Ming Tea Murder Page 10

  “We’re having one of our busiest Saturdays ever,” Drayton proclaimed. “The food is selling like hotcakes, and people have been shopping our little gift area.” He glanced over. “In fact, there’s a woman fingering one of your homemade wreaths right now.”

  “Then I’d better go over and help her,” said Theodosia.

  “Did you make this?” the woman asked. She was holding a grapevine wreath woven with blue and gold silk ribbons and hung with miniature teacups and saucers.

  “Guilty as charged,” said Theodosia.

  “You made the actual wreath, too?”

  “It’s just local grapevine that I pulled down out of trees.” Theodosia had gone out to Cane Ridge Plantation, where her aunt Libby lived, and ripped the grapevine out of the trees it had been trying to choke the life out of. From there it had been a simple matter of wrapping her vines around a few old barrels and letting them dry for a couple of months. Then she wired the wreaths for stability and added the ribbons and teacups.

  “Do you have any more of these wreaths?” asked the woman.

  “How many would you like?” Theodosia smiled to herself. She had ten more wreaths stacked in her back office.

  “This one and maybe two more,” said the woman.

  “I’ll be back in a second.”

  Theodosia grabbed two wreaths from the tangle that sat in the corner of her office and carried them out to the front counter. Drayton helped her wrap each wreath in tissue paper and secure them in large plastic bags.

  “Maybe you should have made more,” said Drayton, once the wreaths had been rung up and the customer had departed.

  “I did. There are another dozen barrels covered with grapevines out at Aunt Libby’s. Stuck behind the old pump house.”

  “You’re always thinking, aren’t you?”

  “Not really,” said Theodosia. “That plantation is just terribly overgrown.”

  • • •

  By two o’clock, most of their customers had cleared out and Theodosia was sitting in her office sipping a cup of Japanese green tea and nibbling a sandwich. She had gone to the museum’s website, sought out their list of directors, and printed out that list.

  Now she was muddling it over.

  “Can I freshen that tea?” asked Drayton. He was standing in the doorway holding a pink-and-green Famille rose teapot. With his ramrod posture and aristocratic bearing, he looked like an aging but fit ballet impresario.

  “Thank you,” said Theodosia, pushing her teacup across the desk.

  As Drayton carefully filled her cup, he gazed at the list she’d been studying.

  “The museum’s illustrious board of directors,” he said. “All ten of them in attendance at the reception Thursday night.”

  “And then there were nine,” said Theodosia.

  “I hope you don’t think someone is trying to kill them off one at a time like some kind of bizarre Agatha Christie tale.”

  “Nothing quite that sinister,” said Theodosia. “But someone certainly wanted to get rid of Edgar Webster.”

  “You think it was one of his fellow board members?”

  “I suppose it’s possible.”

  “Tricky,” said Drayton. “Since all are well-heeled and quite powerful.”

  Theodosia picked up a pen and twiddled it. “Any one of them could probably buy and sell this tea shop without batting an eye. So I have to be careful who I mess with.”

  “Then don’t mess with any of them,” Drayton cautioned. “Stand back and let Tidwell do the heavy lifting.”

  Theodosia bit her lower lip.

  “I take it you were thinking about making an appeal to one or several of these board members,” said Drayton, “to try and get Max reinstated?”

  “The thought had occurred to me. But I’m not sure I have an argument that’s persuasive enough to change anyone’s mind.”

  “You don’t. That’s why they’re basically deferring to Elliot Kern.”

  “Then what’s the answer?”

  “I think,” said Drayton, “that you should continue doing what you do best.”

  “Worry and bite my nails?”

  The corners of Drayton’s mouth twitched upward. “No, I mean investigate. But on the side. You know, run a kind of parallel investigation to the one Tidwell is doing.”

  “I think they call that a shadow investigation.”

  “That all sounds very drama filled, like the NSA. But I don’t believe that national security is at stake.”

