Steeped in Evil (A Tea Shop Mystery) (21 page)

The next morning,
Drayton was still in a tizzy. He knocked over a tall white taper while he was arranging one of the tables and chipped the rim of one of their Crown Ducal Chintz teacups.

“Drat!” he said, making a face. “I didn’t mean to do that!”

Theodosia hurried across the empty tea shop to examine the minute chip. “It’s not bad,” she said, turning the cup over in her hands. “It’s fixable anyway. With a little polymer clay and a dab of ceramic paint, it’ll be as good as new.”

“But it’s a chip and it’s due to my carelessness,” said Drayton.

“Accidents happen.”

“But rarely to
me
,” said Drayton.

It was Friday morning and the atmosphere seemed to be filled with a low-level tension. Drayton was still acutely wound up over last night’s car chase and crash in the swamp. Haley had been stunned by their retelling of the accident and Van Deusen’s near-drowning. And Theodosia was feeling tired and generally on edge.

She wasn’t exactly sure why. Because the events of the previous night should have yielded a certain degree of satisfaction. Not that Van Deusen had been harmed in any way, but that he’d been apprehended and his involvement in Drew’s murder pretty much confirmed by the pistol stashed in his car. In fact, Sheriff Anson had given the impression that Drew’s murder had been solved. So case closed.

On the other hand, this all seemed a little too tidy for Theodosia. Particularly that pistol tucked into the trunk of the Porsche.

Had Van Deusen murdered Drew and then stolen his car? If that was all true, was he stupid enough to leave the incriminating murder weapon in the trunk?

Theodosia let this thought percolate through her brain as she straightened a grapevine wreath on the wall. She knew there were inept bank robbers who dropped their wallets during the course of a robbery, stickup artists who smiled blandly at security cameras, and all sorts of other stupid criminal pet tricks that had been captured on tape. Heck, you could probably go to YouTube and laugh yourself silly over the footage.

And then there were the circumstances surrounding last night’s accident. Another car had forced Van Deusen off the road.

So . . . the question remained. Had Van Deusen murdered Drew Knight? And if so, what was his motive?

Sheriff Anson had thought drugs, and that same idea danced around in her own mind, too. So maybe the next thing to do would be—

“Hey!” said Haley. She walked out into the still-empty tea shop, holding up the
Post and Courier,
a big smile on her face. “You guys made the paper!”

“Oh no,” said Dayton. He touched a finger to his bow tie and patted it, as if needing reassurance.

Haley peered across the top of the newspaper. “Well, not you specifically. Just some of the details concerning last night’s big chase. There’s a kind of sidebar here about it.”

“But Theodosia and I aren’t mentioned?” said Drayton.

“Let me put it this way,” said Haley as she continued reading. “You’re mentioned but not named. “Ho! They made it sound like one of those
Fast
and Furious
movies!”

“Let me see that,” said Drayton. He grabbed the paper out of Haley’s hands and scanned the article. When he finished reading, he was visibly relieved. “Praise all. We’re mentioned only as ‘two passersby who assisted the injured Van Deusen.’”

“That’s good,” said Theodosia. “That we’re not mentioned by name, I mean.”

“I don’t know,” said Haley, tilting her head and giving them a puckered smile. “I kind of like it when you guys score a little ink.”

• • •

They threw open
their front door then and welcomed their morning guests. Fridays always brought a big influx of weekend tourists, and today was no exception. Theodosia was always mindful about distributing Indigo Tea Shop postcards to the many B and B’s throughout the historic district. That little bit of easy advertising always seemed to pay off. And she tried to do as many favors as possible to reciprocate. She catered B and B events, provided scones and muffins for their breakfast baskets, and passed out their business cards and postcards as well. A good
quid pro quo
for a cadre of small business owners.

Haley’s Almond Joy scones were the sleeper hit of the morning, followed closely by her banana bread. Of course, Drayton’s private label Apple Dandy tea, a blend of black Ceylonese tea, cinnamon, hibiscus, and dried apples, also proved to be popular. He’d originally intended the tea to be a holiday offering, but customers loved it so much that now they served it year round.

By eleven o’clock, every table was occupied and all the guests were seemingly content. Which meant Theodosia had time to skip into her office and place a quick call to Sheriff Anson.

She had no trouble getting through to his office, but the good sheriff wasn’t there.

“He’s
supposed
to be here,” his secretary told Theodosia, “but he’s not.” She sounded annoyed and a little bit flustered.

“Could you ask him to call me? I was . . . um . . . one of the passersby from last night. From the accident?”

“Oh sure,” said the secretary.

“Can you tell me . . . is Carl Van Deusen in jail?”

“I believe he’s at Mercy Medical Center, but restrained and under the watch of an armed guard. They’re not taking any chances with him.”

“That’s good to know,” said Theodosia.

The secretary politely took down her number, but Theodosia wondered if the sheriff would really get back to her. If, in his mind, this case was finally solved, then maybe he wouldn’t want any further questions or entanglements.

As she was about to hurry back out to the tea shop, her cell phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Just when were you going to tell me about your romp through the swamp last night?” asked Max.

Uh-oh.
“Um . . . probably tonight?”

“I’ve got a donor dinner tonight,” said Max. “I think you know that.”

“I would’ve called,” said Theodosia. “Really I would have.”

“Just what the heck did you get yourself pulled into, my dear?”

