Shades of Earl Grey

“We’ll look into it,” Drayton assured them.

“Be sure to mention my name,” said Aerin.

“What are you doing?” Theodosia hissed at Drayton when she had him alone.

“Encouraging you to get a gig,” he said with a poker face.

“What if I don’t want to get a gig?”

“Think about it, Theo,” said Drayton. “What if you could actually land a segment on a local TV show? Think what it could do for business!”

Theodosia glowered at him. “You’re using a marketing strategy to try to persuade me. That’s how I used to handle clients. Persuade them by pointing out the financial upside.”

Drayton smiled. “Then you of all people should want to explore this opportunity. See if you can find out any more from Aerin, will you? She’s really a great person to know, exceedingly well connected.”

“Drayton . . .” Theodosia began. She still hadn’t had a chance to tell him about her visit to Graham Carmody’s house last night, and her strange discovery of the Internet auction printouts was percolating in her brain.

“Hmm?” he asked as he looked over her shoulder, his face suddenly lighting up. “Well, look who’s here! Hellooo!”

“Oh, my gosh,” exclaimed Theodosia as her Aunt Libby walked through the door. “What are you doing here?”

Libby Revelle squared her narrow shoulders and gave her niece a mildly inquisitive look. “You invited us, don’t you remember?”

“Yes, of course. But I never expected you to show up.”

Libby turned to Margaret Rose Reese, her companion and housekeeper. “It seems we’re a bit of a surprise,” she said dryly.

“You’re a wonderful surprise!” exclaimed Theodosia as she suddenly threw her arms around Aunt Libby and planted a kiss on her smooth cheek. She released her, then repeated her motions with a slightly embarrassed Margaret Rose.

“Oh, honey,” protested Margaret Rose, who struggled to maintain the stern facade she’d honed to perfection from years spent as a housekeeper for an aging Episcopalian minister, “you don’t have to go all gushy. It’s just us.” But she was pleased anyway.

“We decided to make an evening of it,” declared Aunt Libby. “Margaret Rose and I have been stuck out at Cain Ridge for what feels like forever.”

Cain Ridge was the former rice plantation out in the low-country where Aunt Libby and Theodosia’s father had grown up.

“Our master plan,” continued Aunt Libby, “was to drop by your little reception, then treat ourselves to dinner at the Women’s Club. Afterwards, we’re going to soak up a little culture at the symphony.”

Theodosia stared at her. “I’m going to the symphony tonight. With Jory Davis.”

“Good,” declared Aunt Libby with a sly grin. “Then you and your gentleman friend can buy us both a nice Dubonet with a twist during intermission” And with that, Aunt Libby pushed her way into the crowd, eager to get reacquainted with old friends and enjoy a good chat.

Chapter 18

The haunting strains of Nessum Dorma from Puccini’s opera Turandot filled the auditorium as the symphony orchestra played their fourth piece of the night. Normally, the symphony offered three concert series over the course of their season—Chamber Music, Classical, and Pops. But tonight’s gala was a special concert, an opera venue that featured a medley of work from such opera greats as Puccini, Verdi, and Rossini.

On the stage, Timothy Neville played first chair in the violin section. In the audience, sitting center stage, fifteen rows back from the orchestra, Theodosia and Jory Davis listened with rapt attention. Off to their left and a few rows down were Aunt Libby and Margaret Rose. Before the auditorium lights had dimmed, Theodosia had spotted Delaine and Cooper Hobcaw over to her right, their heads together, whispering conspiratorially.

The conductor bobbed and wove with the sweetly lyrical music. Then, as the final elegant notes hung in the air, he spun on his heels, his baton held aloft, and bowed deeply. The packed house rose to its feet and thunderous applause flooded the hall.

Jory Davis gazed down at Theodosia. She could see in his eyes that he approved of how she looked tonight. She’d dressed in a short silver sheath and left her auburn hair loose so that it fell over her shoulders.

“Want to stroll down to the lobby for a drink?” Jory asked. “We’ve got a good twenty minutes before the second half of the concert begins.”

Theodosia’s shining face smiled up at him. “Love to,” she said.

Everyone seemed to have the same idea, and by the time they’d elbowed their way to the small bar, it was six deep in thirsty customers. It seemed that almost every opera lover was also eager for a cold refreshment.

“I’ve got an idea,” said Jory, taking Theodosia’s elbow and steering her away from the knot of people. “Let’s sit at one of those little tables over by the window. I actually believe there are waiters who’ll shuttle drinks to us.”

Theodosia followed Jory to a tiny black enamel table and seated herself on an even tinier black enamel folding chair.

“I wonder where Aunt Libby and Margaret Rose are?” said Theodosia, looking around, trying to peer over heads.

“Maybe they didn’t come down for intermission after all? Oh, here we go,” said Jory as a waiter dropped two white bar napkins on the table. “Theo, what would you like to drink?”

“White wine, please,” she said as she continued to scan the crowd.

“Glass of white wine,” Jory repeated to the waiter, “and a bourbon and water.”

Theodosia glanced up just as the waiter finished making a note of their drink order and turned to leave. Recognition jolted her and she instinctively clutched at Jory Davis’s arm. The waiter who’d just taken their drink order was none other than the young man she’d paid a surreptitious visit to last night! Graham Carmody!

Amazing, she thought to herself. The very same waiter who was working at the Heritage Society the night the Blue Kashmir necklace disappeared and at the Lady Goodwood Inn when Captain Corey Buchanan was killed! And now he’s turned up here.

As Theodosia stared at the retreating back of Graham Carmody, she realized that, if the young man really was a cat burglar, his job as a waiter was the perfect ploy to put him in close contact with potential victims! What better way to check out which ladies were wearing diamond earrings or flashing an emerald bracelet or carrying a Judith Leiber jeweled purse? You could spot your mark and then pounce!

“It’s perfect,” Theodosia uttered aloud, surprised at the simplicity of it all. Because when you thought about it, working as a waiter for an upscale caterer really was a clever cover.

Jory Davis smiled at her, apparently assuming her remark referred to their evening together thus far. “Glad you’re having a good time,” he replied. “You seemed a bit distracted earlier, but I chalked it up to a hectic day.”

“Jory,” she said, “we need to talk.”

Jory gazed at her anxiously. “Okay,” he said slowly.

Theodosia saw the worried look on Jory’s face and hastily reassured him. “No, this isn’t about us. This isn’t one of those We need to talk because I just want to be friends kind of things.”

Exhaling with a mock sigh of relief, Jory suddenly turned sober. “Hey, you’re really upset, aren’t you?”

She nodded.

“Tell me what’s going on,” he urged. “Let me help.”

“Okay,” she agreed, “but let’s get our drinks first. And move outside. You’ll see why in a moment.”