Death by Darjeeling

by Laura Childs

  The words in hot pursuit formed in Theodosia’s brain, then she sat down heavily on the bed.

  “Miss Browning, everything okay there?” came the voice again in the phone.

  “Yes, your security guard is in pursuit.”

  “We have him on our screen. A second security guard is en route and should be there within two minutes. He will remain parked outside your home through the night. If we get any information on your prowler, we’ll call you.”

  “Thank you,” said Theodosia gratefully.

  She went to the window again and waited for what seemed like an eternity, although it probably was just two minutes, until the second security guard pulled up.

  She flipped the bedroom lights back on and looked at the black dress hanging on her closet door. Well, at least she’d have an interesting story to tell over cocktails tomorrow night!

  CHAPTER 43

  THESE MUGS ARE neat,” said Haley. Federal Express had just delivered a large carton, and Haley was unearthing bubble-wrapped mugs from their nest of plastic peanuts.

  “Did Drayton order these?” asked Bethany.

  Haley nodded. “Gearing up for the holidays. We usually sell a lot of gifty items.” She held a ceramic mug in each hand, one a pink peony pattern, the other a Chinese dragon design. “Look,” she exclaimed, “matching tops to keep your tea warm. Pretty slick.” She pushed the carton across the counter to Bethany. “Why don’t you do one of your pretty arrangements while I pull my pumpkin scones out of the oven. See there, you can slide those trivets and candles over on that middle shelf.”

  “Sounds good,” agreed Bethany as she admired the peony tea mug. “Has Theodosia seen these yet?”

  “No, she’s still on the phone.”

  Theodosia was bent over her desk, head cocked to the left, phone cradled in the crook of her neck. Her right hand clutched a black felt-tip pen. “Give me that plate number again,” she said. Nodding to the disembodied voice on the other end of the phone, she wrote AUY372 on a sheet of paper. She tapped the tip of the pen against the paper sharply, making a series of zigzag doodles around the number. Nervous doodles.

  “And you did get a response from the Motor Vehicles Department? Oh, they’re faxing it now? Yes, of course I’ll hold.”

  Theodosia continued tapping her pen nervously, and her gaze roved the room. It fell upon bookshelves filled with paperwork that demanded her attention. A chair heaped with storyboards that weren’t going anywhere for a while. Cartons filled with tins of holiday teas. She groaned inwardly. That tea alone represented almost 20,000 dollars in potential gross profit. Could she sell it and jump-start business? That remained to be seen.

  “Yes?” She fairly bounced out of her chair when the voice came back on the line. “I didn’t realize a leased auto made a difference. Yes, it is interesting, isn’t it?” she said, although she was clearly disinterested. “You have the name?” She sat up straight, eyes riveted on the plate number she’d written on her paper. “Yes? Tanner Joseph,” she repeated in an odd, flat tone. “Thank you.”

  She slammed the phone down so hard the receiver bounced back out of its cradle.

  “Damn!” she cried.

  Drayton was in Theodosia’s office in a heartbeat, easing the door closed behind him.

  “Shhh.” He held a cautionary finger to his lips. “We’ve got customers!”

  She whirled to face Drayton, chest heaving, complexion mottled with anger, auburn hair in a mad swirl. “It was Tanner Joseph!” She spat the name out with anger and disgust.

  “What was Tanner Joseph?” Drayton asked quietly. He figured the surest way to calm someone was to remain calm yourself, although he could certainly be proved wrong in this case. Theodosia seemed absolutely infuriated.

  “Last night!” she raged and began pacing the confines of her small, cluttered office. “Out in the alley!”

  “Someone was in the alley last night?” asked Drayton. Now his voice rose a few octaves as well. “Theodosia, did something happen after we left?” he demanded.

  “That idiot, Tanner Joseph, was out there. Gold Shield Security just called. One of their security guards got a read on his plate number.” She stomped her foot. “Of all the nerve!”

  “But why would he . . . ?” Drayton let his sentence hang there, searching for a logical explanation. He tried again. “But you already picked up the labels, so . . .”

