The English Breakfast Murder, page 14
"It was a pretty bad moment," admitted Theodosia. Marianne glanced around quickly, as if she was afraid of being overheard.
"Is it true Harper's computer was emptied out?" she asked.
So that tidy little fact is already in the rumor mill, thought Theodosia. Ah well, I'm not surprised.
"Looks that way," replied Theodosia. "His partner, Summer Sullivan, is pretty upset."
"She's not the only one," said Marianne. "I know that some of his things were supposed to go to the Heritage Society, and some were supposed to go to Summer at the shop. But of course I'm absolutely clueless as to what's going to happen. He had no family, no nothing. . ."
"You were close to Harper?" asked Theodosia. Marianne considered this. "Close enough. We'd chitchat every couple days. About gardening and decorating and things."
"Did it seem to you that Harper was disturbed about something?" asked Theodosia. "Did you think something was bothering him?"
Marianne thought for a moment. "No, not really. At least I can't think of any instance where he seemed worried. Harper was a fairly even-tempered guy. An old sweetie, really. Last time we talked, he asked if I was interested in acquiring some Japanese antiques. He knew I was decorating a home over in Wild Dunes for a couple who's absolutely ga-ga over all things Japanese. You know, antique screens, Ukiyo-e prints, old fans, oribe ceramics."
"The antiques he offered you were from his shop?" Marianne shrugged. "I guess so." She thought again. "No, that doesn't sound right. Let me think for a moment. Seems to me the antiques belonged to a friend of his." She nodded once, sure of her recollection. "Yes, now I remember. Harper knew someone who'd acquired the pieces quite some time ago and was now interested in selling them. As I seem to recall, this friend needed money."
"Do you remember who Harper's friend was?" asked Theodosia. "Did he mention a name?"
Marianne narrowed her eyes. "He was like ... maybe someone who was formerly in the military?"
"Was he in the Navy?" asked Theodosia. "Was it Benjamin Clark?"
Marianne snapped her fingers. "That's him. I remember Harper telling me that this Mr. Clark was experiencing some financial difficulties." She cocked her head to one side, as though all the details were coming back to her now. "Clark apparently had some antiques he'd picked up in Japan a number of years ago. A few Utamaro prints and a ceramic vase by Hamada. He'd asked Harper to try to sell them."
"But you didn't buy them. For your client, I mean," said Theodosia.
"No, they'd already overdosed on Japanese prints and ceramics. Any more and their living room would've looked like a sushi bar."
"Do you know if the objects ever got put into Harper's shop? For sale?"
Marianne tossed her hands in the air. "Who knows?" Then a big smile flashed across her face. "There's the lady who might have your answer, though." She pointed across the back garden toward Summer Sullivan, who'd just walked into the parry on the arm of Gordon Sargent.
"Talk about luck," breathed Theodosia.
Summer, who looked absolutely fetching in a long sea green dress, was saying her hellos to Angie Congdon. Gordon Sargent had immediately wandered off to inspect the two cookers, where Drayton seemed to have planted himself permanently next to Angie's husband.
What is it about outdoor barbecues that attracts men like flies? wondered Theodosia. Your typical male can barely turn on the stove, but put him in .somebody's backyard with a lighted grill and he's endlessly fascinated.
"You know Summer, don't you, Theodosia?" asked Angie Congdon as Theodosia strolled over to talk.
Theodosia and Summer smiled at each other. "Summer's been very instrumental in finding antiques for us," said Angie, bragging up the young antique maven. "She's got quite a knack for ferreting out unusual pieces." Angie pointed to one corner of her spectacularly landscaped garden. "That Ionic-looking column over there in the corner was one of Summer's finds. And she unearthed the carved goose weather vane that presides over our lobby from a junk store located over in Ninety Six." Ninety Six was the name of a small town in the Piedmont region that took its name from an old British fort that was ninety-six miles from the former capital.
"Do you ever handle any old Japanese ceramics or prints?" Theodosia asked Summer.
"Not too often," said Summer.
