Read Steeped in Evil (A Tea Shop Mystery) Online
Authors: Laura Childs
Steeped in Evil (A Tea Shop Mystery) (11 page)
“That’s all I needed to hear!”
Theodosia strolled with him to the back gate. “You really like the house?” she asked.
Turned nodded. “It’s amazing. Just what I’ve been looking for. Thanks for kind of introducing us.”
“You’re welcome.”
Turner turned to her, a look of concern on his face. “You’re going to the funeral tomorrow?”
Theodosia nodded. “Yes, both Drayton and I are going.”
“Me, too,” said Turner. He shook his head. “The whole murder is just so . . . bizarre. I mean, this was really just a kid. He wasn’t even involved in the business all that much.”
“It’s very strange,” Theodosia agreed.
“And there aren’t even any suspects?”
“None that I know of,” said Theodosia.
Turner seemed almost down. “Just a shame,” he lamented. “A darned shame.”
• • •
Theodosia thought she
might wander next door and say hi to Maggie Twining. But when she saw that the house was dark, she decided to just go for her run.
Once she and Earl Grey got out onto the street, she saw that Delaine had been right. There was a full moon tonight. Silver beams dappled the leaves and cast a moon glow on the streets.
It was late, almost ten o’clock, and Theodosia rarely went out this late for a run. But she’d continued to ponder the murder long after Andrew Turner had left, and she felt a little unsettled. Also, her talk with Georgette Kroft had left her wondering if the woman really was a viable suspect. And her encounter with Tanya had left her feeling oddly sad. The young woman had obviously loved Drew, but had probably been covering for him, too.
Enabling
was what professionals called it.
Theodosia wondered if Jordan Knight had enabled his son, too. Had he known about Drew’s drug problems? Had he simply turned a blind eye to his son’s drug addiction? If so, that was heartbreaking, to say the least.
Earl Grey gave a tug on his leash, as if trying to pull Theodosia’s attention back to him.
“You’re right,” she told him. “I’ve got to let this thing go for a while. Enjoy the evening and your fine canine company.”
Earl Grey tossed his head in agreement.
“So what’s it going to be tonight? A jog through White Point Gardens?”
Those were the magic words. Earl Grey tugged again and they were off. Down King Street and headed for the Battery. They ran through the dark night past palatial homes tricked out with pillars, columns, and balustrades, sitting shoulder to shoulder with each other like rich dowagers in their fancy lace and diamonds. Lights twinkled in the windows and Theodosia caught fragments of elegant libraries, crystal chandeliers, and cozy dining rooms.
Then they were at the park, running beneath a canopy of trees that seemed to stretch forever. A stiff breeze hinted at salt, enormous waves, and high adventure as the water rushed in from the Atlantic to pound the shoreline with its oyster shell beach.
It was a good night just to enjoy being alive. To run like the wind and feel your leg muscles warming to the beat.
They turned down Lenwood and slowed their pace, back among the houses now, heading for home. It was full-on dark now, and the old-fashioned round street lamps looked like a string of rosary beads stretching down the cobblestone street.
Nobody was out tonight. No other joggers, dog walkers, or strolling tourists. Probably, Theodosia decided, all the tourists were snugged inside the B and B’s and historic inns, sipping their wine, planning their itinerary for tomorrow.
A dark car slid by on the cross street ahead of her. Slowed for a moment, then kept going. Probably tourists rolling in late.
When she hit Tradd Street, Theodosia hooked a right and jogged past the Morgan-Albemarle Home. It was one of Charleston’s oldest landmarks, still occupied by Albemarle descendants, and once a year, during the autumn Lamplighter Tour, they graciously threw open their doors for public tours.
She was halfway down Tradd, now heading for home, when another car slid by her. Theodosia wasn’t sure, but she thought it might be the same car she’d seen just a few minutes ago.
She felt a small prickle of apprehension work its way up her spine. She was never frightened when she was out alone at night, but she was always mindful. Charleston tended to be a peaceable city. Then again, she’d just been witness to a murder a couple of days ago.
Picking up the pace, Theodosia and Earl Grey sprinted the last couple of blocks, blasted down their alley, and arrived at their back gate. With no further feelings of uneasiness whatsoever.
In the kitchen, Earl Grey headed for his water dish and Theodosia grabbed a bottle of spring water. It had been a good run, a chance to blow out the carbon and unwind after kind of a crazy day. She took another slug of water and headed upstairs. Now the big question was—hot, steamy shower or bubbly bath? She grabbed a beige cotton robe out of her closet, what she called her spa robe, and stopped in her tracks.
