Shades of Earl Grey

by Laura Childs

  “Pages and pages of Internet auction bids.”

  “And all on the sale of antiques and jewelry,” mused Jory. “I’d say that’s fairly incriminating.” He thought for a minute. “Let me run a check on this Graham Carmody, see what turns up. You never know, he could have an arrest record.”

  “What about Cooper Hobcaw?” asked Theodosia.

  “We won’t find anything there. If he had a record, he wouldn’t be doing the kind of lawyering he is.”

  “There’s one person we really haven’t discussed,” said Theodosia.

  “The woman from the Heritage Society?”

  “Right,” said Theodosia. “Claire Kitridge.”

  “Doesn’t feel right,” said Jory.

  “Doesn’t to me, either,” agreed Theodosia. “Why would Claire swipe Delaine’s watch then plant it in her own desk? That hardly seems logical.” On the other hand, Theodosia thought to herself, what was overtly illogical was often discounted by investigators. They often assumed criminals would act in a certain pattern or mode. So Claire could be dumb like a fox.

  “Anyway,” said Theodosia, “I get the feeling that any one of our suspects had the talent and wherewithal to snatch Delaine’s watch and plant it in Claire Kitridge’s desk. And the access,” she added.

  Jory nodded. “They’re all clever enough, that’s for sure.”

  “So what’s next?” asked Theodosia.

  “Not sure,” said Jory.

  Theodosia gazed up into the night sky. The moon was almost as round and orange as a wheel of cheddar. “If I had to put money on one of them,” she mused, “I think I’d pick Graham Carmody.”

  “Why so?” asked Jory.

  “Because of his familiarity with the layout at the Heritage Society. He’s worked there several times as a waiter. Knows the kitchen and back hallways and such. Plus people don’t usually give waiters a second glance. Especially when they’re busy partying and schmoozing it up.”

  As the moon continued to rise, full and round in the night sky, they talked back and forth, tossing around various theories. Finally, people began spilling out of the concert hall.

  “It’s over?” said Theodosia. “We missed the entire second half?”

  “Looks that way,” said Jory.

  Good heavens, she thought. And we aren’t any closer to finding an answer. But at least I feel better having talked it all over with Jory.

  “Isn’t that your Aunt Libby over there?” asked Jory. “With her friend?”

  Theodosia peered at the spill of people pouring down the steps. “Yup, that’s her.”

  “Want to go say hi?”

  Theodosia smoothed her skirt and stood up, took Jory’s hand firmly in her own. Together they crossed the plaza toward the oncoming rush of concert goers.

  CHAPTER 19

  HALEY CAST AN appraising eye at the yellow froth that bubbled in the top pan of her double boiler. It looked good, she decided, was sticking together nicely. Grabbing a wire whisk, she added the last of the sugar and lemon zest, then continued to whisk the mixture as it cooked. Finally, when her concoction began to thicken, she removed the pan from the stove and began to add soft fresh cream butter, feeding it in a little at a time.

  “My goodness, Haley,” marveled Drayton as he stepped into the kitchen, “it smells absolutely divine in here. What magic are you whipping up this morning?”

  She held up the pan for him to see. “Lemon curd. And it does smell wonderful, doesn’t it?”

  “You’re making real lemon curd?” he asked in amazement.

  “Sure. It’s a snap, really. Just four simple ingredients. Eggs, lemon, sugar, butter.”

  “Yes, but you have to know exactly what to do with the ingredients. And it’s not just proportions, the cooking times are quite exacting, too. And then there’s the double boiler thing.”

  “Are you saying I don’t know how to make fresh lemon curd?” Haley demanded with a crooked smile.

  “No, I’m just saying it’s a tricky proposition at best.”

  “Proof’s in the tasting,” said Haley as she held up a wooden spoon with a swirl of yellow gracing the end.

  Obediently, Drayton tasted the dollop of lemon curd. “Oh my goodness!” he exclaimed. “This is good. Sweet but subtly tart, too. Layers of flavor.”

  “My grandmother’s recipe,” explained Haley. “And if it’s any consolation to you, those are the same things she said. Awfully tricky, got to get the proportions just so, and a double boiler is a must.”

