Devonshire Scream (20 page)

“You're going to keep this dog?”

Drayton gave Theodosia a sideways glance. “I'm offended that you would find that so out of character for me.”

A slow smile spread across Theodosia's face. “Imagine that. Drayton with a dog. Our Drayton has a soft spot in his heart after all.”

Drayton touched a sudsy finger to his mouth. “Shh. Don't you dare tell a soul.”

“Ask Theodosia what
she did last night,” Drayton said. It was Friday morning and he was standing behind the front counter brewing a pot of Madoorie Estate tea. It was a special Assam that Haley had put in a request for.

Haley looked interested. “What did you do?”

“Oh no,” Theodosia said. “We're not opening that can of worms. Better you should ask Drayton what
he
did last night.”

“What have you two got going on?” Haley asked. “Is there some big hairy problem I should know about?”

“Theodosia broke into someone's house,” Drayton said.

“Drayton rescued a lost dog,” Theodosia said.

Haley shook her head. “You guys. Always trying to get my goat and top each other with your crazy stories. Well, it's not gonna work today. We open in, like, twenty minutes and I'm way too busy to play games.” She waited as Drayton filled her teacup, then she cupped a hand over it and scurried back into her kitchen.

“That didn't work out quite the way you planned, did it?” Theodosia asked.

“Do you think Haley's been a trifle overly sensitive lately?” Drayton asked.

“Haley's still upset about Sunday night. She bonded with Kaitlin and then basically saw the poor girl get killed right before her eyes. She's still processing the robbery and the death.” Theodosia thought for a moment. “I think young people have a harder time handling death.”

Drayton poured out cups of tea for the two of them. “And what about you? Not that you're not still young.”

“I passed being upset last Tuesday,” Theodosia said. “Then I dove into angry and am now veering into revenge territory.”

Drayton handed her a cup of tea. “Isn't revenge one of the seven deadly sins?”

Theodosia took a sip of tea. “I don't think so. But it probably should be.”

•   •   •

They worked together
then, readying the tea shop. Lace place mats were laid down, their Royal Albert Country Roses china set out along with the Alexandra pattern silverware. Drayton had salvaged a few red carnations from the previous night and was arranging them in smaller bundles to go into crystal vases.

“You know what your professor Shepley said to me last night?” Drayton asked.

“Now he's
my
professor Shepley?” Theodosia said.

Drayton snipped at a flower stem. “That's right.”

“What did he say?”

“Shepley told me that red carnations are a symbol of war and military might in Russia.”

“No kidding,” Theodosia said. “Did you know that when you placed your order?”

Drayton snipped another stem shorter. “Of course not.” He had the faint trace of a smile on his face.

•   •   •

Most mornings the
Indigo Tea Shop served a cream tea and today was no exception. Haley had baked lemon poppy seed scones and Drayton was preparing small dishes of Devonshire cream and strawberry jam. In the UK, a cream tea always consisted of scones, Devonshire cream, jam, and tea, and was most often served in the afternoon. But, hey, it was a morning favorite at the tea shop, so nobody was standing on ceremony.

“You think we'll be busy today?” Drayton asked. They'd already seated and served a half-dozen people.

“I do,” Theodosia said. “Fridays are often our busiest days. Plus there'll be lots of tourists pouring into Charleston for the Lumiere Festival tonight.”

“I've never gone to that. Is it fun?”

“The Lumiere Festival is your basic overstimulation for the eyeballs and the mind,” Theodosia said. “There are light shows splashed against buildings, dancers cavorting with light sticks, colored light projections, light sculptures, LED installations by artists . . . you name it.”

“So, definitely worth seeing?”

“I'd say so, though it's not to everyone's taste.”

“Meaning mine,” Drayton said.

Theodosia hesitated. “Well . . . your tastes can be a bit rarefied.”

“Nonsense. I'm as down-to-earth as the next person.”

“Hah,” Theodosia said. But it was said with kindness.

