Shades of Earl Grey

“It was positively cataclysmic,” agreed Drayton.

Theodosia put her hand on the back of a wooden chair, dragged it across the sodden carpet until it was positioned directly beneath the jagged hole in the glass roof. She put one foot on the upholstered seat cushion. “Drayton, give me a boost up, will you?”

Drayton stared at her as though she’d lost her mind. “Good heavens, Theodosia, just what do you think you’re going to accomplish?”

“I want to take a look at this greenhouse ceiling.”

“Yes, I assumed as much. What I don’t understand is why.”

“Stop acting like a parliamentarian and just help me, would you?”

Drayton steadied the chair with one hand, extended his other hand to help Theodosia as she climbed up. “Don’t I always?” he muttered, affecting a slightly pompous attitude.

“Darn,” said Theodosia from above.

“What?”

“I can’t really see anything. I’m not up high enough.”

“Good. Then kindly hop down before you break your neck.” Drayton moved to assist her and glass crunched underfoot. “This is dreadful,” he declared. “Like walking on the proverbial bed of nails.”

“You folks okay?” called a voice from across the room.

Drayton and Theodosia spun on their heels to find an older man in a gray jumpsuit staring at them. By the looks of the man’s outfit, he was one of the inn’s janitors.

“We’re fine,” said Theodosia. “You’re from maintenance?”

“Yup,” he nodded. “Harry Kreider, at your service.”

“Would you by any chance have a ladder, Mr. Kreider?” asked Theodosia. “I’d like to take a peek at this ceiling.”

“You from the insurance company or something?” he asked.

“No,” she replied. “Just very curious. I was a guest here tonight.” She raised a hand, indicated Drayton. “We were both guests.”

Harry Kreider cocked his head, assessing her request. “Certainly was a terrible thing,” he said. “I was sitting home watching reruns of NASCAR racing on TV when they called and told me the roof collapsed on some poor man.” He paused. “You ever watch NASCAR?”

“No,” said Drayton abruptly and Theodosia rolled her eyes at him.

“Yeah, I s’pose I could get you a ladder,” the janitor said slowly, scratching at his jowly cheeks with the back of his hand. “Storage closet’s just down the hall. Be back in a moment.”

“Thank you,” said Theodosia. “We really appreciate it.”

“What is this about?” asked Drayton as they waited for the janitor to return with a step ladder. “What exactly are you looking for?”

“Not sure,” said Theodosia.

“Well, you’re up to something.”

There was a clunk and a thwack as the janitor angled a twelve-foot ladder through the double doors, scraping them slightly. He eased the ladder in on its side, then, when he’d caught his breath, set the ladder up directly beneath the gaping hole.

“I’m sorry about this,” Drayton said to the janitor.

“No problem. Got to rig up a temporary patch for this hole anyway. Can’t have the rain coming in again. Whole place’ll be damp by morning otherwise. That darned humidity just steals in and chills you to the bone. Gonna have to seal off this whole wing, I s’pose.” The janitor gazed at the mess ahead of him and sucked air through his front teeth. “You two go ahead and take your look up there while I rustle up some tarps. Just don’t fall off that darn thing and break your neck. There’s been enough trouble here for one night.”

“I’ll be careful,” Theodosia assured him as she scampered up the ladder.

“Please be careful,” said Drayton as he stood below, clutching the ladder.

Theodosia climbed to within two steps of the top, put a hand gingerly on the metal strut that ran the length of the greenhouse roof. It felt solid and stable. It was the glass that had seemingly crumpled and given way.

She stuck her head up through the hole. The roof, or what was left of it, was still slick and wet from the earlier downpour. Light from below glowed faintly through it. Okay, no surprises here, Theodosia decided.

She felt beneath her with her right foot, took a step back down. Now she was eye level with the tangle of glass and metal. She reached out, flicked at a small oval-shaped piece of metal that hung there. It was weathered looking, once silvery, like the rest of the pieces.

“See anything?” Drayton called from below.

“Not really,” she said.

“Then kindly come back down.”

Theodosia began her climb back down.

“Here,” said Drayton, grabbing for her hand once she was in reach, “let’s get you back on terra firma.”

Theodosia stood next to the ladder, looking thoughtful. “Drayton, let me ask you something. What if someone had their eye on Camille’s wedding ring?”

Drayton’s eyes widened as he caught the gist of what she was suggesting. “You think someone might have been up there? That this wasn’t just an accident?”

“I’m not sure,” said Theodosia. “Let’s just suppose for a moment that a thief was prowling about . . .”

“Camille’s ring would make quite a prize,” he said slowly.

Theodosia’s eyes flicked over the head table, where the silver tea set gleamed from the wrecked table top. “And the silver?” she asked.

“That’s lovely, too,” he agreed slowly. “Queen Anne style. Don’t quote me, but I believe it was crafted by Jacob Hurd in the mid-seventeen-hundreds. And of course, it’s been in the Goodwood family for ages. You see that engraved cartouche on the body of the teapot?”

Theodosia nodded.

“That’s the family crest. A heraldic shield on a bed of roses.”

“So besides Camille’s ring, which I believe Delaine told me had been valued at something like seventy grand...”

“Seventy grand!” exclaimed Drayton. “Good gracious.”

“And all this silver would have been worth a good deal of money, too,” ventured Theodosia.

Drayton nodded briskly, far more familiar with appraisals on antiquities than he was with jewelry. “Oh yes. The teapot alone might fetch ten or twenty thousand dollars. To say nothing of the creamer, sugar bowl, and that magnificent tray.”

“Okay, then,” said Theodosia, “follow my line of thinking for a moment, will you?”

Drayton cocked his head to one side in an acquiescing gesture.

“What if someone was scrambling across the top of the roof . . .” she began.

“It would have to be someone very skillful and limber,” he said, gazing upward. “There are only those struts for support, everything else is glass.”

“I agree,” said Theodosia. “But it can be done. A case in point: the man who cleans my air conditioner does it every spring in my attic.”

“Walks across the narrow wooden struts,” said Drayton.

“Yes,” said Theodosia. “But maybe tonight this person, whoever he was, got caught off balance. The storm, the pouring rain, a nearby lightning strike spooked him or unnerved him. Or maybe it was just terribly treacherous up there. Anyway, somewhere along the way, his foot just happened to slip.”

They both gazed up at the gaping hole.

“And he came crashing through into the Garden Room,” said Drayton.

Theodosia pointed to the remains of an elaborate pulley system that hung from the ceiling. “You see that chain and pulley right there? This roof was meant to crank open. It was designed that way back when it was a working greenhouse, before they pulled out the old wooden tables and sprinkler system and turned it into the Garden Room. But I imagine the system still works. You could still open the roof...”

“Someone scampered across the roof,” said Drayton, still trying out the idea. “With the idea of making off