by Laura Childs
“Are you kidding?” said René. “With her reputation?”
“Oh, my goodness,” said Theodosia, hanging up the phone. “What is going on?”
Tilting her head forward, she dropped it into her hands and massaged the base of her neck, then moved up to the really sore spots along her occipital ridge. Had Shelby been working in concert with Peaches all along? Had everything been a big setup?
Or had Shelby engineered this on her own? Was it possible Shelby had seen that Parker was vulnerable? That she had led him on like crazy? Then somehow persuaded Parker to name her as heir and beneficiary so she could profit?
Is Shelby that much of a weasel?
Okay, she could definitely see Shelby worming her way into Parker’s life. But Shelby didn’t strike her as any kind of mastermind. So was someone else in the background pulling the strings?
Who would that be?
Theodosia’s mind continued to churn. She stood up, walked a few feet, spun around, and collapsed back into her chair. Have to figure this out, she told herself. Have to try to get past the shock and emotion and think logically about all this.
She sat quietly for a few minutes, exploring various theories, running permutations through her overwrought brain. And then, like a tar bubble finally oozing its way up and escaping to the earth’s surface, she thought, Joe Beaudry?
He was sneaky enough, smarmy enough, and knew the financials firsthand. Had he somehow set this up? Had Beaudry been working behind the scenes in collusion with Peaches? Had Joe Beaudry completely duped Parker?
And then killed him?
The idea was just too horrible to contemplate.
When the ladies from the garden club finally finished their luncheon and began exploring the tea shop and gift corner, Theodosia decided it was high time to corner Charlotte.
She found her admiring a shelf of antique teacups and the wreaths that hung on the wall.
“Your grapevine wreaths are adorable,” said Charlotte. “And I love that you decorated them with tiny teacups.” She lifted an index finger and gently touched one.
“Charlotte,” said Theodosia, “I couldn’t help overhear your conversation about Solstice being sold to Peaches Pafford.”
Charlotte’s eyes went suddenly wide, and she put a hand to her face. “Oh dear, me and my big mouth. Did I just make aboo-boo?”
“No, it’s okay,” said Theodosia. “Really.”
But Charlotte looked wary. “Really, Theodosia, it completely slipped my mind that you used to date Parker Scully.”
“That’s okay,” said Theodosia. “Truly, you didn’t offend me. But what I want to know is…how exactly did you hear about this?”
“I got the news straight from Bob Coy,” said Charlotte. “The catering manager at the Charleston Hotel. He was just coming into the City Charities office as I was leaving. We said hi and started talking and one thing led to another.”
“You’re sure about this deal?” asked Theodosia. After all, Charleston was a city that thrived on gossip. Old families and old rivalries, big money and big problems. In many ways it was not unlike along-running soap opera.
“Pretty sure,” said Charlotte.
“Wow,” said Theodosia, looking discombobulated.
“You want me to call Bob again?” asked Charlotte. “Try to track down the rumor?”
“No, no, that’s not necessary,” said Theodosia. “The news just kind of stunned me, I guess.”
“You look stunned,” said Charlotte.
“Sorry if I seem overly gossipy about this,” said Theodosia.
“That’s okay,” said Charlotte. “I can see where you’d be upset. Especially in light of that awful…drowning.”
Back in her office, Theodosia placed a hurried phone call.
“Joe Beaudry, please,” said Theodosia when the receptionist, Betty, came on the line.
“I’m sorry,” said Betty, “he’s out at the moment. May I take a message?”
“No, I…well, maybe you can help me,” said Theodosia.
“I’ll certainly try,” said Betty.
“This is Theodosia Browning. I was in the other day talking to Joe?”
“Yes, of course,” said Betty.
“Anyway,” said Theodosia, “I wanted to chat with Joe about the Solstice deal.” She hesitated. “The restaurant that he’s…um…brokering?”
“Yes?” said Betty. “I can surely check his calendar and fit you in.”
“Um…he is brokering that deal, am I correct?”
“That’s right,” said Betty. “May I have him call you when he returns?”
“No,” said Theodosia. “That’s okay. I’ll get ahold of him later.”