Grabbing a cloth, Drayton polished a spoon until it shone. Then he laid it down carefully. “Will there be light installations around here?”

“Oh sure. And I know there are supposed to be a whole
bunch of them over in White Point Garden. Near the yacht club, too. I know that some of the boats will be lit with strings of lights.”

Drayton looked interested. “Yachts, too?”

Theodosia immediately caught the gist of his question. “Interesting you should ask about that. Maybe we should walk over there tonight and take a look.”

“At Gold Coast Yachts.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth.”

Drayton pulled down a tin of orange pekoe tea and peered at it suspiciously. “Did you ask Miss Dimple to come in today and help?”

“First call I made this morning. She said yes and that she'd be thrilled.”

“Good, because I can't say I'm looking forward to presiding over our Full Monty Tea this afternoon.”

“I'm about ready to lose my good humor, too,” Theodosia said. “Never again; never will we schedule three major event teas in one week.”

“What were we thinking?” Drayton responded. He flapped his arms like a hapless crow. “It feels like we've been jammed up all week long.”

“At the time, we didn't know there was going to be a huge robbery at Heart's Desire. Or that Brooke's niece would be killed,” Theodosia said. “And we didn't know that a crazy band of international jewel thieves would swoop into our city.”

One of Drayton's eyebrows twitched. “Plan for the unexpected. Expect the worst?”

“That sounds fairly dour.”

“I'm a fairly dour person.”

“No, you're not,” Theodosia said. “That's just an act. And by the way, how was Honey Bee this morning?”

Drayton's eyes lit up and he beamed. “She was
so
much better. Especially after some nourishing food and an
exploratory sniff in my backyard garden. When I left, the little sweetheart was curled up fast asleep on my living room sofa.”

“The antique Victorian sofa that you overpaid for at Sotheby's?”

“That's the one.”

•   •   •

Just as Theodosia
was making the rounds, a teapot filled with Irish breakfast tea in one hand, a teapot full of jasmine tea in the other, Miss Dimple toddled in. Barely five feet tall, beyond plump, and with a cap of pinkish-blond curls, Miss Dimple was seventy-something and spry as ever. She'd started out as their bookkeeper—in fact, she still came in twice a month. But what she really loved and adored was helping out at the Indigo Tea Shop.

“Thanks for calling me,” Miss Dimple said, putting a hand on Theodosia's arm and giving it a friendly squeeze. “You know how I just
love
working here.” She spun on the stubby little squash heels that gave her an extra inch in height, and grinned at Drayton. “Hello, Drayton, long time no see.”

“My dear lady,” Drayton said in his courtliest manner. “Thank you so much for taking time out of your busy day to come in and assist us.”

Miss Dimple gave an airy wave. “I wouldn't pass up this opportunity for the world. When you live with your bachelor brother and a pair of old cats named Samson and Delilah, you take your fun where you can find it.”

“And you're implying that we're fun?” Drayton looked mock-startled. “Horrors.” Then he smiled and said, “Perhaps you'd better come over here, lovey, and let me put an apron on you.”

•   •   •

Satisfied that the
tea shop was in capable hands, Theodosia retreated to her office to take care of a little business. Not
tea shop business, mind you, but investigation business on behalf of Brooke. She spent the next half hour running a number of Internet searches on her list of suspects. And came up with several photos and articles about Lionel Rinicker, Sabrina and Luke Andros, Marcus Clement, and Professor Warren Shepley.

Humming to herself, she printed everything out and stuffed the pages into her leather messenger bag. Her plan was to take it all to Brooke and see if any of this information rang a few bells.

“You're leaving us?” Drayton asked as she slipped into her suede jacket. “Right in the middle of tea service? Again?”

“I have to run something down to Brooke,” Theodosia told him. “But you'll be fine. You've got Miss Dimple.”

Miss Dimple patted Drayton's arm reassuringly. “That's right. You've got me, sweetie. Not to worry.”

