A Dark and Stormy Tea, page 14
Theodosia took their orders—both women opted for the lobster Benedict—then ran them in to Haley. In the kitchen she picked up four just-completed luncheon orders and delivered them to tables four and six. When Delaine’s and Lois’s lunches were ready, she ran them out, only to find Delaine prodding Lois about suspects.
“Surely you must be suspicious of the boyfriend,” Delaine was saying. “What’s his name? Tim something?”
“I’m suspicious, yes, though I never did get around to meeting him in person,” Lois said.
“How strange,” Delaine said.
Lois shook her head. “They weren’t together that long and you don’t know Cara. She could be . . . secretive.”
Delaine frowned. “That’s unfortunate.”
Theodosia made a big show of setting down their plates and explaining that the lobster was fresh from Phil’s Fish Market and how Haley’s sauce was actually a lovely Mornay sauce.
“This luncheon looks delicious, dear,” Delaine said. Then a smile exploded on her face as if she’d just been struck by a magic thunderbolt filled with stars and unicorns. “Ladies.” Delaine fluttered her hands. “I just had the most brilliant idea.”
“What?” Theodosia asked.
“Again?” Lois said.
“Why don’t we have an après funeral reception tomorrow?” Delaine squealed. “Do it right here at the Indigo Tea Shop. You know, invite a few close friends and relatives?”
“Are you sure about this? It’s awfully spur-of-the-moment.” Theodosia noticed that Lois looked beyond uncomfortable at Delaine’s suggestion.
“I think it’s a fantastic idea, a way to gain closure.” When Theodosia and Lois looked puzzled, Delaine added, “I meant closure on the service itself.” She aimed a dazzling smile at Theodosia. “You can be a dear and handle a teeny-tiny reception, can’t you, Theo?”
“I’d be happy to. As long as Lois is on board with it.”
“Well, maybe,” Lois said. She seemed to weigh the idea, then said, “Actually, it does sound lovely. And I think Cara would approve.”
Theodosia nodded. “That’s all I need to know.”
17
Delaine ate sparingly, talked incessantly, then threw down a handful of money on the table, apologizing for the fact that she needed to rush back to her shop to supervise a fitting for an important client.
Lois lingered over her second—and then third—cup of tea as Drayton fussed over her with refills and soothing words. By the time one thirty rolled around, Miss Dimple was handling all the remaining customers with ease. So when Lois stood up to leave, Theodosia slipped on her raincoat and walked with her back to Antiquarian Books.
As they strolled through the rain, Lois said, “When you went to Cara’s apartment everything was okay, wasn’t it?”
“Aside from the mysterious bouquet of roses, which the police are still investigating, everything looked fine,” Theodosia said. Truth be told, the place had felt lonely to her, the way any home feels when you know the owner isn’t coming back.
“I stopped by this morning and Cara’s place looked as if someone had ripped it apart. Books were scattered all over the floor, desk drawers pulled out, the clothes in her closet shoved aside.”
“I didn’t do any of that,” Theodosia said. “It had to be the police. I’m sure when they came to collect the roses, they searched the place top to bottom for clues.”
Lois sighed. “I suppose.”
Theodosia thought about the scratching sound she’d heard the night she was there.
“On the other hand, it’s entirely possible that someone broke in and went through Cara’s stuff. Or maybe the manager moved things around, deciding if the place needed any repairs before he rented it again. Or the ex-boyfriend slipped in?”
Lois shook her head. “No idea.”
When they reached the front door of Antiquarian Books, Lois pulled out a ring of keys.
“How long do you think you’ll stay closed?” Theodosia asked.
Lois turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door so they could step inside, out of the rain. The interior was dim, with just a faint light in the back office, and smelled heavily of old leather and paper. But in a pleasant way.
“I haven’t given it much thought,” Lois said. “Maybe a week?”
“This means you will keep the bookshop going?”
“Haven’t you heard?” Lois said in a voice tinged with irony. “I have a nice long lease.”
* * *
* * *
Back at the Indigo Tea Shop, Theodosia and Drayton huddled together at the front counter. They were staging their Murder at Chillingham Manor Mystery Tea this coming Saturday and Theodosia wanted to review the plans.
“So you’ve hired two actors?” she asked.