  “Just Max’s job security,” said Theodosia. “Which is hanging by a very tenuous thread. So thanks for your vote of confidence, Drayton, but I really am stumped. I’m not sure where to look next. Or who to look at.” She thought for a few moments. “I suppose if I focused on figuring out some sort of motive . . .”

  Drayton flashed her a look of encouragement. “When you find the motive . . .”

  “It can lead to the killer,” Theodosia said slowly.

  “Then I’d say you have to cast a fairly wide net,” said Drayton. “Take a look at all the guests who were at the event Thursday night. See how many you can connect directly to Webster.”

  “There could be quite a few.”

  “Or there might only be a handful,” said Drayton.

  “You make a good point,” said Theodosia, “even though you are an optimist. So . . . I suppose I need to get my hands on a guest list.”

  “Which Max probably has at his office.” Drayton cocked an eye at her. “If he can get to it.”

  Theodosia took a quick sip of tea. “So one more thing to worry about.”

  • • •

  While Drayton and Haley finished putting the tea shop to rights, Theodosia took some time to handle a few items of business. There were bills to pay, orders that had to be e-mailed to vendors, and marketing decisions to be made. And since she and Earl Grey were planning to run in the Halloween 5K race Tuesday night, there was the simple matter of figuring out a costume for him. Not an easy thing to do when he had to look cute and still be able to move.

  Adding to that to-do list, the phone on her desk started to ring.

  Theodosia snatched it up. “Yes?”

  “What’s going on?” asked Max.

  “Oh. Hi. Well, just business as usual I guess.” Or is it business as unusual?

  “How was your meeting?” Max asked. “Did you talk to Kern?”

  “I did, but he’s still undecided as to when you can return.” Boy, is he ever.

  “It was sweet of you to plead my case,” said Max. “But I didn’t figure he’d welcome you with open arms.”

  Haley suddenly loomed in the doorway of Theodosia’s office.

  Theodosia dropped the phone away from her mouth, and said, “What?”

  “Tidwell,” Haley mouthed. “He’s here. He wants to talk to you, like, now.”

  “Well, send him in.”

  “Something going on?” said Max.

  “Sorry, but I have to hang up,” said Theodosia.

  “Customers?”

  “Trouble.”

  • • •

  Detective Burt Tidwell barely fit in Theodosia’s office, even though the overstuffed chair across from her desk, the one she’d dubbed the tuffet, offered ample seating.

  “Are you comfortable?” she asked him once he’d sat down.

  “Fine,” said Tidwell. Clearly he was not fine. He threw withering glances at the various stacks of baskets, red hats, and wreaths that clogged the office. It was all a little too girly for his cop sensibilities.

  “May I offer you a cup of tea?” Theodosia asked.

  Tidwell’s lips pursed. “Do you still serve that lovely Japanese green tea with bits of cherry?”

  “Of course,” said Theodosia. She lifted the phone, buzzed Drayton on the intercom, and relayed the requ
est.

  “Should I bring in a couple of scones, too?” asked Drayton.

  “What do you think?” said Theodosia. She hung up and smiled brightly at Tidwell. “What can I do for you?” She figured he was going to tell her about his investigation into the awls. Instead, he blindsided her.

  “I need you to tell me about last night,” said Tidwell. “The—how shall I phrase this?—the rather heated argument between Max and Cecily.”

  “Didn’t I already mention that?” she said.

  “Yes, but now I need to hear the full story. I just returned from Pine Nut, where Cecily Conrad, who feels much maligned, wasted a good deal of my time caterwauling in my ear.”

  “Let me guess,” said Theodosia. “You asked her about the awls and she proclaimed complete and total innocence.”

  “That’s a fair assessment,” said Tidwell.

  “But Cecily could have murdered Webster,” said Theodosia. “She was angry at him, and she did have access to those wicked-looking weapons.”

  “My people are looking into it. Examining the awls carefully.”

  “Microscopically, I hope,” said Theodosia.

