Shades of Earl Grey

Divine Redeemer, I think it was. Anyway, I think Claire’s in there with some women’s tatting group.”

“You’re sure she didn’t sneak out the back?” asked Theodosia.

“Her car’s still here.”

Theodosia suddenly felt deflated. She’d been sure that if Claire was on the move, she’d be heading for the Heritage Society. “You’re positive she’s still inside?” she asked, disappointment in her voice.

“Yes, I’m sure she’s in there,” said Jory. “There’s lacy stuff spread out all over the place.”

Theodosia slid her cell phone back into her purse and looked around for Drayton. He seemed to have disappeared somewhere, but Timothy Neville was standing nearby, giving a glowing history of the Napoleon French Empire card table to a young couple.

“Timothy,” she called.

Timothy excused himself and came over to Theodosia.

“Everything looks wonderful,” she told him.

“Appearances are so deceptive, are they not?” he said as he pulled a letter from his jacket pocket. “Because things are not wonderful in the least.”

“Timothy, what’s wrong?” asked Theodosia.

“I received an envelope via messenger a few minutes ago. From Claire Kitridge.” He handed the envelope to Theodosia. “Perhaps you’d like to see for yourself.”

Theodosia flipped open the envelope. Inside a folded letter was a faded photograph, a black-and-white photo of two women standing in front of what looked to be a car from the early sixties. Big hood ornament, fins on the rear fenders. Theodosia continued to study the photo carefully.

“Oh no,” she said finally.

“Oh yes,” said Timothy.

Theodosia stared into Timothy’s old face and saw sadness. “She’s wearing the antique brooch,” said Theodosia.

“In a photo that appears to have some age on it,” added Timothy.

“So this is pretty much proof positive that the brooch did belong to Claire Kitridge.”

“Read the letter. She states how the brooch has been in her family for quite some time. Passed down from her great-aunt.”

“This still doesn’t explain why Delaine’s watch was found in her desk drawer, but it certainly clears her on the rumor of possibly selling stolen goods,” said Theodosia slowly. She bit her lip. Still... this was not good. Not good at all. A lot of people had jumped to conclusions and now Claire Kitridge was left to pay the price. Feeling a bit sheepish, she decided she’d have to call Jory immediately and tell him to abandon his vigil at the church.

“I should never have listened to the executive committee,” lamented Timothy. “I feel totally responsible for this.”

“It’s not your fault, really,” said Theodosia. “A lot of us jumped to conclusions.”

Timothy continued to look unhappy.

“Do you think you could persuade Claire to return to her job at the Heritage Society?” asked Theodosia. “Once this watch business is cleared up?”

Timothy shrugged. “Claire may still be upset and feel that unfair accusations will always be hanging over her head.”

“Then what?” asked Theodosia.

“Then it’s our profound loss,” said Timothy.

Two hours rolled by and still nothing happened. Graham Carmody and the rest of the waiters began packing up all the dirty serving platters and leftover food and carried everything out to a white caterer’s van that said BUTLER’S EXPRESS on the side. Now, as Theodosia and Drayton peered out the window at Graham Carmody, he was standing in a puddle of light with two other waiters, smoking a cigarette.

Theodosia made a quick appraisal of him. His tie was loosened, his shock of ginger-colored hair slightly disheveled, and he seemed tired. In fact, Graham Carmody didn’t look at all like a professional cat burglar who was biding his time, poised to strike. He looked like a slightly pooped waiter who was about to go home, put his feet up, and catch the late-night headlines on CNN.

“You think he’s going to make a move?” asked Drayton hopefully.

“Are you kidding? The man looks like he’s barely able to move,” said Theodosia.

Drayton yawned. “I know the feeling.”

“What a washout,” said Theodosia. “I was sure something was going to pop tonight.”

“Let’s go back and check the two galleries,” said Dray-ton. “Make sure.”

“Okay,” agreed Theodosia.

On their way back through the kitchen and down the hallway, they ran into Delaine and Cooper Hobcaw. Delaine was still flitting about like a social butterfly, chitchatting with guests, bragging about ticket sales, but Cooper Hobcaw looked as if he was ready to pack it in for the evening.

“Having fun?” Theodosia asked him.

Cooper Hobcaw stifled a yawn. “I’m out on my feet and Delaine here is still going strong.”

“No jogging tonight?” said Theodosia.

“No nothing tonight,” he told her.

Timothy was suddenly at Theodosia’s side, touching her arm. Pulling her aside, he cast a glance about. When he was sure no one would overhear their conversation, he spoke.

“That waiter you had suspicions about?” said Timothy. “I spoke with him just a few moments ago. He was telling me how much he enjoyed the Treasures Show. It seems he’s an amateur antique dealer himself. Spends every free moment scouring estate sales and flea markets for various items.”

“Yes . . .” said Theodosia, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Then he sells them on the Internet,” said Timothy.

“Graham Carmody told you this?” asked Theodosia.

“Yes,” said Timothy. “He mentioned that he used to have a booth in one of the North Charleston antique malls, but now he does far better selling his finds on the Internet auction sites.”

Oh, lord, thought Theodosia. Did we leap to conclusions about Graham Carmody, too?

“Did you mention this to Drayton?”

Timothy nodded. “Yes, I just spoke to him.” He cast a quick glance over Theodosia’s shoulder. “Here he is now.”

“So Timothy’s told you?” asked Drayton. “About Graham Carmody?”

“Afraid so,” said Theodosia.

The three of them drew deep breaths and stared at each other for a few moments.

“Let’s look at the positive side,” said Theodosia. “We’ve just eliminated Claire Kitridge and Graham Carmody as suspects.”

“At least for tonight,” added Drayton. “I suppose any one of them could still be our thief.” If anyone could sound down but still hopeful, it was Drayton.

“What about this Cooper Hobcaw fellow?” asked Timothy. “You were so suspicious of his late-night jogs.”

“Cooper Hobcaw didn’t even seem to notice any of the objects,” said Drayton. “He just followed Delaine around with a slightly morose look on his face.” Drayton looked about quickly. “If you ask me, Hobcaw’s not as charmed by Delaine as he once was.”

“Maybe, just maybe,” said Theodosia, “our cat burglar decided it was far too risky to hit the Heritage Society a second time.”

“Maybe,” said Drayton, but his heart wasn’t in it.

“Thank God,” said Timothy, relief apparent on his face.

Theodosia reached for the old man’s hand. “Timothy,” she said, “thank you for letting us set this up tonight. I know you took a terrible risk.”