Death By Darjeeling atsm-1 Read online

  “What time do you have to be at the Lady Goodwood Inn?” Haley asked with feigned indifference.

  “Haley...” pleaded the exasperated Drayton. When Drayton thought someone was nursing a secret, he was like a curious child—impish, impatient, prodding.

  “Well,” said Haley, “it’s a trifle premature to say anything.”

  “But...” prompted Drayton.

  “But Bethany was out on a date last night,” Haley chortled triumphantly.

  “A date!” exclaimed Theodosia. Up until now she had stayed out of Drayton and Haley’s little go-round. Let them have their fun, she’d thought. But this was news. Big news. While she and Drayton had been attending the concert at Timothy Neville’s last night, Bethany had been out with a young man. Theodosia wondered what special person had coaxed the wistful and reclusive Bethany out of her shell. This had to be the first time Bethany had ventured out since her husband passed away.

  “Dare I ask who with?” inquired Drayton. He was positively dying to know all the details.

  “Why, with Theodosia’s friend, of course,” said Haley.

  A thunderclap exploded loudly overhead at the same moment a jar of lemon curd Theodosia had been holding went crashing to the floor. As lightning strobed and windows rattled, glass shards and huge yellow globs scattered.

  For some reason the name Jory Davis had popped into Theodosia’s head. “Which friend do you mean?” she asked quickly.

  “Oh, don’t move, Theo!” cried Haley. “There’s a huge sliver of glass pointing right at your foot. Move one inch, and it’s liable to slice through your shoe. Hang on, and I’ll get the dust pan and broom.” She scurried off to fetch cleaning supplies.

  “Who did she mean?” Theodosia asked Drayton.

  “I’m just as much in the dark as you.” Drayton shrugged.

  “Okay, stand still!” Haley laid the dustpan down, hooked two large shards of glass with the broom, and slid them onto the dust pan. She surveyed the smaller pieces of glass and the pools of yellow liquid. “Gosh, what a mess.” She furrowed her brow, ready to go on the attack. A compulsive neatnik and organizer, Haley always relished a cleanup challenge.

  “Haley.” Drayton snapped his fingers, amused by her fierce concentration. “Which one of our fine lads had the honor of squiring Bethany last evening?”

  Haley looked up at Drayton and blinked, trying to regain her train of thought. “Oh. Tanner Joseph. The fellow who’s doing the illustrations for the holiday tea labels.”

  “Tanner Joseph,” repeated Theodosia. Now it made perfect sense. Bethany had been so cordial and helpful the other day, explaining teas and holiday blends to him.

  “Of course, that fellow,” said Drayton. Now that he knew who Bethany’s date had been, his interest level had waned. If it had been someone new, someone who’d just opened a clever new shop on Church Street or someone who’d just bought a home in the nearby historic district and was going to renovate in a historically accurate way, then Drayton would have demanded all the details. Who were his family? Where had he gone to school? What did he do for a living?

  “Where is Bethany, by the way?” asked Theodosia.

  Haley scooped up more of the splintery mess. “Doing deliveries.” “In this rain?” said Drayton. “She said she wanted to clear her head,” replied Haley.

  “Besides, she’s a jogger. Joggers are used to being out in all sorts of weather.” She gazed out a fogged window toward the deserted, rain-slick street. “At least I think they are.”

  His curiosity satisfied, Drayton turned his attention back to preparations for the bridal shower tea. “I wish it weren’t pouring buckets,” he fussed.

  “They weren’t planning on holding the bridal shower tea outdoors, were they?” asked Haley.

  He grimaced. “Yes, they were. Obviously that’s not a possibility now.” Drayton reached up and took a tiny tea candle nestled in a white porcelain bowl from the shelf. “The whole thing will have to be rethought,” he said mournfully as he gazed down at the little candle in his hand. “Doesn’t the Lady Goodwood have a solarium?” asked Theodosia. “Just off the dining room?”

  Drayton considered her question. “I believe they do. Very much on the order of a greenhouse. Verdant, lots of plants, a few tables. I think there might even be a small fountain. Of course the space is abysmally hot when the sun is shining, but on a day like today, cool, rainy, it might be just right.” His face began to brighten significantly as he weighed the merits of this new locale. “Maybe even a touch romantic, what with rain pattering down on the glass roof.”

