Laura Childs - Death By Darjeeling

Theodosia continued tapping her pen nervously, and her gaze roved the room. It fell upon bookshelves filled with paperwork that demanded her attention. A chair heaped with storyboards that weren’t going anywhere for a while. Cartons filled with tins of holiday teas. She groaned inwardly. That tea alone represented almost 20,000 dollars in potential gross profit. Could she sell it and jump-start business? That remained to be seen.

“Yes?” She fairly bounced out of her chair when the voice came back on the line. “I didn’t realize a leased auto made a difference. Yes, it is interesting, isn’t it?” she said, although she was clearly disinterested. “You have the name?” She sat up straight, eyes riveted on the plate number she’d written on her paper. “Yes? Tanner Joseph,” she repeated in an odd, flat tone. “Thank you.”

She slammed the phone down so hard the receiver bounced back out of its cradle.

“Damn!” she cried.

Drayton was in Theodosia’s office in a heartbeat, easing the door closed behind him.

“Shhh.” He held a cautionary finger to his lips. “We’ve got customers!”

She whirled to face Drayton, chest heaving, complexion mottled with anger, auburn hair in a mad swirl. “It was Tanner Joseph!” She spat the name out with anger and disgust.

“What was Tanner Joseph?” Drayton asked quietly. He figured the surest way to calm someone was to remain calm yourself, although he could certainly be proved wrong in this case. Theodosia seemed absolutely infuriated.

“Last night!” she raged and began pacing the confines of her small, cluttered office. “Out in the alley!”

“Someone was in the alley last night?” asked Drayton. Now his voice rose a few octaves as well. “Theodosia, did something happen after we left?” he demanded.

“That idiot, Tanner Joseph, was out there. Gold Shield Security just called. One of their security guards got a read on his plate number.” She stomped her foot. “Of all the nerve!”

“But why would he...?” Drayton let his sentence hang there, searching for a logical explanation. He tried again. “But you already picked up the labels, so...”

His eyes met hers and realization dawned. “Tanner Joseph was stalking you,” whispered Drayton.

“No kidding,” she said glumly.

For the first time in years, Theodosia did not find herself calmed by the simple act of sipping a cup of tea. As she gazed across her desk at Drayton, she realized he wasn’t exactly the poster child for serenity either.

“What are you going to tell Haley and Bethany?” asked Drayton. He had experienced his own minimeltdown upon hearing that Tanner Joseph had been Theodosia’s unwelcome caller the night before, and now his hair was ruffled from running his hands nervously through it, his tie askew. And Drayton was gulping his tea rather than sipping it.

“I suppose I’ll have to tell them the truth,” said Theodosia. “Even though we still have the security guard, they need to be on the alert. We don’t know what this character Tanner Joseph is capable of.”

“We also don’t know if he was the one who left the note the other night,” said Drayton.

“He could have,” said Theodosia. “But I’m more inclined to believe this was the first time Tanner Joseph has shown up. My guess is he was colossally ticked that I picked up the labels and didn’t hang around to schmooze with him. Although I’m afraid he might have had more on his mind than just schmoozing.”

Drayton gazed at her glumly. “If that’s the case, it means there are two nut cases walking around.”

Theodosia put both hands to her temples and massaged them. “Chilling thought, isn’t it?”

A gentle rap on the door interrupted them.

“What?” called Drayton.

The door cracked open no more than an inch.

“Tidwell just came in,” said Haley. “He wants to speak with Theodosia.”

“Get out in front right now,” ordered Drayton. “You know Bethany is scared to death of that man!”

“Okay, okay,” grumped Haley. “Take a chill pill. I can’t be in two places at once!”

Theodosia gazed wearily at Drayton. “Everything is falling apart,” she murmured. “Ever since the murder of Hughes Barron, nothing’s been the same.”

Drayton grabbed her hand in his, held it firmly, and met her sad-eyed gaze with genteel fervor. “Hear me, Theodosia. We will get to the bottom of all this. We will unravel this mystery. And when we do, we shall both look back on this and laugh. That’s right; we will find this all terribly droll and amusing, mark my words. Now, Miss Browning, I suggest you smooth your hair and blot your eyes. That’s it,” he said with encouragement. “Can’t have terrible Tidwell thinking anything’s amiss, can we?” He fell in step behind Theodosia. “Bear up, dear girl,” he whispered.

Theodosia unleashed a warm smile on Burt Tidwell that she somehow managed to dredge from the depths of her soul. “Good morning, Detective Tidwell.” Her voice, still husky from anger, passed for throaty.

“Miss Browning.” Tidwell favored her with a quick grimace, his rendition of a smile, and Theodosia wondered if there was a Mrs. Tidwell attached to this quaint, quirky man. Pity the poor woman.

Tidwell half stood as Theodosia seated herself, then crashed down heavily into his chair. They both kept tight smiles on their faces as Haley set cups and saucers, spoons, milk, and a pot of Dimbulla tea in front of them. But no goodies. Theodosia intended to keep this visit brief.

Tidwell’s bullet-shaped head swiveled on his beefy shoulders, appraising customers at surrounding tables. “Business good?” he asked.

Theodosia raised her shoulders a notch. “Fine.”

“As you know, our investigation into Hughes Barron’s death has been ongoing.” Tidwell paused, pursed his lips, and took a tiny sip of tea. “Where is this from?” he asked.

“Ceylon.”

“It would go well with a sweet.”

“It would.” Theodosia sat patiently with her hands in her lap. By now she was familiar with Tidwell’s oblique tactics. Tidwell blotted his mouth and favored her with a mousy grin. Unless... she thought as she watched him carefully. Unless the man has something up his sleeve.

“To assure ourselves of a thorough investigation,” Tidwell continued, “we focused much of our attention on Hughes Barron’s business office here in town as well as his place of residence.” He peered at Theodosia over his teacup. “You may be familiar with his beach condominium. Located on the Isle of Palms?”

Theodosia gave him nothing.

“Moving along,” Tidwell continued, “I should tell you that we discovered an object at said condominium. An object that carries the fingerprints of one of your employees.”

“Is that a fact.”

“Yes, indeed. And I’m sure you won’t be at all surprised when I tell you the fingerprints—and we obtained a rather excellent four-point match—belong to Bethany Sheperd.”

Theodosia fairly spat out her next words. “Why don’t you rock my world, Detective Tidwell, and tell me what object Bethany’s fingerprints were found on.”

“Miss Browning.” His eyes drilled at her. “ That information remains confidential.”

Burt Tidwell sat in his Crown Victoria and stared at the brick-and-shingle facade of the Indigo Tea Shop. He had purposely not informed the Browning woman that her dear departed neighbor, Harold Dauphine, had, indeed, died of a heart attack. A myocardial infarction, to be exact.

He knew Theodosia was probably lumping the deaths of Mr. Hughes Barron and Mr. Dauphine together. Putting two and two together, he mused. A trifle off base in this instance. But overall, she hadn’t performed badly for an amateur.