“Both hot off the stage from our very own Dock Street Theatre,” Drayton said as he opened his spiral notebook. “The female actor, Maria, will be playing the Duchess of Lennox, and the male actor, John, will be Viscount Ragley.”
“And they have the script you wrote?”
“Yes, but remember, we’re all characters in the mystery play as well.”
“I remembered. I just haven’t had a chance to memorize my lines,” Theodosia said.
“Maybe you need cue cards.”
“Maybe I should write my lines in the palm of my hand.”
“No,” Drayton said. “Probably not. But while we’re on the subject of event teas, I think we should go over some of our ideas and firm them up.” He spread out several loose calendar pages. “Remember, spring is our busiest season, what with the Spoleto Festival, our Easter Tea, and our Garden Party Tea. To say nothing of Bridal Shower Teas, and Mother’s Day Teas.”
“I hear you,” Theodosia said as she studied the calendar pages. “And we’ve tentatively scheduled a Primavera Tea, Limón Tea, and Great Gatsby Tea.”
“I think we should heavy up even more. Add a Bird Tea or Butterfly Tea.”
“I love both those ideas.”
“Bridal Shower Teas . . .” Drayton tapped a pencil against his notebook. “Those can pop up anytime. There’s no dearth of women getting married, and brides do love their tea parties.”
“I’ve been thinking, when we do our Limón Tea it would be great to stage it outside in a lemon grove.”
Drayton looked pleasantly startled. “Here I’ve been dreaming of glass bowls heaped with fresh lemons on each table, but you’re talking about tea tables set in an actual lemon grove? Where would we find that sort of location?”
“There was a recent article in the Post and Courier about a lemon grove nearby that’s thriving. It’s actually part of a citrus hobby farm at a place called Brittlebank Manor just south of here.”
“So we’d set up our tea on-site?”
“If they’ll have us, why not?”
“Actually, it’s a marvelous idea. Gives us a chance to stretch our creative wings. We could also—” The phone rang, interrupting their conversation. Drayton answered it, gave a silent nod, and passed it to Theodosia.
“Hello?” she said.
“Theo.” It was Riley and he sounded beat.
“How’s your day going?” she asked, hoping for a break in the case. “Got any new information?”
“Nada.”
“Seriously? Nothing at all?”
“We’re still waiting for the techies to tell us what they found on the computers over at Channel Eight, and about e-mails on their server. Unfortunately, it’s slow going.”
“Okay. Gee, it’s good to hear your voice.”
“Likewise, sweetheart.”
“Do you have any interest in cashing that rain check tonight?” Theodosia asked. Her mind was running ahead to she-crab soup, biscuits, and . . .
Then she remembered.
“Oh, wait, Drayton and I have tentative plans for dinner tonight . . .” She looked over at Drayton, saw him nod in the affirmative. “So there’s that. Then I was going to hit the candlelight vigil.”
“Please don’t tell me the vigil’s going to be held in White Point Gardens,” Riley said.
“It’s going to be held in White Point Gardens.”
“Doggone, that means there’ll be a whole bunch of women milling around over there, potentially vulnerable women.”
“What about safety in numbers?”
“That only works until your event breaks up. Then it’s everyone for themselves.”
“You make it sound like nobody should leave their house.”
“If I had my way, they wouldn’t,” Riley said. “Not until this maniac is apprehended and put under lock and key.” Then, “Sorry, Theo, I don’t mean to be so grumbly.”
“That’s okay, I know you’re under all kinds of pressure.”
“Wish I could stop by tonight, but it looks like I’m out of luck. More meetings.”
“Soon,” Theodosia promised. “Real soon.”
“Problem?” Drayton asked when she hung up.
“Just the usual. The wheels of justice turning slowly.”
“Huh. In my life I view slow as a good thing, something to be appreciated.”
“What’s a good thing?” Haley asked as she strolled up to the counter.
“Your baking skills,” Drayton said. Then, “You look like you’re about to run out somewhere. Are you?”
“I thought I’d dash over to Perry’s Restaurant Supply on Market Street. Pick up a new garlic press and a couple of strainers.” Haley gazed at Theodosia. “If that’s okay with you.”
“Sure thing,” Theodosia said. “Just charge them to our account.”
“You know it’s still drizzling outside,” Drayton said. His eyes flicked to the front window. “And it’s getting dark.”
Haley shrugged. “I guess.”
“Do you have a raincoat? An umbrella?” Drayton asked.