  “What a nice image, Drayton,” said Haley, smiling. “I like that.”

  “Theodosia,” Drayton said as he frantically scanned the tall shelves where all manner of tea candles, jams, and jellies were displayed. “Don’t we have some floating candles?”

  He whirled about as Theodosia, a step ahead of him, plunked four boxes of the miniature round disks into his hands.

  “That’s it!” cried Drayton. “What else?”

  “Tea cozies for all the pots!” exclaimed Haley, getting into the spirit. “And exchange the wrought-iron chairs that are probably there now for upholstered chairs from the dining room.”

  “Perfect,” declared Drayton. “What about food?” inquired Theodosia. “What’s on the menu so far?” “Chocolate-dipped strawberries, shortbread cakes, apricot chutney, and Stilton cheese tea sandwiches,” said Drayton. “Okay,” said Theodosia. “Now just add some of Haley’s hot crab dip with Irish soda bread.”

  “My God, Theo, you’re a genius,” declared Drayton. He whirled about. “Haley, do you have time to whip up crab dip?”

  “Drayton. Please.” Haley had already shifted into her search-and-rescue mode and was headed for the kitchen.

  It was after eleven when Bethany finally returned to the Indigo Tea Shop, face shiny, hair wet and smelling faintly of fresh rain.

  “You all look so busy,” she cried. “Can I help?”

  Theodosia took one look at her. “You’re soaked clear through. Better pop across the alley and change first. You’re liable to catch cold.”

  “Colds come from viruses,” said Haley. “Not cold weather.” She had finished the crab dip and was now tying raffia and gilded leaves around bunches of cinnamon sticks.

  “Which is why you drink my hibiscus and orange spice tea in winter? To thwart any possible virus?” asked Dray-ton in a faintly critical tone.

  “Well, not exactly,” said Haley.

  “You’re right, Theodosia. I’d feel better if I changed into dry clothes,” said Bethany. “Want me to take Earl Grey out for a walk first?”

  “Would you?” asked Theodosia.

  “Love to,” said Bethany.

  “She really is in a wonderful mood,” Drayton remarked in an offhand manner to Haley.

  Bethany stood stock-still in the middle of the tea room, and her eyes searched out the three of them. “You all have been talking about me!” she declared. “Haley, you told!” She admonished Haley’s retreating back as Haley decided to quickly disappear into the safe confines of her kitchen.

  “What is with that girl?” declared Bethany. Her face was pulled into a frown, and she was vexed over Haley’s obvious revelation about her previous night’s date.

  Theodosia put a hand on Bethany’s damp shoulder to reassure her. “She’s happy for you, dear. That’s all.”

  “I suppose she told you it was Tanner Joseph. We only went to a gallery opening. The Ariel Gallery over on George Street had a show of black-and-white photography. By Sidney Didion, a local photographer.”

  “Did you enjoy yourself?” asked Theodosia. She had read a review of the Didion exhibit, and it had sounded quite good. Titled “Ghosts,” the show consisted of moody black-and-white photo essays of old plantations.

  “I did.” Now Bethany’s eyes shone brightly. “Did you know Tanner spent an entire year in the Amazon? He has a master’s degree in ecology from the University of Minnesota, and he went down
to South America to study the ecosystem of the rain forest.”

  “Yes, he mentioned that to me.” “Isn’t it fascinating?” Bethany’s face had taken on a curious glow.

  Why, she seems to really care for this young man, thought Theodosia. It’s heartening to see her coming out of mourning and actually take an interest in someone.

  “Tanner spent a week living in a six-by-eight-foot tree house in the rain forest canopy,” said Bethany. “Apparently he had this whole system of pulleys and harnesses and long ropes that allowed him to ride from one treetop to another and collect samples. Of course, I have acrophobia and absolutely die if I venture more than four feet off the ground, but it does sound like an amazing adventure.”

  “I’ve seen photos of researchers doing that in National Geographic,” said Theodosia. “You really do need to be fearless about heights.”

  “There’s a whole microcosm of plant and animal life up in those trees!” Bethany went on. “Insects, botanicals, birds. Most of them never touch the ground. Tanner told me all about these weird little green frogs.”