"Are you in the market?" asked Angie. "Why, Theodosia," she drawled, a smile lighting her face, "I thought you'd finally settled on an Old South flavor for your apartment. Of course," Angie continued, "just because I've finally settled on my `country clutter' look doesn't mean I can't keep redecorating. That's the fun of owning a B and B," she confided. "You get to keep redoing the rooms!" In high spirits, Angie wandered off to greet more of her newly arrived guests.
Summer smiled sadly at Theodosia. "I wasn't exactly in the best mood to come here tonight," she explained, "but Gordon thought it might be good for me. He's says I have to keep busy, get out and socialize."
"Gordon's one hundred percent correct," responded Theodosia. "I'm sure this morning's memorial service was terribly difficult for you."
"It was," admitted Summer. "I feel like I've lost a family member. My dad died when I was little, so I guess in my eyes, Harper kind of took his place."
"You didn't close the shop after all," said Theodosia, recalling Summer's dilemma on Tuesday morning, after she'd discovered that the hard drive on Harper's computer was somehow locked.
"No," said Summer slowly. "I reopened the next day. I thought about it long and hard, and came to the conclusion that Harper was really a keep-going kind of guy. I figured he'd want me to soldier on. Harper wasn't the maudlin type either. I know he wouldn't have wanted me to sit around and mope about his passing."
"About the Japanese antiques. . ." Theodosia prompted. "Oh, right," said Summer. She frowned. "To answer your question ... no. I don't recall having anything like that in the shop. Not in the two years since I've been there anyway. Are you in the market for something specific? I can surely keep an eye out if you are."
"No," said Theodosia, "it was just a crazy idea. Something for a friend." For some reason she didn't feel like telling Summer about Buddy Clark's wish to sell off his pieces.
"Have you heard anything from your computer expert yet?" asked Summer.
"Not yet," said Theodosia. "I'll give him a call tomorrow, see if he's figured anything out."
"Gosh, you're a friend," said Summer. She gazed earnestly at Theodosia. "I know we don't know each other all that well, but I feel like I've known you for more than just a few days. I suppose because Drayton's talked about you so much."
"Don't believe everything you hear," laughed Theodosia. "Listen," said Summer. "I'm going to have to go it on my own now. It would be a big help if I knew I could touch base with you once in a while. You know, small business owner to small business owner." Summer coughed slightly, obviously embarrassed. "I hate to use the mentor word, but I supposed that's what I'm really talking about."
"I'd be happy to lend any help I could," said Theodosia. She thought about all the good advice Brooke Carter Crocket at Heart's Desire had given her when she'd first opened the Indigo Tea Shop. It was payback time, and if Summer needed help, she'd for sure get it.
"Thanks," said Summer, obviously grateful. "Hey, look!" said Summer. "Mark's about to serve the fish."
Steam billowed from the uncovered cookers, as Mark Congdon began lifting out his planked fish. He'd had the planks stacked two across and two high in each cooker, so now the makeshift buffet table, really a large board on top of two sawhorses, was rapidly becoming laden with grilled fish. The smell was heavenly, very spicy and aromatic, and the guests were beginning to mill about excitedly.
"Looks like we got here just in time," said Summer. "Ditto that," rumbled a rich, male voice behind Theodosia.
Theodosia whirled around. "Jory!" she exclaimed. "You made it after all."
He put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, touched his lips to the top of her head. "Wouldn't miss it." He grabbed her hand and they wandered off toward a white wooden gazebo laced with vines, while everyone else rushed to queue up in the buffet line.
They kissed gently.
"Aren't you hungry?" Jory asked her.
She smiled at him and they kissed again, this time with a little more intensity. "I'm starving," Theodosia replied as she gazed into his warm brown eyes. "But your diversionary tactics are so much more appealing."
Jory's mouth twitched in a slight grin. "Why, at such a romantic moment," he asked, "do you suddenly sound like Detective Tidwell?"
His remark caught Theodosia off guard. "Oh no, say it ain't so!" she replied with mock horror.
"Well, not really," Jory assured her. "Actually you sound exactly like you. Charleston's own amateur sleuth. Which leads me to inquire, have you found out anything more concerning the Harper Fisk mystery?"
