Pekoe Most Poison

by Laura Childs

  “She’s not going home?” Drayton asked. Haley lived upstairs, in what had been Theodosia’s old apartment.

  “It’s Friday night, Drayton. Still early for her. She’s going to hang with her friends.”

  “Youth,” Drayton said, a faraway look in his eyes.

  “Would you like a ride home?” Theodosia asked.

  Drayton took a final sip of tea and set his teacup down. “No, no, it’s a lovely evening. Fairly mild, so I think I’ll walk home. Stretch these old legs a bit. Besides . . . I could use the fresh air. It’ll help to clear my head.”

  “I hope Starla’s theatrics didn’t upset you.”

  “Well, they didn’t make me happy, that’s for sure. The woman not only interrupted my presentation, she acted completely unhinged. I couldn’t believe how you were able to deal with her and not lose your cool.”

  “I didn’t have a choice,” Theodosia said. “Starla was making an awful scene and I just wanted to get her as far away from our guests as possible.”

  “Do you think she’s over her snit fit? Now that the police have released her?”

  “No idea. I don’t know if Starla’s still considered a suspect or not. For all I know she may come boomeranging back at us tomorrow.”

  “Hopefully not.” Drayton sighed as he pulled on his herringbone driving cap.

  “Okay, Drayton, take care. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Drayton put two fingers to his forehead in a jaunty salute. “You can count on it.”

  • • •

  Candles guttered in their pewter and brass holders as Theodosia puttered about the tea shop by herself. She straightened chairs, found a couple of errant teacups that had been stuck on a shelf along with her depleted stash of scone mixes and T-Bath products.

  Thank goodness tonight’s guests had also been eager shoppers. She must have sold a dozen tins of tea, several tubes of Chamomile Cream, a couple of jars of honey, and, oh yes, one of her grapevine wreaths (the only one she’d left on the wall!) had found a new home as well.

  Theodosia glanced around at the tea shop and smiled. This was the time she liked best. The day drawing to a close, the blessed solitude of being by herself in her tidy little shop. It was a time for contemplation, for feeling a glow of pride in the small business that she’d created.

  She would never forget what a wreck the place had been when she’d first set eyes on it. But she’d seen the potential, worked up her courage, and signed the lease.

  Then she’d set about building shelves and counters and whitewashing the walls. A tea stain had been applied to the pegged wooden floors, a retail area established, and then . . . then she’d added her own brand of love. Because wasn’t that what dreams were all about? Taking chances? Embracing your passion in life? Living that passion?

  The phone on the front counter began to ring, interrupting her mood.

  Theodosia sighed. Should she answer it or let the answering machine pick it up? Oh well, she supposed it might be something important. Might be. But probably wasn’t.

  Reluctantly, she snatched up the phone on the fifth ring. “Indigo Tea Shop,” she said in what she hoped was a moderately pleasant voice. “How may I help you?”

  “Is this Theodosia?” a woman asked in a tentative voice.

  “Yes.” Theodosia didn’t recognize the caller at all.

  “My name is Lucille Hart,” the woman said. “You don’t know me, but I’m calling for your friend Mr. Conneley.”

  “Drayton? Yes?” Theodosia gripped the phone a little tighter. Drayton had asked someone to call her? But why? What was going on?

  “There’s been a problem,” Lucille said. “Mr. Conneley has been . . . well, there’s no easy way to say this. Your friend was involved in a hit-and-run accident.”

  “What!”

  “He’s . . .”

  Theodosia cut her off. “How . . . how badly is he hurt?” she stammered. This was unbelievable. Drayton had just left here barely twenty minutes ago.

  “Well . . . there was blood. I think he hit his head pretty hard. And his knee . . .”

  “Where are you?” Theodosia barked out. “I’ll come right away. Wait. Did you phone for an ambulance?”

  “Yes,” Lucille said. “In fact, they just arrived a couple of minutes ago. But Mr. Conneley was insistent that I call you, too.” She took a deep breath. “We’re at the corner of King Street and Tradd.”