  Hairs suddenly prickled on the back of Theodosia’s neck. “What did he tell you about frogs, Bethany?”

  “Just that there’s a certain type of frog the natives collect. They’re very beautiful, bright green and yellow, but they’re venomous. So the Indians dip the tips of their arrows into the frog’s venom, then use those arrows for hunting. And Tanner told me about the most amazing orchids that grow up there, too. Bromeliads, actually. Orchid cousins. He says some of them have blooms that are ten inches across. Isn’t that amazing?”

  “It is,” agreed Theodosia, but her mind was elsewhere. For some reason, she had gotten a terribly uneasy feeling the moment Bethany mentioned the frogs. Uneasy, she supposed, because it meant Tanner Joseph had a working knowledge of a certain kind of poison. And, she realized that the first time she had met Tanner Joseph, he had been outspoken about having a problem... no, make that a fairly substantial grudge...against Hughes Barron.

  After Bethany left on her walk with Earl Grey, Theodosia sat in her office alone, pondering this new information. Could this just be a bizarre coincidence? Was truth, indeed, stranger than fiction? Take your pick, she thought. If it was a coincidence, it certainly was an odd one. And if Tanner Joseph was somehow not the mild-mannered ecocrusader he portrayed himself as (and she suddenly remembered how Tanner Joseph had shown a cold satisfaction when he’d spoken of Hughes Barron’s karmic death), then it meant Bethany could be in serious danger.

  And she was the one who’d put her in harm’s way.

  Theodosia lowered her head into her hands and rubbed her eyes tiredly. Damn! In her eagerness to get her tea labels done, she seemed to have opened up yet another can of worms.

  Worse yet, if Bethany was still a suspect in the eyes of Bert Tidwell, and Tanner Joseph was somehow connected...Well... the possibilities weren’t good at all.

  Theodosia sighed heavily and gazed about her office distractedly. A piece of paper sitting on the corner of her desk caught her attention. It was the sheet she’d begun two days ago. The sheet that looked like a family tree. But instead of family names she had written “Hughes Barron” and “Poison?” at the top and the names “Timothy Neville” and “Lleveret Dante” underneath.

  Theodosia picked up a silver pen. Purposefully, but with a good deal of anguish, she added a third name to her sheet: the name of Tanner Joseph.

  Chapter 29

  By evening, the rain still showed no sign of letting up. A tropical disturbance had swept in from the Atlantic and hunkered down over the grand strand and the sea islands. Its fury extended a hundred miles in either direction, north to Myrtle Beach, south to Savannah.

  Above the tea shop, in her little apartment just six blocks from Charleston Harbor, Theodosia could feel the full fury of the storm. Rain pounded the roof, lashed at the windows, and gurgled noisily down drain spouts. At moments when the storm’s saber rattling seemed to abate slightly, she swore she could hear a foghorn from somewhere over near Patriots Point.

  Lighting a fire in the fireplace in the face of so much wind would have meant losing precious warmth. Instead Theodosia lit a dozen white candles of varying sizes and placed them inside the fireplace. Now they danced and flickered merrily. Maybe not imparting warmth in terms of temperature, but certainly lending a cozy, tucked-in kind of feeling.

  Curled up on her couch, a handmade afghan snugged around her, Theodosia sipped a cup of Egyptian chamomile. The taste was slightly sweet, reminiscent of almonds and apples. A good evening calm-you-down tea.

  Calming was exactly what she needed, because instead of conducting a quiet investigation and perhaps discovering a lead on Hughes Barron’s murderer, she seemed to have uncovered a number of potential suspects.

  Timothy Neville hated Hughes Barron with white-hot passion, despised the man because of Barron’s callous disregard for historic buildings and architecture. Somehow Timothy had known that Hughes Barron was making a play for the Peregrine Building. Timothy’s assumption had been that Hughes Barron would have made significant changes to it. Would that have enraged Timothy Neville enough for him to commit murder? Perhaps. He was old, inflexible, used to getting his way. And Timothy Neville had a bottle of sulfuric acid in his study.

