“I got a strange . . . what would you call it? A strange
“Good vibe or bad vibe?” asked Drayton.
“Not one hundred percent good,” admitted Theodosia.
“Fact is, she didn’t seem all that distressed by Mark’s passing. And Bobby Wayne let slip that Leah and Mark had been up for the same job.”
“Hmm,” said Drayton. “Interesting. You don’t suppose this Leah Shalimar could have . . . um . . .” He stopped, unwilling to finish his sentence.
“I know exactly what you’re thinking,” said Theodosia.
“And I have no earthly clue.” She lifted the glass top off their pastry display, took out a peach scone, and placed it on a small Chinese-patterned blue-and-white plate. “But I’m sure as heck going to sniff around some more.”
Just when things couldn’t get any busier, Theodosia got a phone call. Haley called her name across the tea shop, trying to make herself heard above the chirp of tea kettles, the chatter of happy customers, and the gentle clink of teacups against saucers.
“Can you take a message?” Theodosia mouthed to Haley. She was pouring refills and balancing what she figured had to be their final tray of entrees to dispense.
Haley shook her head and her long blond hair swished about her shoulders. “It’s important,” she mouthed back.
Turns out, it was.
“Miz Browning?” came Sheriff Billing’s booming voice once Theodosia had dashed into her office. “This is Sheriff Ernest T. Billings. We spoke yesterday?”
“Yes, of course,” said Theodosia. When she’d called him late yesterday afternoon, Sheriff Billings had been somewhat skeptical about finding any kind of significant evidence on the broken painted glass.
“I’ve been noodling around what you said, so I made a phone call to the state crime lab? They think it might be helpful to analyze those broken pieces after all.” He paused, mindful that he’d all but blown her off earlier.
“Plus one of the docs at the hospital ran some new kind of test on Mr. Congdon’s blood and tissue samples. Trying to narrow the diagnosis down a bit more.” There was another pregnant pause. “So . . . do you still have those pieces?”
“I do,” said Theodosia, her heart skipping a hopeful beat.
The wheels of justice turned slowly, but at least they were turning. She could picture Sheriff Billings in her mind, looking slightly bulky in his khaki uniform, running a finger through thin, graying hair, his square jaw set firmly as he made this request and delivered his sort-of apology.
“Would you be willing to drop those pieces by my office?” asked Sheriff Billings.
Theodosia glanced around the tea shop. They were just finishing up lunch and had a tea-tasting group coming early afternoon. Plus she had to clue Drayton and Haley in about Leah Shalimar’s special luncheon tomorrow.
“I’m awfully busy right now,” she told Sheriff Billings. “But I could certainly drive out after work.”
“That’d be just swell,” said Sheriff Billings. “Just leave the whole shebang at my office, okay? You know where that is? Corner of Boone and Hopper? A couple of my boys will be there unless something else happens out this way. And I pray it does not.”
“I’ll deliver it,” Theodosia assured him. “And you’ll have the analysis done as soon as possible?”
“I’ll send it to the state crime lab first thing tomorrow,” promised Sheriff Billings.
Theodosia didn’t get a chance to tell Drayton about Sheriff Billing’s call until lunch and his tea tasting were over. But he was still wildly enthusiastic.
“That’s wonderful news,” said Drayton. “We should run right down and tell Angie.”
“Are you sure we should both go?” asked Theodosia. She was torn between giving Angie her much-needed privacy and being a caring, supportive friend.
“Angie’s already highly suspicious about the circumstances surrounding Mark’s death,” said Drayton. “It’s just that she’s still too stunned to do anything about it.”
“So that’s where we come in,” said Theodosia.
“Exactly,” said Drayton. “Besides, you wanted to give her Mark’s address book . . .”
“Oh, man, I’ll have to dig that out of my Jeep,” said Theodosia, suddenly embarrassed that she’d forgotten all about the address book.
“And I need to fill Angie in on a few more details concerning Thursday’s service,” said Drayton.
“Okay,” said Theodosia. “Then let’s do it.”
Teddy Vickers met them at the front door of the Featherbed House. He was carrying an armload of fresh towels and looked tired and grumpy. “Back again?” he asked.
“Is Angie around?” asked Drayton, ignoring Teddy’s strangely brusque manner.
Teddy spun on his heels. “I’ll get her.”
Theodosia wondered why Teddy was so snarly. With no guests booked at the inn, he certainly couldn’t be all that busy. After all, Drayton was pretty much handling all the details for the funeral service. Maybe, Theodosia decided, Teddy had been closer to Mark than she thought. And just displayed his grief in a different way.
“You’re not going to believe this,” said Angie, once the three of them were seated in the lobby again and she had Mark’s address book clutched tightly in her hands. “Harlan Noble dropped by to see me not more than fifteen minutes ago.”
Drayton frowned and adjusted his bow tie. “Are you serious? For what reason?”
Angie looked more than a little perturbed. “It seems Mr. Noble wants to purchase Mark’s orchid collection.”
“His orchids?” said Drayton, trying to digest what Angie had just told them. “You mean
Angie nodded. “That’s what he said. The entire collection, lock, stock, and barrel. But I got the feeling he was most interested in the monkey-face orchid.”
“Good heavens,” exclaimed Drayton. “Harlan is certainly a persistent fellow. What on earth did you tell him?”
“I thanked him for his offer and told him I’m not up to making any major decisions at this time,” said Angie. “And I’m not.” She followed her statement with a slightly worried frown. “And, frankly, I didn’t much appreciate Mr. Noble’s aggressiveness. Even though his offer was couched in a gesture of sympathy, I could tell what his true agenda was.”
Theodosia shook her head. “Harlan Noble had no business coming over here and asking about Mark’s orchids. He should be mindful of your privacy right now.”
“I suppose he’s dying to exhibit that monkey-face orchid in Saturday’s big show,” said Drayton. He gazed at Angie and shrugged, almost apologetically. “It is a lovely plant.”
“It is,” agreed Angie. She lifted her head and focused her gaze intently on Drayton. “Which is why I want
“What?” said a surprised Drayton, his voice suddenly rising a full octave. “Are you
“I couldn’t be more serious,” said Angie. “In fact, I want you to have the entire collection.”
“Oh, no,” stammered Drayton. “I’m truly touched, but I couldn’t accept such a magnanimous gift.”
“Of course, you could,” said Angie. “You were Mark’s friend and you have the skills necessary to keep the orchids going. If they stay here in our little greenhouse I’m sure I’ll either under water or overfeed them, causing them to just wither away.”
“It’s too much,” said Drayton, still protesting. He fingered his bow tie and gazed at Theodosia, hoping for moral support.
But she was firmly on Angie’s side.
“You can do this, Drayton,” urged Theodosia. “You’ve got the proverbial green thumb. Look how good your