But in her mind she knew it wasn’t okay. It wasn’t okay at all.
Theodosia tried to get Tidwell on the line then, but he was out. So she hung up the phone, trying to puzzle through this new piece of information.
“Knock knock.” Drayton stood in the doorway, a worried look on his face. “I just heard a nasty rumor,” he said.
“About Peaches buying Solstice?”
Drayton nodded.
“It’s more than a rumor,” said Theodosia.
“Bizarre,” said Drayton.
“Hold on, it gets worse. Joe Beaudry is brokering the deal.”
“The sleazy lawyer?”
“Bingo,” said Theodosia. “And, I might add, the sleazy lawyer that led Parker on with promises of financing.” She pushed a mass of auburn hair off her forehead. “Don’t you have to take off for your lecture?”
“In about five minutes, yes,” said Drayton. He sat down in the chair across from her desk and said, “I don’t care about who owns what restaurant. What I care about is who murdered Parker.”
“I hear you,” said Theodosia. “With all these people who are sort of intertwined in business deals, it’s easy to forget what’s really at the heart of the matter.”
“Murder,” said Drayton, stretching the word out for emphasis. He was quiet for a long moment, then added, “You look like you’re at sixes and sevens.”
“I’m spinning,” Theodosia agreed. “I don’t know if Shelby was in league with Peaches all along, if Joe Beaudry is a killer who’s playing everybody for a fool, or if Lyle Manship is the dark horse in all of this.”
“Very confusing,” agreed Drayton.
“Yes, it is,” said Theodosia. “And, as you pointed out, the awful thing is that even though Parker was laid to rest yesterday morning, everything else about his death remains totally up in the air.” Theodosia let loose a deep sigh. “And the really awful thing is that I can’t figure out which avenue to pursue or where to turn.”
“Much like a stalemate in a chess game?” said Drayton.
Theodosia nodded. “Something like that.”
Drayton laid a forefinger against his cheek and looked thoughtful. Then he said, “The great chess master Bobby Fischer always said, ‘I don’t believe in psychology, I believe in good moves.’” Drayton paused and gazed solemnly at Theodosia. “So, you have to decide…what’s your next move?”
18
Theodosia was on her hands and knees, stacking T-Bath products onto the lower shelves of a pine cupboard, when Detective Tidwell wandered in. From her downwardly challenged viewpoint she saw his polished Thom McAns, billowing slacks, and baggy knees as she watched him lumber to a table. About five seconds later, Haley hustled over, all prim and proper, to take his order.
Groaning inwardly, Theodosia popped her final bottles of Sweet Tea Feet Treat and Chamomile Calming Cream onto the shelf, then pulled herself up and headed over to join them.
Haley had just placed today’slaser-printed menu in Tidwell’s big paws when Theodosia plopped down at his table.
“I have news,” she told Tidwell. “Huge news. Crazy news.” She was slightly breathless and anxious to talk.
Tidwell didn’t react. He continued to scan the luncheon menu, then rolled his baleful eyes upward and said to Haley, “Scone and a cup of gaz
pacho as well as a small pot of Formosan oolong.”
“Excellent choice,” said Haley, snapping the menu out of Tidwell’s hands. “Although I must say I prefer the oolong from Anxi. Slightly more oxidized.”
Theodosia cleared her throat. “Um, excuse me?” She wasn’t pleased that Tidwell seemed to be ignoring her.
Finally Tidwell focused his attention on her. “Yes,” he rumbled, his belly rising and falling like a restless sea behind his straining vest.
“Shelby is selling Solstice to Peaches Pafford,” Theodosia told him in a rush. “And Joe Beaudry is brokering the deal.”
“I know,” said Tidwell.
Stunned, Theodosia sat back in her chair. “You know about this? Already?” How was that possible? “How do you know?”
Tidwell offered a curl of his lip. “I have my ways.”
“You mean like…informants?”
His chubby fingers spread out and rose off the table a few inches.
