Devonshire Scream Page 11

  That brought a spate of polite laughter.

  “In fact,” Drayton continued, “this illustrious duchess that we celebrate today was the first wife of William Cavendish, fifth Duke of Devonshire. Her father was John Spencer, first Earl Spencer, which made her the great-great-great-great-aunt of Diana, Princess of Wales.”

  There was a spatter of applause and someone called out, “Wonderful pedigree.”

  “The Duchess of Devonshire attained a large amount of fame during her lifetime,” Drayton said. “She was notorious for her catastrophic love affairs and her love of gambling.” He stopped and smiled. “But she also had a softer side. Our dear duchess was also a socialite who gathered a large salon of literary and political figures around her, and she was one of the earliest campaigners for women’s rights.”

  “Hear! Hear!” Delaine said.

  “And then, of course, there’s the Devonshire cream.” Drayton smiled at Theodosia. “Theo?”

  Now Theodosia stepped into the spotlight. “Devonshire cream, which is sometimes called clotted cream, is a thick cream made by heating fresh milk using a steam process, then allowing it to cool very slowly. During this cooling period, the cream content rises to the surface and forms ‘clots.’ This type of cream production is thought to have originated in the county of Devon, or Devonshire, where our illustrious duke and duchess resided.” She smiled. “And while we didn’t milk the cows or build up a head of steam, I can assure you that the Devonshire cream you’re enjoying today is highly authentic.”

  There was a final spate of applause, and then Grace Dawson plucked at Theodosia’s sleeve and said, “My goodness, that was so interesting.”

  The luncheon continued with lots more friendly banter, and Theodosia and Drayton were kept hopping. Pretty much everyone wanted seconds on scones, and they were definitely impressed with Drayton’s own version of thick, rich Devonshire cream. In fact, halfway through the luncheon, Theodosia was forced to retreat to her office to quickly print out two dozen copies of his recipe.

  When the luncheon finally drew to a close and guests began to wander about the tea shop, selecting tins of tea and perusing scone mixes and grapevine wreaths, Theodosia looked around for Lionel Rinicker. She found him deep in conversation with Drayton. Grace was listening in.

  “I tell you,” Rinicker was saying, “Timothy is worried sick.”

  “Worried about what?” Theodosia asked, trying her best to look innocent.

  “He’s convinced a gang of crazy thugs are going to come storming into the Heritage Society’s show and steal every precious object in sight,” Rinicker said.

  Drayton stared pointedly at Theodosia. “I wonder where he got that idea?”

  Theodosia winced.

  “And you know what I told him?” Rinicker continued.

  “I can’t imagine,” Theodosia said.

  “I told him it could happen,” Rinicker said. “I said that if it happened at a local jewelry shop, it could certainly happen at an exhibition where a priceless Fabergé egg is being showcased.” Almost as an aside to Grace, he said, “Smash-and-grabs are practically de rigueur all over Europe. And they’re gaining in popularity here.”

  Grace touched a hand to her throat and looked pained. “Are you serious?” Then, before anyone could answer, she added, “Do you really think it could happen again?”

  Rinicker bobbed his head, looking almost happy. “Absolutely, I do.”

  13

  “I’d say our tea was a smashing success.” Haley beamed. She was still floating on air from what had seemed like an endless stream of compliments from their guests.

  “A good time was had by all,” Drayton echoed.

  “Thank goodness,” was all Theodosia had to say. She was delighted their guests had been charmed by the tea. And, for a few moments, she’d felt almost like Mary Poppins, flitting through the tea room, delivering sugar and smiles. But that was before Lionel Rinicker had voiced his opinion on the possibility of another theft. That notion had brought her crashing back down to earth. True, she herself had warned Timothy Neville of the very same thing. But, deep down, she wanted to be optimistic and assure herself that nothing else was going to happen. Of course, with the FBI scurrying about and the Charleston police on high alert, tension and danger seemed to hang redolent in the air. It just felt like something was going to happen.

  “Who needs an afternoon pick-me-up?” Drayton called out. “I’m thinking of brewing a pot of Yin Feng green tea.”

