Agony of the Leaves: Tea Shop Mystery #13 (25 page)

“You said you thought somebody threw a rock at the hive?” Dubose asked.

“It sounded like it. Or maybe whacked it with a stick.”

Dubose shook his head. “Why?” he muttered to himself, half in anger, half in amazement. “Why would someone do that?”

“I don’t know,” said Theodosia. “Maybe…kids? Just trying to act smart but up to no good?”

“Maybe,” said Dubose.

“Has anything like this ever happened before?”

“No,” said Dubose.

They sat together in silence for another five minutes until a nurse finally came out. She was dressed in green scrubs and looked tired, as if she’d just worked atwelve-hour shift. But her smile was genuine and her manner was solicitous and warm.

“The doctor’s looking at your aunt right now,” said the nurse, whose name tag read
ANNE RILEY
. “We have her on oxygen and she’s receiving some additional medication.”

Theodosia sprang up from her chair. “But is she… ?”

Nurse Riley interrupted. “You did the right thing, injecting her with that EpiPen. It was smart thinking.”

Theodosia turned to Dubose and put a hand on his arm. “Thank you. For such fast thinking.”

Harry Dubose looked like he was ready to cry. “I’m so sorry for all this trouble.”

“Not your fault,” Theodosia said again.

“She’s holding her own,” said the nurse. “And once the doctor finishes with her, he’ll be out to talk.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” said Theodosia. But after thirty minutes of waiting, she sent Dubose home. He protested mightily at first but was finally convinced by Theodosia’s words. Still, she had to promise to call him later on and give him a complete rundown on Aunt Libby’s medical condition.

When the doctor finally emerged, Theodosia was composed but still concerned.

“Is she… ?” Theodosia began, then stopped. She suddenly couldn’t ask the hard questions, couldn’t fathom a world without her dear Aunt Libby.

But the doctor, a young, earnest-looking fellow by the name of Victor Prince, held up a hand. “Whoa, whoa, take it easy,” he said. “Your aunt’s in stable condition. We administered another dose of epinephrine along with some corticosteroids.”

“So you’re telling me she’s okay?”

“Yes,” said Dr. Prince. “She’s resting comfortably and I don’t foresee any complications as a result of this incident.”

“Can I see her?” asked Theodosia. She was desperate to get to Aunt Libby.

“Of course.” The doctor waved a hand. “Go right through those doors, then turn left.”

“Thank you,” said Theodosia. She walked a few steps, put a hand on the door to push it open, then stopped and turned back to the doctor. “Would it be better if my aunt stayed here overnight?”

The doctor pondered this for a moment. “What’s her age again?”

“Eighty-two.”

He considered this. “So she’s up there. Maybe not a bad idea to keep her under observation.” He nodded. “Sure, let’s do it. I’ll write the orders.”

“Thank you,” Theodosia said again. “Thank you very much.”

Aunt Libby was
propped up on one of the emergency room tables, ahospital-green blanket swaddled around her thin frame and an oxygen cannula stuck in her nose. She looked both alert and relaxed as a med tech in green scrubs hovered nearby, dabbing tiny circles of white, gooey cortisone cream on the bites that covered her hands and face.

“You scared me to death!” Theodosia cried as she rushed to Aunt Libby’s side. She wanted to throw her arms around her and hug her tight but was afraid she’d irritate the bee stings.

Aunt Libby grabbed for Theodosia’s hand and squeezed it. “I didn’t mean to,” she said, her voice sounding dry and a little scared. Then she shook her head, as if to clear it. “I guess I scared myself, too. I sort of…conked out there for a while.”

“You sure did,” said Theodosia, her voice sounding shaky, too. Then she decided it might be better
not
to replay the bad parts of today’s bee event. Better, instead, to bolster Aunt Libby’s spirits with positive news. “But the doctor says you’ll be fine. That you
are
just fine.”

“I
feel
fine,” said Aunt Libby. “Just peachy now.” But her pallor belied her hearty declaration.

“I suspect you’ll be good as new in a couple of days,” said Theodosia. “But the doctor wants to keep you here overnight. Purely for observation, of course.”