  “I have your tea,” said Drayton, suddenly interrupting. He bustled into Theodosia’s office with a large silver tray and placed it on her desk. He indicated the teapot. “Shall I pour?”

  “Thank you, Drayton,” said Theodosia. “I can manage.”

  Drayton spoke to Theodosia as he looked pointedly at Tidwell. “Let me know if you need anything else. Tea, Devonshire cream, moral support.”

  “Thanks, Drayton, I will,” said Theodosia. She poured a cup of tea for Tidwell and handed it to him. “And there are scones here, too. Please help yourself.”

  “Thank you,” said Tidwell. He took a sip of tea and his eyes half closed. “Excellent. Such a lovely vegetal flavor contrasted with the sweetness of the cherry.”

  “You’ve become quite a tea connoisseur.”

  “And you’re very clever at turning the conversation.”

  “I am?” said Theodosia.

  “Last night,” Tidwell reminded her.

  “What was it you wanted to know?”

  “The argument.”

  “I wasn’t present when the fireworks started,” said Theodosia. “I was in the workroom making what might be considered an important discovery.”

  Tidwell sipped his tea. “Nicely done. Still, you witnessed a good portion of the argument. Tell me, what exactly set Cecily off?”

  Theodosia helped herself to a pumpkin scone. “Oh, Max apparently made some offhand comment to Bill Glass that Cecily overheard.”

  “About her being a suspect?”

  “That was the general idea, yes.”

  “He didn’t accuse Cecily of murder and then attack her?”

  Theodosia broke off a piece of scone. “No, that’s not Max’s style.”

  “Still, she took umbrage at his remark,” said Tidwell.

  “No,” said Theodosia. “Cecily completely flipped out. Big difference. Ask anyone who was there.”

  “I already have,” said Tidwell.

  Theodosia eyed him carefully. “Excuse me, why exactly are you doing this little tap dance? Are you trying to tell me that Max is a suspect?”

  Tidwell shrugged.

  “You are so barking up the wrong tree!” Theodosia cried. “You know who you should really be looking at?” Now she was practically shouting.

  “Enlighten me,” said Tidwell.

  Theodosia held up a hand so she could tick off the suspects.

  “Charlotte Webster. Edgar was cheating on her and making her look like a fool. Plus, Charlotte’s no slouch with an ice pick. Just go check out her bar.”

  “I’ll do that,” said Tidwell.

  “Two,” said Theodosia. “Cecily. No more Edgar, no more repayment of the enormous debt that she incurred.”

  “Point taken.”

  “And three,” said Theodosia. “Roger Greaves. He wanted to take Datrex public, and Edgar Webster was violently opposed to the idea. No more Edgar, no more barrier to an IPO.” She sat back in her chair and said, “Get it?”

  “I most certainly do,” said Tidwell. The entire time she’d been ranting away he’d been nibbling his scone. Now he looked around. “Is there any more of that lovely almond-flavored Devonshire cream?” he asked.

  “No,” said Theodosia. She crossed her arms and stared at him. “We’re all out.”

  “Are you finished with your rant?” said Tidwell.

  “Yes,” said Theodosia. “And you’re finished, too. I’m afraid you’ll have to leave now. I have a lot of work to catch up on.”

  Tidwell made no motion to leave. “It’s funny you should mention the blocked IPO. Another person brought that up to me as well.”

  “Who was it? Cecily?”

  “No, it was some transplanted art dealer that I interviewed yesterday.”

  “Harlan Duke?”

  “Yes, that’s the fellow. He worked closely with Webster on the importation of that tea house.” He paused. “I take it you know him?”

  “I met him this morning at the museum,” said Theodosia. “He seemed very nice.”

  “Mmn,” said Tidwell. He stood up and brushed at his tweed jacket, causing a miniature waterfall of crumbs to tumble down his lapels.

  “Don’t tell me poor Mr. Duke is on your suspect list, too,” said Theodosia. She stood up to indicate the meeting really was over.