“He always worries,” Theodosia told her.

Miss Dimple nodded sagely. “I think that's part of his charm.”

•   •   •

Heart's Desire was
still all boarded up, but Theodosia walked across a few clattery planks, located the temporary wooden door, and thumped on it loudly.

“Hello? Just a minute,” Brooke's voice floated out to her. “Who is it?”

“It's me, Theodosia.”

The door popped open and Brooke was standing there. She was dressed in blue jeans, a navy T-shirt, and had a red bandana tied in her hair. She looked youthful, perky, and, best of all, more in control of the situation. The tension lines that had etched her face a few days ago seemed to have eased.

“Come into our construction zone if you dare,” Brooke said. “I'm sorry I don't have a hard hat to offer you.”

“That's okay.” Theodosia stepped inside the shop and looked around. All the glass had been swept up, the broken cases discarded, and the old carpet ripped out. New rolls of carpeting were stacked in the corner and a single display case—probably the only one that had remained intact—was shoved to the back of the shop.

“We're putting the pieces back together,” Brooke said.

“You repainted the walls.”

“The painters came and did it yesterday,” Brooke said. She looked around, pleased. “Yes, I decided to freshen the place up. Eventually we'll be good as new.” Then her smile faded. “Well, almost as good as new.”

Theodosia gave her a warm hug. “You'll come through this. I have faith.”

“I
have
to come through it. I mean, what are my options?” Brooke waved a hand. “But you didn't come here to listen to me grump. Dare I ask how you're coming with suspects? The police and FBI still don't seem to have a whole lot going. Or, if they do, they're no longer sharing it with me.”

“I might have a little too much information for you.”

Brooke looked pleased. “Information overload? I doubt that.”

So Theodosia carefully detailed her list of suspects—Lionel Rinicker, Billy Grainger, Sabrina and Luke Andros, Marcus Clement the rock climber, and Professor Warren Shepley. As she went through her list, she laid out for Brooke exactly
why
she viewed each one as a potential suspect.

Brooke was stunned by Theodosia's list. And maybe a little overwhelmed, after all.

“I knew the police were taking a look at Rinicker and Shepley,” Brooke said. “But I never heard boo about them seriously investigating Sabrina and Luke Andros. And those other people you mentioned, Grainger and Clement, I never even
heard
of them. Wait a minute, tell me again why you see those two as suspects?”

“I'll give you the short version,” Theodosia said. “Grainger rides a motorcycle and Clement owns a rock hammer.”

“Ah.” A smile flitted across Brooke's face. She lifted a hand and touched it gently to Theodosia's check. “You're a very smart lady.”

“Thank you. But realize, please, that I could be completely off base. I probably
am
off base with most of these guys. But”—she dug into her messenger bag and grabbed her stack of papers—“I'd like you to look at all this stuff I pulled off the Internet.”

Brooke inclined her head toward the papers in Theodosia's hands. “What is all this?”

“Press releases, newspaper articles, photos, you name it. I'd like you to skim through them and tell me if any of these people ring a bell with you. Maybe you've run into one of them before, or they've come into your shop, or you vaguely recognize one from the attack the other night.”

“You want me to go through this right now?”

“Sure. If you could.”

They went back into Brooke's office. Brooke sat down behind her desk and Theodosia took a chair across from her.

“You did a lot of work here,” Brooke said as she paged through the printouts.

“If anything pays off, it'll be well worth it.”

Brooke went through the stack of papers, studying everything. Then she went through it a second time. When she'd finally turned the last paper over, she said, “The only ones I really recognize are Sabrina and Luke Andros, Lionel Rinicker, and Professor Shepley.” She gazed at Theodosia. “But Rinicker, only because I've seen him hanging around at the Heritage Society, never at my shop. And, of course, Shepley, because he crashed the party.” She tapped a grainy photo of Rinicker. “He looks . . . interesting, though. Do you think he could he have been part of the robbery gang?”