“I think I have an umbrella upstairs somewhere,” Haley said.
“Grab my raincoat,” Theodosia said. “It’s hanging on the coat rack in my office.”
“Don’t you need it?” Haley asked.
“Not for a while. I’m going to stick around and do some more event planning with Drayton. Probably still be here by the time you get back.”
“Okay, thanks. See you guys later,” Haley said as she headed for the back door.
“So this magical lemon grove,” Drayton said. “You think we can reserve a Saturday afternoon there?”
“I’ll give them a call tomorrow, see if we can set something up.”
“Excellent. And then we talked about having a Jane Austen Tea.”
“I love that idea. I think there’s even a Jane Austen Society here in Charleston. Maybe we could hook up with them—they could do some sort of reading or presentation.”
Drayton made a note. “Works for me.”
They worked for another ten minutes or so, kicking around ideas, deciding to try to shoehorn in a British-themed tea as well.
“Maybe call it Tea in the Cotswolds,” Drayton said.
“Or even a Charles Dickens Tea,” Theodosia said. “Although that might work better for Christmas.”
“That’s it, then,” Drayton declared as he set down his pen. “My brain is starting to feel fried. Or at least gently sautéed.”
“If you’re tired, maybe we should do dinner another time?”
Drayton waved a hand as he stood up and stretched. “Nonsense, I still want you to come tonight. Please. I was planning to whip up something fast. No big deal. I already bought groceries.”
“Okay, that’d be great.” Theodosia checked her watch. “Maybe leave in a half hour or so?”
“Mmn.” Drayton had wandered back to the counter and was stacking tea tins on his shelves.
Theodosia closed her notebook and went into her office, anxious to check her e-mail. Maybe something new? She clicked through the list quickly. Most concerned upcoming tea reservations, so she tippy-typed confirmations back to them. But as she was typing, she thought she heard a strange noise.
Looking up from her keyboard, she said, “What?” to nobody in particular. A few seconds later, when she didn’t hear it again, she returned to her e-mails.
Then . . . THUMP.
Another noise, louder this time, as if somebody was outside banging on a metal trash can.
The guys in the garden apartment across the alley? A stray cat? A really big stray cat?
Sighing, Theodosia threaded her way through the boxes piled in her office, pulled open the back door, and peered out into semidarkness.
It took a few seconds for her to realize that Haley lay sprawled on the ground some fifteen feet away from her.
“Help!” Haley cried in a faint voice when she saw Theodosia framed in the doorway. “Help me!”
Heart in her throat, Theodosia sprinted to where Haley was lying and dropped to her hands and knees. Never mind the rain and the puddles.
“Haley, what happened?” Theodosia figured Haley must have slipped on the wet cobblestones and taken a tumble. But then she’d lain there for . . . what? Ten minutes? Who knew how long?
“I think I’m . . .” Haley groaned as she rolled over and fought to sit up.
“Haley, you’re hurt!” Terrible scenarios suddenly capered through Theodosia’s brain.
Haley blinked, tried to focus, and groaned again.
“What happened, Haley?” Maybe this wasn’t just an awkward tumble. Had Haley been pushed or stabbed or shot? Theodosia quickly checked her over. There wasn’t any bleeding; no bones seemed to be broken. Still, she probably needed medical attention.
“My head,” Haley said in a piteous whisper. “Somebody hit me.” She reached up, touched a spot above her right ear, and said, “I can feel something wet and warm trickling down. I think maybe I’m . . . bleeding.” Now a thin note of hysteria entered her voice.
Suddenly, the back door flew open, a black rectangle oozing yellow light. Drayton walked out and shouted, “Theo, where did you . . . ?” He cast his eyes up and down the alley, then did a kind of double take when he spotted the two of them on the ground. “What are you two doing down there?”
“Haley’s hurt!” Theodosia cried. “Somebody hit her on the head and shoved her down. We have to call 911.”
“No,” Haley said, lifting her head and squinting at them. “It’s not like I’m dying or anything. But, um, maybe you guys could help me up?”
Theodosia and Drayton got on either side of Haley and lifted her gently. She proved to be light as a feather.
“Easy now,” Drayton cautioned once Haley was standing upright on wobbly legs. “You can never be too careful with head injuries.”
“You think she’s concussed?” Theodosia asked.