  His eyes met hers and realization dawned. “Tanner Joseph was stalking you,” whispered Drayton.

  “No kidding,” she said glumly.

  CHAPTER 44

  FOR THE FIRST time in years, Theodosia did not find herself calmed by the simple act of sipping a cup of tea. As she gazed across her desk at Drayton, she realized he wasn’t exactly the poster child for serenity either.

  “What are you going to tell Haley and Bethany?” asked Drayton. He had experienced his own minimeltdown upon hearing that Tanner Joseph had been Theodosia’s unwelcome caller the night before, and now his hair was ruffled from running his hands nervously through it, his tie askew. And Drayton was gulping his tea rather than sipping it.

  “I suppose I’ll have to tell them the truth,” said Theodosia. “Even though we still have the security guard, they need to be on the alert. We don’t know what this character Tanner Joseph is capable of.”

  “We also don’t know if he was the one who left the note the other night,” said Drayton.

  “He could have,” said Theodosia. “But I’m more inclined to believe this was the first time Tanner Joseph has shown up. My guess is he was colossally ticked that I picked up the labels and didn’t hang around to schmooze with him. Although I’m afraid he might have had more on his mind than just schmoozing.”

  Drayton gazed at her glumly. “If that’s the case, it means there are two nut cases walking around.”

  Theodosia put both hands to her temples and massaged them. “Chilling thought, isn’t it?”

  A gentle rap on the door interrupted them.

  “What?” called Drayton.

  The door cracked open no more than an inch.

  “Tidwell just came in,” said Haley. “He wants to speak with Theodosia.”

  “Get out in front right now,” ordered Drayton. “You know Bethany is scared to death of that man!”

  “Okay, okay,” grumped Haley. “Take a chill pill. I can’t be in two places at once!”

  Theodosia gazed wearily at Drayton. “Everything is falling apart,” she murmured. “Ever since the murder of Hughes Barron, nothing’s been the same.”

  Drayton grabbed her hand in his, held it firmly, and met her sad-eyed gaze with genteel fervor. “Hear me, Theodosia. We will get to the bottom of all this. We will unravel this mystery. And when we do, we shall both look back on this and laugh. That’s right; we will find this all terribly droll and amusing, mark my words. Now, Miss Browning, I suggest you smooth your hair and blot your eyes. That’s it,” he said with encouragement. “Can’t have terrible Tidwell thinking anything’s amiss, can we?” He fell in step behind Theodosia. “Bear up, dear girl,” he whispered.

  Theodosia unleashed a warm smile on Burt Tidwell that she somehow managed to dredge from the depths of her soul. “Good morning, Detective Tidwell.” Her voice, still husky from anger, passed for throaty.

  “Miss Browning.” Tidwell favored her with a quick grimace, his rendition of a smile, and Theodosia wondered if there was a Mrs. Tidwell attached to this quaint, quirky man. Pity the poor woman.

  Tidwell half stood as Theodosia seated herself, then crashed down heavily into his chair. They both kept tight smiles on their faces as Haley set cups and saucers, spoons, milk, and a pot of Dimbulla tea in front of them. But no goodies. Theodosia intended to keep this visit brief.

  Tidwell’s bullet-shaped head swiveled on his beefy shoulders, appraising customers at surrounding tables. “Business good?” he asked.

  Theodosia raised her shoulders a notch. “Fine.”

  “As you know, our investigation into Hughe
s Barron’s death has been ongoing.” Tidwell paused, pursed his lips, and took a tiny sip of tea. “Where is this from?” he asked.

  “Ceylon.”

  “It would go well with a sweet.”

  “It would.” Theodosia sat patiently with her hands in her lap. By now she was familiar with Tidwell’s oblique tactics.

  Tidwell blotted his mouth and favored her with a mousy grin.

  Unless . . . she thought as she watched him carefully. Unless the man has something up his sleeve.

  “To assure ourselves of a thorough investigation,” Tidwell continued, “we focused much of our attention on Hughes Barron’s business office here in town as well as his place of residence.” He peered at Theodosia over his teacup. “You may be familiar with his beach condominium. Located on the Isle of Palms?”