  “Isn’t that stuff, like, a hundred dollars a pound?” Haley asked.

  “One hundred and fifteen dollars.” Drayton allowed himself a self-satisfied smile. “But after all our hard work I think we deserve a special treat. And it is a superb green tea.”

  “You mean, like, green is the new black?” Haley asked.

  “Precisely,” Drayton said. He turned toward Theodosia. “Don’t you agree, Theo?”

  “Sounds good,” she said in a distracted tone just as the phone rang. She snatched it up. “Indigo Tea Shop, how may I help you?” She listened and then handed the phone to Drayton.

  He listened for a few moments and then said, “Ah, what a pity. But, I do understand. Perhaps another time, then.” He hung up the phone, looking a little forlorn.

  “What happened?” Haley asked. “Somebody cancel your subscription to Bow Tie Monthly?”

  Drayton shrugged. “My opera companion just backed out on me.”

  “Ooh, too bad,” Haley said. “And the season kicks off with La Bohème tonight. I suppose you still have those box seats?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Too bad I’m not an opera buff,” Haley said. “Unfortunately, it’s just not my thing.”

  Drayton lifted an eyebrow. “Theo? What about you? I know how much you love opera. Care to be my guest tonight at La Bohème?”

  Theodosia cocked her head. “Let’s see now, what were my glamorous evening plans? Slaving over laundry and sorting socks? Maybe cleaning out the vegetable drawer in my fridge?”

  Drayton smiled. “Well, if you have something more important on your agenda . . .”

  “I’d love to go!” Theodosia said.

  “It’s opening night,” Drayton warned. “Black tie. You’ll have to dress.”

  “I’ll make the effort,” Theodosia promised. “I can do glam.”

  “Long dress?”

  “No problem.” Well, she knew it might be a little bit of a problem, since she had to dash off to the TV station in a half hour or so. And if she didn’t get home until late, then she’d have to fuss with hair and makeup and . . .

  The bell over the front door da-dinged noisily. Then it da-dinged again even more insistently.

  “What on earth?” Drayton said, turning.

  Which is when Detective Tidwell blew in like a white squall. His heavy-lidded eyes took in the tea shop and then settled on Theodosia. Without preamble he said, “We need to talk.”

  “Certainly,” Theodosia said. She pointed to a table that Haley had just cleared. “Let’s take a seat over there.”

  Tidwell settled his bulk into a captain’s chair and clasped his meaty hands together. “We have some important business to deal with.”

  Theodosia didn’t like the look in Tidwell’s eyes or the way he said business. His demeanor was about as charming as a hornet. Or maybe he just had low blood sugar.

  She held up a hand. “Just a minute. Did you meet with Professor Shepley? Were you able to question the man?”

  “Yes, I did,” Tidwell said.

  “Well?”

  “Not much there, I’m afraid. Shepley claimed he was interested in looking at a necklace that was on display at Heart’s Desire. Something made out of alexandrite?”

  “I think that’s the necklace that was plucked out of the case right before my eyes,” Theodosia said.

 
“When you thought you saw a woman’s hand.”

  “Right,” Theodosia said. She let the image play in her mind for a few moments. “But you don’t believe this guy Shepley had any involvement at all with that gang?”

  “Not that we can find. And he is a professor, for goodness’ sake.”

  “Who hails from Savannah. The same place the black SUV was stolen from.” It sounded suspicious to her. “So do we know what Shepley is doing here in Charleston?”

  “He claims to be on sabbatical,” Tidwell said. “Doing research for a new book he’s writing.”

  “What’s his specialty?”

  “Eighteenth-century Russian literature.”

  “And he’s doing research here?” It definitely sounded fishy to Theodosia. Tidwell had obviously decided to blow off Shepley as a noncontender, but Theodosia wasn’t ready to let Shepley off the hook.

  “Now,” Tidwell said, “if I could please have your full attention.” He slapped a leather attaché case onto the table, and then reached in and pulled out a stack of papers.

