and you’ve certainly done more than your fair share. But you can’t carry the weight of the world on your shoulders.”
“Is that what I’m doing?”
“You take it all to heart, yes,” Drayton said. “And by the way, that tea only needs to steep for one more minute now.”
The rest of the morning went by in a whirlwind of customers coming and going, take-out orders being packed up, and a few last-minute to-go orders that were called in by Angie at the Featherbed House B and B. Haley worked like a whirling dervish until one o’clock, at which point Theodosia plucked her apron off her and kicked her out the door. Picking up Jamie was far more important than last-minute sweeping up.
Then, just as the last teapot was being wiped dry, Betty Bates came creeping through the front door of the Indigo Tea Shop.
“Oh no,” Theod
osia murmured when she saw her. She really didn’t want to deal with Betty Bates. The woman had proved herself to be . . . impossible.
“Theodosia,” Betty said, clearing her throat. “We need to talk.”
Those were not the words Theodosia wanted to hear. She shook her head. “I don’t think so, Betty.”
“Please.” Betty held out both hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Extend me this small courtesy.”
“I’m sorry, but the tea shop is closed. Perhaps another time.”
But Betty was insistent. She crossed her arms and planted herself, unwilling to be ignored. Reluctantly, Theodosia relinquished her broom and sat down at a table with her.
“What’s up?”
“I’ve been investigating bank records,” Betty said.
“Okay.” Theodosia was determined to remain noncommittal, no matter what Betty said. She didn’t need a repeat performance of Betty grabbing her—or anyone else—in a wrestling headlock.
“It looks as if Carson Lanier made a loan that wasn’t exactly aboveboard.”
“What are you talking about?” Theodosia asked. “What does ‘not aboveboard’ mean? That Mr. Lanier made a bank loan that wasn’t approved? Wasn’t secured?” And why is that my problem?
“It means the loan wasn’t even recorded on our books,” Betty said.
Theodosia shook her head. “I’m still not sure what you’re talking about.”
“Let me ask you this,” Betty said. “Have you ever applied for a loan?”
Theodosia shrugged. “Sure. Car loan, home loan, whatever.”
“And you had to fill out about a million papers, right?”
“The paperwork was tedious, yes.” Please let this conversation be over with soon.
“Well, for this particular loan, the one that Mr. Lanier made about a month ago, there weren’t any papers at all.”
“You mean the loan was completely off-the-books?” Theodosia asked. “As in, here’s the money, but don’t tell anybody I gave it to you?”
“I’m afraid that’s it exactly.” Betty had a sick, nervous expression on her face.
Now Theodosia was interested. Now Betty had her attention.