The med tech, whose name tag read
BEVERLY
, finished administering the cortisone cream and nodded. “You can never be too careful about these things.”

“And I’m going to stay with you,” Theodosia told Aunt Libby.

Aunt Libby shook her head in protest. “Nonsense. You’ve got your Japanese tea ceremony tonight. Your
chado
at the Heritage Society.”

“Drayton and Haley can handle it just fine without me.”

“No, no,” said Aunt Libby, firmness seeping into her voice. “You have to be there tonight. Show the flag. I’ll be okay. Better than okay, especially if I’m staying here tonight. Lots of nice people to look after me.”

“We’ll take good care of her,” Beverly promised.

“Well…” Theodosia was hesitant to leave her.

“Really,” said Aunt Libby, and this time she did sound more like her old self. “You can come pick me up first thing
tomorrow morning. I’ll stay here, order room service, and enjoy thefive-star treatment.”

Theodosia still wasn’t convinced. “Did you know you’d have such a violent reaction? I mean, did you know you were seriously allergic to bee venom?”

“Never suspected it in a million years,” said Aunt Libby. “I’ve been stung before, but only once or twice at the same time.” She sighed deeply, then held a hand to her heart. “But this…I don’t like to admit to my own mortality…this was very frightening. It felt like I was under siege!”

“That’s because you were,” said Theodosia. There was no need to cause Aunt Libby any more worry or excitement, but the question that burned like fury in the back of Theodosia’s mind was,
Why did the bees suddenly launch an all-out blitz against Aunt Libby?
Did normally docile honeybees get suddenly cranky and decide to harass an old lady?

No. Hardly.

Driving back to Charleston, Theodosia called Dubose on her cell phone to tell him that Libby was okay.

“I feel awful,” said Dubose, repeating his mantra. “Completely responsible.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” said Theodosia. “Something frightened the bees.”

“Never seen anything like it,” said Dubose.

But fresh in Theodosia’s mind was the loud crack she’d heard just before the bees had taken wing. The crack of something heavy, a rock or a baseball bat or a piece of wood, smacking against the hive. The sound of someone
deliberately
upsetting those bees.

Theodosia sailed into
her house, still thinking about how someone must have provoked those bees, wondering how it all tied in.

Had the bee attack been meant for her?

She hated that idea, but had to admit it was a possibility. If she’d upset the proverbial apple cart by investigatingParker’s death, then maybe someone wanted to slow her down for good?

Had the bee attack been launched as a second phase? The first being her car forced off the road?

Thinking about it made her shudder. Still, Theodosia wasn’t about to call off her hunt and back down. Retreat was not an option. It just wasn’t part of her nature.

Toenails clicked against parquet floors as Earl Grey padded into the kitchen to greet her.

“Boy, did you miss a piece of excitement today,” Theodosia told him. “First we got run off the road into a swamp, then a bunch of bees came swarming after Aunt Libby.”

Earl Grey flipped an ear up and gazed at her with serious brown eyes.

“That’s right, although I guess she’s your Great-Aunt Libby. In dog terms.”

Earl Grey watched carefully as Theodosia bustled about her kitchen, filling his bowl with fresh, clean water and pouring out a cup and a half of kibble.

“What time did Haley bring you home today?” Theodosia asked.

“Rwrrr.”

“Four?” said Theodosia. “Did she let you wander through the tea shop, too, once everyone had left? Did you get to play tea shop dog?”

At the words
tea shop
Earl Grey wagged his tail.

“So she did. Yeah, Haley loves to push the envelope, doesn’t she? Good thing the health inspectors didn’t drop in for a surprise visit.” She set the bowl of kibble down on a place mat that said
BLESS THIS FOOD
. “Oh well. No harm done.”

Five minutes later, Theodosia was upstairs, tearing through her walk-in closet. She needed something sort of Asian-inspired to wear tonight and she thought she had the perfect
top. Except right now…she wasn’t finding it. She pounded into her bedroom, rummaged through the dresser drawers, and finally found it. A sort of kimono top, done in pale blues and greens with a lovely crane motif.