“I do feel like cussing!” Haley blurted out. “Because it hurts like crazy!”
Theodosia and Drayton exchanged glances. Even though Haley was back on her feet, she seemed a little out of it.
“Haley, what happened?” Theodosia asked.
“Huh?” Haley’s eyes were glazed. She really was having trouble following the conversation.
“What happened?” Drayton said. “Was someone lurking in the shadows when you came out or—”
“It was like a drive-by,” Haley said, her arms starting to flail.
“How so?” This from Theodosia now.
“A car came whipping down the alley the minute I stepped out the back door.”
“Like they’d been waiting for you?” Theodosia asked.
“Now that you mention it, yeah,” Haley said. “Kind of.”
“And then what?” Theodosia said.
“The car roared down the alley and swerved at me, like they were trying to run me down.”
“Did they actually hit you?” Drayton asked.
“Lucky for me I jumped out of the way, but the car came so close that the side mirror whacked me in the head. Spun me around and dropped me like a sack of potatoes,” Haley said. Her lower lip trembled. “Cut me.”
“Let’s get you inside and take a look at that cut,” Theodosia said.
They helped Haley inside and sat her down in Theodosia’s desk chair. Theodosia brushed Haley’s hair aside while Drayton took a look at her scalp wound.
“Hmm. I’d say you need stitches, my dear,” Drayton said.
“Maybe you could stick a Band-Aid on it?” Haley asked.
“And gum up your hair?” Drayton said.
“Hold everything, this cut looks fairly deep,” Theodosia said.
She moved her Tensor lamp closer to Haley’s head and saw that the jagged wound was still seeping fresh blood.
“Oh yeah, stitches for sure,” Theodosia said.
“I hate hospitals,” Haley said.
“No hospital,” Drayton said. “Just a simple trip to the emergency room.”
“Drayton’s right,” Theodosia said. “We need to get you to the emergency room. Once they patch you up, we’ll bring you right back here.”
“You guys promise?” Haley reached for Theodosia’s hand and clutched it tightly.
“We promise,” Theodosia said.
* * *
* * *
Haley was lucky. The ER wasn’t one bit busy this Thursday night, so a young resident by the name of Dr. Tony Wieks was able to see her right away.
“That’s quite a cut you have,” Dr. Wieks said to Haley. “You want to tell me how you got it?”
“I fell down,” Haley said.
“Somebody shoved her down,” Drayton said. He seemed more nervous than Haley at being in the ER.
“Am I telling this or are you?” Haley grumped at him.
“Judging by the tone of your voice, you seem to be feeling better,” Drayton said. “Feisty.”
“She’s going to be fine,” Dr. Wieks said. He gazed intently at Haley. “Five stitches should do the trick. But first I’m going to numb you up.”
“Surely you must be suspicious of the boyfriend,” Delaine was saying. “What’s his name? Tim something?”
“I’m suspicious, yes, though I never did get around to meeting him in person,” Lois said.
“How strange,” Delaine said.
Lois shook her head. “They weren’t together that long and you don’t know Cara. She could be . . . secretive.”
Delaine frowned. “That’s unfortunate.”
Theodosia made a big show of setting down their plates and explaining that the lobster was fresh from Phil’s Fish Market and how Haley’s sauce was actually a lovely Mornay sauce.
“This luncheon looks delicious, dear,” Delaine said. Then a smile exploded on her face as if she’d just been struck by a magic thunderbolt filled with stars and unicorns. “Ladies.” Delaine fluttered her hands. “I just had the most brilliant idea.”
“What?” Theodosia asked.
“Again?” Lois said.
“Why don’t we have an après funeral reception tomorrow?” Delaine squealed. “Do it right here at the Indigo Tea Shop. You know, invite a few close friends and relatives?”
“Are you sure about this? It’s awfully spur-of-the-moment.” Theodosia noticed that Lois looked beyond uncomfortable at Delaine’s suggestion.
“I think it’s a fantastic idea, a way to gain closure.” When Theodosia and Lois looked puzzled, Delaine added, “I meant closure on the service itself.” She aimed a dazzling smile at Theodosia. “You can be a dear and handle a teeny-tiny reception, can’t you, Theo?”
“I’d be happy to. As long as Lois is on board with it.”
“Well, maybe,” Lois said. She seemed to weigh the idea, then said, “Actually, it does sound lovely. And I think Cara would approve.”
