Free Devonshire Scream by Laura Childs

stacked scones on a silver tray while Drayton fixed a pot of Panyang Congou tea.
    When they were all seated, Theodosia passing around the scones and Drayton pouring tea, Hurley said, “I don’t believe I’ve ever had brewed tea before. Except maybe in a Chinese restaurant.”
    â€œThose were probably tea bags,” Drayton said, switching into tea master mode. “Bits of stalk and stems and tea dust. No, you really must drink freshly brewed leaves in order to enjoy the full, rich taste of a great tea.”
    â€œAnd this is a great tea?” Hurley asked, taking a sip.
    â€œYou tell me,” Drayton said.
    â€œMmn, it’s very good,” Hurley said.
    â€œI thought you’d like it.” Drayton smiled with pride. “A nice Chinese black tea, easygoing and round.”
    Zimmer and Hurley watched as Theodosia sliced her scone lengthwise, and then followed her lead.
    â€œAnd this whipped cream goes on top?” Zimmer asked.
    â€œIt’s Devonshire cream,” Theodosia said. She nodded at Drayton. “Made from Drayton’s own proprietary recipe.”
    The agents slathered on Devonshire cream, bit into their scones, and nodded appreciatively. They actually seemed to be relishing their tea and treats.
    Good
, Theodosia thought.
    â€œI was wondering,” Theodosia said, addressing both agents, “why the FBI is involved with this jewel theft? When Detective Burt Tidwell and his team are really quite brilliant at what they do. I mean, we do have every confidence in our own Charleston Police Department.”
    â€œMmn,” Zimmer said, chewing. “I’m sure you do, ma’am. And we do, too. It’s just that, from our experience, a jewel theft of this magnitude usually involves a gang of criminals that has moved in from another part of the country.”
    â€œSo it’s interstate.” Theodosia could see the logic in this, even though Tidwell still resented their butting in.
    â€œThat’s exactly right,” Hurley said. He was busying himself with his scone. Slicing off small pieces then smearing them with a judicious amount of Devonshire cream.
    â€œThe other reason we’re giving this our full attention,” Zimmer said, “is because diamonds and gems are what the bureau calls an
influential means
by which to acquire drugs and weapons.”
    Theodosia sat back in her chair. “Oh. That doesn’t sound good at all.”
    â€œIt’s not, ma’am,” Zimmer said. “But we’re seeing more and more of these robberies that indirectly threaten homeland security.”
    â€œWhat we’d really like,” Hurley said, glancing at Theodosia, “is to ask you a few questions.”
    â€œThat’s fine,” Theodosia said.
    â€œWe read the police report,” Hurley said, “in which you were referenced several times.”
    â€œBecause I was a witness.”
    â€œActually, a pretty good witness,” Hurley said. “Fact is, you were the one who got a good look at one of the thieves’ hands. And conjectured that it might have even been a woman.”
    â€œA woman with a tattoo,” Zimmer said.
    â€œNot really their hand,” Theodosia said, trying to recall exactly what she’d seen. “More like their wrist. I caught sight of a little slice of skin where the glove ended and the sleeve had ridden up.”
    Zimmer looked interested. “And you saw a tattoo.”
    Theodosia shook her head. “No, that’s not what I told the officer who interviewed me. I said I saw faint blue lines
like
a tattoo. Seems to me a tattoo is generally a recognizable object or character or letters. These were more like, well . . . crosshatches. Do you know what those are?”
    Zimmer pulled out a notebook and a pen and quickly scribbled a loose grid of crosshatches. “Like this?”
    â€œClose,” Theodosia told him. “Does that symbolism mean anything to