  “I’ll be right there as soon as I can. I’ll leave immediately. And thank you!”

  25

  By the time Theodosia arrived, Drayton was lying on a gurney and about to be loaded into the back of a red-and-white ambulance. Lights flashed, the truck engine idled loudly, and Drayton was putting up one heck of a protest.

  “I’m fine, I’m fine,” Drayton told the two young EMTs who were trying to care for him. Then, when he saw Theodosia jump out of her Jeep and race toward him, her face rigid with fear, he lifted a hand and gave a feeble wave. “Theo, you didn’t have to come,” he called out in a croaky voice. “I’m fine. No need to worry about me.”

  “Drayton!” Theodosia cried. Was he serious? He’d been bodily assaulted. He was being carted off to the hospital, for goodness’ sake!

  Drayton looked pale and a little frail beneath a fluttering white blanket. But he continued to fuss as one of the EMTs, a young woman with frizzy red hair, kept trying to fit an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose.

  “Sir, just suck on a few O’s, okay?” the lady EMT asked. “It’ll make you feel better.”

  “I told you I’m fine,” Drayton protested.

  “Please, Drayton,” Theodosia implored as she stood at his side. “Let this nice lady put an oxygen mask on you. It’ll make you feel better.”

  “I feel absolutely fine as it is,” Drayton said. “But if it will make you happy, then all right. I’ll wear the silly mask.”

  “Thank you,” the lady EMT said to Theodosia.

  She placed the mask on Drayton’s face and then she and her male partner finished loading Drayton into the back of the ambulance. Then the partner jumped in, squatted down next to Drayton, and pulled the back door of the ambulance shut.

  “We’re taking him to the ER at Mercy Medical,” the lady EMT said, turning to face Theodosia. “So if you want to follow along, you’re welcome to do so.”

  “Thank you,” Theodosia said. “I will. But first I . . .” She gestured toward a middle-aged lady in a khaki raincoat who was standing off to the side with her dog. “I need to talk . . .”

  “Are you Theodosia?” the woman called, coming over to join her as the ambulance pulled away with a loud bleat.

  Theodosia turned to greet her. “Yes, I am. Are you Lucille?”

  The woman nodded. “That’s right. Lucille Hart.”

  Theodosia put her arms around Lucille and hugged her. “Thank you for your call. Thank you for finding him.” She was flustered and scared and wasn’t exactly sure what to say.

  “I just stumbled upon your friend by accident,” Lucille said. “I was out walking Madison . . .” She gestured at her fawn-colored shar-pei, who was snuffling around at the end of a leash. “And we saw something lying on the sidewalk. It was so dark that at first I thought it was a pile of leaves or an old coat. And then the coat rolled over and moaned.” She put a hand to her chest as if to still her fluttering heart. “Scared me half to death. You don’t see something like that every day.”

  “Thank you for your quick response,” Theodosia said. “For calling an ambulance right away.”

  “You know,” Lucille said, “Mr. Conneley wanted me to call you first.”

  Hot tears prickled in Theodosia’s eyes. “Oh no, he didn’t really.”

  “Mr. Conneley was quite insistent,” Lucille said. “But I figured I should call for help first and notify friends second.”

  “You figure
d right. Thank you so much.”

  “It’s very strange,” Lucille said. “Madison and I take a walk almost every night and we’ve never encountered any problems before.”

  “You said that Drayton was just lying there, so obviously he’d just been attacked. Hit or mugged or whatever. Did you, by any chance, see anyone in the vicinity?”

  Lucille shook her head. “I’m afraid not. Like I said, it was dark and pretty quiet. And the fog had just started to roll in from the harbor, so that kind of deadened sounds and obscured visibility.” She paused. “Well, there was a car maybe half a block away.”

  “A car?” Theodosia’s heart suddenly lurched inside her chest. A car? Maybe like the one that tried to hit me last night?

  “Yes, but it was just pulling away from the curb, so I can’t imagine it was involved.”