Theodosia nodded. “That’s all I need to know.”
17
Delaine ate sparingly, talked incessantly, then threw down a handful of money on the table, apologizing for the fact that she needed to rush back to her shop to supervise a fitting for an important client.
Lois lingered over her second—and then third—cup of tea as Drayton fussed over her with refills and soothing words. By the time one thirty rolled around, Miss Dimple was handling all the remaining customers with ease. So when Lois stood up to leave, Theodosia slipped on her raincoat and walked with her back to Antiquarian Books.
As they strolled through the rain, Lois said, “When you went to Cara’s apartment everything was okay, wasn’t it?”
“Aside from the mysterious bouquet of roses, which the police are still investigating, everything looked fine,” Theodosia said. Truth be told, the place had felt lonely to her, the way any home feels when you know the owner isn’t coming back.
“I stopped by this morning and Cara’s place looked as if someone had ripped it apart. Books were scattered all over the floor, desk drawers pulled out, the clothes in her closet shoved aside.”
“I didn’t do any of that,” Theodosia said. “It had to be the police. I’m sure when they came to collect the roses, they searched the place top to bottom for clues.”
Lois sighed. “I suppose.”
Theodosia thought about the scratching sound she’d heard the night she was there.
“On the other hand, it’s entirely possible that someone broke in and went through Cara’s stuff. Or maybe the manager moved things around, deciding if the place needed any repairs before he rented it again. Or the ex-boyfriend slipped in?”
Lois shook her head. “No idea.”
When they reached the front door of Antiquarian Books, Lois pulled out a ring of keys.
“How long do you think you’ll stay closed?” Theodosia asked.
Lois turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door so they could step inside, out of the rain. The interior was dim, with just a faint light in the back office, and smelled heavily of old leather and paper. But in a pleasant way.
“I haven’t given it much thought,” Lois said. “Maybe a week?”
“This means you will keep the bookshop going?”
“Haven’t you heard?” Lois said in a voice tinged with irony. “I have a nice long lease.”
* * *
* * *
Back at the Indigo Tea Shop, Theodosia and Drayton huddled together at the front counter. They were staging their Murder at Chillingham Manor Mystery Tea this coming Saturday and Theodosia wanted to review the plans.
“So you’ve hired two actors?” she asked.
“Both hot off the stage from our very own Dock Street Theatre,” Drayton said as he opened his spiral notebook. “The female actor, Maria, will be playing the Duchess of Lennox, and the male actor, John, will be Viscount Ragley.”
“And they have the script you wrote?”
“Yes, but remember, we’re all characters in the mystery play as well.”
“I remembered. I just haven’t had a chance to memorize my lines,” Theodosia said.
“Maybe you need cue cards.”
“Maybe I should write my lines in the palm of my hand.”
“No,” Drayton said. “Probably not. But while we’re on the subject of event teas, I think we should go over some of our ideas and firm them up.” He spread out several loose calendar pages. “Remember, spring is our busiest season, what with the Spoleto Festival, our Easter Tea, and our Garden Party Tea. To say nothing of Bridal Shower Teas, and Mother’s Day Teas.”
“I hear you,” Theodosia said as she studied the calendar pages. “And we’ve tentatively scheduled a Primavera Tea, Limón Tea, and Great Gatsby Tea.”
“I think we should heavy up even more. Add a Bird Tea or Butterfly Tea.”
“I love both those ideas.”
“Bridal Shower Teas . . .” Drayton tapped a pencil against his notebook. “Those can pop up anytime. There’s no dearth of women getting married, and brides do love their tea parties.”
“I’ve been thinking, when we do our Limón Tea it would be great to stage it outside in a lemon grove.”
Drayton looked pleasantly startled. “Here I’ve been dreaming of glass bowls heaped with fresh lemons on each table, but you’re talking about tea tables set in an actual lemon grove? Where would we find that sort of location?”
“There was a recent article in the Post and Courier about a lemon grove nearby that’s thriving. It’s actually part of a citrus hobby farm at a place called Brittlebank Manor just south of here.”
“So we’d set up our tea on-site?”
“If they’ll have us, why not?”
“Actually, it’s a marvelous idea. Gives us a chance to stretch our creative wings. We could also—” The phone rang, interrupting their conversation. Drayton answered it, gave a silent nod, and passed it to Theodosia.
