Plum Tea Crazy Read online

  “Ah, a secret?” Riley leaned in to kiss her.

  Theodosia let him kiss her and then put both hands on his shoulders and gently pushed him back a couple of inches.

  One of his eyebrows arched up. “Problem?”

  “Kind of.”

  “Us?”

  “No, no, nothing like that. It’s about the murder last night.”

  Riley stared at her as if he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Yes?” Then, “I heard you were there.”

  “Detective Tidwell tells me you’ve been assigned to work that case.”

  “Yes. Wait, this is strange. It feels like we’re playing twenty questions. Are we?”

  “No,” Theodosia said. “But here’s the thing. I just discovered some very . . . um, let’s call it pertinent information.”

  “How pertinent?” Riley looked uncertain now. “Doggone, this back-and-forth questioning makes me crazy. Just spit it out, Theo. Tell me what’s got you all wound up.”

  “It seems that Carson Lanier had a couple of nasty run-ins with a man named Jud Harker,” Theodosia said. Riley continued to stare at her expectantly, so she went on. “And I just found out, from the manager at the Stagwood Inn, that Jud Harker is their part-time handyman.”

  Riley took a step back. “What?”

  “I just found out that—”

  He held up a hand. “No, I heard you just fine. What I meant was . . . well, I’m not sure what I meant.” His jaw tensed. “Harker works there?”

  “Yes,” Theodosia said. “You think that’s important? Because I sure think it might be.”

  “Of course it is,” Riley said. “I may not be one hundred percent up to speed on the Lanier case yet, but I know that Timothy Neville named Harker as a person of interest.”

  “So that means you’ll investigate Harker?” She figured Riley would be great backup. He’d do all the legwork and then share his information with her. Hopefully.

  “I’ll jump on this first thing tomorrow. I’d do it tonight if I knew where to find the guy.”

  Theodosia rubbed a finger against his lapel and smiled. “Um, maybe not tonight.”

  Harker smiled back. “You make a good point.”

  “Ooh, look what the proverbial cat dragged in!” Delaine cooed. She was suddenly standing before them, beaming happily, as if she’d just discovered the lost treasure of the Sierra Madre. “Detective Riley. What a pleasant surprise. And might I inquire what you two lovebirds are up to?”

  “Delaine,” Theodosia said, a cautionary note coloring her voice.

  Delaine waved a hand in front of her face as if she were erasing words from a chalkboard. “Oh, don’t mind me, I’m just happy and excited over all sorts of things.”

  “You must have had a glass or two of the good sake,” Theodosia said.

  “Indeed I did,” Delaine said. “And before I forget . . .” She thrust a pink postcard into Theodosia’s hand. “Remember that sample sale I told you about a few weeks ago?”

  Theodosia shook her head no.

  “Well, it’s happening tomorrow.”

  “Wait . . . you’re having a sale?” Theodosia asked.

  “Oh, no no.” Delaine chuckled. “Not me. My friend Tania Blakely is holding a ginormous sample sale over at the Lady Goodwood Inn. Tania picked up a ton of designer clothes when she attended Market Week in New York last month. Of course they’re all teensy-weensy sizes. Zero, two, four . . .” Delaine eyed Theodosia carefully. “Think you can squeeze in, sweetie? I know how you adore your carbs.”

  “Theodosia looks just great the way she is,” Riley said. “Nice and toned, with a strong runner’s body.”

  “Before you two start putting my various body parts up for auction on the international market,” Theodosia said, “I think I’m going to help myself to another piece of sushi.” Anything to get away from Delaine.

  “Attagirl,” Riley said. “I’ll join you.”

  But Delaine, not to be outmaneuvered, followed them to the hors d’oeuvres table.

  While Theodosia and Pete Riley helped themselves to a couple pieces of salmon sushi, Delaine selected a California roll and then proceeded to pick out the rice. Carbs, of course.

  “The other thing I need to remind you two about,” Delaine said, nibbling at a piece of seaweed, “is that the Carolina Cat Show begins this Friday night.”

  “A cat show?” Riley said. He sounded almost amused.