"A few things;" Theodosia told him as they moved, hand in hand, toward the buffet line. "Buddy Clark. . . you remember Buddy Clark?"
Jory nodded. "Sad old geezer on the yacht club dock, same guy who had the pot shot taken at him the other night.”
“ That's the one," said Theodosia. "Marianne Petigru told me he was trying to sell off some of his Japanese antiques. Apparently he needs money rather badly."
"Do you think he was desperate enough to steal Harper Fisk's so-called treasure maps?" asked Jory. "Or harm Harper Fisk in the process?"
"I don't know," said Theodosia. "His financial woes are evidence of a sort, but they're not concrete evidence.”
“ Circumstantial," said Jory, ever the lawyer.
"That's it exactly," nodded Theodosia as the two of them slipped into line.
The buffet Angie and Mark Congdon had prepared was to die for. The planked fish, fillets of both salmon and bluefish it turned out, was smoky and tender, cooked to perfection. Their zealous hosts had also prepared pickled shrimp, pole beans, and sweet corn relish. All this was augmented by enormous platters of fried green tomatoes, fried squash blossoms, and steaming hot corn biscuits.
"This is a cross between low-country cooking and a shore dinner," declared Jory. "I love it." He was piling food on his plate like he hadn't eaten in days.
"You must have skipped lunch again," said Theodosia. "No," smiled Jory. "I'm just hungry. And all this reminds me of my grandmother's cooking."
How can I resist a man who's still enamored of his grandmother's cooking? Theodosia wondered. And what does a girl do for an encore? Learn to cook like Grandma? Yikes.
Theodosia slid a piece of grilled salmon onto her plate and helped herself to a spoonful of sweet corn relish. Should I take a dollop of that caper butter sauce for the fish? Oh, why not.
"Is it possible to run a check on Buddy Clark?" she asked Jory in a low voice.
"What kind of check?" he asked. "Arrest record, outstanding warrants, property tax statements . . ."
"Yes, please," she told him. "All of the above. Plus anything else you can think of and whatever you can find out.”
“If you ask me," said a voice behind them, "you ought to check out all three of those old duffers."
Theodosia turned quickly to find Gordon Sargent staring intently at her.
"Every one of those guys seems a little shady to me," said Gordon as he helped himself to a generous scoop of pole beans. "And frankly, I'm worried about Summer. They're forever hanging out at her shop, giving her advice on what to do." He paused. "And she's a very trusting girl. Maybe too trusting."
CHAPTER 16
"CAN YOU BELIEVE We're all going to be immortalized on TV today!" exclaimed Haley enthusiastically as she filled tiny cut-glass bowls with strawberry preserves.
"Remember," said Drayton as he laid out a roster of tiny silver spoons, "it's merely videotape. They're not shooting live.
"Listen to Martin Scorsese over there," giggled Haley. "Hey, so what if it's tape, our TV debut is still going to be a blast."
Drayton edged over toward Theodosia, who was standing at the counter, arranging little tins filled with tea rubs. "You seem awfully subdued on what's supposed to be your big media day," he said. "Did you stay up late partying last night?"
"I wish I had," said Theodosia. "Then I probably wouldn't have checked my phone messages when I came in.
"Uh-oh, bad news?" said Drayton.
Theodosia glanced about the tea shop. So far there was just a trickle of customers. Two tables were filled and a few regulars were coming in for takeout. "Remember I told you I ran into Professor Gibbon Tuesday night? At that gallery opening?"
He nodded. "Hmn, I do recall your mentioning it.”
“And I also chatted with those two grad students who gave him a ride over because his car was being detailed?" Drayton narrowed his eyes slightly. "Pray tell, what is detailing? And what could it possibly have to do with your story?"
Theodosia, who'd once dated a dentist cum motorhead, hastily explained the procedure. "Detailing is when you have your engine steam-cleaned and the so-called car technicians use Q-Tips to swipe and polish every little nook, cranny, and button on your dashboard."
"And this automotive information is pertinent to your phone message last night?" Drayton asked, growing impatient.
"I'm getting to that," said Theodosia. The phone next to them suddenly gave a shrill ring, then just as quickly stopped. Theodosia decided that Haley must have picked it up in the kitchen.
