Shades of Earl Grey

“Don’t think ill of Delaine,” added Theodosia. “It’s just her way. Whenever there’s a crisis, she dresses up for the part.”

*  *  *

Delaine was sitting at the table by the fireplace, wearing a camel-colored cashmere sweater and matching wool slacks, sniffling into her cup of Assam tea. She looked up with red-rimmed eyes as Theodosia approached.

“Delaine,” said Theodosia, “how are you?” She sat down across from her and clasped her hands, feeling a bit like a brown wren in her sensible workday gray slacks and turtleneck.

“Holding up,” said Delaine. “Of course, last night was an absolute horror. First we couldn’t find out anything from the doctors, then they informed us that Captain Buchanan had actually died en route to the hospital.” She bit her lip in an attempt to stave back tears. “Apparently, his respiration and spinal cord had been affected.”

“Oh, no,” exclaimed Drayton. After taking a quick check of customers, who all seemed to be sipping tea and happily munching Haley’s fresh-baked muffins and scones, he had joined them at the table. “How awful,” he said.

“If Captain Buchanan had lived,” said Delaine in a hoarse whisper, “he would have been a quadriplegic.”

“Oh, my,” said Drayton, shaking his head sadly.

“How’s Camille doing?” asked Theodosia.

“Terrible,” said Delaine. “She just sat next to Captain Buchanan’s poor body and cried and cried all night. She wouldn’t leave him, wouldn’t even take a sedative when one of the doctors offered it. Poor lamb, she’s absolutely heartbroken.”

“And Captain Buchanan’s family has been notified?” asked Drayton.

“Yes,” said Delaine. “Cooper Hobcaw called and spoke with them first. He’s not as... close...to this tragedy as we are, so he was able to maintain a certain calm and decorum. Then Camille got on the line, too.” Delaine fumbled in her purse for a handkerchief, unfurled it, blew her nose loudly. “We’re all just so sad. Camille is planning to accompany Captain Buchanan’s body back to Savannah later today. That’s where the funeral will be.” Delaine blew her nose again and glanced about helplessly. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I’m just so very upset.”

Drayton reached over and patted her shoulder gently. “We know you are, dear.”

“Thank you for staying last night,” said Delaine. “I knew I could count on the two of you.”

Theodosia and Drayton exchanged quick glances.

“Camille is planning to take the wedding ring back with her today and return it to the family,” said Delaine. “Of course it’s the only acceptable thing to do. After all, there won’t be any . . .” Delaine’s voice trailed off and she dissolved into tears once again.

Theodosia threw Drayton a quick what do we do now? glance.

He gave a helpless shrug.

Delaine, sensing the subtle exchange between them, suddenly looked up.

“You did recover the ring, didn’t you?” she asked.

Drayton, usually eloquent, fumbled for a moment. “Actually, Delaine, we ...uh...”

“There was a problem?” she asked. Now there was a distinct edge to her voice.

“The problem was,” said Theodosia, deciding honesty was the best policy, “we never actually found the ring.”

Delaine was incredulous. “But Cooper said you were going to look for it. Surely you . . .”

“We did look,” Drayton assured her. “We searched high and low, practically tore the premises apart. But . . .” He hesitated, steepled his gnarled fingers together, then pulled them apart slowly, as if to indicate a lack of resolution. “Alas, no ring,” he said.

One of Delaine’s French-manicured hands fluttered to her chest. “My goodness, this is quite a shock.”

“It was to us, too,” said Theodosia. “We really did search everywhere.”

“What do you suppose happened to it?” asked Delaine. She frowned, twisted her handkerchief in her hands, stared at the two of them, obviously expecting an answer.

“We think, that is, Theodosia thinks . . .” began Dray-ton.

“Spit it out, Drayton!” said Delaine suddenly. “If something’s gone wrong, I have a perfect right to know!”

Theodosia glanced about the tea shop to make sure her guests hadn’t overheard Delaine’s somewhat indelicate outburst. “Of course you do, Delaine,” Theodosia assured her. “It’s just that all we’re going on right now is a sort of theory.”

“Then kindly explain this theory,” demanded Delaine. She arched her eyebrows, sat back in her chair with an air that was dangerously close to imperious, and waited for an explanation.

“It involves theft,” said Drayton delicately.

“Of the ring?” said Delaine in a high squeak.

“Well... yes,” said Theodosia. Why is it so difficult to just come right out and say it?

“Oh my goodness,” cried Delaine, sinking back in her chair. “You think the ring has been stolen?” she said in a whisper.

“We’re not positive,” said Drayton, “but it looks that way.”

Delaine’s face crumpled and she was seconds from another outpouring of tears.

“Remember, this is just a wild supposition on our part,” said Theodosia, “but from the looks of things, it’s possible a thief might have had his eye on Camille’s ring. After all, it was rather beautifully displayed on that baroque silver calling card receiver.” Now why did I have to say that? Theodosia thought to herself. Darn, this isn’t going well at all.

“And all that beautiful old silver was sitting right next to it,” said Drayton. Old silver that’d been in the Good-wood family for generations.

“Crafted by Jacob Hurd,” Theodosia added helpfully.

Delaine nodded tightly. “Of course, I remember the silver. It’s all very old, very elegant. I specifically requested it for just that reason.”

“Anyway,” continued Theodosia, “we think someone might have been prowling across the roof top.”

“And taken a misstep,” said Drayton.

“Which caused him to come crashing down through the roof,” added Theodosia.

“On top of poor Captain Buchanan,” said Drayton, grimacing. He knew the two of them sounded like they were doing some kind of tag-team routine.

Delaine peered at Theodosia and Drayton in disbelief. “You’re not serious,” she said in a choked voice.

“And that’s when the ring was stolen,” said Drayton. “Or might have been stolen,” he added. “We’re still not sure.”

Delaine sat stock-still as their words washed across her. She frowned, leaned forward, put a hand to her mouth. “Then Captain Buchanan was murdered,” she whispered hoarsely.

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t go that far,” said Drayton hastily. “After all, the roof could just as easily have collapsed on its own.”

“But the ring is gone,” said Delaine slowly. “Nowhere to be found, as you say. Doesn’t that prove your theory?” She leaned back in her chair again. “Oh my,” she murmured to herself, “this is simply awful. We’ll need to contact the police.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” admitted Theodosia. She would have done it herself last night, but the idea of the thief on the roof hadn’t completely gelled in her mind. It had been a theory, a decent one at that. But of course, there was no concrete proof.

Delaine suddenly clutched Theodosia’s hand. “Theodosia, you’ve got to help me!”