Back in the closet she pulled out a pair of tapered white silk slacks. Perfect. She put on the top and slacks, then shucked her feet into a nice pair of leather thongs. A string of pale jade beads went around her neck.

In the bathroom, Theodosia brushed out her hair, gathered it into a loose ponytail, and twisted it around. She pinned it carefully and gazed into the mirror. Hustling back into the bedroom, she rummaged through a basket piled with strands of pearls, antique brooches, and bangle bracelets. Selecting a pair of blue-and-gold lacquer chopsticks, she stuck them in her bun. Then she gazed into the mirror at her reflection and wrinkled her nose. Too much? Maybe. Maybe not. She’d have to ask Haley.

Jumbo shrimp wrapped
in blankets of tempura batter sizzled and bobbed in Haley’s electric deep fryer. Perfectly wrapped tuna and avocado rolls were artfully arranged on a black lacquer tray. Theodosia, Drayton, and Haley had crowded into the small utility kitchen at the Heritage Society, preparing the appetizers and tea for the evening. Outside, on the patio, Drayton’s bonsai had been positioned on stone pillars that surrounded a pattering fountain, and a backdrop of tall, emerald-green stalks of bamboo swayed in the night breeze. Japanese lanterns cast an intimate orange glow as guests began to trickle in.

As Theodosia assembled miniature skewers of chicken teriyaki, she shared the afternoon’s dramatic (and traumatic) events with Drayton and Haley.

“How utterly terrifying!” Drayton exclaimed. He’d hung breathlessly on every single word of her story. “Did you call the police?”

“What would they have done?” said Haley. “Arrest a bunch of bees?”

“I’m talking about reporting the truck that ran her off the road,” said Drayton.

“Oh,” said Haley.

“I thought about calling local law enforcement,” said Theodosia. “Until I realized I wouldn’t be able to give them a decent description. I never even caught a couple digits from the license plate, and I figured ‘dark-colored truck’ might be a bit obscure.”

“Are you sure you were
deliberately
run off the road?” asked Haley.

“It sure felt like it at the time,” said Theodosia.

“And then someone startled the bees,” said Drayton. “That all sounds extremely deliberate to me. As if…” He paused to measure out several scoops of green tea. “As if someone was seriously harassing you. Or wanted to inflict bodily harm.”

“It could just be a bad coincidence,” said Haley.

“It could be,” said Theodosia.

“Or someone wants you out of the way,” said Drayton, in a low tone.

Haley looked suddenly worried. “Why would that be? Because Theodosia’s been investigating Parker’s death?”

“That’s exactly what comes to mind,” said Drayton.

“But who would be after her?” asked Haley. She turned to Theodosia. “Who do
you
think it was?”

“No clue,” said Theodosia.

“That’s really the crux of the matter, isn’t it?” saidDrayton. “No definitive clues. Concerning Parker’s murder, I mean.”

“Certainly nothing concrete,” said Theodosia. “Nothing that could lead to an arrest.”

“Frustrating,” Drayton murmured. “And now it’s turning dangerous for
you
.” He gave Theodosia a long, knowing look.

“Now that you mention it,” said Haley as she mulled over their words, “stirring up those bees does sound downright
intentional.” She used a pair of long wooden chopsticks to flip her shrimp over in the bubbling oil. “Poor Aunt Libby! Getting stung must have been awful!”

“If it makes you feel any better,” said Theodosia, “poor Aunt Libby was eating chicken piccata and watching a Julia Roberts movie when I left.”

“Oh,” said Haley. “That does sound kind of relaxing. So she really is okay?”

“They’re keeping her overnight for observation,” said Theodosia. “But, yes, all things considered, I think she’ll be just fine.”

“Aunt Libby is tough,” said Drayton. “She’s a little woman with a backbone of forged steel.”

“That’s true,” said Theodosia, “but she iseighty-two.”

“She lived through World War Two,” said Haley. World War II was Haley’s benchmark forrock-bottom courage. Anybody who’d been alive during that era, whether they were a soldier, a factory worker, a farmer, a homemaker, or just a kid, was, in her eyes, a genuine hero.