“Really,” said Theodosia. She was impressed. Then again, Tidwell might resemble a slumbering bear, but he was really a wolverine. Canny, ferocious, always ready to pounce. Half thetime—no, most of thetime—his somnolent manner was merely a clever ruse.
“Still,” allowed Tidwell, “an interesting turn of events.”
“I find it bizarre,” said Theodosia.
“But not so unusual that attorney Beaudry is involved,” said Tidwell. “After all, he’d already had initial dealings with Mr. Scully and had crunched the numbers, so to speak. So Beaudry knew the situation with Solstice and was patently familiar with the books.”
“But for a sale to happen that quick?” said Theodosia. “It seems very strange.”
“The sale hasn’t happened,” Tidwell pointed out. “An offer was made and accepted. Nothing exists on paper yet.”
Haley showed up at the table with Tidwell’s scone, a cup of soup, and a small teapot tucked inside a calico tea cozy. “You’ll want to let that steep one additional minute,” she admonished, then slipped away.
Tidwell picked up his soup spoon, dipped it gingerly, and took a quick taste.
“Good?” said Theodosia.
“Very good,” said Tidwell. He took another taste, then said, “I, too, have news.”
“About… ?”
“The restaurant franchise at the aquarium,” said Tidwell. “The one you were so distressed about last evening?”
“Please don’t tell me,” said Theodosia, “that Peaches Pafford is involved in that deal, too. That she made some under- the-table deal to get the franchise.”
Tidwell’s jowls sloshed as he shook his head. “Not at all. That plum franchise was awarded to Lyle Manship.”
Theodosia gaped at him. “No kidding?”
Tidwell stared back at her. “Something tells me you two have crossed paths.”
Theodosia decided not to tell Tidwell about her little jaunt down to Savannah. Instead she said, “Manship accosted me this morning at the Coffee & Tea Expo.”
Tidwell looked mildly amused. “Really, Miss Browning. You were accosted?”
“Okay, he was pushy,” said Theodosia. “He asked if I wanted to lead a tea tour.”
“Locally?”
“No,” said Theodosia. “On some cruise ship line.”
“And did you accept?” Tidwell seemed to be playing with her now. One of hiscat-and-mouse games.
“Hardly,” said Theodosia. “I have far better things to do than get involved with the likes of him.”
“Better things meaning you’re going to continue to investigate?” Tidwell’s tone was chiding.
“How can I not?” said Theodosia. “When everything keeps happening all around me?”
“You’re a virtual vortex,” responded Tidwell.
“Seriously,” said Theodosia, “that’s exactly what it feels like.” She slumped in her chair, then said, “I still can’t get past Shelby inheriting Solstice and Joe Beaudry brokering the sale. Doesn’t it all seem just a little too speedy? A little too cozy?”
“Cozy, yes,” said Tidwell. “I’ll even give you unseemly and suspicious. But, as far as I know, not illegal.”
“But just too convenient for words,” said Theodosia.
Tidwell sliced his scone in half, slathered it with about eight pats of butter, added a large glop of strawberry jam, then popped a huge bite into his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully, swallowed, then said, “I should probably tell you about the file.”
“File?” said Theodosia, pouncing on his words. “Are you talking about the missing file?”
“Ah,” said Tidwell, holding up an index finger, “but now it’s no longer missing.”
“What? The information’s been recovered?” This was seriously big news! “From where?” Theodosia asked. “I mean…who had it?”
“Interestingly enough,” said Tidwell, “the file was discovered in Parker’s car.”
“Huh?” said Theodosia. “In his car? But…what?”
“Parker’s brother called,” Tidwell told her. “Charles. He was at Parker’s apartment and happened to look in his car. There it was, just sitting on the backseat.”
“A file,” said Theodosia.
“Right,” said Tidwell. “A file marked Properties.”
“A green file folder just like all the others?”
“Correct,” said Tidwell. “And it was full. A nice fat compendium of paperwork.”
“Full of…” She waggled her fingers to prompt him.
“Contracts, commercial real estate listings, a prospectus here and there, a couple of pitches. All dealing with restaurants or properties Mr. Scully was looking at. And financing proposals.”
