by Laura Childs
Fresh Cup Magazine—For tea and coffee professionals. (freshcup.com)
Tea & Coffee—Trade journal for the tea and coffee industry. (teaandcoffee.net)
Bruce Richardson—This author has written several definitive books on tea. (store.elmwoodinn.com)
Jane Pettigrew—This author has written seventeen books on the varied aspects of tea and its history and culture. (janepettigrew.com/books)
A Tea Reader—by Katrina Avila Munichiello, an anthology of tea stories and reflections.
AMERICAN TEA PLANTATIONS
Charleston Tea Plantation—The oldest and largest tea plantation in the United States. Order their fine black tea or schedule a visit at bigelowtea.com.
Table Rock Tea Company—This Pickens, South Carolina, plantation is growing premium whole-leaf tea. (tablerocktea.com)
The Great Mississippi Tea Company—Up-and-coming Mississippi tea farm. (greatmsteacompany.com)
Sakuma Brothers Farm—This tea garden just outside Burlington, Washington, has been growing white and green tea for almost twenty years. (sakumabros.com/sakumabroswp/)
Big Island Tea—Organic artisan tea from Hawaii. (bigislandtea.com)
Mauna Kea Tea—Organic green and oolong tea from Hawaii’s Big Island. (maunakeatea.com)
Onomea Tea Company—Nine-acre tea estate near Hilo, Hawaii. (onotea.com)
TEA WEBSITES AND INTERESTING BLOGS
Destinationtea.com—State-by-state directory of afternoon tea venues.
Teamap.com—Directory of hundreds of tea shops in the U.S. and Canada.
Afternoontea.co.uk—Guide to tea rooms in the U.K.
Teacottagemysteries.com—Wonderful website with tea lore, mystery reviews, recipes, and home and garden.
Cookingwithideas.typepad.com—Recipes and book reviews for the Bibliochef.
Seedrack.com—Order Camellia sinensis seeds and grow your own tea!
Jennybakes.com—Fabulous recipes from a real make-it-from-scratch baker.
Cozyupwithkathy.blogspot.com—Cozy mystery reviews.
Southernwritersmagazine.com—Inspiration, writing advice, and author interviews of Southern writers.
Thedailytea.com—Formerly Tea Magazine, this online publication is filled with tea news, recipes, inspiration, and tea travel.
Allteapots.com—Teapots from around the world.
Fireflyspirits.com—South Carolina purveyors of Sweet Tea Vodka.
Teasquared.blogspot.com—Fun, well-written blog about tea, tea shops, and tea musings.
Relevanttealeaf.blogspot.com—All about tea.
Stephcupoftea.blogspot.com—Blog on tea, food, and inspiration.
Teawithfriends.blogspot.com—Lovely blog on tea, friendship, and tea accoutrements.
Bellaonline.com/site/tea—Features and forums on tea.
Napkinfoldingguide.com—Photo illustrations of 27 different (and sometimes elaborate) napkin folds.
Worldteaexpo.com—This premier business-to-business trade show features more than 300 tea suppliers, vendors, and tea innovators.
Fatcatscones.com—Frozen ready-to-bake scones.
Kingarthurflour.com—One of the best flours for baking. This is what many professional pastry chefs use.
Californiateahouse.com—Order Machu’s Blend, a special herbal tea for dogs that promotes healthy skin, lowers stress, and aids digestion.
Vintageteaworks.com—This company offers six unique wine-flavored tea blends that celebrate wine and respect the tea.
Downtonabbeycooks.com—A Downton Abbey blog with news and recipes.
Auntannie.com—Crafting site that will teach you how to make your own petal envelopes, pillow boxes, gift bags, etc.
Victorianhousescones.com—Scone, biscuit, and cookie mixes for both retail and wholesale orders. Plus baking and scone-making tips.
Englishteastore.com—Buy a jar of English Double Devon Cream here as well as British foods and candies.
Stickyfingersbakeries.com—Scone mixes and English curds.
TeaSippersSociety.com—Join this international tea community of tea sippers, growers, and educators. A terrific newsletter!
Melhadtea.com—Adventures of a traveling tea sommelier.
PURVEYORS OF FINE TEA
Plumdeluxe.com
Globalteamart.com
Adagio.com
Elmwoodinn.com
Capitalteas.com
Harney.com
Stashtea.com
Serendipitea.com
Marktwendell.com
Republicoftea.com
Teazaanti.com
Bigelowtea.com
Celestialseasonings.com
Goldenmoontea.com
Uptontea.com
Svtea.com (Simpson & Vail)
Gracetea.com
Davidstea.com
VISITING CHARLESTON
Charleston.com—Travel and hotel guide.
Charlestoncvb.com—The official Charleston convention and visitor bureau.
Charlestontour.wordpress.com—Private tours of homes and gardens, some including lunch or tea.
Charlestonplace.com—Charleston Place Hotel serves an excellent afternoon tea, Thursday through Saturday, 1 to 3.