  “What have you got?” Theodosia asked. “Some more suspect photographs for me to look at?” She reached over and flipped up the top two sheets. Ah, they weren’t people photos at all. Tidwell had gathered images of a dozen different hammers. Every type of hammer known to man, from the looks of it.

  “I had my people research and collect data on hammers,” Tidwell told her. “You said you noticed a particular type of hammer being used during the Heart’s Desire robbery?” He indicated the various images and downloaded pages. “I thought perhaps you might be able to identify one.”

  “I can try.”

  Tidwell held up the first page in front of her like a first-grade teacher with an oversized flash card. “Tell me if you recognize anything.”

  Theodosia concentrated on each image as it flashed by. A couple hammer images were vaguely familiar, a few were downright odd. She touched a finger to one page. “Is that even a hammer?”

  Tidwell made a sour face. “I don’t know what the female brain classifies as a hammer, so I brought a wide assortment.”

  Theodosia pursed her lips and decided to ignore the gibe. She chose to believe this particular rant was merely part of the gruff-detective persona he’d crafted and not necessarily his actual pinheaded beliefs.

  “Anything?” Tidwell asked.

  Two more images flashed by. “Nothing yet.” Three more hammers flashed by. “Wait. That last one. What kind was it?”

  Tidwell squinted at the photo. “It’s a piton hammer by Petzl. A rock-climbing hammer. Note the stainless steel head that curves to a rather wicked-looking claw. Is that what you saw?”

  “It’s close. Very close. Who would sell this sort of thing?”

  “There’s only one store in Charleston,” Tidwell said. “Triple Peak over on Maccorkle Avenue, near the university.”

  “Do you think they sold one of these lately?”

  “I happen to know one was purchased there two weeks ago.”

  Theodosia stared at the rock-climbing hammer. It looked strong, agile, and serious. “So who’s the person you think purchased something like this?”

  Tidwell pursed his lips. “You know I can’t divulge that information.”

  Theodosia blew out a small puff of air. Mmn. He was sharing some information with her, but not everything.

  Drayton suddenly appeared at their table. “I took the liberty of brewing a nice fresh pot of Assam tea,” he said. “Do I have any takers?”

  “Thank you, yes,” Theodosia said.

  “And we still have some cranberry cream scones left over from lunch, if anyone is interested,” Drayton said.

  Tidwell’s expression turned hopeful. “Scones?” His nose twitched like a bunny rabbit.

  “With Devonshire cream, of course,” Drayton said.

  “By all means,” Tidwell said.

  “I’ll bring your tea and treats out in a jiffy.” Drayton spun on his heels and hurried into the kitchen. Two minutes later he returned, unloading a teapot, a plate of scones and madeleines, plus bowls of Devonshire cream and strawberry jam. He took great pains to arrange Tidwell’s treats in a cluster, nearly spinning the detective into a joyful stroke.

  “This is . . . too much,” Tidwell said. But Theodosia knew that what he really meant was Might there be seconds?

  “Enjoy!” Drayton whipped away the empty tray and tucked it snugly under his arm. The resulting puff of wind sent Tidwell’s papers flying.

  “Oh dear!” Theodosia said as she dove to collect the scatter of papers. Most had drifted gently beneath the table. A few had overturned in flight. As Tidwell reached for a scone, she clutched at the papers with the tips of her fingers. Gathering them up, she caught sight of the printout of the rock-climbing hammer. She flipped it over quickly and saw a name scrawled on back. Clement. Was that the name of the manufacturer? Or the person who purchased it? Never mind, she’d sort all that out later. She popped up like a manic gopher and tamped the papers back together into a stack. “Here you go—good as new.”

  Tidwell was wielding his butter knife like a samurai with his prized sword, spreading gobs of Devonshire cream and jam onto his scone.

  Good, Theodosia thought. He didn’t notice a thing. Now, if he’ll just eat and run, I can start my investigating.

  • • •

  But it wasn’t quite that easy. Nothing ever is. Because once Tidwell had said his good-byes and slipped out the front door, a few more customers arrived. And then Sabrina and Luke Andros came wandering in.