“Hello?” she said.
“Theo.” It was Riley and he sounded beat.
“How’s your day going?” she asked, hoping for a break in the case. “Got any new information?”
“Nada.”
“Seriously? Nothing at all?”
“We’re still waiting for the techies to tell us what they found on the computers over at Channel Eight, and about e-mails on their server. Unfortunately, it’s slow going.”
“Okay. Gee, it’s good to hear your voice.”
“Likewise, sweetheart.”
“Do you have any interest in cashing that rain check tonight?” Theodosia asked. Her mind was running ahead to she-crab soup, biscuits, and . . .
Then she remembered.
“Oh, wait, Drayton and I have tentative plans for dinner tonight . . .” She looked over at Drayton, saw him nod in the affirmative. “So there’s that. Then I was going to hit the candlelight vigil.”
“Please don’t tell me the vigil’s going to be held in White Point Gardens,” Riley said.
“It’s going to be held in White Point Gardens.”
“Doggone, that means there’ll be a whole bunch of women milling around over there, potentially vulnerable women.”
“What about safety in numbers?”
“That only works until your event breaks up. Then it’s everyone for themselves.”
“You make it sound like nobody should leave their house.”
“If I had my way, they wouldn’t,” Riley said. “Not until this maniac is apprehended and put under lock and key.” Then, “Sorry, Theo, I don’t mean to be so grumbly.”
“That’s okay, I know you’re under all kinds of pressure.”
“Wish I could stop by tonight, but it looks like I’m out of luck. More meetings.”
“Soon,” Theodosia promised. “Real soon.”
“Problem?” Drayton asked when she hung up.
“Just the usual. The wheels of justice turning slowly.”
“Huh. In my life I view slow as a good thing, something to be appreciated.”
“What’s a good thing?” Haley asked as she strolled up to the counter.
“Your baking skills,” Drayton said. Then, “You look like you’re about to run out somewhere. Are you?”
“I thought I’d dash over to Perry’s Restaurant Supply on Market Street. Pick up a new garlic press and a couple of strainers.” Haley gazed at Theodosia. “If that’s okay with you.”
“Sure thing,” Theodosia said. “Just charge them to our account.”
“You know it’s still drizzling outside,” Drayton said. His eyes flicked to the front window. “And it’s getting dark.”
Haley shrugged. “I guess.”
“Do you have a raincoat? An umbrella?” Drayton asked.
“I think I have an umbrella upstairs somewhere,” Haley said.
“Grab my raincoat,” Theodosia said. “It’s hanging on the coat rack in my office.”
“Don’t you need it?” Haley asked.
“Not for a while. I’m going to stick around and do some more event planning with Drayton. Probably still be here by the time you get back.”
“Okay, thanks. See you guys later,” Haley said as she headed for the back door.
“So this magical lemon grove,” Drayton said. “You think we can reserve a Saturday afternoon there?”
“I’ll give them a call tomorrow, see if we can set something up.”
“Excellent. And then we talked about having a Jane Austen Tea.”
“I love that idea. I think there’s even a Jane Austen Society here in Charleston. Maybe we could hook up with them—they could do some sort of reading or presentation.”
Drayton made a note. “Works for me.”
They worked for another ten minutes or so, kicking around ideas, deciding to try to shoehorn in a British-themed tea as well.
“Maybe call it Tea in the Cotswolds,” Drayton said.
“Or even a Charles Dickens Tea,” Theodosia said. “Although that might work better for Christmas.”
“That’s it, then,” Drayton declared as he set down his pen. “My brain is starting to feel fried. Or at least gently sautéed.”
“If you’re tired, maybe we should do dinner another time?”
Drayton waved a hand as he stood up and stretched. “Nonsense, I still want you to come tonight. Please. I was planning to whip up something fast. No big deal. I already bought groceries.”
“Okay, that’d be great.” Theodosia checked her watch. “Maybe leave in a half hour or so?”
“Mmn.” Drayton had wandered back to the counter and was stacking tea tins on his shelves.
Theodosia closed her notebook and went into her office, anxious to check her e-mail. Maybe something new? She clicked through the list quickly. Most concerned upcoming tea reservations, so she tippy-typed confirmations back to them. But as she was typing, she thought she heard a strange noise.
