Steeped in Evil (A Tea Shop Mystery) Read Free Page A

basket of cherry scones and held it out to Max. “Another scone?” As a tea shop owner, she was used to pampering her customers and catering to their whims. Which usually meant offering seconds—and even thirds.
    Max groaned. “Theo, sweetheart, I have to fit into my tux this Saturday evening.”
    She smiled sweetly at him. “You look just fine to me.” Then she studied him carefully. “I know you’re worried about the Art Crawl. And something else, too?”
    “No, I’m just concerned with . . . logistics,” said Max. “There’s so much going on this coming week, what with the Art Crawl, our museum patrons’ dinner, and then the Art Crawl Ball.”
    “I’m sure it will all go off without a hitch,” said Theodosia. She was an optimist, hard worker, and planner of the first magnitude. Which meant that all of her teas, catering gigs, and special events went off with the crisp efficiency of a well-conceived military campaign. It also never occurred to her that other business owners didn’t sweat the details as much as she did.
    Max picked up a tea sandwich that had been cut into a perfect triangle. “Do you know that Andy Turner is one of the sponsors and he still doesn’t have a date?” He took a nibble. “Now that’s cutting it close.”
    “Oh, I meant to tell you . . . I ran into him last night. At the wine tasting.” She sighed. “Although now it will probably forever be known as the wine murder.”
    “Maybe for the next twelve hours,” said Max. “And then something else will pop up and the media will be all over
that
story.”
    “You’re probably right,” said Theodosia as the cell phone in her pocket hummed a greeting. “Thanks to our relentless twenty-four/seven news cycle, this will all just fade away.” She pulled out her phone and said, “This is Theo.”
    Drayton didn’t mince any words. “We need you.”
    Theodosia frowned. Drayton was being his usual cryptic self. “What are you talking about?” she asked.
    “I’m sitting here in my backyard garden talking to Jordan Knight.”
    “Oh.” Theodosia may have sounded calm, but warning bells were suddenly clanging and banging inside her head.
    Drayton continued. “And we are in dire need of your assistance.”
    Theodosia managed a quick glance at Max, who was now perusing the sports section of the
Post and Courier.
Good, he had no idea what they were talking about. Then she said in a slightly strangled whisper, “Really? Me?”
    “Yes, you,” came Drayton’s urgent plea.
    “Um . . . what’s going on?” She needed to stall Drayton, she needed some time to think.
    “I don’t believe I’m being particularly obtuse,” said Drayton. He let loose a deep sigh. “We need you because you’re rather competent when it comes to this type of problem.”
    “Excuse me?” said Theodosia. Still stalling, but Drayton wasn’t buying it.
    “You know what I’m referring to,” said Drayton. Now there was a distinct
tone
to his voice.
    Oh rats
, Theodosia thought to herself.
Of course he means good at solving murders.
He’s asking me to help his friend Jordan Knight.
    She leaned back in her wicker chair, smoothed the skirt of her dress, and thought,
Please . . . no.
Not today, on this lovely, carefree Sunday, when her fella was over for brunch. When they were reading the Sunday paper and just lazing around enjoying the warm weather. In fact, not ever. Because after all the fuss and flurry that happened last time she got involved in a crazy murder investigation, she’d pretty much promised Max that she wouldn’t let herself get pulled into yet another one.
    Still holding the phone, Theodosia smiled at Max and took a sip of tea. Max looked up, reached for the variety section of the newspaper, and smiled patiently back at her.
    “Well,” said Drayton, his voice beginning to betray more than a hint of impatience. “Are you coming over here or not?”
    Theodosia thought about the ghastly purple body she’d witnessed last night. A