Something up here felt funny. But what?
She frowned, sniffed, and looked around. Something felt . . . different. As if the air had been stirred up, the ions had shifted.
Theodosia stiffened. Had someone come into her house while she and Earl Grey had been out running? Could that happen?
Had
that happened?
Shivering now, even though she was still warm from her run, Theodosia padded back downstairs. She started at the back of her house and worked her way to the front, checking to make sure the doors were locked, double checking the windows.
Like every woman who lived alone, she had dark, creepy thoughts and secret worries that lurked in the deep recess of her mind. Ax murderers, maniacs in ripped straitjackets, zombies. Well, maybe not zombies.
One of the windows in her living room was unlatched.
Whoa.
But nobody would dare enter her house from the street side, would they? Wouldn’t they get hung up in the rhododendrons and spine-tipped Spanish yucca? Wouldn’t they be noticed immediately if they crawled though her front window?
“Earl Grey.” Theodosia said it calmly and quietly. Her dog was at her side in a heartbeat, lifting his muzzle and looking up at her, sensing her concern.
“Good dog. Take a look around, will you?”
Earl Grey padded through the dining room and into the kitchen. She heard rustling and snuffling for a few minutes, and then he came pacing back to her. He cocked his head and threw her a questioning glance, as if to say, “Are you still worried?”
“Let’s go upstairs, fella,” she said. “Time for bed.” She had a funeral to attend tomorrow morning so she still had to pick out some suitable, somber clothing. And then, of course, there was their Downton Abbey tea. All in all, a very busy day.
In her bedroom, Theodosia ambled into the turret annex she used as her reading room. Her laptop computer was sitting on top of a small spinet desk and she decided to do a quick check of her e-mail. But when she sat down at the desk, something seemed off. A stack of papers looked like it had been shifted. A small drawer was slightly open.
Theodosia racked her brain.
Did I do this? In my haste and hurry, did I leave things like this?
She hoped so, because the alternative was much too frightening to contemplate.
Touching a hand to her cheek, Theodosia stroked it gently as she finally let her mind travel in that direction.
Then she dropped a finger to her track pad and called up her search history.
Turned out the last thing she’d been searching for was green alien.
Had someone snuck into her house, looked around, had the nerve to come into her bedroom, and stumbled upon her computer? And then, for some bizarre reason, checked her search history?
The thought chilled her to the bone. Maybe she was over-reacting, maybe she was just being paranoid. But first she decided to check her locks again.
Magnolia Cemetery, located
on the banks of the Cooper River, was the oldest public cemetery in Charleston. Always a place of beauty, peace, and prayer, today it was also a place of great sadness. Long shafts of sunlight filtered down through overhead trees and bounced off Drew Knight’s silver metal casket as it rested on a carved wooden bier.
Theodosia and Drayton, seated in the last row of rickety black metal chairs, bowed their heads as the minister, in his somber black suit, said his final words and prayers over Drew’s casket. Never having met Drew, except for that horribly unfortunate scene at the winery, Theodosia was still aware of the palpable sorrow that was felt by all the mourners.
“Rest in peace,” chanted the minister.
“And let perpetual light shine upon him,” responded the mourners.
Theodosia glanced around. Drew’s family was sitting in the first row: Jordan, Pandora, and a few aunts, uncles, and cousins. Tom Grady and several of the workers occupied the second row. The girlfriend, Tanya, was also in attendance, but she wasn’t sitting in the first row with the family. She had been relegated to the fourth row, the minor leagues of mourning. Dressed in a low-cut black dress that looked more appropriate for the cocktail hour than a funeral, Tanya also sported a large ring with a bright blue stone. Theodosia wondered if that might have been a gift from Drew.
Theodosia also spotted Frederick Welborne, manager at the Lady Goodwood Inn, as well as Andrew Turner crowded in among the mourners. Theodosia thought it was awfully kind on Turner’s part. She also found it particularly charitable that he still planned to include Drew Knight’s work in his art show. It meant that a small, creative spark of Drew would live on.
Something in Theodosia’s peripheral vision made her crank her head to the left. And there, standing against an enormous live oak, almost on the periphery, was Carl Van Deusen. She wondered how well Van Deusen and Drew had known each other. Had they been best buds or just friendly acquaintances?
And, good grief, there was Bill Glass, the sleazy editor/owner of the local gossip rag
Shooting Star.
He was creeping along the perimeter, taking pictures of the mourners. What on earth? Did the man not understand propriety at all? Theodosia glared at Glass. She was so incensed she was ready to spring to her feet and block his next shot. Then Drayton nudged her gently and she reluctantly turned her focus back to the service.