Looking up from her keyboard, she said, “What?” to nobody in particular. A few seconds later, when she didn’t hear it again, she returned to her e-mails.
Then . . . THUMP.
Another noise, louder this time, as if somebody was outside banging on a metal trash can.
The guys in the garden apartment across the alley? A stray cat? A really big stray cat?
Sighing, Theodosia threaded her way through the boxes piled in her office, pulled open the back door, and peered out into semidarkness.
It took a few seconds for her to realize that Haley lay sprawled on the ground some fifteen feet away from her.
“Help!” Haley cried in a faint voice when she saw Theodosia framed in the doorway. “Help me!”
Heart in her throat, Theodosia sprinted to where Haley was lying and dropped to her hands and knees. Never mind the rain and the puddles.
“Haley, what happened?” Theodosia figured Haley must have slipped on the wet cobblestones and taken a tumble. But then she’d lain there for . . . what? Ten minutes? Who knew how long?
“I think I’m . . .” Haley groaned as she rolled over and fought to sit up.
“Haley, you’re hurt!” Terrible scenarios suddenly capered through Theodosia’s brain.
Haley blinked, tried to focus, and groaned again.
“What happened, Haley?” Maybe this wasn’t just an awkward tumble. Had Haley been pushed or stabbed or shot? Theodosia quickly checked her over. There wasn’t any bleeding; no bones seemed to be broken. Still, she probably needed medical attention.
“My head,” Haley said in a piteous whisper. “Somebody hit me.” She reached up, touched a spot above her right ear, and said, “I can feel something wet and warm trickling down. I think maybe I’m . . . bleeding.” Now a thin note of hysteria entered her voice.
Suddenly, the back door flew open, a black rectangle oozing yellow light. Drayton walked out and shouted, “Theo, where did you . . . ?” He cast his eyes up and down the alley, then did a kind of double take when he spotted the two of them on the ground. “What are you two doing down there?”
“Haley’s hurt!” Theodosia cried. “Somebody hit her on the head and shoved her down. We have to call 911.”
“No,” Haley said, lifting her head and squinting at them. “It’s not like I’m dying or anything. But, um, maybe you guys could help me up?”
Theodosia and Drayton got on either side of Haley and lifted her gently. She proved to be light as a feather.
“Easy now,” Drayton cautioned once Haley was standing upright on wobbly legs. “You can never be too careful with head injuries.”
“You think she’s concussed?” Theodosia asked.
“I do feel like cussing!” Haley blurted out. “Because it hurts like crazy!”
Theodosia and Drayton exchanged glances. Even though Haley was back on her feet, she seemed a little out of it.
“Haley, what happened?” Theodosia asked.
“Huh?” Haley’s eyes were glazed. She really was having trouble following the conversation.
“What happened?” Drayton said. “Was someone lurking in the shadows when you came out or—”
“It was like a drive-by,” Haley said, her arms starting to flail.
“How so?” This from Theodosia now.
“A car came whipping down the alley the minute I stepped out the back door.”
“Like they’d been waiting for you?” Theodosia asked.
“Now that you mention it, yeah,” Haley said. “Kind of.”
“And then what?” Theodosia said.
“The car roared down the alley and swerved at me, like they were trying to run me down.”
“Did they actually hit you?” Drayton asked.
“Lucky for me I jumped out of the way, but the car came so close that the side mirror whacked me in the head. Spun me around and dropped me like a sack of potatoes,” Haley said. Her lower lip trembled. “Cut me.”
“Let’s get you inside and take a look at that cut,” Theodosia said.
They helped Haley inside and sat her down in Theodosia’s desk chair. Theodosia brushed Haley’s hair aside while Drayton took a look at her scalp wound.
“Hmm. I’d say you need stitches, my dear,” Drayton said.
“Maybe you could stick a Band-Aid on it?” Haley asked.
“And gum up your hair?” Drayton said.
“Hold everything, this cut looks fairly deep,” Theodosia said.
She moved her Tensor lamp closer to Haley’s head and saw that the jagged wound was still seeping fresh blood.
“Oh yeah, stitches for sure,” Theodosia said.
“I hate hospitals,” Haley said.
“No hospital,” Drayton said. “Just a simple trip to the emergency room.”
“Drayton’s right,” Theodosia said. “We need to get you to the emergency room. Once they patch you up, we’ll bring you right back here.”
“You guys promise?” