Shades of Earl Grey (25 page)

Drayton nodded. “Sheldon Tibbets? Yes, he's still doing a fine job of it. But I don't see what—”

“Do you think you could persuade Mr. Tibbets to compose a special little blurb for us?” Theodosia said in a rush.

“I suppose I could,” said Drayton slowly.

“Excellent,” said Theodosia as her energy seemed to increase by leaps and bounds. “Because we're going to take the liberty of
augmenting
the Heritage Society's collection.”

Drayton narrowed his eyes. “What exactly do you mean by
augment
?” he asked.

Theodosia suddenly jumped down off her stool. “The three of us are going to come up with a glitzy, glamorous new objet d'art. Something that's utterly irresistible to a professional cat burglar. And as the icing on the proverbial cake, you, my dear Mr. Conneley, are going to persuade your good friend, Sheldon Tibbets, to give our fabulous new collectible a big write-up in tomorrow's paper!”

Drayton stared at her. “You've got to be kidding.”

“I couldn't be more serious,” said Theodosia. What had Timothy Neville said to her just a few days ago? She racked her brain.
Oh, yes, he said, “There's no guarantee the disaster of last Saturday night won't be repeated.”

“We're going to deliver a guarantee!” exclaimed Theodosia. “A treasure so tasty and utterly irresistible that it's
guaranteed
to attract every salivating cat burglar from here to Palm Beach!”

Drayton was shaking his head and his voice carried a dubious tone. “But what object could possibly do that?” he asked.

Theodosia thought for a moment, recalling an article about so-called investment collectibles that had run not too long ago in
Business Week
magazine.
Let's see,
she thought,
the article mentioned that sports memorabilia were very big today. As well as the ever-popular antiques and artwork. And gold coins. And what else?

Theodosia suddenly pushed her way through the velvet draperies back into the tea shop. Puzzled, Haley and Drayton followed in her wake.

Theodosia stood poised in the middle of the Indigo Tea Shop, her eyes wandering as her mind struggled to spin out a plausible scenario.

Something rare, she told herself. Intriguing, mysterious, with a huge intrinsic value. As her eyes continued to wander, they fell upon the display of teas that sat on one of the wooden shelves behind the old brass cash register. There was a huge selection. Boxes of loose tea from Higgins & Barrow Tea, as well as from Toby & Sons, and Chelsea and Worther.

Suddenly, her eyes focused on the box of Dunsdale Earl Grey Tea. It bore a delightful label, pale green with a heraldic crest surrounded by elaborate flourishes. In the middle was a silhouette of some nobleman. Perhaps, she surmised, the founding Dunsdale himself.

Inspiration suddenly hit her.

“How about a postage stamp?” suggested Theodosia.

Drayton blinked. Any enthusiasm he seemed to be mustering suddenly drained out of him. “Theodosia, I'm sorry but I've been collecting postage stamps for almost thirty years and the rarest one I have is an 1861 two-cent Andrew Jackson with a double transfer on the top left corner. A delicious specimen, to be sure, but not quite in the lofty realm of rare stamps. Not in the ranks that might attract the attention of a cat burglar, anyway.”

Theodosia smiled placidly as Drayton continued.

“And Timothy Neville's been collecting stamps for over
forty
years and the rarest piece in his collection is a block of four 1851 twelve-cent Washingtons.” Drayton paused and pursed his lips, thinking. “We'd have to come up with something far, far better than those if we really wanted to tantalize our thief.”

“Like what?” asked Haley.

Drayton thought for a moment. “The Pony Express collection is worth a fortune. But I can't imagine where we'd lay our hands on a set.”

“What about a one-cent Z grill?” asked Theodosia.

Drayton stared at her. “The 1869 Benjamin Franklin with the Z grill background? Are you kidding?” he snorted. “
Nobody's
got a one-cent Z grill.”

“Aunt Libby does,” said Theodosia with sudden calm. Aunt Libby had inherited a very fine stamp collection from her grandfather, Theodosia's great-grandfather.

“Really?” squealed Haley. She grabbed for Drayton's arm, ready to do a little dance. “A Z grill!” She hopped up and down, did a quick shuffle, then stopped suddenly. “What's a Z grill?”