  “Did you happen to get the license plate?”

  “I’m sorry, no,” Lucille said. “As you can see, it was much too dark.”

  “Any chance you could tell what kind of car it was?”

  “I don’t really know much about automobile makes and models,” Lucille said. “But I’d say it was a smaller type of car.”

  “You mean like a Honda or a Buick?”

  “Maybe smaller.” Lucille put a hand to her mouth and thought for a few seconds. “Oh.”

  “What?”

  “I just remembered something.”

  “What’s that?” Theodosia asked.

  “The car that pulled away . . . it was kind of low and rounded.” Lucille’s eyes fluttered closed and then opened again, as if she was trying to recall a specific image. “For some reason it reminded me of a bug.”

  “You mean like a VW Beetle?”

  “I think maybe bigger than that. Wider. And nicer . . . more like an expensive sports car.”

  Theodosia was suddenly searching her memory, trying to think of anyone who drove a sports car. And then it came to her. Big Reggie owned a Porsche 911. Big Reggie, who hadn’t made it to the Candlelight Tea tonight.

  • • •

  When Theodosia located Drayton in the ER he seemed to be resting comfortably. He was propped up on a bed that had white curtains drawn on either side of it, and a nurse had just finished taking his blood pressure.

  “You scared the crap out of me,” Theodosia said.

  “That’s a fine greeting,” Drayton said. He still sounded croaky, but his color was better. The oxygen had helped.

  Theodosia sat down on the edge of his bed. “How are you feeling?”

  “The ER doctor says I’m doing just fine. Nothing broken, just a few bumps and bruises. He mumbled something about a head CT, but I told him I’ve always been known for my hard head.”

  “But you got knocked down by a car, is that right?”

  Drayton put a hand behind his head and looked thoughtful. “I think that’s what happened. I mean, everything happened so fast. It was like some bizarre art film with too many jump cuts. One minute I was striding along, playing a snatch of Vivaldi in my head, and the next thing I know I was flying tail over teakettle and going kersplat on the sidewalk.”

  Theodosia practically ground her teeth together. “So it was a car that hit you? You didn’t just get dizzy and pass out?”

  “I think it was a car. But it mostly grazed me.”

  “Did you see the car? Can you remember anything about it?”

  Drayton closed his eyes for a few moments. “I did not see the actual car. But as I was lying there, viewing an entire constellation of stars and trying to figure out exactly what happened, I heard a crash. I think that after the car swerved, or lost control, or whatever happened when it came at me, that it also clipped a nearby lamppost.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  “Yes, I distinctly remember hearing a sort of clunk and then a loud scraping sound. You know, metal rending against metal.”

  “We need to file a police report,” Theodosia said.

  “Yes, the nurse said there was an officer that would stop by.”

  “Forget that,” Theodosia said. “I’m calling Detective Riley.”

  Drayton looked nervous. “Are you sure? Do you really think you should bother him with this?”

  Theodosia gave a harsh smile. “It’s going to be my pleasure.”

  • • •

  “Somebody hit him!” Theodosia yelled into her cell phone. “They tried to mow him down like roadkill!” She was standing in the hallway, several hundred yards from the emergency room so Drayton wouldn’t hear her screaming. It had taken her a while to get patched through to Detective Pete Riley, but now that she had him on the line she was venting like crazy.

  “Whoa, wait a minute,” Riley said. “You’re telling me it was a hit-and-run?”

  “That’s exactly what it was. Which is why I’m making a police report directly to you.”

  “Okay.” He sounded just this side of obliging.

  “And the cherry on top of the cake is that someone tried to do the exact same thing to me last night!”

  “Theodosia, are you serious?” Now Riley sounded alarmed. Now she definitely had his attention. “Do you have an idea who the driver was?”

  “No, but I think it could have been Reggie Huston. The woman who found Drayton and phoned for an ambulance, Lucille Hart, said she saw a sports car pulling away from the curb.” Theodosia was so wound up she was forgetting to breathe. She had to pause and force herself to take a big gulp of air. “And you know who drives a sports car, don’t you? It’s Reggie Huston. He’s got a Porsche 911.”

