by Laura Childs
Earl Grey flipped an ear up and gazed at her with serious brown eyes.
“That’s right, although I guess she’s your Great-Aunt Libby. In dog terms.”
Earl Grey watched carefully as Theodosia bustled about her kitchen, filling his bowl with fresh, clean water and pouring out a cup and a half of kibble.
“What time did Haley bring you home today?” Theodosia asked.
“Rwrrr.”
“Four?” said Theodosia. “Did she let you wander through the tea shop, too, once everyone had left? Did you get to play tea shop dog?”
At the words tea shop Earl Grey wagged his tail.
“So she did. Yeah, Haley loves to push the envelope, doesn’t she? Good thing the health inspectors didn’t drop in for a surprise visit.” She set the bowl of kibble down on a place mat that said BLESS THIS FOOD. “Oh well. No harm done.”
Five minutes later, Theodosia was upstairs, tearing through her walk-in closet. She needed something sort of Asian-inspired to wear tonight and she thought she had the perfect top. Except right now…she wasn’t finding it. She pounded into her bedroom, rummaged through the dresser drawers, and finally found it. A sort of kimono top, done in pale blues and greens with a lovely crane motif.
Back in the closet she pulled out a pair of tapered white silk slacks. Perfect. She put on the top and slacks, then shucked her feet into a nice pair of leather thongs. A string of pale jade beads went around her neck.
In the bathroom, Theodosia brushed out her hair, gathered it into a loose ponytail, and twisted it around. She pinned it carefully and gazed into the mirror. Hustling back into the bedroom, she rummaged through a basket piled with strands of pearls, antique brooches, and bangle bracelets. Selecting a pair of blue-and-gold lacquer chopsticks, she stuck them in her bun. Then she gazed into the mirror at her reflection and wrinkled her nose. Too much? Maybe. Maybe not. She’d have to ask Haley.
24
Jumbo shrimp wrapped in blankets of tempura batter sizzled and bobbed in Haley’s electric deep fryer. Perfectly wrapped tuna and avocado rolls were artfully arranged on a black lacquer tray. Theodosia, Drayton, and Haley had crowded into the small utility kitchen at the Heritage Society, preparing the appetizers and tea for the evening. Outside, on the patio, Drayton’s bonsai had been positioned on stone pillars that surrounded a pattering fountain, and a backdrop of tall, emerald-green stalks of bamboo swayed in the night breeze. Japanese lanterns cast an intimate orange glow as guests began to trickle in.
As Theodosia assembled miniature skewers of chicken teriyaki, she shared the afternoon’s dramatic (and traumatic) events with Drayton and Haley.
“How utterly terrifying!” Drayton exclaimed. He’d hung breathlessly on every single word of her story. “Did you call the police?”
“What would they have done?” said Haley. “Arrest a bunch of bees?”
“I’m talking about reporting the truck that ran her off the road,” said Drayton.
“Oh,” said Haley.
“I thought about calling local law enforcement,” said Theodosia. “Until I realized I wouldn’t be able to give them a decent description. I never even caught a couple digits from the license plate, and I figured ‘dark-colored truck’ might be a bit obscure.”
“Are you sure you were deliberately run off the road?” asked Haley.
“It sure felt like it at the time,” said Theodosia.
“And then someone startled the bees,” said Drayton. “That all sounds extremely deliberate to me. As if…” He paused to measure out several scoops of green tea. “As if someone was seriously harassing you. Or wanted to inflict bodily harm.”
“It could just be a bad coincidence,” said Haley.
“It could be,” said Theodosia.
“Or someone wants you out of the way,” said Drayton, in a low tone.
Haley looked suddenly worried. “Why would that be? Because Theodosia’s been investigating Parker’s death?”
“That’s exactly what comes to mind,” said Drayton.
“But who would be after her?” asked Haley. She turned to Theodosia. “Who do you think it was?”
“No clue,” said Theodosia.
“That’s really the crux of the matter, isn’t it?” saidDrayton. “No definitive clues. Concerning Parker’s murder, I mean.”
“Certainly nothing concrete,” said Theodosia. “Nothing that could lead to an arrest.”