"Anyway," continued Theodosia. "Naomi Morison left a message on my answering machine asking if I'd had a chance to read those grant requests I told you about."
"The ones for the Charleston Foundation you so kindly volunteered to read," said Drayton.
"Well, someone else actually volunteered me, but yes," answered Theodosia. "Naomi was wondering if I'd had a chance to make any final recommendations yet."
"And have you?" asked Drayton.
Theodosia shook her head slowly. "I'd really only read through four or five of the grant requests, about half the stack. So last night, I thumbed through the rest of them, just to get a feel for what they were about."
"And..." prompted Drayton.
"At the bottom of my stack was a grant request from Professor Gibbon," said Theodosia unhappily.
"You're not serious," said Drayton. "Gibbon is looking to the Charleston Foundation to fund his underwater research?"
"Looks that way," said Theodosia. She knew it wasn't all that unusual for arts, scientific, and social service requests to come in to the foundation. They were known for funding a diverse array of projects.
"Tricky," said Drayton, ruminating over her words. "What are you planning to do?"
"Remain impartial?" Theodosia turned her unhappy gaze on him.
Drayton raised an eyebrow. "Is that a statement or a question?" he asked.
"I'm not sure," said Theodosia. "But it's sure one heck of a dilemma."
"On that I wholeheartedly agree," replied Drayton. He blinked, swiveled his head to the right as Haley suddenly came flying out of the kitchen.
"Wowee!" she exclaimed. "You're not gonna believe this!"
"A little civility, please," said Drayton. "This is a tea shop, not open microphone at a Myrtle Beach comedy club."
But nothing could deter Haley from sharing her big news. "I just spoke to Miss Dimple," said Haley in an excited whisper. "She's working over at Pinckney's Gift Shop this morning."
"And what did the old girl say that's got you so a-twitter?" asked Drayton blandly.
"Delaine's sister was arrested for shoplifting yesterday!" blurted out Haley.
"What!" gasped Theodosia and Drayton in unison. This was news! Big news.
"At Luna Gold and Gems," said Haley. "Apparently she stuck a gold coin bracelet in her purse and then just waltzed out the door. The owner saw her make the snatch on a security monitor and immediately called the police. I guess he was incredibly outraged."
"I don't blame him," said Drayton.
"You're sure there wasn't some mistake?" asked Theodosia. Delaine's sister seems a trifle odd, but is she a thief? That seems awfully far-fetched
"I don't think so," said Haley. "Miss Dimple says Nadine vehemently denied everything until the police pried her purse out of her hands. And there it was stashed inside, a big bold glittering eighteen-karat coin bracelet. The price tag was still on it, no receipt."
"Oh, poor Delaine," said Theodosia. "She must be mortified."
"Poor Nadine," said Haley. "The cops hauled her down to the station and booked her. Probably fingerprinted her and took some very unflattering black-and-white photos as well.
"Absolutely humiliating," breathed Drayton. "Still, if the woman was caught red-handed. . ."
"She was, believe me," said Haley. "And you know what the amazing thing is? This wasn't the first time! Nadine's done it before! In fact, she's got a record! Apparently, she was attending counseling sessions and everything."
"You're quite positive of that?" asked Drayton.
"Hey, buddy," snapped Haley, "remember last Saturday when I asked if either of you guys sold that Crown Ducal teacup? I had a funny feeling that teacup didn't just waltz out the door on its own."
"Oh dear," said Drayton. "Then the poor woman really does have a serious problem."
"So do half the merchants up and down Church Street," pronounced Haley. "Nadine's been shopping and chatting and gadding about all week long. Probably ripping off everybody in sight. And I'm sure all the merchants trusted her because they knew she was Delaine's sister."
"Let's not get too carried away with this, Haley," said Theodosia. "There's only the one instance you know of personally, correct?"
"I guess," said Haley reluctantly.
"Then let's give Nadine the benefit of the doubt." Haley considered this for a long moment. "I suppose.”
“Goodness, this is just going to kill Delaine," fretted Drayton. "And wouldn't you know it, her Fashion Bash event is in two days."