  “But you mastered it,” said Drayton, still impressed.

  “Of course.”

  “And you plan to serve it with . . .” prompted Drayton.

  “There’s a couple pans of shortbread in the oven,” said Haley. “But lemon curd keeps for a good month once it’s refrigerated, so when we do cakes for afternoon tea, it’ll make a great topping.”

  “Morning, Theo,” Drayton called as he heard the back door click open. “How was the concert last night?”

  “Yeah,” called Haley, “I bet it was great, huh?” Theodosia stood in the doorway of the tiny kitchen and nodded enthusiastically. “Wonderful.” She didn’t have the heart to tell them she’d listened halfheartedly to the first half, then spent the second half outside, trading cat burglar theories with Jory Davis.

  “Timothy was playing first violin, I take it?” said Drayton as he grabbed a silver tray and followed Theodosia into the tea shop.

  “And doing a masterful job,” Theodosia assured him.

  “I’m baffled as to how the man does it,” said Drayton. “Poor Timothy is worried sick about the public opening of the Treasures Show tomorrow night, yet there he was playing with the symphony,” said Drayton. “He’s really quite remarkable.”

  “I agree,” said Theodosia as the two copper tea kettles Drayton had put on to boil just minutes earlier began to sing their high-pitched duet. “So what’s on tap for this morning?” she asked him.

  Drayton reached overhead and pulled down tins and jars of loose tea. “I thought I’d do pots of Earl Grey and Assam, which are nice and mellow and traditional, although this particular Assam is a trifle malty. Then I’ll mix things up with a couple blends, perhaps a cinnamon spice and a ginseng plum. Of course, if someone has a special request, we’ll oblige them as always.”

  “Wonderful,” said Theodosia. She still felt a little discombobulated from last night. After her intense discussion with Jory Davis, she’d had dreams about cat burglars all night long. Got to get my head in the game, she told herself as the door swung open and the morning’s first customers came drifting in. Stop worrying about creepy cat burglars.

  “Oh,” said Haley as she sped past Theodosia with plates of shortbread topped with her still-warm lemon curd, “I forgot to give you this.” She handed over a large brown envelope. “I guess someone must have slipped it under the door. Anyway, it was lying on the floor when I opened up this morning.”

  Theodosia took the envelope from Haley and glanced at it curiously. The envelope was a number ten, business size, made of brown craft paper. Glued to the front was a white label with a single typed word, Theodosia.

  “Wonder what it is?” she said.

  Haley, who was busy gathering napkins and placing forks on plates, shrugged. “Don’t know,” she said, unconcerned. “Maybe a thank-you note from someone who attended yesterday afternoon’s reception?”

  Theodosia grabbed a butter knife, slipped it under the gummed flap of the envelope to open it. She pulled out a piece of paper and unfurled it. As she began to read, her brows knit together and a frown creased her normally placid face. It was a note all right, but not of the thank-you variety. Instead, a very strange message had been laser-printed on a sheet of plain white paper.

  Twinkle, twinkle, little bat

  How I wonder where you’re at.

  Up above the world you fly,

  Like a tea-tray in the sky.

  “What is it?” asked Haley, suddenly aware that Theodosia had gone
silent.

  Wordlessly, Theodosia handed the note to Haley and watched as she read it.

  Haley’s face changed from polite interest to utter confusion. “What the heck . . . ?” she said. “Is this crazy little ditty supposed to mean something?”

  “It’s a passage from Alice in Wonderland,” said Theodosia.

  “Yeah, great. Fun kids literature and all that. But why send it to you? And without a signature yet. Is this supposed to be some kind of inside joke?”

  “I’m not exactly sure,” said Theodosia. “But I get the feeling that it might be . . . it could be . . . some kind of challenge.”

  “Holy smokes!” exclaimed Haley, realization starting to dawn. “Because you’ve been poking around . . . Hey, Drayton!” She motioned frantically for Drayton to come over to the counter.

  Drayton came hustling over immediately. “What’s wrong?” he asked, taking in the very sober looks on both their faces.

  Haley thrust the mysterious note into Drayton’s hands.