  “A very prestigious cat show,” Delaine said, suddenly getting serious, since cats were definitely her thing. “It’s a fund-raiser for Cat’s Paw Shelter with a silent auction and then a formal ball to follow.” She dug into her purse and pulled out a fancy invitation. It was printed on crisp cream-colored paper and edged in purple and gold. “Detective Riley, perhaps we can persuade you to attend our formal ball?” Delaine nodded in Theodosia’s direction. “With a certain date?”

  “That sounds like it might be fun,” Riley said. “I’ve never actually been to a black-tie affair. Especially one that benefits homeless cats.” His eyes scanned the invitation. “Holy smokes. You’re calling it the Hair Ball?”

  Delaine gave a wicked grin. “Seriously, can you think of a better name?”

  8

  “Did your cute little detective find you last night?” Haley asked. She was hustling around the tea room, wielding a broom and making short work of any stray crumbs that might be lurking under the tables. It was Tuesday morning at the Indigo Tea Shop, and Theodosia and Drayton were in a tizzy as well, getting ready to open for morning tea.

  “Yes, he did,” Theodosia said. She’d just whipped white linen tablecloths onto all the tables and was debating whether to use the Shelley Chintz or the Coalport china.

  “Riley sure is a handsome devil,” Haley said. “Seems to me the two of you have something serious going on.”

  “I’ll tell you what should be going on, Haley,” Drayton called from behind the counter. “You need to set out the tea warmers, light the candles, and then scoot back into the kitchen and pull your scones out of the oven before they turn into a charred mess.”

  Haley studied Drayton from beneath half-lidded eyes. “Have you ever known me to burn my scones, Drayton? Hah, that’s a good one, that is.”

  “So everything’s under control in the kitchen?” Theodosia asked, taking the broom from Haley. “Here, let me finish up.”

  “The scones are fine,” Haley said. “The banana bread is fine. But what I really want to know about is the grand opening at Haiku Gallery last night.” She put her hands on her hips. “Is anybody gonna clue me in?”

  “It was a lovely party,” Drayton said. “The gallery carries a spectacular inventory of rare Japanese prints, ceramics, and furniture, and the food was first-rate. A delicious selection of sushi and fried tempura.” He glanced in Theodosia’s direction. “Oh, Theo, I spoke to Alexis last night and she said she’d be delighted to lend us a few pieces for our Plum Blossom Tea on Friday.”

  “Perfect,” Theodosia said. “Now I’m looking forward to that event even more.”

  “Did you, um, mention the Jud Harker thing to your friend, Detective Riley?” Drayton asked her.

  “I told him,” Theodosia said. “He promised to jump right on it.”

  “Good,” Drayton said. “Which means you can steer clear of that whole mess.” He suddenly brightened. “Yes, I’m definitely feeling relaxed and ready to face the day. Looking forward to the week, especially our Plum Blossom Tea.”

  “Now I just have to come up with a killer menu,” Haley said.

  “I have complete faith in you, Haley,” Theodosia said. “You’ve never let us down yet when it comes to our event teas.”

  “And I never will,” Haley said. “In fact, I was— Oh.” She stopped abruptly as a young man crept slowly into the tea room from the back hallway. He looked sleepy and disheveled, lik
e he’d just rolled out of bed.

  “I see you’re finally up,” Haley said. There was a distinct edge to her voice.

  “Jamie?” Theodosia said. Though she hadn’t seen him in a few years, she was pretty sure this was Jamie Weston, Haley’s cousin and houseguest who was staying upstairs. The one Drayton referred to as Little Lord Fauntleroy. Although in his jeans and Fetty Wap T-shirt he looked awfully dressed down.

  Jamie waved a hand in the general direction of the tea room. “Howdy,” he said. Then his eyes focused on Theodosia. “You’re Theodosia, right? The owner?”

  “Yes, and it’s lovely to see you again, Jamie,” Theodosia said. “Welcome to the Indigo Tea Shop. I’m sure you remember Drayton? He’s the gentleman standing there like a statue on a pedestal, back behind the front counter?”