There were a few more gently mumbled blessings and then the minister led everyone in a final song, “How Great Thou Art.” Their voices rose in a shaky
a cappella,
blending together in disjointed harmony.
And then, the service concluded, Jordan Knight stood up and stumbled toward the casket. In his hands he clutched a wreath of grapevine that had been woven with a dozen white roses. As he placed it atop his son’s casket and bowed his head, his shoulders shook with emotion.
“This is awful,” Drayton whispered to Theodosia. “I feel so bad for him. So . . . helpless.”
She nodded back as several more relatives clustered around the casket, placing flowers, touching it reverently, and bowing their heads to give it a final kiss.
And then, just like that, the service was over. It really was, as the good book professed, a case of dust to dust. A life had been snuffed out in an instant and now it was being returned to the earth, to take its place in the great continuum of time.
“Do you think we should hurry back to the tea shop?” asked Drayton. He was nervous about their Downton Abbey tea today. “Or do we have time to go through the . . . what would you call it? Receiving line?” He shook his head. “No, that can’t be right. Condolence line? That sounds awfully strange, too.”
Theodosia slipped her arm through his. “Let’s just go tell them how sorry we are one more time.”
But as they waited in line, Bill Glass came shlumping along. A camera was carelessly strung around his neck, and he held another one in his hand.
“Glass!” said Theodosia. “What are
you
doing here?”
Bill Glass gave her a sharp look and a sharklike grin. With his slicked-back hair and shiny suit, he reminded her of a sleazy used car salesman.
“This is my kind of event,” Glass told her. “A smattering of society duffs, a few tears, a fancy coffin. Makes for good copy.”
“That’s just awful!” said Drayton.
But Theodosia decided to take full advantage of bumping into him. “I understand you have a reporter working for you who writes food and wine reviews?”
“Yeah,” said Glass. “Harvey Flagg. Why? You looking for a choice review?”
“Not particularly,” said Theodosia. “But Jordan Knight seems to think your Mr. Flagg has an ax to grind against his winery.” She knew investigating the reporter Flagg was a long shot, but decided it was still worth pursuing.
“Not that I know of,” said Glass as if this was the first he’d heard. “Flagg’s a good guy. Knowledgeable when it comes to local restaurants, a good writer, fairly decent photographer, too.”
“I’ve met him,” said Drayton. “He’s not a good guy.”
“Aw, give him a chance,” said Glass. “In fact, I’ll even send him over to your place.” He smirked. “He can come over today if that’s what you want.”
“That’s not a good idea,” said Drayton. “We’re terribly busy today.”
“We’re having a special themed tea,” Theodosia explained. “A Downton Abbey tea.”
“That’s perfect then,” said Glass. “A trendy, upscale event like that is just the sort of thing my readers will enjoy. We’ll cover it!”
“Oh no!” said Drayton, beginning to sputter.
But Theodosia held up a hand and said, “It’s not a good idea.”
“Come on,” Glass urged.
“Well . . . Flagg would have to promise not to get in the way,” Theodosia said with some reluctance.
“He’ll be a mouse in the corner,” said Glass. “Believe me, it won’t be a problem.”
As Glass moved off to pester someone else, Drayton turned to her. “Are you sure about this? I don’t like the idea of that Flagg fellow just showing up.”
“Look at it this way,” said Theodosia. “It’ll give us a chance to do a kind of assessment of him.”
“You mean try to determine if he might be the killer?” said Drayton.
Theodosia sighed. “Well, when you put it that way . . .”
They took their place in line, speaking briefly to several of the relatives, and then moving along until they finally reached Pandora.
“I’m hopping mad!” Pandora cried the moment she saw them. “I talked to Sheriff Anson early this morning and he had absolutely
nothing
new for us. Between you and me, I think the man’s an indolent fool! He’s done next to nothing to solve this case!”
“I’m sure he’s doing something,” Theodosia put in. She was aware that Pandora’s outburst had caused several heads to turn.
Pandora shook her head. “I don’t believe he’s even bothered to talk to the golf course people or that awful Georgette Kroft at Oak Hill.”
“They’re still on our list,” Drayton assured her. “We’re still committed to checking them out.”
“You know,” said Theodosia, “I really hate to bring this up. But Drew’s drug use . . . it could be an issue.” How to phrase this delicately? “It could be related to this case.”
Interestingly enough, Pandora gave a resigned nod. “Yes, the boy did have a terrible problem. Even though Jordan never wanted to admit it.”