  “Take a look. I found it stuck under the door this morning.”

  “Addressed to Theodosia?” he asked as he reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out his glasses, and slid them onto his nose.

  They both nodded.

  Drayton studied the note intently. Finally, he looked up and met their gazes. “It’s a passage from Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking Glass,” he said.

  Haley bobbed her head eagerly. “That’s what Theodosia said. Gosh, you two are so incredibly well read. Makes me want to change my major back to English lit.”

  “Haley . . .” warned Drayton with an owlish look. “I don’t think this was intended as a lighthearted little note.”

  “Theodosia called it a challenge,” Haley told him.

  “Indeed, it could be,” said Drayton. “Witness the teatime reference that clearly relates to us.”

  “And what about the little bat business and up above the world you fly?” asked Haley.

  “I don’t know,” said Drayton. “It’s strange, I’ll give you that much. I get the feeling they’re slightly left-handed inferences as to what’s been going on around here lately. Flying around, looking around, something like that.”

  “Mm-hm,” said Haley, not completely absorbing all of Drayton’s words.

  “In other words, a taunt,” said Drayton, heavily enunciating the t’s.

  “You mean someone might be daring Theo to take them on?” asked Haley. “Someone being this cat burglar guy?”

  “I suppose one could interpret it that way,” said Drayton.

  “Whoooa,” said Haley. “Ain’t that a kick.”

  “It means you’ve struck a nerve,” said Drayton, looking directly at Theodosia.

  Theodosia managed a thin smile. “Gulp,” she said. She meant her remark to be humorous, but nobody laughed.

  Drayton refolded the note, handed it to Theodosia. “We’d better talk about this when we’re not so busy.”

  Theodosia was still standing at the counter with the folded note in her hand when Aerin Linley came bustling in a few moments later.

  “Hey there,” she greeted Theodosia. “Can I get a couple cuppas to go? Anything you’ve got ready is fine. As long as it’s not sweet.”

  “Absolutely,” said Theodosia, sliding the note across the counter and putting a little green Staffordshire teapot on top of it for safekeeping.

  “You okay?” asked Aerin.

  Theodosia looked up sharply. “Pardon?”

  “Oh, you looked a little worried there for a moment. I would think you’d be doing handsprings right about now. Folks really went ga-ga over your T-Bath products yesterday afternoon. I hope you’ve called in a big reorder to your supplier.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Theodosia as she poured streams of freshly made Assam tea into dark blue take-out cups. “That’s at the top of my to-do list today.” Aerin’s good humor was contagious and Theodosia was suddenly caught up in her enthusiasm. “I’m so glad you and Brooke were able to stop by.”

  “You know, I was perfectly serious about the TV show idea,” Aerin said as she cocked her head and smile at Theodosia. In her pink cotton crewneck sweater, khaki slacks, and beige leather slip-on shoes, she looked very sporty, far younger than her thirty-six or thirty-seven years. “You’d be great on-air,” Aerin said with encouragement. “You’re so pretty and vivacious, I’m sure you could deliver a great segment.”

  “Actually,” said Theodosia, warming up to the idea, “I’d love to do a tea segment. A few folks are still under the illusion that tea is the drink of choice for blue-haired ladies in pillbox hats. Nothing wrong with blue-haired ladies in hats, of course, but tea’s really come into its own as a contemporary drink.”

  “You’re darned right it has,” said Aerin. “When kids are chugging premixed chai like water, you know tea has hit mainstream! Ohh . . .” she exclaimed as Haley rushed by with another tray of short bread and lemon curd. “Is that lemon curd? Real lemon curd? The kind you slave over a hot stove for?”

  So, of course, Theodosia had to fill a small, square jar with lemon curd for Aerin to take along with her.

  Jory Davis didn’t call until they were caught up in the whirlwind that was lunch. “Hello?” said Drayton, deftly balancing the phone, a tray stacked with fruit and cheese plates, and a pot of tea.

  “Hi, Drayton,” said Jory. “Is Theodosia around?”

  Drayton peered out over the tearoom and crooked a finger at Theodosia. She caught his meaning and signaled back. “She’ll be with you in a second,” Drayton told Jory.