  Theodosia gave him nothing.

  “Moving along,” Tidwell continued, “I should tell you that we discovered an object at said condominium. An object that carries the fingerprints of one of your employees.”

  “Is that a fact.”

  “Yes, indeed. And I’m sure you won’t be at all surprised when I tell you the fingerprints—and we obtained a rather excellent four-point match—belong to Bethany Sheperd.”

  Theodosia fairly spat out her next words. “Why don’t you rock my world, Detective Tidwell, and tell me what object Bethany’s fingerprints were found on.”

  “Miss Browning.” His eyes drilled at her. ”That information remains confidential.”

  CHAPTER 45

  BURT TIDWELL SAT in his Crown Victoria and stared at the brick-and-shingle facade of the Indigo Tea Shop. He had purposely not informed the Browning woman that her dear departed neighbor, Harold Dauphine, had, indeed, died of a heart attack. A myocardial infarction, to be exact.

  He knew Theodosia was probably lumping the deaths of Mr. Hughes Barron and Mr. Dauphine together. Putting two and two together, he mused. A trifle off base in this instance. But overall, she hadn’t performed badly for an amateur.

  Burt Tidwell sighed, reached down to his midsection, fumbled for his belt buckle, and released it one notch. There. Better. Now he could draw breath. Now he could even begin to contemplate stopping by Poogan’s Porch for an early lunch. Perhaps some shrimp Creole or a bowl of their famous okra gumbo.

  Tidwell turned the key in the ignition. The engine in the big car caught, then rumbled deeply.

  Theodosia Browning had proved to be highly resourceful. True, she was snoopy and contentious toward him, but she had made some interesting connections and suppositions.

  Best of all, she’d rattled more than a few cages here in Charleston’s historic district. That had certainly served his purpose well. After all, Theodosia was an insider. He was not.

  CHAPTER 46

  DID YOU LET the police fingerprint you?” Theodosia paced back and forth in her small office while Bethany sat perched on a chair. Bethany’s knees were pulled up to her chin, and her hands worked constantly, nervously twisting her long skirt.

  “Yes,” she said in a small voice. “Leyland Hartwell said it was okay. Anyway, the police explained that it was to rule me out.”

  “Bethany, you don’t have to be so defensive. I’m not cross-examining you.”

  “No, that will come later,” replied a glum Bethany.

  “We don’t know that at all,” said Theodosia. Honestly, she thought to herself, the girl could be positively maddening.

  The phone on Theodosia’s desk buzzed, and she snatched up the receiver, almost welcoming a diversion.

  “I understand you had some excitement last night,” said Jory Davis.

  “The security company called you?” said Theodosia, surprised.

  “Of course. I hired them.” There was a long pause, then Jory Davis asked quietly, “Theodosia, are you in over your head on this?”

  She waited so long to reply that Jory Davis finally answered his own question. “Sometimes no answer is an answer,” he said.

  “I promise,” Theodosia said, “to share absolutely everything with you tonight. And to listen carefully to any lawyerly advice you choose to impart.” She paused. “Truly.”

  “Fair enough,” said Jory Davis, seemingly appeased by this. “I await our evening with bated breath.” His voice was tinged with faint amusement.

  “Can I please go back to work?” Bethany asked. She noted that Theodosia had long since hung up the phone but was standing there in the strangest way, staring down at her desk, seemingly lost in thought.

  Theodosia looked up. “What? Oh, of course, Bethany.”

  Bethany jumped up to make her escape.

  “You don’t have any idea what Tidwell was talking about, do you?” Theodosia called to her back.

  Bethany spun on her heel. “About my fingerprints? No. Of course I don’t.” She gazed at Theodosia, the expression on her face a mixture of hurt and humiliation. “I think . . . I think this should probably be my last day here,” sniffled Bethany.

  “Bethany, please.” This was the last thing she wanted, to upset Bethany in any way, to foster more bad feelings.

  “No. My being here has become entirely too problematic.”