  “Theodosia,” Riley said. “Think for a moment. Why would Huston do something like that? What would he gain by injuring or even killing Drayton?”

  “Are you serious? If he’s the guy who murdered Beau Briggs and Marcus Covey, then he probably thinks we’re hot on his trail.”

  “Are you hot on his trail?” Riley asked. “Or someone’s trail?”

  Theodosia thought for a moment. “I thought we were. Anyway, I think Huston might be trying to scare us off.”

  “Both of you?”

  “Yes, both of us. But it’s not going to work. I’m not going to sit idly by and let him come after us like that!”

  “Theodosia,” Riley said. “Please calm down.”

  “I’m not going to calm down until we find the maniac who did this and put him behind bars!”

  “You mean until I find him,” Riley said.

  “That’s the other thing,” Theodosia said. She knew she had to shift gears and bring up Starla as well. “It might not be a him. Is Starla Crane still a suspect?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Because she came flying into my tea shop tonight like the Wicked Witch of the West on a nuclear-powered broomstick. She was all upset because you guys brought her in for questioning.”

  “It was only questioning.”

  “I realize that, but Starla is one unhappy, hyped-up cupcake right now. She’s so angry that . . . well, I suppose she could have been the crazed driver tonight. I don’t know. Does Starla even own a sports car?”

  There was silence on the other end of the line.

  “Oh no,” Theodosia cried. “She does, doesn’t she? Tell the truth!”

  “Starla drives an older model Jaguar XJ,” Riley said. “But so do a lot of people. Mmm . . . you say she stopped by your tea shop tonight?”

  “She came bursting in and started screaming at me. She thought I was the reason she’d been hauled in for questioning.”

  “Holy cow.”

  “Yes, holy cow. Holy crap, if you really want to know the truth.”

  “Okay, okay,” Riley said. “I’ll jump right on this. It’s late, but I’ll start rattling some cages.”

  “Good,” Theodosia said. “And while you’re at it you should probably take another look at Do
reen Briggs as well as the Whitleys. I don’t think you should leave any stone unturned.”

  “Are you still at the hospital? Can I reach you at this number?”

  “I’ll be here all night if I have to.”

  • • •

  Drayton was sitting on the edge of his bed, lacing his shoes when Theodosia came back into the ER.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Theodosia asked.

  “Home.” Drayton gave her a perfunctory smile.

  “Do you think that’s wise?”

  “I’ve been cleared by the ER doctor.”

  “Seriously? You’re not just making this up because you don’t want to stay overnight, get fussed over, and be forced to eat boring hospital food? I know how much you detest gelatin with little bits of fruit.”

  “Do you want to see the release form?” Drayton asked.

  “Okay, I believe you.”

  “So you’ll drive me home?”

  “No, Drayton. I’m going to let you hitch a ride with some other banged-up refugee from the ER. Of course I’ll drive you home. When would you like to go?”

  “Now?”

  But just as they walked through the automatic door and into the parking lot, Theodosia’s phone began to ring.

  It was Detective Riley calling back.

  “Guess what?” he said.

  “You closed the case?” Theodosia asked, a hopeful note coloring her voice. “You arrested Reggie Huston and he freely admitted that he murdered Beau Briggs and Marcus Covey? And that he tried to run down Drayton?”

  “Not quite,” Riley said. “It turns out that Reggie Huston’s car was stolen this afternoon.”

  Theodosia’s mouth dropped open. “No way.”

  “Way,” Riley said. “Huston even called in a report at . . . let’s see . . . five forty-five this afternoon.”

  “How convenient for him. I hope you realize that Reggie was just setting up his alibi.”

  “Still, the fact remains that his car is missing,” Riley said. “It might have been Reggie’s car that hit Drayton with somebody else driving it. Or it could be a different car and driver altogether. We just don’t know.”