Laura Childs: Death By Darjeeling

“Really,” said Drayton. He planted both hands on her desk and leaned toward her. “Then, pray tell, why did you spirit Earl Grey off to your Aunt Libby’s in the middle of the night?”

Tanner Joseph heard the muffled slam of the car door outside his office. She was here, he told himself excitedly. Theodosia Browning had arrived to fetch the tea labels. Evening before last, he had worked long into the night, adding subtle touches of color to the black-and-white drawings, so intense had been his desire to please Theodosia and see her again.

After his call to her yesterday, when she told him she wanted to wait till morning, preferred to drive out to Johns Island and pick up the labels herself, he had been terribly dismayed. But when the day had dawned and a gloriously sunny day revealed itself, his spirits had greatly improved, and he saw now that he might turn her visit to his advantage. He simply had to convince Theodosia to stay. To spend the rest of the day with him. And, he hoped, the evening. That would finally give the two of them the time and space they needed to really get to know each other.

The door flew open, and Tanner Joseph greeted Theodosia with a smile. It was the boyish grin he had practiced many times in his bathroom mirror. It was also a grin that, more often than not, worked rather well on girls.

Only Theodosia was not a girl, he reminded himself. She was a woman. A beautiful, enchanting woman.

“Hello, Tanner.” Theodosia stood in front of his desk, gazing down at him. She wore a plum-colored pant suit and carried a slim leather attaché case. Her face was impassive, her voice brisk and businesslike.

Theodosia had to remind herself that this young man who sat before her, looking rather innocuous and innocent, had quite possibly used Bethany to obtain information about her. She wasn’t certain why Tanner Joseph wanted to collect this information but, since she still viewed him as a wild-card suspect in Hughes Barron’s murder, his attempt at familiarity was extremely unsettling. As she met Tanner Joseph’s piercing blue eyes, she assured herself this would be a quick, by-the-book business transaction.

Tanner Joseph took in her business garb and snappy attitude, and his hopes slipped a bit. Perhaps Theodosia hadn’t taken time to fully appreciate the thousand-watt glow of his boyish grin. No, he could see she obviously hadn’t. She was all but tapping her toe to get going.

“Here are the finished pieces, Theo.” He held the art boards out to Theodosia and watched as she took them from his hands. Their fingers touched for a moment. Could she feel the spark? The electricity? He certainly could.

Theodosia quickly shuffled through the four boards, studying the finished art. “These are very good,” she declared.

Tanner Joseph frowned. The gush of compliments he’d hoped for didn’t seem to be forthcoming. Instead, her comment was more a calculated, measured appraisal. A pro forma “job well done.”

“You finished them in tempera paint?” Theodosia asked. She tapped at one of the drawings with a fingernail.

“Colored markers,” replied Tanner Joseph. He eased himself back in his chair. She was pleased, he knew she was. He could read it in her face.

Theodosia laid her attaché case on Tanner Joseph’s desk and opened it.

“Drayton is going to love these,” she said. “You did a first-class job.” She placed the art boards carefully in her case, closed it, snapped the latch.

“That’s it?” he inquired lazily.

“That’s it,” replied Theodosia. “Send me your invoice, and I’ll make sure you receive samples as soon as everything’s printed.” She spun on her heel, heading for the door.

Tanner Joseph stood up so quickly his chair snapped back loudly. “Don’t rush off,” he implored. “I was hoping we could—”

But Theodosia was already out the door, striding across the hardpan toward her Jeep.

“Hey!” Tanner Joseph slumped unhappily in the doorway of the Shorebird Environmentalist Group headquarters and waved helplessly at her.

“Bye!” called Theodosia as the Jeep roared to life. The last thing she saw as she pulled into traffic was a forlorn-looking Tanner Joseph, wondering how things had gone so wrong.

“What are you drinking?” asked Bethany. Drayton answered her without looking up from his writing. “Cinnamon plum.”

He sat at the table nearest the counter, working on his article. It was 2:00 P.M., and Bethany and Haley were bored. The lunchtime customers had left, and afternoon tea customers hadn’t yet arrived. Baked goods cooled on racks, shelves were fully stocked, and tables were set.

“Cinnamon plum sounds awfully sweet. I thought you said you never drink sweet teas,” responded Bethany. “I consider it more flavorful than sweet,” said Drayton as he continued writing.

“What are you working on?” asked Haley.

“I was working on an article for Beverage & Hospitality magazine,” said Drayton as he sighed heavily and put down his pen.

“About tea?” said Haley.

“Yes, about tea. I can’t seem to put my finger on the precise reason, but I seem to have completely lost my train of thought.” “No need to get snippy, Drayton.” Haley peered over Drayton’s shoulder. “You always write your articles in longhand?” “Naturally. I’m a Luddite. I abhor modern contraptions such as computers. No soul.” “Is that why you live in that quaint, rundown house?” asked Bethany.

“The dwelling you are referring to is neither quaint nor rundown. It is a historic home that has been lovingly and authentically restored. A time capsule of history, if you will.”

“Oh,” said Haley, and the two girls burst out giggling.

Drayton turned to face them. “Instead of plaguing me, ladies, why don’t you just come right out and admit it? You’re nervous about Theodosia’s errand.”

When he saw their faces suddenly crumple and real worry appear, Drayton immediately changed his tune. “Well, don’t be,” he replied airily. “She’s highly capable, I assure you.”

“It’s just that everything’s been so topsy-turvy around here,” said Haley. “And now with that awful note...” Her voice trailed off. “I wish it hadn’t been typed. If it was someone’s handwriting, we’d have something to go on.”

“Listen to yourself,” scolded Drayton. “You’re still talking about investigating. Don’t you know we may be in real danger? Dear girl, there’s a reason Theodosia hired a private security guard.”

“She did?” Bethany’s eyes were as round as saucers. This was news to her!

The doorknob rattled, then turned, and they all held their breath, watching.

But it was Miss Dimple.

Drayton rose from his seat and rushed over to greet her. He extended an arm to lead her to a table. “Get Miss Dimple a cup of tea, girls.”

He sat down next to her, patted her arm. “How are you doing, dear?”

Miss Dimple’s sadness was apparent. Her shoulders were slumped, her usual pink complexion doughy. “Terrible. I was just up in the office and I kept waiting for Mr. Dauphine to come clumping up the stairs.” A tear trickled down her cheek. “I can’t believe he’s really gone.”

Drayton pulled a white linen handkerchief from his pocket and passed it to her. She accepted it gratefully.

Bethany and Haley arrived with a steaming teapot and teacups. “Tea, Miss Dimple?” asked Haley.

“Don’t mind if I do,” she said, blotting her tears.

Drayton poured a cup of tea for Miss Dimple and, without asking, added a lump of sugar and a splash of cream.

“Thank you,” she whispered and took a sip. “Good.” She smiled weakly, glancing around at the three of them.