  “As you wish, Bethany,” said Theodosia. She waited until Bethany pulled the door closed behind her, then sat down in her chair and sighed. What in her wildest dreams had told her she could possibly solve Hughes Barron’s murder? She had followed her leads and hunches and ended up . . . nowhere. If anything, there were more unanswered questions, more strange twists and turns. Now some mysterious object had been found at Hughes Barron’s condominium, something the police had run tests on and found smatters of Bethany’s fingerprints!

  Theodosia pulled her desk drawer open and hoisted out the Charleston phone directory. As the book thudded on top of her desk, she quickly flipped through the front pages. Just past the directory assistance and long-distance calling pages, she found the number she wanted. The Charleston Police Department.

  She dialed the number nervously, knowing this was a long shot.

  “Cletus Aubrey, please,” she told the central operator when she came on the line.

  “Which department?” asked the disinterested voice.

  “Computer records,” said Theodosia.

  “You don’t have that extension?” The operator seemed vexed.

  “Sorry, I don’t,” said Theodosia, feeling silly for apologizing to an operator whose job it was to look up numbers.

  Cletus Aubrey was a childhood friend. He had grown up in the low-country on a farm down the road from the Browning plantation. As children, she and Cletus had spent many summer days together, romping through the woods, wading in streams, and tying pieces of string around chicken necks and trolling creek bottoms to catch crabs. Interested in law enforcement early on, Cletus had received encouragement from her father, Macalester Browning. And when Cletus graduated from high school, he went on to a two-year law enforcement program, then joined the Charleston Police Department.

  “Mornin’, Cletus Aubrey.”

  “Cletus? It’s Theodosia. Theodosia Browning.”

  She heard a sharp intake of breath and then rich, warm laughter.

  “As I live and die, I don’t believe it. How are you, Miss Browning?”

  “Cletus, exactly when did I become Miss Browning?”

  “When you stopped running through the swamp bare-foot and started running a tea shop. Listen, girl, it pleases me to call you Miss Browning. Reminds me of how you followed in the graceful footsteps of your Aunt Libby. And, by the way, how is Aunt Libby?”

  “Very well.”

  “Still treating her feathered friends with all manner of seed and millet?”

  “She’s extended her generosity to woodchucks, raccoons, and opossum, too.”

  Cletus Aubrey chuckled again. “The good things in life never change. Theo, Miss Browning, to what do I owe this blast from the past, this walk down memory lane?”

  “Cletus, I have a favor to ask.”

  “Ask a
way.”

  “You used to work in the property room, am I correct?”

  “For three years. Before I went to night school and turned into a computer nut.”

  “How big a deal would it be to snoop around in there?”

  “No big deal at all if I had a general idea what I was on the lookout for.”

  “Let’s just call it a mysterious object found in the home of a Mr. Hughes Barron.”

  “Uh-oh, the old mysterious object search. Yeah, I can probably pull that off. What was the name again? Barron?”

  “Yes. B-A-R-R-O-N.”

  “The first name is Hughes?”

  “That’s it,” said Theodosia

  “One of the guys who works in property owes me twenty bucks from a bet he lost on last week’s Citadel game. I’ll harass him and have a look around. Kill two birds with one stone.”

  “Cletus, you’re a gem.”

  “That’s what I keep telling my wife, only she’s not buyin’ it.”

  Theodosia was deep in conversation with one of the sales reps at Frank & Fuller, a tea wholesaler in Montclair, New Jersey, when the other phone line lit up. It was Cletus calling back.

  “You ain’t gonna like this, Miss Browning,” he began.

  “What was it, Cletus?”

  “Some tea thingamajig.”

  “Describe it to me,” said Theodosia.

  “Silver, lots of little holes.”

  “A tea infuser.”

  “You sell those?” asked Cletus.

  “By the bushel,” Theodosia said with a sigh.

  CHAPTER 47

  THE LAST SIX months of sales receipts were laid out on Theodosia’s desk. Haley had tried to stack them, month by month, in some semblance of order, but there were so many of the flimsy paper receipts they kept sliding around and sorting into their own piles.

  “This is everything?” asked Theodosia. In an effort to gain some control and a slight appearance of tidiness, she had pinned her hair up in a bun, much to Haley’s delight.