  Jamie yawned broadly and waved a hand in Drayton’s general direction. “Dude,” he said. Jamie was twenty years old, six feet tall, string bean thin, with a thick mane of blond hair and a saucy, preppy demeanor that made him look as if he’d just sauntered off the pages of a Ralph Lauren ad.

  Drayton looked so startled at being called “dude” that Theodosia was forced to stifle a laugh.

  “Is it safe to say you’re reporting for work?” Theodosia asked Jamie.

  “Do I have a choice?” Jamie asked, shifting his gaze to Haley. Then he leaned forward and shook his blond hair vigorously, in the manner of a Labrador retriever who’d just bounded out of a lake.

  “Here, now,” Drayton said, his posture going even more rigid. “I think we need to get you looking a tad more presentable, Mr. Jamie. I suggest you go back upstairs, slick down your mop of hair, and put on a clean white shirt. When you return we’ll find you a nice black Parisian waiter’s apron to wear.”

  Jamie looked curious. “I gotta dress up just to serve tea?”

  “Not quite,” Drayton said in slightly iced tones. “Because you’re not going to be serving tea; you’re going to be clearing tables.”

  “That seems awfully menial.”

  “We must all start somewhere,” Drayton said.

  * * *

  • • •

  Five minutes later, customers began to trickle into the tea shop. Drayton was in his element, greeting people and brewing pots of Chinese Ying Feng green tea and Lapsang souchong smoky black tea, while Theodosia filled tiny glass bowls with strawberry jam and fluffy dabs of Devonshire cream.

  But when Jamie came sidling up to the counter, practically invading Drayton’s territory, Drayton’s mood suddenly shifted.

  “If you’re going to be working here,” Drayton said, “I’d say a quick lesson is in order.”

  “You got it, dude,” Jamie said.

  “Lesson number one, I am not a dude. You may call me Mr. Conneley, sir, or even Drayton. But kindly do not refer to me as ‘dude.’”

  Jamie gave Drayton a thumbs-up. “Got it.”

  “Now please observe carefully,” Drayton said. He picked up a tin of Harney & Sons Vietnamese Black OP and tilted it toward Jamie. “This particular tea is steeping right here in my Brown Betty teapot. Smell that aroma? It’s a smooth, full-bodied tea with a hint of sweetness. Really excellent for breakfast.” He grabbed another tin of tea and indicated a second teapot. “Here’s a breakfast black tea with a more distinctive flavor, some lovely hazelnut and orange undertones. Now I’m going to pour you a small cup of each tea and I want you to sample them so you can clearly taste the difference.”

  Drayton poured and Jamie tasted both teas.

  “Now do you see what I mean?” Drayton asked.

  Jamie shook his head.

  “No?” Drayton said.

  “No.”

  “It’s going to be a long day,” Drayton muttered.

  “I’m here for the week.”

  “Then perhaps it’s best if you just . . . cleared tables and washed dishes.”

  * * *

  • • •

  But the mood in the tea shop improved immensely when, a few minutes later, Alexis James popped in. She was smiling and bubbling over, obviously still riding a high from the success of her big party last night.

  “Miss James,” Drayton enthused when he spotted her. “May I formally welcome you to the Indigo Tea Shop?”

  “Please, call me Alexis,” she said. “Since we’ve already bonded over teapots and Tamba ware, I feel like we’re kindred spirits.”

  “Indeed we are,” Drayton said.

  Alexis waved a hand in Theodosia’s direction. “Hey there, Miss Theodosia, long time no see.”

  “Good morning,” Theodosia said, coming over to join Alexis and Drayton at the counter. “I hope you’ll be dropping by on a regular basis now, since your fabulous gallery is just down the street from us.”

  Alexis’s eyes lit up as they roved about the tea shop. “Are you kidding me? This tea shop is so lovely and cozy I can hardly believe it. And yes I intend to become a regular customer. I mean, holy smokes, it looks as if your tea shop was magically transported from the English countryside and plopped down right here in the middle of Charleston.”

  “We pride ourselves on our authenticity and charm,” Drayton said modestly.

  “Again, congratulations on your grand opening,” Theodosia said. “We really enjoyed your party.”