“We didn’t get pulled in,” said Theodosia. “Didn’t you read the sidebar in this morning’s paper? Drayton and I were passersby.” She was liking that reference more and more. “That means we just
happened
to be there.”

This time Max let loose a definitive snort.

“What were you two doing out at Oak Hill Winery anyway?” he asked.

“Tasting wine?” It was the truth, after all.

“No, I’d say you were
investigating!
” said Max. And this time he didn’t hold back on his accusatory tone. “You were hot on the trail of some alleged murder suspect!”

“Who happens to be in custody right now,” said Theodosia. “Even as we speak.” She hesitated. “Though I seem to be the only one using a normal speaking voice. While you are—”

“Okay, okay,” said Max. “Point taken.” He dialed his anger back some. “So . . . they really got him? This guy Carl something . . .”

“Carl Van Deusen,” said Theodosia. “Yes, they got him. He’s in the hospital under armed guard.”

“Well, don’t you go snooping around there!” said Max.

“I wouldn’t do that,” said Theodosia.

“Sure you would,” said Max.

• • •

Haley was hard
at work in the kitchen, doing her chef-and-baker ballet, when Theodosia popped in.

“What’s for lunch?” Theodosia asked. She was trying to get her head back into the game instead of worrying about Van Deusen’s true role in the murder.

“You’re gonna love this,” said Haley. “Crabmeat casserole, baby field greens salad with my homemade Thousand Island dressing, my special Church Street quiche, and ricotta and orange marmalade tea sandwiches.”

“That all sounds wonderful.”

“It is,” said Haley. She quickly dipped a wooden spoon into her dressing and gave it a twirl. “Or will be soon.”

Theodosia made her way into the tea room, cleared off a couple of tables, popped on fresh tablecloths, and set them up for lunch. Drayton was at the front counter, ringing up two customers while he kept an eye on two burbling tea kettles and two pots of tea that were steeping. Multitasking Drayton style.

“What’s on the docket for today?” Theodosia asked him. “Teawise?”

“A Keeman, a lemon verbena, and a spiced plum tea for our luncheon crowd. But this afternoon, when I do my tea-blending class, we’ll probably go a little stir-crazy.”

“Ha,” said Theodosia. “Good one. How many people signed up for your class?”

“An even dozen,” said Drayton. “So it should be lots of fun. Not overly crowded, but enough differing tastes so we’ll come up with some interesting blends.”

“But probably not as delicious as your proprietary blends,” said Theodosia.

“Probably not,” Drayton murmured. “Then again, we all have to start somewhere.”

• • •

At exactly twelve
noon, Jordan and Pandora Knight rolled into the tea shop.

Theodosia saw them push through the front door and worked hard to suppress her surprise that the two of them had actually shown up here today and that they even looked happy together. Well, sort of. Then she went over to greet them.

“Jordan, Pandora . . . welcome!”

Jordan aimed a sad smile at her. “Theodosia,” he said. “Hello.”

“Surprised to see us?” asked Pandora.

“Well . . . yes, I am,” Theodosia admitted. After the events of last night, she figured the two of them would be staking out Sheriff Anson’s office, pestering him for all the sordid details.

“Oh, my goodness!” said Drayton when he caught sight of Jordan. “Give me a minute.” He was busy with a customer, packing up four takeout lunches, but he clearly wanted to speak to Jordan.

“Can we talk?” Jordan said to Theodosia in a half whisper.

“Certainly,” said Theodosia. “Would you like to have lunch or—”

“Lunch,” Pandora said decisively. “Absolutely we could use some lunch to help fortify us.”

Theodosia led them to a table over in the corner, where they could enjoy a little privacy. When they sat down, Jordan held out a hand, indicating she should sit down with them, too.

“But just for a minute,” said Theodosia as she slipped into a captain’s chair.

Jordan put his hands flat against the table, drew breath, and then said, “Theodosia, we can’t tell you how grateful we are.”

Theodosia shook her head. “I didn’t—”

“Yes, you did,” said Jordan. “I don’t know how you did it, what magic you wrought, but you managed to solve the case. You had a direct hand in the apprehension of this horrible Carl Van Deusen fellow.”

“Who wasn’t really on Sheriff Anson’s radar at all!” said Pandora. She was fairly quivering with outrage.

“But the two of you must have known Van Deusen somewhat,” said Theodosia. “Since he was supposedly friendly with Drew.”

Jordan nodded. “We’d maybe seen him around the winery once or twice, but we never thought anything about it.”

“And then Van Deusen was working at your wine tasting last Sunday night,” said Theodosia. “As a server.”

Jordan’s eyes misted over and he said, “Yes. Unfortunately.”

“We don’t know what happened between the two of them,” said Pandora. “But the truth will eventually come out. I imagine they had some kind of terrible argument. Some kind of falling-out.”

“It would have to be more than just a falling-out,” said Theodosia. She was about to mention the drugs, when Jordan hastily interrupted her.

“And here I was suspicious of the people at Plantation Wilds,” Jordan said, looking regretful.

Pandora touched a hand to her chest. “I feel a little silly, too. I was so sure that awful Georgette Kroft had something to do with the murder. Turns out we were both wrong!”

“In any event,” said Jordan, “we are united in our gratefulness to you.”

Pandora wiped at her eyes. “I think a hug is in order.” She leaned over and put her arms around Theodosia, hugging her tight.

Then it was Jordan’s turn. He gave her a warm hug and said, “We just want to put this nightmare behind us.”