  She had told Drayton about her discovery last night, after they’d departed Timothy Neville’s house. He’d reinforced the notion that sulfuric acid was, indeed, used to remove rust and corrosion from old metal. But Timothy Neville going so far as actually pouring a dollop in Hughes Barron’s teacup? Well, they didn’t really have the toxicologist’s report, did they? And neither of them could recall Timothy Neville’s exact movements the night of the Lamplighter Tour. They only remembered that, for a short time, he’d been a guest in the back garden at the Avis Melbourne Home.

  Then there was Lleveret Dante. From the conversation she’d overheard outside Sam Sestero’s office, Hughes Barron’s portion of Goose Creek Holdings fell neatly into Lleveret Dante’s hands as a result of Barron’s death. Plus, the man was obviously a scoundrel, since he was under indictment in another state. Theodosia wondered if Dante had fled Kentucky just steps ahead of an arrest or, like so many unsavory business characters today, had a slick Kentucky lawyer working on his behalf, firing off a constant barrage of appeals and paperwork until the case all but faded away.

  Finally, there was Tanner Joseph, executive director of the Shorebird Environmentalist Group. She had brought him into their lives, had invited Tanner Joseph into the safety and security of their little tea shop. Could an environmentalist be overzealous? Consumed with bitterness at losing a battle?

  Theodosia knew the answer was yes. The papers were full of stories about people who routinely risked their own lives to save the whales, the dolphins, the redwoods. Did those people ever kill others who stood in the way of their conservation efforts? Unfortunately, the answer was yes on that point, too. Redwoods were often spiked with metal pieces that bounced saw blades back into loggers’ faces. Some animal rights activists, bitterly opposed to hunting, actually opened fire on hunters. It wasn’t inconceivable that Tanner Joseph could be such a fanatic. History had proven that passion unchecked yields freely to fanaticism.

  Theodosia shucked off her afghan, stretched her long legs, and stood. She padded to the kitchen in her stocking feet. From his woven rag rug in front of the fireplace, Earl Grey lifted his fine head and gazed at her with concern.

  “Be right back,” she told him.

  In the kitchen, Theodosia took an English shortbread cookie from one of the pretty tins that rested on her counter. From a red and yellow tin decorated with pictures of noble hunting dogs she took a dog biscuit.

  Doggy biscotti, she thought to herself as she returned to the living room where the two of them munched their cookies companionably. Could be a profitable sideline. Just last month she’d seen a magazine article about the booming business of gourmet dog treats.

  Finishing off her cookie, Theodo
sia swiveled around and scanned the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf directly behind her. She selected a small, leather-bound volume and settled back comfortably again to reread her Agatha Christie.

  The book she’d chosen was a fascinating primer on poison. She read eagerly as Agatha Christie described in delicious detail a “tasteless, odorless white powder that is poorly soluble in cold water but excellent to dissolve in hot cocoa, milk, or tea.”

  This terrible poison, arsenic, Theodosia learned, was completely undetectable. But one tablespoon could administer ten to thirty times the lethal dose.

  As if on cue, the lights flickered, lending a strange magic lantern feel to the living room. Ever the guard dog, Earl Grey rose up a few inches and growled in response. Then there was a low hum, as though the generators at South Carolina Light and Power were lodging a mighty protest, and the lights burned strong and steady again.

  When the lights had dimmed momentarily, Theodosia’s startled reaction had been to close her book. Now she sat with the slim volume in her lap, staring out the rain-spattered window, catching an occasional flash of lightning from far away.

  She considered what she had just read. Arsenic was amazingly lethal and extremely fast acting. Death occurred almost instantaneously.

  But from what she had been able to piece together, Hughes Barron had walked into the garden under his own power and probably sat at the far table, drinking tea, for a good half hour. So Hughes Barron must have died slowly, perhaps not even knowing he was dying. Poisoned, to be sure, but some type of poison that deliberately slowed his heart until, like a pocket watch not properly wound, it simply stopped.

  Chapter 30

  Drayton was deep in thought behind the counter, his gray head bent over the black leather ledger. He scratched numbers onto a yellow legal pad, then added them up using a tiny credit card–sized calculator. When he saw the total, he frowned. Painstakingly, he added the numbers again. Unfortunately, he arrived at the same total the second time through.