Death By Darjeeling

building.” Theodosia took a deep breath. “Have you learned anything more about someone trying to buy the Peregrine Building?” She knew it was a stab in the dark.

Tidwell’s huge hands handled the tiny butter knife with the sureness of a surgeon. Deftly he sliced a wedge of unsalted butter and applied it to a second muffin. “I understand the surviving business partner, Mr. Lleveret Dante, made an offer on the building only yesterday,” he said.

“That’s very interesting,” said Theodosia. Now we’re getting somewhere, she thought.

“Not that interesting,” replied Tidwell mildly. “Hughes Barron had already made an overture to purchase the Peregrine Building. That was fairly common knowledge. It’s only logical to assume that the remaining partner would follow up on any proposition that had already been put into motion.”

“And you think Dante made a legitimate offer?”

Tidwell pursed his lips. “Highly doubtful. A leopard doesn’t change his spots, Miss Browning. Mr. Lleveret Dante had many nefarious dealings in his home state of Kentucky.”

The door to the shop opened, and Delaine Dish walked in. She took one look at Theodosia, deep in conversation with Burt Tidwell, and sat down at the table farthest from them.

Oh, dear, thought Theodosia, just what I don’t need right now— Delaine Dish making the rounds, whispering in hushed tones about the death of Mr. Dauphine.

“Of course,” continued Tidwell, “it makes no difference if Lleveret Dante offered three times market value on the Peregrine Building. He shall never own it now.”

“Why do you say that?” asked Theodosia. She snapped her attention from Delaine back to Tidwell. He knows something, she thought with a jolt. Why else would his sharp eyes be focused on her like a cat doing sentry duty outside a mouse hole?

Tidwell rocked back in his chair. “Because Mr. Dauphine left a very specific last will and testament.” He paused for a moment, then continued. “Mr. Dauphine’s will clearly stated that, should he die before disposing of the Peregrine Building, ownership of it passes to the Heritage Society.”

Chapter 39

“Theodosia, please,” began Delaine, “someone’s got to tell you, and it may as well be me.”

“Tell me what, Delaine?” Theodosia slipped into the chair across from Delaine Dish. She was still rankled by Tidwell’s attitude and shocked at his revelation that the Heritage Society was suddenly on the receiving end of poor Mr. Dauphine’s generosity. This certainly was a surprising turn of events.

Delaine cocked her head in mock surprise. “Surely you’re aware of Timothy Neville’s mud-slinging campaign. It has reached epidemic proportions.”

So Delaine hadn’t come here to talk about Mr. Dauphine. She still had a bee in her bonnet over Timothy Neville. Theodosia settled back in her chair and gazed at Delaine. She was dressed head to toe in cashmere, pale pink cowl-neck sweater that draped elegantly, and matching hip-skimming skirt. Even her handbag was cashmere, a multicolored soft baguette bag in coordinating pinks, purples, and reds. Theodosia slid her chair back a notch and peeked at Delaine’s shoes. Ostrich. Holy smokes. The clothing business must be good these days, very good. Certainly far better than the tea shop business.

“Delaine,” said Theodosia tiredly, “I have so much going on right now. I appreciate your concern, but—”

“Theodosia, I cannot stand idly by and tolerate this much longer. The man is spreading lies. Lies!”

Theodosia smiled and nodded as Angie Congdon from the Featherbed House entered the shop. “Hello, Angie,” she called, then turned back to Delaine. “What kind of lies?” Theodosia asked, the smile tight on her face.

Delaine Dish leaned forward eagerly. “Innuendoes, really. About the night of the Lamplighter Tour.”

“Oh, that,” said Theodosia.

“About your snooping around inside his house during one of his concerts.” Delaine’s cupid lips were curled in a smile, but her look clearly questioned the truthfulness of this allegation.

“He said that?” Theodosia tried her best to appear injured and innocent.

“That’s what Timothy told George Harper when he stopped by the Antiquarian Map Store.”

“Really,” said Theodosia. So maybe Timothy Neville had been the one who’d opened the door that night, she thought. Come to check if she was snooping about. And she cowering in the dark. Truly, another proud moment in what had been an insane last couple weeks. “What else, Delaine?” Theodosia asked.

Delaine looked pained. “Something about the young woman who served as an intern at the Heritage Society. Now works for you.”

“Bethany.”

“That’s the one.”

“Let me guess, Delaine. Timothy Neville is convinced Bethany had some kind of relationship with Hughes Barron.”

“Yes, he is!” said Delaine, enormously pleased that Theodosia seemed to be finally getting into the spirit of this juicy discussion.

“Forget it,” said Theodosia. “It’s not true. None of it’s true.” Well, she reluctantly admitted to herself, the snooping part was true, but she wasn’t about to confess her sins to Delaine Dish. If she did, they’d be headline news all over Charleston.

“I know that, Theodosia,” assured Delaine. “But Timothy Neville carries a lot of clout around here. You do, too, of course. Your family is almost as old as his. But he is being verbal. You remain silent.”

“I do not need to dignify his lies with a rebuttal.”

“Oh, hello, Angie,” said Delaine excitedly. She turned in her chair, the better to greet Angie Congdon. “Wasn’t it a shame about Mr. Dauphine? Such a pity. Dear, do you have just a moment?” Delaine stood in a swirl of perfect pink and reached out to catch Angie’s arm. “I just received the most tantalizing shipment of silks in the most amazing jewel tones and, of course, I immediately thought of your olive complexion and dark hair.” Delaine was off and running.

Theodosia rose and began clearing the table, all the while pondering what Delaine had just related to her. As much as she wanted to, perhaps she couldn’t ignore these issues any longer. Maybe she had to do something about Timothy Neville. The question was, what?

If he had been the one who left the note last night, it meant he was truly dangerous, a threat to everyone at the tea shop. But she still didn’t have any hard evidence to use against him.

It was obvious now that Timothy Neville had been secretly fearful that Hughes Barron’s offer on the Peregrine Building would be accepted. If the Peregrine Building had been sold before the event of Mr. Dauphine’s death, the Heritage Society would have lost out completely.

Was that motive enough to do away with Hughes Barron? Perhaps.

And now, with Mr. Dauphine’s very convenient death, the deed to the property slid over to the Heritage Society, no questions asked. Timothy Neville would, once again, look like a shining star in the eyes of his board of directors and roster of high-profile donors.

So did that make Timothy Neville a double murderer? It was a chilling thought.

There was yet another dark possibility. Only yesterday, Mr. Lleveret Dante had put forth an offer on the Peregrine Building. But what if Mr. Dauphine had turned him down flat? Could being rebuffed have sent Lleveret Dante into a vicious rage? A rage that prompted him to kill Mr. Dauphine?

Not knowing about Mr. Dauphine’s will, Lleveret Dante might have assumed that, with the aging owner’s death, the property would have been sold off hastily. He was already the likely suitor, already in a position to pounce on the Peregrine Building!

Her theories reminded Theodosia of the logic course she’d taken in college. If A equals D, then B equals C.