Steeped in Evil (A Tea Shop Mystery) (13 page)

It may have
been a mystery mission, but it wasn’t particularly weird or creepy-crawly.

“This is gorgeous,” said Drayton as they drove through the stone pillars that marked the front entrance for Plantation Wilds. “Look at how amazingly green everything is. It looks almost artificial. Like the turf you see on football fields.”

“When you hire a cadre of agronomists and greens keepers who endlessly cut, mow, water, and fertilize, this is the kind of grass you eventually end up with,” said Theodosia.

“Still,” said Drayton, “it’s very impressive.”

“Drayton, you act like you’ve never visited a golf course before.”

Drayton lifted his chin just a notch. “Actually . . . I haven’t.”

Theodosia followed along the road, which swept around several of the fairways and greens, stopping at one point to allow several golf carts to trundle across the road in front of her. Then she continued on to the clubhouse.

Built to resemble an old South Carolina rice plantation, the clubhouse was painted pale yellow with white trim and featured a high, slanted roof, a wide porch on three sides, and a two-story portico.

“This is nice, too,” said Drayton as two valets in golf shirts and knickers quickly sprang to attention and pulled open their car doors.

“Maybe you’ll get so inspired you’ll decide to take up golf,” Theodosia joked as they headed into the clubhouse.

“What . . . me?” said Drayton. “Oh no, I don’t think I’m the sporting type at all.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” said Theodosia.

They quickly located the business office and told the young fellow at the front desk that they were there to see Donny Hedges.

“You’re sure you made an appointment?” Theodosia asked under her breath.

Drayton nodded. “We should be all set.”

Three minutes later, they were ushered into Donny Hedges’s office.

Hedges was tall and muscular, with a suntanned face and a grip like a professional wrestler. He was probably in his midfifties, but had the physique of a man ten years younger. Basically, he looked like he belonged at a golf club.

“Donny,” said Drayton, extending his hand. “Wonderful to see you again.”

“Drayton, welcome,” said Hedges. The walls of his office were decorated in a green-and-white-plaid wallpaper, and antique gold clubs were displayed in a glass case.

Drayton quickly introduced Theodosia, then they all gazed out the windows of Hedges’s corner office, which offered a spectacular view of the superbly manicured golf course and, in particular, the eighteenth hole.

“This looks like a great course,” Theodosia told Hedges. There was a beehive of activity going on down below. Golf carts disgorging golfers, caddies unloading clubs, workers speeding around in more industrial-looking carts.

“Do you play golf?” Hedges asked her. “I know Drayton doesn’t, but you look like you might play an occasional round or two.”

“I do play,” said Theodosia.

“Do you have a favorite course?” asked Hedges. He gestured for them to take a seat in the armchairs that faced his desk.

“I’m fairly partial to Palmetto Dunes at Hilton Head.”

“A fine course,” said Hedges. “But perhaps we might persuade you to play here sometime.”

“I’d like that very much,” said Theodosia.

“Hey,” Hedges said to Drayton. “The Met’s doing
La Bohème
this season.”

“So I understand,” said Drayton.

Hedges smiled at Theodosia. “Are you an opera fan, too?”

“Love it,” said Theodosia.

“Donny,” said Drayton, leaning forward in his chair and getting down to business now. “I explained a little bit about what I was after when we spoke on the phone.”

“The mess at Knighthall Winery,” said Hedges. He made a grimace and said, “Shocking, just shocking. When that poor boy came spilling out . . . well, I’ve never been so shocked in my entire life. Do you know . . . are the authorities any closer to catching his killer?”

“There are a few suspects,” said Drayton.

This was Theodosia’s cue to jump in. “Jordan and Pandora Knight seem to think that you and your board of directors are bent on engineering some sort of hostile takeover of their land.” She didn’t tell him that Pandora had out and out accused him of murdering Drew. Better to ease into things.

“I made a couple of
offers
on their land,” said Hedges. He blinked and looked up thoughtfully. “Last one was maybe a year or so ago?”

“But nothing recently,” said Drayton.

“No,” said Hedges. “They made it pretty clear they weren’t interested in selling.”

“But you were interested in buying,” said Theodosia. She was curious as to just how interested he was.

“Oh yeah,” said Hedges. “Knighthall has a good-sized parcel of land, not all of it under cultivation. And since it adjoins Plantation Wilds, it would’ve made for an ideal situation.”

“You’d build another golf course?” said Drayton.

“Two or three if I could,” said Hedges. “Then we could enlarge the clubhouse and put up a condo development, too.” He grinned happily, as if relishing the idea. “Golfers just love condos.”

“I’m wondering,” said Theodosia, “if you’ve had any interaction with Jordan or Pandora Knight recently. Something they might have construed as angry or hostile?”

Hedges looked blank. Then a look of dark suspicion came across his face. “Wait a minute. Do those two fruitcakes think
I
had something to do with that kid’s death?”

Drayton looked nervous, so Theodosia answered for him.

“It’s come up in conversation.”

“Hey!” said Hedges, sounding outraged. “I’m a legitimate businessman here, not some crazy killer.” He slapped a hand down hard on his desk. “And I don’t go around hiring hit men, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I’m sorry,” said Theodosia, “but that kind of is what we’re asking.”

“I was as shocked as everyone else,” said Hedges. He focused his angry gaze on Drayton. “Drayton, you
know
me! We served on the Opera Society together!”