“Frustrating,” Drayton murmured. “And now it’s turning dangerous for you.” He gave Theodosia a long, knowing look.
“Now that you mention it,” said Haley as she mulled over their words, “stirring up those bees does sound downright intentional.” She used a pair of long wooden chopsticks to flip her shrimp over in the bubbling oil. “Poor Aunt Libby! Getting stung must have been awful!”
“If it makes you feel any better,” said Theodosia, “poor Aunt Libby was eating chicken piccata and watching a Julia Roberts movie when I left.”
“Oh,” said Haley. “That does sound kind of relaxing. So she really is okay?”
“They’re keeping her overnight for observation,” said Theodosia. “But, yes, all things considered, I think she’ll be just fine.”
“Aunt Libby is tough,” said Drayton. “She’s a little woman with a backbone of forged steel.”
“That’s true,” said Theodosia, “but she iseighty-two.”
“She lived through World War Two,” said Haley. World War II was Haley’s benchmark forrock-bottom courage. Anybody who’d been alive during that era, whether they were a soldier, a factory worker, a farmer, a homemaker, or just a kid, was, in her eyes, a genuine hero.
“She didn’t exactly fight in the war,” Drayton pointed out.
“Well, I know that!” said Haley. She dipped a flatbamboo-and-mesh scoop into the oil and snagged a dozen golden shrimp. Then she deposited them on thick paper towels. “Okay, these are ready. Just stick toothpicks in them and pile them on the end of that platter, next to the California rolls.”
“Then I can take the platter out?” asked Theodosia.
Haley bobbed her head. “Set it on the tea table and people can just help themselves. No need to circulate among the guests or anything since this isn’t black tie.”
“Just black kimono,” said Drayton. He was wearing a short, black silk kimono jacket over his white shirt and black slacks.
“You, my friend,” Haley chuckled at Drayton, “look like some sort of disreputable waiter in that getup.”
Drayton pulled himself to his full height and peered down his aquiline nose. “I’ll have you know this is an authentic haori coat from the Meiji period.”
“Is that so?” said Haley, squinting at him.
“And I brought along kimonos for both of you to wear,” continued Drayton. “Borrowed from a friend who has a rather extensive collection.”
“Really?” said Haley. “You think kimonos are better than what Theodosia has on?”
“Just more authentic,” said Drayton. He reached around behind him and pulled a rustle of silk from a shopping bag. When he unfurled it, they were looking at a full-lengthpeach-colored kimono decorated with purple flowers.
“That’s absolutely gorgeous,” said Theodosia.
“Then this shall be yours,” said Drayton. He adjusted his tortoiseshellhalf-glasses. “That floral motif happens to be wisteria, by the way. A harbinger of spring in Japan.”
“What about my kimono?” asked Haley, suddenly interested.
Drayton pulled out a second kimono, a red one. “Red to match your temperament, but adorned with lovely white cranes, which are always an auspicious symbol.”
“Kinda neat,” said Haley.
“Neat,” said Drayton, the word dripping off his tongue.
Haley watched as Theodosia stepped into her kimono, then let Drayton tie a long, cream-colored obi around her waist. “You look like some sort of vision in that,” Haley observed. “Like you should be swooping down from Mt. Fuji on the back of afire-breathing
dragon.”
“No fire breathing tonight,” said Drayton, “except for the hot coals in my hibachi.”
Theodosia adjusted the obi, pulling it a little tighter, then scooped up the tray of Japanese goodies. “Okay?” she asked. She was just happy Drayton didn’t expect her to totter around an uneven patio wearing wooden geta.
Drayton and Haley both nodded their approval.
“Hey!” Haley exclaimed, just noticing Theodosia’s updo. “I like what you did with those chopsticks. In your hair, I mean. A little bit of Harajuku hip mingled with the elegance of a geisha!”
“Good heavens!” exclaimed Timothy Neville, the moment Theodosia stepped out onto the patio. “Don’t you look lovely!”