  “Not as much as I did,” Alexis said. She lowered her voice. “Can you believe I sold almost forty-five thousand dollars’ worth of objects already? And that I’ve got holds on two Utamaro prints as well as a lacquer box?”

  “You’ve sold that much already?” Drayton said. “Amazing.”

  “Good for you,” Theodosia said. She was thrilled when a local small business thrived. Their prosperity was often contagious for other shops in the neighborhood.

  “I knew Charleston was populated by art lovers and collectors,” Alexis said, “but I had no idea they were such capable spenders.”

  “I think you’ll find there’s a good deal of wealth here,” Drayton said.

  “Would you like to be seated at a table?” Theodosia asked Alexis. “So you can enjoy a proper cup of tea? Or did you just pop by for a cuppa to go?”

  “Regretfully, I do have to get back to my shop,” Alexis said. “But a take-out cup of green tea would be wonderful.”

  “And perhaps an apple cinnamon scone?” Theodosia asked.

  “You talked me into it.”

  Drayton busied himself with brewing a pot of Japanese sencha while Theodosia placed a scone in one of her indigo-blue take-out bags.

  Alexis knit her brows together and focused on Theodosia. “So, I picked up a bit of strange gossip at last night’s party. Was there really a murder here two nights ago? I don’t mean here here, but a couple of blocks over?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Theodosia said. “At Timothy Neville’s home.”

  Alexis tapped a manicured finger against the counter. “I’ve been so busy with the grand opening that I haven’t bothered reading any news. But . . . did it occur during a robbery?”

  “No,” Theodosia said. “It wasn’t that.” She could see that Alexis was concerned about her shop being held up by armed robbers. After all, robberies had occurred on Church Street before. “This murder actually happened at a private party. The victim was a banker, so we think there might have been bad blood over a business deal.”

  Alexis still looked nervous.

  “But the police are investigating,” Theodosia said, trying to sound reassuring even as her mind wandered to Detective Riley. “And we have complete faith in their detectives.”

  Drayton glanced up. “There’s nothing to concern yourself with, dear lady,” he said. “It will probably all be over in a day or two.” Snapping a lid on a take-out cup, he handed it to Alexis. “Here you are—tea that’s been custom blended just for you.”

  “I love this,” Alexis said, her mood suddenl
y upbeat again. “I’m going to make coming here my morning ritual.”

  “You’re welcome anytime,” Theodosia said. “And I’ve been meaning to ask. How on earth did you amass such a spectacular inventory of Japanese collectibles? It looks as if you’ve been tromping all over the globe for years, gathering priceless treasures.”

  “I completely lucked out,” Alexis said. “A shop over near Walterboro came up for sale a few months ago and I jumped right on it. The owner, a fellow named Riddle, who was old as Methuselah, passed away, and his nephew put most of his inventory up for sale. I was at the right place at the right time and was able to sort of cherry-pick the better pieces.”

  “Riddle,” Theodosia said. “I recognize that name. There was a man named George Riddle who owned a large plantation out by my Aunt Libby’s place on Rutledge Road.”

  Alexis nodded. “Probably the same family. I think there have been Riddles living in and around Charleston for ages.”

  * * *

  • • •

  “What’s on the menu for lunch today, Haley?” Theodosia stood in the doorway of their postage stamp–sized kitchen, watching Haley bob and weave as she spun from the stove to the sink and over to the counter.

  “Since the days are finally getting warmer, I’m lightening up on our entrées,” Haley said.

  “Okay.”

  “So . . . smoked gouda and mushroom tartlets, my apple-yogurt chicken bake, and wild mushroom soup.”

  “Fabulous,” Theodosia said. “And for dessert?”

  “I got a good deal on a case of blood oranges, so I’m in the throes of whipping up a parfait. And then, let’s see . . . I’ve got a pan of brownie bites baking in the oven, and—”

  WHAP. WHAM. SLAM.

  Haley straightened up like a gopher popping out of its hole. “Holy butter beans, what was that?”

  “Sounds like the football team from The Citadel just trampled down our front door,” Theodosia said. She spun around, flew through the celadon-green velvet curtain that separated the tea room from the back of the shop, and slid to a stop midway into the tea room. “What on earth?” she cried.