  Theodosia hurried across the room and snatched the phone up. “Hello?”

  “Hey there,” said Jory Davis.

  “Hey there, yourself,” said Theodosia. “You realize everyone here thinks I was soothed by music from Rigolletto and La Traviata last night.”

  “Well, you almost were,” he said. “And admit it, wasn’t snuggling under a full moon better?”

  “You’ll get no argument from me. Like I said last night, I can always listen to it on CD.”

  “Say,” said Jory, “I know you’re busy, heck, we’re both busy, but I was able to work in some fast investigating this morning.”

  “Terrific. What did you come up with?” she asked.

  Jory Davis sighed. “Nothing.”

  “Even on Graham Carmody?” Theodosia asked with surprise.

  “Nada,” said Jory. “No record. The guy’s clean as a whistle.”

  “That’s weird. I had a feeling there might be something.”

  “I couldn’t even find an unpaid parking ticket,” said Jory. “He’s a model citizen.”

  “Hmm.” Theodosia gazed out over the tea shop, noting that every table was filled and that Drayton and Haley were running around like chickens with their heads cut off. “Listen, why don’t you come by for dinner tonight.” She wanted to clue Jory in about the note that had been slipped under the door this morning, but right now wasn’t the best time.

  “Great!” said Jory.

  “Hold on,” said Theodosia. “I’m thinking about inviting Drayton and Haley, too.”

  “Oh, a working dinner,” said Jory, with no less enthusiasm.

  “When we get this cat burglar thing figured out,” said Theodosia, “I promise dinner for two. With a full complement of candlelight and wine.”

  “And I shall bring the roses,” laughed Jory. “Although I think I’ll bring wine tonight as well. What time shall I plan to arrive on madame’s doorstep?”

  “Eight. And since you volunteered to bring wine, kindly make it white.”

  “I’ll spend the rest of my day pondering the merits of a fine Vouvray versus a Chenin Blanc.”

  “Bye bye,” she told him, laughing.

  “My gosh,” said Drayton, “I must have looked like the juggler in Cirque du Soleil, what with teapots in one hand and fruit and cheese plates in the other. Sometimes I yearn for the good old days when we only served tea.”

  “Adding a lunch service rea
lly has livened things up,” agreed Theodosia.

  “And contributed nicely to our bottom line,” added Drayton.

  Theodosia was keenly aware that they had run in the red for more months than she cared to think about. Now, this last year, they had clearly been in the black, with the last six months veering toward very respectable profits.

  “Today will be a push from now on,” declared Haley. “Friday afternoons are never all that busy. I guess people must take off early or go shopping or something. Anyway,” she looked over at the three tables that were still occupied, “they’re not here.”

  “How would the two of you like to join me for dinner tonight?” suggested Theodosia.

  “Really?” squealed Haley. “I’d love to. I didn’t have anything special planned.”

  “What about you, Drayton?” asked Theodosia. “I’ve invited Jory Davis to dinner, too.”

  “I’d be delighted,” he said. “May I bring anything. Or do anything?”

  “That goes for me, too,” said Haley.

  “Drayton, you just get yourself to my place by eight o’clock. Haley, if there’s some leftover shortbread and lemon curd, maybe you could package it up and bring it along for dessert.”

  “Oops,” said Haley, cupping a hand to her mouth. “We just served the last piece of shortbread. But there’s still tons of lemon curd to use as topping. How about if I pop a cake in the oven?”

  “Fine idea,” declared Drayton.

  “Only if it isn’t too much work,” said Theodosia. “After all, we’re all still recovering from yesterday.”

  “I’m sure Haley can manage just fine,” offered Drayton. “And if I could interject a thought, might I suggest a coconut cake?”

  “Haley, can you manage?” asked Theodosia, amused by Drayton’s ravenous desire for cake.

  “Seeing how much it means to Drayton,” she said, assuming an exaggerated hands-on-hips stance, “I’ll try.”

  Detective Tidwell pushed open the door, eased himself into the tearoom. He let the door close behind him, yet made no effort to move to a table, preferring to stand there in an ill-fitting tweed jacket and pork pie hat, surveying the premises with a slightly haughty air.