  Tidwell just smiled at her. “I’m keeping all my options open.”

  “Good for you,” said Theodosia. “Oh, and Drayton will give you a takeout box if you’d like. On your way out.”

  11

  “He really sees me as a suspect?” said Max. He was sitting across the dinner table from Theodosia in her small, elegant dining room. Candles flickered and paintings gleamed on the walls. Overhead, a small crystal chandelier cast a flattering pink glow. But Max was stewing as he fumbled his fork, and it clattered to the table.

  “Tidwell was just trying to provoke me,” said Theodosia. “He’s playing his cards close to the vest, and I think his nose is a little out of joint because I stumbled upon those awls.”

  “But that’s a good thing, a really tangible clue. So why is he still on my case?”

  “You don’t know Tidwell,” said Theodosia. “Until a murder is solved, he’s on everyone’s case.”

  “Maybe so, but it’s very unsettling.”

  “I know it is. And I wish I could have done more to dissuade him.”

  “He’s a formidable presence,” said Max.

  “Which is why we want him squarely in our corner. We don’t want to tick him off.”

  “I didn’t think that I did,” said Max. He looked at Theodosia expectantly. “Theo?”

  She sighed. “I might have been a little forceful with him this afternoon.”

  “What did you do? Did you kick Tidwell out of your office?”

  “Not exactly.” Gulp. She knew she’d pretty much given him the bum’s rush.

  “Doggone,” said Max. “Here you poached this wonderful salmon and made my favorite broccoli slaw, and now I’ve completely lost my appetite.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” said Theodosia.

  Earl Grey stood up suddenly. He’d been lazing under the table and enjoying a little doggy snooze. But now he gazed at them with an appraising eye. If there was spare food to be had, actual people food, he was more than willing to partake of his fair share.

  “Rrrrr,” he said.

  “Yes, we know you’re there,” said Theodosia. She cut a bite of salmon and held it out to him.

  Earl Grey’s pink tongue shot out and, voilà: the salmon disappeared as if by magic. Now he was gazing at her again with sad, pleading eyes.

  “Yes, I know,” said Theodosia
. “If I give you one more bite, you’ll never, ever ask me for anything again, right?”

  “Rrrrr.”

  “The killer,” Max said slowly.

  Theodosia glanced at him. “Mmn?”

  “He had to have been in attendance Thursday night. Had to have been. This wasn’t some random maniac who just wandered in from the street. Or who infiltrated the party at the last minute.”

  “Well . . . yes. I think that’s pretty much a given.”

  “What we need to do,” said Max, “is go over the guest list with a fine-tooth comb.”

  “Okay.” Theodosia slipped another shred of salmon to Earl Grey. She’d been thinking about the guest list, too. In fact, she’d been thinking about it all day long.

  “Will you help me do that?”

  “You know I will,” said Theodosia. “But we need to get our hands on that list. You have one, right?”

  Max’s face fell. “Sure, but it’s locked away in my office.”

  “We can’t just go get it?”

  “I’m not sure I can waltz in and grab it, if that’s what you mean. It would look . . . suspicious.”

  “How about if I waltzed in?”

  “That’s not such a great idea, either,” said Max. He picked up his wineglass and took a sip.

  “Then what do you say we sneak in and get it?” said Theodosia.

  Max almost choked on his wine. “You mean now? Tonight?”

  “No, next Tuesday,” said Theodosia. “Yes, I mean now. Like, put your glass down and get your jacket on right this minute.”

  “But what if something’s going on? Like a private event or a donor party?”

  “Then we’ll deal with it,” said Theodosia. She flashed him a slightly crooked grin. “Max, what is it you don’t understand about the words sneak in?”

  • • •

  They turned on Meeting Street, cruised past the museum, and then turned down a narrow alley. The night was full-on dark, and the tunnel of trees overhead seemed to make their mission feel slightly more ominous.

  “Turn your lights off,” said Max.

  Theodosia flipped off her Jeep lights.