Steeped in Evil (A Tea Shop Mystery) (7 page)

Theodosia folded a
linen napkin into a bishop’s crown and set it next to a Shelley chintz teacup. For some reason, Drayton had decided to pull one of their fancier sets of china out of storage today and use it on the tables. So, of course, once that was all laid out, it pretty much cried out for an elegantly folded napkin as well as sterling silver teaspoons. And even though Drayton was watching her like a hawk, she felt a certain sense of pride in using some of their nicer things, too.

“It’s looking very good over there,” Drayton called. He was standing behind the front counter, pouring hot water into a Brown Betty teapot. Making a pot of Irish breakfast tea for them so they could fortify themselves before opening up for business this bright and sunny Tuesday morning.

“I think you’re just practicing for the Downton Abbey tea tomorrow,” said Theodosia.

“Hah,” said Drayton. “A dress rehearsal of sorts.” The corners of his mouth twitched up in a mischievous smile. “Could be, could be.”

With the light streaming in and the tables sparkling like a chandelier of cut crystal, Theodosia joined Drayton at the front counter. There she once again ran through her impressions concerning her visit to Knighthall Winery yesterday afternoon.

“I know I already told you all this,” said Theodosia.

“That’s okay,” said Drayton. “Run through it again. Maybe something will jump out at us.”

So she told him about her encounter with the rather blasé Pandora, her tour with Grady, and the fact that she’d also talked with Tanya, Jordan, and Sheriff Anson.

“Oh, and did I mention that I stopped by Virtuoso Staffing, too?” said Theodosia. “Talked to the two ladies who run it and then paid a visit to Carl Van Deusen, one of the waiters who were working at the wine tasting.”

“Why did you want to speak with this Van Deusen person?” Drayton asked. He poured out a cup of tea for her and said, “Taste that.”

“Probably because the Virtuoso people indicated that he was acting a little strange.”

“Did you find him strange?”

Theodosia took a sip of tea. “Mmn, excellent. No, I found him to be fairly normal. I think he and Drew might have been acquaintances.” She took another sip of tea. “No, I think they might have been friends.”

“You sure about that?” asked Drayton.

“I am for now,” said Theodosia.

Drayton gazed out across the tea room, a look of general satisfaction on his face. “I spoke with Jordan last night. Right after I talked to you.”

“He called you?”

“Yes, he did. He said he was sorry that he hadn’t been more helpful to you. That he wasn’t in a better frame of mind.”

“He’s been through a lot,” said Theodosia. She couldn’t imagine losing a son like that. She’d once read, in
Psychology Today
or
Prevention,
that a parent losing a child was one of the worst traumas the human heart could endure.

“Anyway,” said Drayton, “Jordan said he’d be willing to talk to you again tomorrow morning.”

“At the memorial service?” said Theodosia, surprised.

“Well, afterwards anyway,” said Drayton. He patted his bow tie and gazed at Theodosia with hooded eyes. “I know we asked you to look into things, but do you think you should perhaps get in touch with Detective Tidwell, too?” Burt Tidwell was the departmental head of Robbery-Homicide with the Charleston Police Department. He and Theodosia shared a grudging admiration for each other, one that had developed after they’d been thrown together on a couple of strange murder cases.

“This is completely out of Tidwell’s jurisdiction,” said Theodosia. “If I even broach the subject of Drew’s murder, all he’ll do is warn me to back off.”

Drayton looked suddenly glum. “Maybe you should. Back off, I mean. I’ve been thinking about what you told me—all the personal hassles and problems that the family seems to be having. Maybe I dragged you into something that’s just a little too convoluted.” He paused. “A little too dangerous.”

“I hear what you’re saying, but I don’t
think
I’m in any danger. It doesn’t feel that way. Besides . . .”

“Besides what?” said Drayton.

“I have to admit my curiosity is piqued.”

Drayton nodded. “Mine, too. The people at Knighthall are turning out to be—”

“Fairly strange ducks,” finished Theodosia. “Like characters in a B movie.”

“I was going to say practically Shakespearian,” said Drayton.

Theodosia wondered if she should mention green alien to Drayton, dismissed the idea, then thought, why not? What did she have to lose?

“Does green alien mean anything to you?”

“Green what?” said Drayton. Now he seemed preoccupied with deciding on one of his morning tea choices. Harney & Son’s Uva Highlands or Adagio’s Fujian Baroque.

“Alien,” said Theodosia.

“Alien,”
said Haley, coming up behind them. “I’ve always been crazy about that movie!” She struck a quick kung-fu pose. “Sigourney Weaver and her cat Jonesy fighting off the slivering, slavering monster.”

Theodosia and Drayton just stared at her. They’d never seen a Haley action figure before.

“Actually,” Haley continued, “I pretty much love anything that smacks of sci-fi.”

“Ghastly,” said Drayton, offering a disapproving look.

“Not just alien,” Theodosia said to Haley now. “
Green
alien. Does that particular phrase strike a chord with you?”

Haley gave a bright smile. “Maybe Ridley Scott’s been tapped to direct a new movie? Another sequel?”

“Somehow,” said Theodosia, “I don’t think that’s it.”

“Do you want me to kind of ask around?” said Haley.

“It’s probably some new musical group,” said Drayton.

“Techno punk,” said Haley as Drayton rolled his eyes.

“Okay,” said Theodosia. She’d just checked her watch and decided she had enough time to restock the shelves with some of her T-Bath products.