“Apologies,” said Drayton. “We didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Well, you did,” said Hedges. His right hand reached out and grabbed a bright yellow sponge rubber golf ball off his desk. Squeezing it hard, he said, “Honestly, I hope other people aren’t thinking the same thing . . . gossiping about me.”

“They’re not,” said Theodosia. “I promise. This came only from Pandora Knight.”

Hedges still wasn’t convinced. “You’re sure about that?”

“You have my word,” said Drayton.

“Ah . . . jeez,” said Hedges. He touched a hand to his heart. “Pandora never liked me . . . so I’d hate to have people talking.”

“They’re not,” Drayton assured him.

“We’re sorry to have upset you,” said Theodosia. “Really, you have our sincere apologies.”

“So why are you even
asking
questions like that?” said Hedges. He was still very upset.

“We’re trying to help Jordan Knight,” said Drayton.

“Help him?” said Hedges. “Help him how?”

“By trying to find the killer,” said Theodosia.

• • •

“Well, that went
well,” said Drayton, once they were back in the car.

“Ah . . . not,” said Theodosia. “I sure hope it hasn’t destroyed your friendship.”

“Shredded it a little,” said Drayton as they drove along. “But there are probably a few pieces still intact.”

“Maybe you were right,” said Theodosia. She slowed to let a golf cart scuttle across in front of her, the golfers laughing and joking, oblivious to her courtesy.

“About what?”

“When you said that maybe we should just let this go.”

“Yes, but . . . excuse me, this doesn’t sound like you,” said Drayton. “You’re never one to capitulate.”

“I know,” said Theodosia. “But this . . . this wanton tirade of accusations that keep spewing out of Jordan and Pandora. I mean, no wonder Sheriff Anson is playing it so close to the vest. They’ve probably assaulted him with all kinds of crazy theories.”

“He’s a professional,” said Drayton. “I’m sure he’s able to sort through them.”

“Maybe,” said Theodosia. “And maybe they have him running around in circles, but not homing in on the real killer.”

“You make it sound as if they don’t want the killer found.”

“Not at all,” said Theodosia. “I just think they’re so mired in grief and anger that they’re grasping at straws.” They exited the Plantation Wilds property and hooked a left onto County Road 4.

“Going to go right past Knighthall Winery,” said Drayton.

“You know what?” said Theodosia. “Why don’t we drop by and pay them a surprise visit.”

“For what purpose?” Drayton asked. “To ask Jordan Knight some more questions?”

“Not questions per se. Just . . . well, I’d like to get him talking about Drew again. See how much he really knew about the drugs and things.”

“You might be opening up a can of worms,” said Drayton.

“I think it’s already open,” said Theodosia.

• • •

But when they
rolled into the winery, the place looked practically deserted. Not a single car in the visitors’ parking lot, a
CLOSED
sign hanging in the window of the tasting room.

“Nobody home,” said Drayton.

“There has to be somebody around.”

They climbed out and stood for a moment. The hot sun lasered down on them while a subtle breeze allowed a modicum of cool. A nearby
clunk-thunk
drew their attention. Two workers had just emerged from the large barn, one older man, one young man barely out of his teens. Each was struggling under a large piece of equipment. Theodosia thought they looked like pumps of some sort.

“Excuse me,” said Theodosia. “Is Jordan Knight around?”

The workers stopped in their tracks and set their loads down. “I don’t think so,” the older one said.

“How about Pandora?” called Drayton.

“I’m not sure,” said the older worker. “Maybe I can help you?”

“Is Tom Grady around?” Theodosia asked.

Both workers nodded.

“He should be. At least he was an hour ago,” said the younger one. Theodosia recognized him as the unfortunate fellow who’d pried the lid off the barrel last Sunday. She wondered how these guys fit into the puzzle, if at all.

“Maybe we should just wander around the grounds,” said Drayton. “See if we stumble upon him.”

“Let’s try his office first,” said Theodosia.

They walked inside the enormous barn and were immediately hit by the rich aroma of fresh, peppery grapes.

“Quite an interesting scent,” said Drayton, wrinkling his nose. “But awfully potent.”

“When you own a winery,” said Theodosia, “I don’t think there’s any escaping it.”

Tom Grady’s office door was closed, so Theodosia knocked on it. When he didn’t appear, she called out, “Mr. Grady? Hello?” Still nothing. She looked at Drayton, who shrugged.

“Maybe he’s not here,” said Drayton. “Maybe he drove into town or something.”

“Only one way to find out.” Theodosia grasped the doorknob and pushed the door open. Drayton was right. The office was empty, the desk looking orderly. Nobody home.

“So let’s just wander around,” suggested Drayton. “We’ll probably run into Grady if he’s here.”

They wandered into the interior of the production area, past the enormous holding tanks, taking care when they stepped over a tangle of plastic hoses that lay on the floor. Then they emerged through the back door.

“This is so lovely and picturesque,” said Drayton. He was admiring the same view that Theodosia had found so charming just two days ago. “I can understand why Donny Hedges was so interested in buying this land. Oh, and look at that charming little cottage. Is that where the offices are located?”

“That’s where Drew and Tanya had been living,” said Theodosia. “The offices are . . .” She gestured to the left. “Over there. In the back half of the tasting room.”