Culinarytoursofcharleston.com—Sample specialties from Charleston’s local eateries, markets, and bakeries.
Poogansporch.com—This restored Victorian house serves traditional low-country cuisine. Be sure to ask about Poogan!
Preservationsociety.org—Hosts Charleston’s annual Fall Candlelight Tour.
Palmettocarriage.com—Horse-drawn carriage rides.
Charlestonharbortours.com—Boat tours and harbor cruises.
Ghostwalk.net—Stroll into Charleston’s haunted history. Ask them about the “original” Theodosia!
Charlestontours.net—Ghost tours plus tours of plantations and historic homes.
Follybeach.com—Official guide to Folly Beach activities, hotels, rentals, restaurants, and events.
KEEP READING FOR AN EXCERPT FROM LAURA CHILDS’S NEXT CACKLEBERRY CLUB MYSTERY . . .
Egg Shooters
AVAILABLE SOON FROM BERKLEY PRIME CRIME!
Suzanne caught a strobing red blip in her rearview mirror and hoped it wasn’t an ambulance.
It was.
The siren let out a piercing whoop whoop as she hastily pulled her car to the side of the road and watched the emergency vehicle steam by.
Another patient for Sam.
Suzanne Dietz was engaged to Dr. Sam Hazelet, who, at this very moment, was probably on the radio having a terse talk with the ambulance driver.
So much for bringing Sam a late Sunday supper of chili and corn bread.
What had felt like a languid spring evening now seemed infused with tension. And Suzanne fervently hoped that whatever unlucky soul was strapped to the gurney in that ambulance wasn’t pumping out his last pint of blood or gasping a final breath.
Suzanne lifted her hands from the steering wheel momentarily and breathed out.
Okay. It’s still better to stick to my original plan. Sooner or later Sam’s going to be hungry.
Suzanne was a tick past forty with ash blond hair, a practically flawless complexion, and just a hint of crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes. Character lines, that’s what she told herself when she washed off her makeup and studied herself in the mirror. Those tiny lines helped make her oval face more interesting. On the other hand, slathering on moisturizer might keep them in a holding pattern for as long as possible.
The rest of Suzanne was fairly streamlined. If she’d lived in New York instead of small-town Kindred, she could have possibly passed for one of those real-people, middle-aged TV models who were enjoying a brief Renaissance in this age of supposed non-ageism. Suzanne was always polished, engaged, and upbeat, though she preferred a casual wardrobe of white cotton shirts knotted at the waist of her faded blue jeans.
Her first husband, Walter, had died some four years ago. And now—through some fabulous miracle, probably brought about by fairies an
d unicorns—she found herself engaged to Sam Hazelet, the town doctor. Engaged and soon-to-be-married. Very soon, as they’d reserved the backyard patio of Kopell’s Restaurant for the following month.
A gentle wave of euphoria swept over Suzanne as she turned into the hospital parking lot, for she understood how lucky she was to have found love a second time. Smiling, humming along with the radio now—Adele was singing “Set Fire to the Rain”—she ignored the visitor parking spots in front and pulled all the way around to the back of the building, to the ER entrance. That’s where she’d find Sam. And hopefully, if he wasn’t up to his ears in X-rays, CBCs, and EEGs, they’d have a few minutes alone together. And she could deliver his dinner. Along with a kiss.
The small ER waiting room was empty tonight. Lights were dimmed, chairs empty, magazines arranged just so on the low tables. It was a place that felt quiet and hushed. Where everyone walked around in crepe-soled shoes and there was just a tinge of antiseptic in the air.
“Hey, Ginny,” Suzanne said as she walked up to the desk. “You’re working late.”
“I was supposed to leave fifteen minutes ago, but then we got a call. Ambulance is already here, family’s on the way.” Ginny Harris was fifty-something with a swirl of gray hair and a kind face. Her glasses hung on a silver beaded chain and she wore a blue polka dot dress. She looked like everybody’s favorite aunt and, in her free time, worked as a docent at the library.
“The ambulance passed me as I was driving in. Is it bad?” Suzanne asked.
“Car crash. Victim has a possible broken pelvis.”
Suzanne made a commiserating face. “Sounds nasty.”
“But he’ll live. They mostly do.” Ginny lifted a hand and pointed at Suzanne’s wicker picnic hamper. “What wonderful treat did you bring Sam tonight?”
“Chili and corn bread. But it sounds like it might be some time before—”
Suzanne’s words were cut short by an ear-piercing scream followed by a piteous cry and a thunderous crash of breaking glass. A lot of breaking glass.
“What . . . ?” Suzanne said, turning her head in the direction of the outrageous, unnerving cacophony of noise.
And there, loping toward her down the corridor that led past three exam rooms, was an armed man. He wore a matte black jumpsuit of some kind and was brandishing a shiny black pistol.