“Thank you,” said Theodosia. Timothy was the octogenarian executive director of the Heritage Society, a small, simian-looking man with a cap of thin, white hair above his tightly stretched countenance. Well-connected, with a lineage that ran all the way back to the early Huguenots, Timothy was rich as Croesus and ran the Heritage Society with an iron fist. He was also, Theodosia knew for a fact, a permanent fixture. In fact, Timothy had let it be known that when he finally departed the Heritage Society, it would be feet first in a horizontal position. Though several members had chuckled at this, Theodosia didn’t doubt Timothy for a moment.
“Tell me,” said Timothy, looking rather elegant in his trim white dinner jacket, “since Drayton was the one who set up this event, what exactly is on the program for tonight?” His spidery fingers hovered above a piece of sushi, then switched direction and grabbed a plump shrimp.
“As soon as all our guests arrive,” said Theodosia, “Drayton’s going to perform a tea ceremony.”
Timothy grimaced. “This is going to be an elaborate ritual?”
“Actually, it’s rather simple,” said Theodosia. “More of a demonstration than anything.”
“Excellent,” said Timothy, his eyes drifting away, taking in the crowd of people who continued to gather and exchange air kisses. He was thinking, no doubt, that there had to be some donor still untapped whose arm could be twisted into ponying up substantial money for his beloved institution.
“Thank you for letting us use your patio,” said Theodosia. This wasn’t exactly a HeritageSociety–sanctioned event. It was really more of a favor to her and Drayton and the sponsors of the Coffee & Tea Expo.
Timothy waved a hand. “Think nothing of it.” He lowered his voice. “Oh, good gracious, here comes that crazy woman Delaine. A prodigiousfund-raiser, to be sure, but such a dreadful gossip.” And off Timothy darted, disappearing into the crowd.
Delaine had already spotted Theodosia and was waving madly, her wrist clanking with glittering bracelets. “Theodosia!” she cried, taking little baby steps, all her tight gold sheath dress and matchingfour-inch stilettos would allow. Then, drawing closer, she whooped, “Oh, Theo! Don’t you look all colorful and delicious and exotic! Dare I say it? Like a courtier who just stepped out of some marvelous Ukiyo-e print!”
“Uki-what?” said Dougan Granville, who had been dragged along in Delaine’s frothy wake.
“Ukiyo-e literally translates as ‘pictures of a floating world,’” Theodosia explained. “It’s a term that refers to the Japanese woodblock prints of the seventeenth through nineteenth centuries.”
“Oh,” Granville grunted. He’d turned to eye the crowd. Looking for a means of escape, perhaps? But Theodosia had a few questions for Dougan Granville.
“Dougan,” Theodosia began, “since you’re on the board of the Neptune Aquarium, I was wondering if you knew exactly how the restaurant franchise was awarded?”
“Huh?” Granville was distracted and still looking around.
“Dougan?” said Delaine, gazing lovingly up at him. She gave his arm a little tug. “The restaurant franchise?”
“The one that was awarded to Lyle Manship?” said Theodosia, giving him a prompt. “Can you explain why he was the recipient?”
Granville pulled a Cohiba cigar from the breast pocket of his finely tailored navy jacket and twiddled it between his fingers. “No idea,” he said.
“But you’re on the board,” said Theodosia.
Delaine sidled even closer to Granville, suddenly in a defensive posture. “Dougan serves on several boards.”
“There are boards and then there are working boards,” said Granville, as if that were explanation enough.
“Are you telling me you’re a board member in name only?” said Theodosia.
“Something like that,” said Granville. “In the case of the Neptune Aquarium, where funding came from individuals as well as the city and the federal government, they have atop-notch executive committee already in place. You know, an executive director, assistant director, financial officer, marketing guy, that sort of thing.”
“The thing is,” said Theodosia, “Lyle Manship, who received the restaurant franchise, is a bit of a sleazeball. I understand there’s even been some impropriety in his past.”
“You don’t say,” said Granville. He looked surprised, as if this were the first he’d heard.
“So I was wondering,” said Theodosia, “why his past business dealings wouldn’t have been investigated a little more thoroughly.”
“You’d have to talk to the executive director about that,” said Granville.
“You mean David Sedakis,” said Theodosia.
“That’s right,” said Granville.