“So all the deals,” Theodosia said slowly. She was having trouble processing this information. “Are you telling me the business information that we thought had been stolen really wasn’t missing after all?”
“That’s about the size of it,” said Tidwell. “The paperwork for all Mr. Scully’s potential projects and deals is now accounted for.”
“Even the deal with the Neptune Aquarium?”
“There was a copy of Parker Scully’s pitch to them, yes,” said Tidwell.
Theodosia drummed her fingers on the table. Something still didn’t make sense. The file that had been found in Parker’s car was still not the file with the missing contents. “Then what was in the file marked Current Projects?” she asked.
Tidwell’s shook his head in a dismissive gesture. “Probably nothing important.”
“No,” said Theodosia, “it had to be something important. The contents were missing from Parker’s office. Presumably stolen.”
But Tidwell didn’t see it that way. “Highly doubtful. I’m of a mind that the contents had merely been tossed out. Perhaps they were old invoices. Or orders for restaurant supplies. Mundane items,” said Tidwell. “Or simply worthless.”
“Maybe,” said Theodosia. But, somehow, she wasn’t completely convinced.
Theodosia rinsed out a dozen or so teapots, wiped them carefully, then arranged them on the shelf just below their rows and rows of tea tins. When everything was tidy and neat, according to Drayton’s standards anyway, she set about sweeping the floor. Because she wanted the Indigo Tea Shop to be a sparkling little jewel box, she strived to keep itabsolutely pristine at all times. However, since the place had functioned as a small stable in itslong-ago previous life, dust seemed to have an insidious way of seeping in. Maybe it was just because of daily wear and tear; maybe it found its way up through the pegged wood floorboards?
“Theo,” said Drayton. He stood with his watch in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. “We should talk about the tea ceremony tomorrow night. At the Heritage Society.”
Theodosia straightened up. “I didn’t know you were back. So how’d your lecture go?”
“Quite well,” said Drayton. “Practically a packed house.”
“And you talked about…”
“The legend of tea going back to the Qin dynasty in two hundred B.
C.,” said Drayton. “Then I talked about how the tea gardens spread from the Sichuan hills down into the Yangtze Valley…”
“And quoted some tea poetry,” said Theodosia.
Drayton smiled. “Sung dynasty, to be exact. And wound up talking about tea production today.”
“This expo is proving to be a good thing,” said Theodosia. “For the tea community, anyway.”
“Many of whom will be attending the big finale tomorrow night.”
“I take it you made a special point of inviting your audience to our Japanese tea ceremony.”
“How could I not?” said Drayton.
“And your plans remain pretty much the same? Haley and I will serve tea on the patio while you give a short demonstration on chado.” Chado was the Japanese word for “the way of tea.”
“Yes, but I always like to run things past you,” smiled Drayton.
“Why?”
“Because I do,” Drayton said patiently. Then added, “Perhaps because I have a touch of theobsessive-compulsive?”
“No,” said Theodosia, “that’s Haley. She’s the one who’s slightly OCD. Do you know she actually identified with the wacko guy in Sleeping with the Enemy? The one who kept straightening the towels.”
“What are you saying about me?” asked Haley, as she popped out from behind the velvet curtain.
“We’re marveling over your prodigious baking skills,” said Drayton.
“Yeah?” said Haley, as her sharp eyes scoured the floor. “You missed a spot.” She pointed at a minuscule speck.
“See what I mean?” said Theodosia.
“I know you guys were talking about me,” said Haley. She crossed her arms, gave them a suspicious glance, and all but tapped a foot.
“Actually,” said Drayton, “we were going to quickly go over the plans for the tea ceremony we’re presenting tomorrow evening. Care to join us?”
Haley plopped herself down in a captain’s chair. “Oh goody. Let’s do that. I always feel more confident when we run through our plans.”
“The tea we’ll serve,” said Drayton, “will obviously be Japanese Gyokuro.” This was the finest Japanese green tea, bright in color with a deep vegetal flavor.
“The good stuff,” said Haley. Gyokuro retailed for ten dollars an ounce, versus the everyday Sencha that sold for something like two dollars an ounce.