Shades of Earl Grey

the fact that the guard had actually seen the thief at the Heritage Society the other night. So maybe they’d really have something to go on now. That would certainly be welcome news to poor Timothy Neville, who seemed to be waiting on pins and needles for the ax to fall on his head.

“I can’t believe you actually chased this fellow,” Drayton said to Theodosia. “Did you alert the security staff at the hospital, too?”

Theodosia nodded. “I went back afterwards and talked to them.”

“And . . .” said Drayton.

“Someone had fiddled with Harlan Wilson’s oxygen line.”

Drayton’s face blanched white. “Good lord! This intruder really did mean to do harm!”

“It looks that way,” said Theodosia. “Apparently Mr. Wilson didn’t exactly need the oxygen, it was supplemental, but the intruder didn’t know that.”

“So the intent was still to harm him,” persisted Drayton.

“Looks like,” said Theodosia. She glanced up from the counter, where she and Drayton had both been fixing pots of tea. Haley seemed to have all the tables under control. All she needed were the fresh pots of dragon’s well and English breakfast tea that were now steeping.

“Has Mr. Wilson been able to say much of anything?” asked Drayton.

“I’m afraid not,” said Theodosia. “He’s still pretty woozy.”

“And you didn’t get a good look at the intruder?” asked Drayton.

Theodosia shook her head sadly. “Not really.”

“Was he tall or short?”

“Not sure.”

“Skinny or heavyset?”

Theodosia sighed. “I’m afraid I couldn’t say either way. Sorry. I know if I’d been more alert, or a tad faster, we’d have something to go on.”

“No, no,” said Drayton. “I didn’t mean to imply you’d done a poor job of it. You just got caught unawares. Usually when one enters a hospital room, there isn’t a malevolent figure lurking in the dark.” Drayton gave her a commiserating look. “You really should call Detective Tidwell again,” he urged.

“Don’t you think he already knows?” said Theodosia. “The hospital is going to put a guard on Mr. Wilson’s room.”

“But that doesn’t mean Tidwell’s in the loop,” said Drayton. “He told us those two other fellows . . .” Drayton paused, trying to recall the names of the two men from the Robbery Division.

“Gallier and Delehanty,” filled in Theodosia.

“Right,” said Drayton. “Tidwell said they were handling the alleged robbery at the Lady Goodwood and the disappearance of the sapphire necklace. The various departments don’t necessary communicate with each other.”

“You’re right,” agreed Theodosia.

“Is that tea ready yet?” asked Haley.

Theodosia grabbed both teapots and passed them over to her. “Yes, sorry we’re taking so long.”

“I kind of heard what you guys were whispering about,” said Haley. “This is all getting very frightening.”

“I know what you mean,” said Theodosia. “I was scared out of my wits Sunday night when Cooper Hobcaw came running up behind me in an alley.”

“What?” said Drayton. “He must have strayed pretty far from home.”

“He’s kind of a weird guy,” said Haley. “I’m not sure I trust him.”

Drayton’s eyes sought out Theodosia’s. “You don’t suppose . . .” he said.

“What?” asked Haley as she stared at the two of them. “You think he’s somehow involved in all this?”

“Probably not,” said Theodosia, although she couldn’t seem to shake the notion from her head that Cooper Hobcaw seemed to conveniently appear in so many different places.

The bell over the door tinkled and all of them turned to look.

Drayton’s face broke into a wide grin. “It’s Brooke,” he said. “From Heart’s Desire. Oh quick, Theo, she’s a true devotee of Goomtee Estate tea. Brew up one of those two-cup pots while I go and greet her, will you?”

Theodosia nodded even as she pulled a small silver tin down from the shelf and went to work. Goomtee Estate was a classic, smooth Darjeeling, light in color with a delicate, sweet aroma and gentle hint of muscatel flavor. Most people favored it as an afternoon tea, but Brooke was an exception. She liked it in the morning, hot and black, with no milk or sugar.

“This should steep another minute or so,” said Theodosia as she delivered the small pot of tea to Brooke’s table.

“Aren’t you a love,” said Brooke. “Drayton said you were brewing a pot of Goomtee just for me.”

“And I have the perfect accompaniment,” said Drayton as he hovered over her with a plate. “Fresh-baked baps.”

“Scottish breakfast bread!” exclaimed Brooke. “My granny used to bake baps.”

“Well, these are made according to one of Haley’s traditional low-country recipes, or receipts as we South Carolinians like to say. Not too sugary, not too sweet, but always delightful with a pat of butter and some good sourwood honey.” And Drayton scampered off to fetch more baps for the rest of the customers.

“Theo,” asked Brooke as she pulled her pot of tea toward her. “Do you have a moment?”

Theodosia slipped into the chair opposite Brooke. “Certainly.”

Brooke Carter Crockett was a self-reliant woman. She had owned Heart’s Desire for some fifteen years and had seen it thrive as a small business. Brooke had also offered inspiration and invaluable help to Theodosia when she’d first opened the tea shop. It had been wonderful to receive mentoring from a small business owner who’d already endured her baptism by fire.

Now Brooke seemed to be searching for just the right words. She shook her sleek mane of white hair, brushed it back behind her ears, revealing a pair of canary yellow diamond stud earrings.

Have to be three full carats each, thought Theodosia. And marquis cut at that. Stunning, really stunning.

“Theodosia,” began Brooke, “I’m just going to ask this flat out. Do you think there’s a cat burglar at work in the historic district?” Brooke curled a hand delicately around the handle of the small teapot, poured a steaming stream of the golden-red liquor into her teacup, and waited for an answer.

“Honestly,” said Theodosia, “I don’t know. I think there might be, but it’s just supposition. A hunch at best.”

“Drayton mentioned something strange to my associate, Aerin Linley, the other night. At the Heritage Society’s members-only party.”

“What did he tell her?” asked Theodosia.

“Just that you didn’t think the death of that poor Buchanan boy was any accident. That you suspected someone might have been up there on the roof.”

“Well, the whole incident did have a strange feel to it. Not exactly engineered, but not a complete accident either.” She knew exactly where Brooke was heading with this line of questioning. With Heart’s Desire specializing in high-end estate jewelry, Brooke was understandably nervous about being a possible target. Theodosia wondered if she should tell Brooke about the hospital last night. No, she decided, better to keep that little incident to myself.

“Brooke,” Theodosia said, suddenly getting a germ of an idea. “Do people just walk in off the street with jewelry and offer to sell it to you?”

“Oh, yes. Absolutely,” said Brooke. “Dealers, antiquers, just regular folks. Of course, we get lots of locals. You’d be amazed at the people who come in. There are some folks who put on an impeccable appearance, yet are poor as church mice. They’ve been selling off inherited jewelry and heirlooms for years in order to maintain a certain standard of living. Naturally, Aerin and I try to be extremely discreet. We wouldn’t maintain much of a customer base if we blabbed about who sold this or bought that.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” said Theodosia. “But do you ever”—she hesitated, unsure of how to phrase her question—“do you ever get just a tiny bit suspicious of someone who’s selling a very expensive piece of jewelry?”