“An exceedingly rare philatelic specimen, that's what it is,” said Drayton. He peered at Theodosia and cocked his head in disbelief. “Really? Your Aunt Libby has one?” Now he sounded like Haley. Incredulous.

Yes, Theodosia mused to herself, a rare postage stamp would be perfect. Stamps in general were escalating in value, sometimes even outpacing other collectibles. Besides, rare stamps were portable, easy to hide, and relatively easy to cash in. They were an easy sell to private collectors, who were often compulsive about completing their prized collections. Who knows, a rare stamp might even be the perfect bait to lure a cat burglar.

Drayton was still looking eagerly at her, waiting for an answer. “You're quite sure it's a Franklin Z grill?”

Theodosia nodded and a slow smile spread across Drayton's face. “Yes,” he murmured, “that's the ticket, then. A stamp so rare perhaps only a handful of top collectors know about it or have even seen one.”

“What's the story?” asked Haley. “Why will it be on display?”

Theodosia thought for a moment. “We'll say it's part of Drayton's collection.” She gazed at him, liking the sound of it. “Will that make good enough fodder for a newspaper article?” she asked.

“I'll call Sheldon Tibbets now,” Drayton told her.

CHICKEN PERLOO HAS
long been a dinner time favorite in Charleston as well as the surrounding low-country. Really a type of pilaf or jambalaya, Chicken Perloo, usually pronounced PER-lo and sometimes spelled pilau, is a homey one-pot meal that combines chicken, onions, celery, butter, tomatoes, thyme, and that ever-popular Carolina staple, white rice.

Simmering and bubbling on the stove in Theodosia's kitchen, the Chicken Perloo emitted enticing aromas as Theodosia, Jory, Drayton, and Haley sat around Theodosia's dining table. First course was a citrus salad topped with sliced strawberries and toasted almonds.

“Are you sure we shouldn't check on the Chicken Perloo?” asked Drayton. He was seated closest to the kitchen door and was the one most tantalized by the flavorful aroma.

“Don't you dare lift the cover on that kettle,” warned Theodosia.

Haley shook her head. “Why do men always want to take a peak?” she asked.

“Because that's how men are,” said Jory Davis. “It's inherent in our nature. We're compulsive lid-lifters and oven-door openers.” He took a sip of wine. “Curiosity is a wonderful thing,” he added.

“Not when it causes a cake to fall,” said Haley. “Remember that angel food cake I made last month? Drayton just couldn't resist. Had to sneak the oven door open and take a look. And what were the results of his unbridled curiosity? Bam. A nasty mess. The poor thing crashed like the Hindenburg.”

“Why blame me, when the true culprit was the humidity,” protested Drayton. “Everyone knows you can't bake angel food cake when the air is completely saturated with humidity.”

“We hadn't had rain in days,” said Haley. She slid out of her chair and began collecting the empty salad plates. “I'll help you serve, okay?” she said to Theodosia.

“Great,” said Theodosia. “And if Jory could pour some more wine, I think we're set.”

It was a perfect dinner. Morsels of fresh, plump chicken blended with the tomatoes, celery, onions, and moist rice in a rich milieu. Not quite a stew, not quite a gumbo. And with Jory's crisp white wine and a pan of fresh-baked corn muffins, nothing else was needed.

No one spoke of cat burglars or the dilemma at the Heritage Society until dessert, when Haley's cake and lemon curd were served. And then it was Theodosia who began the discussion by bringing Jory Davis up to speed on the strange note they'd received that morning.

“It does seem like a cryptic warning,” he said as he held the note in his hands, studying it. “It's tempting to just blow it off or chalk it up to a disgruntled customer, but I don't think that's the case here.”

“Neither do we,” said Theodosia.

“So you think it's from this cat burglar guy, too?” Haley asked Jory as she began collecting plates.

“It's possible,” said Jory. He stared across the table at Theodosia and concern was apparent in his face. “Tell me again about your idea for tomorrow night?”