  What?

  Theodosia was a little stunned to see them in her tea shop. For one thing, she didn’t really know Sabrina all that well. She’d talked to her for only two minutes the night of the robbery. And she didn’t know Luke Andros at all, other than the fact that he owned Gold Coast Yachts and may have been the one talking on the boat last night.

  But Drayton was chatting with them amiably and leading them to a table, so Theodosia figured she’d better make nice, too.

  Sabrina waggled her fingers when she caught sight of Theodosia and quickly introduced her husband, Luke. She was dressed in tapered black slacks and a fashionable black jacket with gold trim. Luke, in a pink sweater, khaki slacks, and Top-Siders, looked like he’d just climbed down off a yacht. Which he probably had.

  “I’m so sorry we missed your Duchess of Devonshire Tea,” Sabrina said to Theodosia. “But when I called for a reservation, I was told all the tickets had been sold.”

  “So we came for afternoon tea anyway,” Luke said. “If there’s anything left.”

  “We always have tea and scones available,” Drayton said. “But let me go and check . . .”

  “. . . with the kitchen,” Theodosia finished. “Yes, why don’t you do that while I chat with these two?” She was dying to talk to them, dying to ask a few questions. But they were both animated and distracted, gazing around the tea room, taking everything in.

  “Your décor feels so cozy,” Sabrina purred. “The pegged wooden floors, the stone fireplace, all the teacups and teapots arranged just so on shelves . . . I really love it.”

  “Reminds me of a tea shop you’d find in the UK,” Luke said. “Maybe out in the Cotswolds.”

  Sabrina bent forward. “Do you have any other themed teas on your calendar?”

  “Actually, we’re having a Romanov Tea tomorrow and a Full Monty Tea on Friday.”

  “The Romanov Tea,” Luke said. “Is it in honor of the Fabergé egg that’s coming to the Heritage Society?”

  “I hadn’t planned it that way,” Theodosia said. “But I guess that’s how it worked out.”

  “We can’t wait to see that Fabergé egg,” Sabrina said. “We’re big fans.”

  “So you’ll be attending the opening?” Theodosia asked.

  Luke patted his wife’s hand. �
�As new members, we wouldn’t miss it. Say, are these teas you’re having just for women?”

  Theodosia shook her head. “No, no, everyone is welcome.”

  “Then sign us up for your Romanov Tea,” Luke said just as Drayton arrived with a pot of tea and a plate of scones.

  “I hope you enjoy these lemon scones,” Drayton said. “And I brewed a nice pot of Chinese Keemun tea for you.”

  “We’re tea neophytes,” Sabrina said. “So I’m sure anything you serve us is going to be wonderful.”

  • • •

  While Sabrina and Luke enjoyed their tea and scones, Theodosia crowded behind the front counter with Drayton.

  “What do you know about those two?” she asked him.

  Drayton raised his eyebrows. “The Androses?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not a lot. Just that he’s the yacht guy. But we already gleaned that information from Delaine.”

  “They’re also new members at the Heritage Society.”

  Drayton’s nose lifted a notch. “That comes as a bit of a surprise. I had no idea.”

  “Yes,” Theodosia said. “They work fast. In fact, they tell me they’re planning to attend the Rare Antiquities Show Saturday night.”

  Drayton reached for a Yixing teapot and pulled it down. “Then they must have made a sizable contribution, went right for Gold Circle membership.”

  “I need to tell you something,” Theodosia said. “I . . . I was running down by the marina last night. And I happened to overhear a conversation on Luke Andros’s yacht.”

  Drayton squinted at her. “Happened to hear?”

  “Okay, so maybe I tiptoed out onto the dock.” She made a fanning motion with her hands. “I couldn’t help myself. There was this enormous yacht moored way out on the end, and it kind of pulled me toward it, like there was a tractor beam at work.”

  “Theodosia . . .”

  “No, listen to me, Drayton. This could be important. I overheard a man talking to a group of people. I couldn’t see who they were, but the conversation sounded serious.”