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

to take her anywhere meaningful. So probably, it didn’t mean anything at all.

7

    Theodosia folded a
linen napkin into a bishop’s crown and set it next to a Shelley chintz teacup. For some reason, Drayton had decided to pull one of their fancier sets of china out of storage today and use it on the tables. So, of course, once that was all laid out, it pretty much cried out for an elegantly folded napkin as well as sterling silver teaspoons. And even though Drayton was watching her like a hawk, she felt a certain sense of pride in using some of their nicer things, too.
    “It’s looking very good over there,” Drayton called. He was standing behind the front counter, pouring hot water into a Brown Betty teapot. Making a pot of Irish breakfast tea for them so they could fortify themselves before opening up for business this bright and sunny Tuesday morning.
    “I think you’re just practicing for the Downton Abbey tea tomorrow,” said Theodosia.
    “Hah,” said Drayton. “A dress rehearsal of sorts.” The corners of his mouth twitched up in a mischievous smile. “Could be, could be.”
    With the light streaming in and the tables sparkling like a chandelier of cut crystal, Theodosia joined Drayton at the front counter. There she once again ran through her impressions concerning her visit to Knighthall Winery yesterday afternoon.
    “I know I already told you all this,” said Theodosia.
    “That’s okay,” said Drayton. “Run through it again. Maybe something will jump out at us.”
    So she told him about her encounter with the rather blasé Pandora, her tour with Grady, and the fact that she’d also talked with Tanya, Jordan, and Sheriff Anson.
    “Oh, and did I mention that I stopped by Virtuoso Staffing, too?” said Theodosia. “Talked to the two ladies who run it and then paid a visit to Carl Van Deusen, one of the waiters who were working at the wine tasting.”
    “Why did you want to speak with this Van Deusen person?” Drayton asked. He poured out a cup of tea for her and said, “Taste that.”
    “Probably because the Virtuoso people indicated that he was acting a little strange.”
    “Did you find him strange?”
    Theodosia took a sip of tea. “Mmn, excellent. No, I found him to be fairly normal. I think he and Drew might have been acquaintances.” She took another sip of tea. “No, I think they might have been friends.”
    “You sure about that?” asked Drayton.
    “I am for now,” said Theodosia.
    Drayton gazed out across the tea room, a look of general satisfaction on his face. “I spoke with Jordan last night. Right after I talked to you.”
    “He called you?”
    “Yes, he did. He said he was sorry that he hadn’t been more helpful to you. That he wasn’t in a better frame of mind.”
    “He’s been through a lot,” said Theodosia. She couldn’t imagine losing a son like that. She’d once read, in
Psychology Today
or
Prevention,
that a parent losing a child was one of the worst traumas the human heart could endure.
    “Anyway,” said Drayton, “Jordan said he’d be willing to talk to you again tomorrow morning.”
    “At the memorial service?” said Theodosia, surprised.
    “Well, afterwards anyway,” said Drayton. He patted his bow tie and gazed at Theodosia with hooded eyes. “I know we asked you to look into things, but do you think you should perhaps get in touch with Detective Tidwell, too?” Burt Tidwell was the departmental head of Robbery-Homicide with the Charleston Police Department. He and Theodosia shared a grudging admiration for each other, one that had developed after they’d been thrown together on a couple of strange murder cases.
    “This is completely out of Tidwell’s jurisdiction,” said Theodosia. “If I even broach the subject of Drew’s murder, all he’ll do is warn me to back off.”
    Drayton looked suddenly glum. “Maybe you should. Back off, I mean. I’ve been thinking about what you told me—all the personal hassles and problems that the