“It’s a known fact that Manship does have a checkered past,” said Theodosia, “so do you think David Sedakis might have overlooked that?” She took a deep breath, then asked, “Do you think money might have changed hands?”
“I don’t know,” said Granville. But his body language and squared shoulders clearly stated, And I don’t want to know.
Still, Theodosia pushed him. “Do you think you could try to find out? Do a little digging?”
Granville looked pained. “Perhaps.”
“Mypumpkin-poo is frightfully busy right now,” said Delaine.
“I know you want to be a responsible board member,” Theodosia continued, “even if you’re there in name only.”
Granville looked even more pained.
“Because if there had been some sort ofunder-the-table deal,” said Theodosia, “you certainly wouldn’t want your name attached to it. You wouldn’t want to have your stellar reputation impugned. After all, you’ve worked long and hard to establish your law firm as one of Charleston’s preeminent firms.” Theodosia pretty much choked on these last words, even though they seemed to be effective in hitting their target.
Granville looked like he was turning green, while Delaine clenched her jaw so hard she looked like she’d pop a filling. Theodosia had touched upon the one thing that everyone in the upper reaches of Charleston society feared most. Scandal.
“I’ll look into it,” Granville muttered.
“Thank you,” said Theodosia. “I appreciate it.”
25
The tea ceremony was beautiful. With everyone seated on folding chairs, and a musician plucking out a simple, haunting tune on a Japanese koto, Drayton stepped to a small raised platform and began.
“My tetsubin…” he said, indicating a black iron teapot that was heating on a small hibachi, “is filled with water and about to come to a boil. But, as in the preparation of any fine tea, one never allows the water to reach full boil.”
There were murmurs and nods from the crowd as they gave him their rapt attention.
“In fact,” Drayton continued, “there’s a famous Japanese adage that serves as a perfect reference.” He gave a quick smile, then said, “‘Carp eyes coming, fish eyes going, soon will be the wind in the pines.’ You see,” he explained, “the fish eyes are the tiny bubbles, and the carp eyes are the large bubbles that generally herald a good roiling boil. And the wind in the pines is, of course, the beginning rush of the teapot’s whistle.”
This charming metaphor drew a round of applause from thetea-loving crowd.
&nb
sp; Lifting his teapot off the glowing coals of the hibachi, Drayton poured water into a small, sea-green ceramic bowl. Then, opening a matching ceramic jar, he used a long wooden spoon to extract several spoonfuls of green tea powder. This was then added to the water in the bowl. With a bamboo whisk, Drayton whipped the tea and water together until it turned into a lovely green froth.
“We turn the bowl three times,” he said, rotating the bowl, “and then our cup of tea is ready to drink.” He handed the bowl to Theodosia, who was standing nearby. She accepted the bowl with both hands and took a tiny sip. “Chado means ‘tea house,’” said Drayton, with a smile. “And every cup of tea is singly and individually prepared for each person.”
Theodosia handed the cup back to Drayton as he continued. “Because tea, music, and poetry blend together so well,” he told everyone, “I shall share with you a simple haiku written by Kyoshi Takahama.”
Ikiteiru
Shirushi ni sin-cha
Okuru toka
“Which translates to,” said Drayton, “He will send green tea, as a token of living, my friend’s letter reads.” He spread his arms wide and nodded toward his audience. “And now, we shall serve freshly made Gyokuro tea, also known as ‘Precious Dew,’ as well as Japanese rice cookies and appetizers. And bid everyone to partake of this beautiful evening of peace and friendship.”
“Don’t you think you were a little hard on Dougan?” Delaine asked Theodosia. Her mouth was tightly pursed, her eyes flashing a warning.
Theodosia had finished pouring tea for all the guests at the party and was now enjoying awell-deserved cup of tea herself.
“I didn’t mean to be,” said Theodosia. “I’m just trying to get to the bottom of things.”
“This investigating thing you do,” said Delaine. “It can be a bit tedious.” Delaine took a quick sip of tea, then scanned the throng of guests, obviously keeping an eye out for Dougan.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” said Theodosia. “But when you lose someone who’s near and dear to you, it’s only natural to want to see his killer brought to justice.”