A couple of years ago, Theodosia had put on her entrepreneur’s cap and developed an entire line of bath and skin care products infused with various blends of tea. Now her T-Bath line included such delicious-sounding fare as Oolong Bubble Bath, Ginger and Chamomile Facial Mist, Lemon Verbena Hand Lotion, and Chamomile Calming Lotion. And she was currently working with her manufacturer on a recipe that included hibiscus and honey. So probably a body lotion called Hibiscus and Honey Butter.

She stacked the bottles and jars on the antique highboy, tucked a few gingham tea cozies next to them, and finished off her display area by adding a few more jars of DuBose Bees Honey. There, it was looking very presentable.

“Excuse me,” said Drayton. “But before we open our door and get inundated with customers, could we please take these last five minutes to run through our plans for tomorrow’s Downton Abbey tea?”

“Fine with me,” said Theodosia. She dusted her hands together and went over to the celadon green velvet curtains that separated the tea room from the kitchen and back office. Parting the curtains, she called out, “Haley?”

“You presence is required,” Drayton called out loudly.

Two seconds later, Haley popped out, wiping her hands on a red-checkered towel.

“You’re using your Heritage Society orator’s voice,” said Haley. “This must be important.”

“Everything we do here is important,” said Drayton.

“Well . . . sure, dude,” said Haley, sounding more Valley Girl than South Carolina native.

“Drayton wants to review the menu for the Downton Abbey tea,” said Theodosia.

“Oh that,” said Haley, waving a hand, satisfied that nothing major was amiss. “Nothing’s changed since I shared my menu ideas with him.”

“Then kindly share them with Theodosia, as well,” said Drayton.

“Okay,” said Haley. “We’ll be serving Mrs. Patmore’s Smoked Salmon Tea Sandwiches, Lady Crawley’s Cucumber Dreams, and Mr. Carson’s Crumpets.”

“Did you just make this up?” said Theodosia.

Haley nodded happily. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Well, people are going to
love
this,” said Theodosia. “They’re especially going to want the recipes.”

“Well . . . I don’t know about that,” said Haley, looking askance. She hated any talk of divulging her recipes. In fact, she treated them like top secret government documents. “We’ll have to see.”

“Shall we stick to the business at hand?” said Drayton.

“You mentioned once that you might do a fruit trifle?” said Theodosia.

“Probably strawberries, blueberries, and raspberries,” said Haley. “Particularly since most of the berries are still in season.”

“Not here,” said Drayton.

“Well . . . somewhere,” said Haley. “Plus I’m going to bake a couple batches of Banbury tarts.”

Drayton looked puzzled. “I don’t recall anyone named Banbury in the show’s cast of characters.”

“There isn’t,” said Haley. “The tarts are actually named after the town of Banbury in Oxfordshire. They’re butter tarts filled with figs, candied peel, raisins, and walnuts. Really yummy. Oh, and I’m doing dark chocolate cupcakes with a touch of brandy and then decorating them with herringbone frosting designs to underscore our very tally-ho British theme.”

“Everything sounds wonderful,” said Theodosia. “If there’s anything I can do to help in the kitchen . . .”

Haley held up a hand.

“I know, I know,” said Theodosia. “But I thought I’d make the offer.” She turned to Drayton. “And what about your tea selections?”

“As you know,” said Drayton, “black tea is the tea of choice throughout the United Kingdom. And it’s generally drunk with milk and sugar. So we need something strong and hearty to stand up to those particular additives.”

“So what were you thinking?” asked Theodosia.

“Possibly an English breakfast tea or a Goomtee Garden Darjeeling,” said Drayton.

“I think that will be perfect,” said Theodosia.

“We’ll use the Coalport china and the Garnet Rose silver,” said Drayton.

“What about centerpieces?” Theodosia asked.

“The flowers are on order from Floradora,” said Drayton, “and I have a few other special tidbits that will be delivered first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Care to elaborate on that?” asked Haley.

“No,” said Drayton. “I think I’ll let it remain a surprise.”

• • •

They opened their
doors then, and guests began tumbling in. Haley had baked her special jammy scones stuffed with strawberry jam, along with loaves of zucchini bread. And Drayton had added a rose petal tea to his morning repertoire.

By midmorning, just when things were beginning to hum at a fever pitch, Andrew Turner walked through the door.

“Mr. Turner!” said Theodosia. His dropping in was a surprise indeed. Especially since he’d just been in yesterday and she’d mentioned him to Maggie last night.

Turner grinned and held up a hand. “Call me Andrew, please. Andy would be even better.”

“I’m surprised to see you again so soon,” said Theodosia. Somehow she hadn’t pegged him for a tea drinker.

Turned out, she was wrong.

“Are you kidding?” said Turner. “I can’t stay away—I think I’ve become a tea convert. Especially after that delicious English breakfast tea that you served yesterday.”

“Then we’re delighted to have you.”

“I have another confession to make,” Turner said, inching a little closer to her.

Theodosia peered at him. “What’s that?”

Turner scrunched up his face. “I’m hopelessly addicted to your scones.”

“Ah,” said Theodosia. “We have a self-help group for that.”

Turner looked suddenly puzzled. “You do?”

“Absolutely. You just come in and help yourself.”

Turner pointed a finger at her. “You are good. And you’re cute. I get what Max sees in you!”

Theodosia blushed, a little at a loss for words. Thank goodness Turner didn’t seem to notice as she led him to a table.

“Oh, say,” he said as he slid into his seat. “I almost forgot. I wanted to thank you for giving me a line on that house. Your realtor friend Maggie Twining? She called me first thing this morning.”