“If Drew was still using drugs,” said Theodosia, “it could have put him in contact with all sorts of desperate and unsavory people.” She knew it also would have helped if she and Jordan had been honest about this in the first place.
“And desperate people do desperate things,” said Pandora. “I’m fully cognizant of that.”
“You’ve spoken with Sheriff Anson about the possibility of drugs being involved?” asked Drayton.
“Yes, I did mention it to him,” said Pandora. She glanced around and lowered her voice. “You know, I was the one who urged Drew to enter a treatment center in the first place.”
“That was very courageous of you to intercede,” said Drayton. “It couldn’t have been easy.”
“Believe me, it wasn’t,” said Pandora. “Talking to Drew about his drug use was like unleashing some crazy kind of hurricane. But I know I did the right thing when I pushed him into treatment. Even though Jordan and that awful, skanky girlfriend were no help at all.”
“What’s going on with Tanya?” asked Theodosia. “I know she’s here today . . . but is she still living in the cottage at the winery?”
“No, thank goodness,” said Pandora. “She’s finally moved out.” She rolled her eyes. “Of course, Drew’s Porsche is missing, too, so I certainly wouldn’t put it past her. She’s a schemer, that one!”
• • •
Theodosia and Drayton
made their way through the condolence line until they finally reached Jordan Knight. He stood next to Drew’s casket, his head bowed, looking like a man who’d lost everything. His watery blue eyes were bloodshot, his skin looked dry and papery, his suit hung limply on his frame.
“I’m so very sorry,” said Drayton. He put a hand on Jordan’s shoulder and squeezed gently.
“My sympathies,” Theodosia whispered. She’d uttered those same words so many times this past week, it felt like rote.
“Please know,” Drayton told Jordan, “that justice
will
be served.”
But Jordan seemed more despondent that ever before. “I don’t know what’s going to happen now,” he told them in a halting, choked-up voice. “Now that Drew is gone.” His head swiveled in a half turn to gaze at the casket and his eyes filled with tears. “Please, if there’s
anything
you can do.” He stared directly at Theodosia now.
“Really,” she whispered. “I am trying.”
“We were just talking to Pandora,” said Drayton. “And Theodosia here brought up Drew’s drug use.”
Jordan stiffened, as if he’d been poked with a hot wire.
“We’re terribly sorry to bring it up,” said Theodosia, jumping in. “But it could be related to Drew’s death. A drug dealer, someone he met in treatment . . .”
“Drug treatment,” Jordan spat out. “That was particularly useful.”
“I’m sure something positive came of it,” Theodosia said gently.
“I understand Pandora was the one who convinced Drew to go?” said Drayton.
A harsh look came across Jordan’s face and the muscles in his jaw tensed. “Now that Drew is gone, Pandora is starting to work me over again.”
“What on earth do you mean?” said Drayton, looking perplexed.
“My soon-to-be-ex-wife is trying to convince me that selling part of the winery to Mr. Tanaka is the smartest smart way to go,” said Jordan.
“Is Mr. Tanaka still in town?” Theodosia asked. This came as a huge surprise to her. She assumed the offer from Higashi Golden Brands was old news.
“Yes, of course he’s still here!” said Jordan. “Hanging around and forever whispering in Pandora’s ear. And now that Pandora can exercise her right to own the majority of shares, she’s bent on trying to railroad me.” He held up his hand and clenched his fist. “But I swear I’ll never let my vineyard go!”
“Absolutely not,” said Drayton. “Not after all your hard work.”
But Jordan’s bravado was short lived. “And even if we don’t sell out,” he continued, “Pandora keeps pushing for more red wine production. No more whites, only reds!”
Perhaps that’s what sells best,” said Theodosia. She didn’t think red wine or white wine was really the issue here. What mattered was resolving a murder amid a bunch of grieving people who seemed to enjoy savaging each other.
• • •
“That was uncomfortable,”
said Drayton as he and Theodosia walked slowly back to their car. They passed a tall obelisk and picked their way between two rows of ancient stone tablets.
“Look here,” said Drayton, pointing. “The grave of Confederate General Micah Jenkins. Of course, there are lots of soldiers buried here from both sides, Union and Confederate.”
“Sad,” said Theodosia.
“All wars are a terrible waste,” said Drayton. “Magnolia Cemetery seems to be the final resting place for pride, privilege, and sacrifice.”
“Don’t forget,” said Theodosia. “There are also plenty of politicians, pirates, bootleggers, and madams buried here.”