Earlier in the evening, when Jory Davis had first arrived and she was still chopping celery, she'd mentioned her plan for putting a rare postage stamp on display at the Heritage Society tomorrow night. Now she filled Jory in about how Drayton had convinced his friend, Sheldon Tibbets, to write a short blurb about the Z grill to run in tomorrow's edition.

Jory Davis leaned back in his chair and chuckled. “Sounds good. Although I must say, you three have exceedingly
active
imaginations.”

“But do you think it will work?” pressed Drayton.

“Why not,” said Jory, suddenly switching to a more serious demeanor. “Of course, not being a stamp collector or . . . what's the technical term?”

“Philatelist,” filled in Drayton.

“Not being a dedicated philatelist,” said Jory, “the stamp sounds intriguing. But not something I'd risk life and limb for. However . . .”

He gazed across the table at Theodosia, bathed in the glow of pink candlelight.

“I think that professional thieves are probably also knowledgeable connoisseurs,” continued Jory. “My guess is they have a fairly good grasp of today's market value for oil paintings and jewelry and stamps and such. That's what drives them.” Haley set a dessert down in front of him and Jory immediately helped himself to a bite of cake. “Mmn, good. That might also be your cat burglar's Achilles' heel, by the way.”

“What do you mean?” asked Haley, fascinated.

“My guess is their knowledge is their downfall. It's how they eventually get caught. A professional thief
knows
the value of his ill-gotten merchandise, yet often ends up trying to negotiate with fences or unsavory dealers who
don't.
If these dealers get an inkling that something
is
of real value, they could easily flip on their so-called customer, report it to the insurance company, and pocket a nice fat reward.”

“And if a cat burglar sells his stolen goods on the Internet?” said Theodosia.

Jory Davis knew she was referring to Graham Carmody. “That's a different story,” he said. He looked around the table. “Have you told them about Graham Carmody?” he asked her.

And so Theodosia quickly related her tale of going to Graham Carmody's house, snatching the black plastic garbage bag, and finding it stuffed with computer printouts from various Internet auction sites.

“Theodosia,” chided Drayton, “you continue to trample the boundaries of what is prudent and safe. Going to this Graham Carmody's house alone was far too impulsive.”

“Yeah,” agreed Haley, “you should have asked us to go along with you. Make a real outing of it!”

Drayton glowered at Haley. “That's not what I meant and you know it!”

“But look at the valuable information she picked up,” argued Haley. “Up until now, did you think this waiter was a viable suspect?”

Drayton shrugged. “It was anybody's guess,” he said.

“Right,” said Haley. “And look where we are now.” She flashed a lopsided grin at Drayton, who did his best to ignore her.

“Let's talk about tomorrow evening,” said Drayton. “I'm exceedingly nervous about pulling this off.”

“I think we all are,” said Theodosia. “But at least we'll have our whole cast of characters assembled there.”

“Graham Carmody is on the list as one of the waiters?” asked Jory.

“His employers at Butler's Express assure me he'll be there,” said Drayton.

“Are we keeping an eye on Cooper Hobcaw?” asked Haley. “I'm still suspicious of him after you told me about his nightly runs through the historic district.”

“Cooper Hobcaw will be attending with Delaine,” said Theodosia. “After all, she's on the committee for ticket sales.”

“What if he's cooling off over Delaine and getting interested in Aerin?” asked Haley. “I mean, the two of them really had their heads together when I saw them. It looked fairly intense. Maybe he's up to something?”

“I'll stop by Delaine's store tomorrow morning and have a chat with her,” said Theodosia. “See what I can find out.”

“So who else needs to be covered?” asked Jory.

“Claire Kitridge,” said Theodosia. “She's kind of a wild card in all this.”

“Will she be at the opening?” asked Jory.

“Certainly not as an invited guest,” said Theodosia.

“I hardly think Claire will be there,” replied Drayton, “seeing as how the poor woman's been placed on suspension.”

“I'll watch her,” volunteered Jory. “I've always wanted to be on a stakeout anyway.”

“I'll baby-sit Earl Grey,” piped up Haley, “but if anything big happens, you guys better promise to call me.”

“So we're set,” said Theodosia. “Our bait will be in place, now all we have to do is see if anyone comes sniffing after it.”