Free Steeped in Evil (A Tea Shop Mystery) by Laura Childs Page A

surrounded by a tumble of gray hair and wore a pair of narrow, turquoise glasses on a chain around her neck. Her navy-and-white-striped suit was sturdy but stylish.
    “It looks like you just showed the Granville mansion,” said Theodosia. “Tell me, am I about to have new neighbors?” She was more than a little curious. And nervous, too. Who would they turn out to be? “You weren’t showing it to the Rattlings, were you?” Frank and Sarah Rattling were a pair of quasi-strange innkeepers that she’d had a run-in with recently.
    Maggie glanced down the street at the couple she’d just bade good-bye to. “No, this was a young couple, Lou and Margaret Blankenship.”
    Theodosia followed her gaze. She saw that they were in their early thirties at best and were just climbing into a slightly dented car.
    “There’s no way they can afford this place,” Maggie told Theodosia, as if reading her mind. “They’re just lookers, curiosity seekers. A waste of time. I could have stayed home, snarfed a bag of Chips Ahoy, and watched
Dancing with the
Stars
.” She smiled. “Or I suppose I could have dropped by your place and probably enjoyed
petit
fours
and fancy little crab salad tea sandwiches.”
    “Anytime you want,” said Theodosia. “So how has business been for you lately?” Earl Grey strained at his leash, already bored with their conversation.
    “Slow but steady,” said Maggie. “Nothing earth-shattering, though. Not like a few years ago when the banks were practically throwing money at buyers.”
    “I didn’t realize you even had this listing,” said Theodosia.
    “I don’t have an exclusive,” said Maggie. “But this place, the Kingstree Mansion, is listed with Sutter Realty, my brokerage firm. Between you and me, I’d love to sell this white elephant if I could. The commission would keep me in cat food for five years!” Maggie had three beautiful cats, two Manx and one Siamese, that she loved and adored.
    “You know,” said Theodosia, “I might have a potential client for you.”
    “Be still, my heart,” said Maggie. “Who is it? Do I know him? Or her?”
    “Do you know Andrew Turner, the fellow who owns The Turner Gallery over by Church Street and Hopper?”
    “Sure,” said Maggie, nodding. She paused and then said, “Well, I don’t know him
personally
, but I know the place. I’m at least familiar with the gallery.”
    “I’m sorry I don’t have his phone number . . .”
    Maggie quickly held up a hand. “Not a problem. I can find that easily enough.” She peered at Theodosia. “And you’re sure this Mr. Turner is in the market for a house? A really grand house like this one?” By
grand
, Maggie meant expensive.
    Theodosia nodded. “He just mentioned it to me this morning.”
    • • •
    Back home again,
Theodosia took a quick shower and wrapped herself in a terrycloth robe. She grabbed her laptop and padded barefoot downstairs to the kitchen. The chilled avocado soup was delicious. It was nice and creamy and the flavors of all the ingredients had melded together beautifully. As she ate, she tapped along on her computer. Checking the news, the stock market, and her Facebook page. Then, just to satisfy her curiosity, just because it had stuck in her mind and was nagging at her, she Googled the words
green alien.
    Surprisingly, there were all sorts of weird things with the moniker
green alien
.
    For one thing, there was a sweet mixed drink made with Midori and lime juice. Theodosia wrinkled her nose as she perused the mixology instructions. It didn’t sound all that appealing.
    Another hit turned up a green tongue ring. Okay. That was fairly strange. And there were about a hundred websites all selling T-shirts with alien depictions on them.
    Theodosia sat back and let the term
green alien
rumble through her brain. And decided it was either complete nonsense, or something decidedly comic book–like. Such as
The Green Lantern
or
Iron Man
or
Batman.
But as a clue, it didn’t seem