Shades of Earl Grey

Once their drinks arrived, they carried them out to a small patio directly off the lobby. The night was cool and the beginnings of a full moon bobbed overhead. Halloween’s in two nights, Theodosia reminded herself. A haunting night, a night filled with mystery. Then again, she just might have as much mystery and intrigue as she needed right now!

Settling down on a wide bench, Theodosia took a quick sip of wine, then held Jory’s hand in hers as she slowly related to him the events of the past week.

She told him about the mysterious intruder she and Earl Grey had chased from Harlan Wilson’s hospital room.

She told him about Cooper Hobcaw and his evening runs through the historic district. Explained that just when Cooper Hobcaw was given custody of the key to Delaine’s house, her expensive Chopard watch suddenly turned up missing. Then she related how the watch had been discovered in Claire Kitridge’s desk at the Heritage Society, thanks to an anonymous tip.

Theodosia’s suspicions about the waiter, Graham Carmody, came as a complete surprise to Jory. So much so, in fact, that when the strains of the opening overture came wafting out, he asked Theodosia if she’d rather stay there and keep talking.

“Absolutely I would,” she told him.

“You’re sure you don’t mind missing the second half?” he asked. “They’re doing Bizet’s Carmen.”

“I’ve got it on CD. Besides, this is more important, don’t you think?”

“It’s fascinating as hell, I’ll give you that much,” said Jory. He frowned, set his empty drink glass down next to his feet. “Okay, let’s go back to the first event. The engagement party. That’s when everything seemed to kick into high gear.”

“Right,” said Theodosia. “That’s when things came to our attention. Drayton’s and mine. And Haley’s and Delaine’s, too, I guess. Then we found out that other valuables had been stolen previously.” Theodosia took a final sip of her white wine. “Camille’s wedding ring was appraised at something like sixty or seventy thousand dollars.” She shrugged. “I don’t know the value of the other items that have been stolen, but I’d say our cat burglar has been making quite a haul.”

“Only the insurance companies know for sure,” said Jory. “But let’s see what kind of case we can build against Cooper Hobcaw. Do you remember seeing him after the ceiling crashed in at the Lady Goodwood?”

“Yes,” replied Theodosia. “And he was absolutely soaked to the bone. Dripping all over the carpet. But he’d ostensibly run out to flag down the ambulance.”

“So that’s circumstantial evidence,” said Jory. “And we know Cooper Hobcaw likes his nightly jaunts through the historic district. But we don’t have proof as to whether he’s casing homes or just stretching his legs.”

Theodosia snuggled against Jory’s shoulder. It was comforting knowing he was securely on her side.

“And this waiter . . .” Jory began. “The one that’s here tonight.”

“Graham Carmody,” said Theodosia.

“He’s a real wild card. Turns up like a bad penny.” Jory Davis rubbed a hand through his curly hair. “Did you get a good look at those computer printouts you lifted?”

“Pages and pages of Internet auction bids.”

“And all on the sale of antiques and jewelry,” mused Jory. “I’d say that’s fairly incriminating.” He thought for a minute. “Let me run a check on this Graham Carmody, see what turns up. You never know, he could have an arrest record.”

“What about Cooper Hobcaw?” asked Theodosia.

“We won’t find anything there. If he had a record, he wouldn’t be doing the kind of lawyering he is.”

“There’s one person we really haven’t discussed,” said Theodosia.

“The woman from the Heritage Society?”

“Right,” said Theodosia. “Claire Kitridge.”

“Doesn’t feel right,” said Jory.

“Doesn’t to me, either,” agreed Theodosia. “Why would Claire swipe Delaine’s watch then plant it in her own desk? That hardly seems logical.” On the other hand, Theodosia thought to herself, what was overtly illogical was often discounted by investigators. They often assumed criminals would act in a certain pattern or mode. So Claire could be dumb like a fox.

“Anyway,” said Theodosia, “I get the feeling that any one of our suspects had the talent and wherewithal to snatch Delaine’s watch and plant it in Claire Kitridge’s desk. And the access,” she added.

Jory nodded. “They’re all clever enough, that’s for sure.”

“So what’s next?” asked Theodosia.

“Not sure,” said Jory.

Theodosia gazed up into the night sky. The moon was almost as round and orange as a wheel of cheddar. “If I had to put money on one of them,” she mused, “I think I’d pick Graham Carmody.”

“Why so?” asked Jory.

“Because of his familiarity with the layout at the Heritage Society. He’s worked there several times as a waiter. Knows the kitchen and back hallways and such. Plus people don’t usually give waiters a second glance. Especially when they’re busy partying and schmoozing it up.”

As the moon continued to rise, full and round in the night sky, they talked back and forth, tossing around various theories. Finally, people began spilling out of the concert hall.

“It’s over?” said Theodosia. “We missed the entire second half?”

“Looks that way,” said Jory.

Good heavens,

she thought. And we aren’t any closer to finding an answer. But at least I feel better having talked it all over with Jory.

“Isn’t that your Aunt Libby over there?” asked Jory. “With her friend?”

Theodosia peered at the spill of people pouring down the steps. “Yup, that’s her.”

“Want to go say hi?”

Theodosia smoothed her skirt and stood up, took Jory’s hand firmly in her own. Together they crossed the plaza toward the oncoming rush of concert goers.

Chapter 19

Haley cast an appraising eye at the yellow froth that bubbled in the top pan of her double boiler. It looked good, she decided, was sticking together nicely. Grabbing a wire whisk, she added the last of the sugar and lemon zest, then continued to whisk the mixture as it cooked. Finally, when her concoction began to thicken, she removed the pan from the stove and began to add soft fresh cream butter, feeding it in a little at a time.

“My goodness, Haley,” marveled Drayton as he stepped into the kitchen, “it smells absolutely divine in here. What magic are you whipping up this morning?”

She held up the pan for him to see. “Lemon curd. And it does smell wonderful, doesn’t it?”

“You’re making real lemon curd?” he asked in amazement.

“Sure. It’s a snap, really. Just four simple ingredients. Eggs, lemon, sugar, butter.”

“Yes, but you have to know exactly what to do with the ingredients. And it’s not just proportions, the cooking times are quite exacting, too. And then there’s the double boiler thing.”

“Are you saying I don’t know how to make fresh lemon curd?” Haley demanded with a crooked smile.

“No, I’m just saying it’s a tricky proposition at best.”

“Proof’s in the tasting,” said Haley as she held up a wooden spoon with a swirl of yellow gracing the end.

Obediently, Drayton tasted the dollop of lemon curd. “Oh my goodness!” he exclaimed. “This is good. Sweet but subtly tart, too. Layers of flavor.”

“My grandmother’s recipe,” explained Haley. “And if it’s any consolation to you, those are the same things