Like a Navy Seal, was Suzanne’s first thought. Like one of the guys who stormed that compound in Abbottabad and killed Osama bin Laden. She watched, feeling as if she were helplessly trapped in a slow-motion dream sequence, as the man strode toward them. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ginny’s hand moving slowly, inching over to try and press the panic button on her console.
“Don’t!” the man shouted at Ginny. He was right there in front of them now, his dark eyes pinpricks of intensity above his gray half-mask. His breathing sounded a little uneven, betraying his stress. But the hand that pointed the gun at them never wavered.
As shocked as Suzanne was, she fought hard to steady herself and try to take it all in, to memorize as many details as she possibly could. The man wore a fabric mask, like a cold weather mask, that covered the lower half of his face. He wore a jumpsuit with zippers and snaps. And shiny black boots. He carried a rucksack that bulged at the seams.
“Don’t either of you move.” The gunman’s voice was low and threatening as he reached across the front desk, grabbed the console, and ripped it from its moorings. Panic button dead, lights gone dim, and thick gray wires dangling, he tossed it to the floor.
Robbing a hospital? Suzanne thought. Then it dawned on her. Drugs. He just hit the pharmacy and he’s got a bunch of drugs stuffed in that duffel bag.
The sound of running footsteps caused them all to turn and look. It was the night guard, rushing toward them, a look of sheer terror on his hangdog face.
“Hands up!” the gunman snapped.
The guard, a sixty-something ex-police dispatcher named Harold Spooner, who’d never been on patrol, had never confronted real danger, ignored the command and fumbled for the gun on his hip.
The gunman lifted his gun and shot Spooner as casually as if he were shooting rats at the dump. Spooner’s hands flew up and he let loose a high-pitched gurgling sound. Then he spun around in a complete three-sixty circle and fell flat on his face. Dead.
“No!” Ginny screamed. Horrified by the wanton murder of Spooner, she jumped to her feet causing her chair to flip over backward. At the same time, Suzanne scrambled around the reception desk, ducked low, and tried to pull herself into a tight ball.
Improbably, another shot rang out and Suzanne glanced up just in time to see Ginny grimace, then collapse forward onto her desk. Ginny’s eyes rolled back in her head and her face blanched white as a glut of blood burst from her left shoulder.
Dear Lord, he shot Ginny, too?
Anger exploded in Suzanne’s brain like a white-hot flame. Suddenly everything was needle sharp—the spattered blood, the smell of cordite, the savagery of the attacks. That’s when Suzanne’s mind clicked into hyperdrive and she grabbed her thermos full of chili. She popped up from behind the desk, and, like a street fighter hurling a Molotov cocktail, threw it hard at the gunman. Her aim was good and true and she struck him squarely in the forehead. The lid blew off the thermos on impact and a geyser of hot, spicy chili erupted, splattering the gunman in his face and spewing gobs of red goop everywhere.
Staggering momentarily, the gunman gasped and wiped frantically at his face. Suzanne saw his lips moving, cursing her. His eyes were black with rage as he cast a frantic, wild glance at her. Then he took off like a broken-field runner, dripping chili—his feet practically slipping in the thick, red stuff—as he ran through the motion-activated door and out into the parking lot.
“Help!” Suzanne shouted. “Two people shot!” She heard footsteps pounding in her direction as she ripped off the scarf that was tied loosely around her neck. Kneeling down, she bunched up her scarf and fought to stanch the flow of blood pouring from Ginny’s shoulder. When two nurses appeared from around the corner, she shouted, “Gunman! He shot Ginny and Harold Spooner.”
As another half-dozen nurses and med techs rushed in to care for the two victims, Suzanne launched herself out the door and into the parking lot.
An avenging angel, she was feverish to catch a glimpse of the fleeing gunman. Or at least his vehicle.
But as she stood in the middle of the parking lot, arms askew, slowly spinning in a circle, she saw . . . nothing.
Where had this mysterious gunman disappeared to? There was no getaway car speeding away, no motorbike, no lone runner cutting through the stubble of the nearby alfalfa field. Nothing to see but a sliver of moon dangling in a blue-black sky, nothing to hear but the drone of something mechanical up on the roof.
WATCH FOR LAURA CHILDS’S NEXT TEA SHOP MYSTERY
Haunted Hibiscus
Between the Ghosts and Galleons Parade, Edgar Allan Poe Festival, collection of conjure chests, and a spooky murder, things are definitely going bump in the night at the Indigo Tea Shop.
AND ALSO THE NEXT NEW ORLEANS SCRAPBOOKING MYSTERY FROM LAURA CHILDS
Cadmium Red Dead
An excavation in the French Quarter reveals a terrible crime that pulls Carmela and Ava deep into a mystery.
Find out more about the author and her mysteries at laurachilds.com or become a Facebook friend at LauraChildsAuthor.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Laura Childs is the New York Times bestselling author of the Tea Shop Mysteries, Scrapbooking Mysteries, and Cackleberry Club Mysteries. In her previous life she was CEO of her own marketing firm, authored several screenplays, and produced a reality TV show.
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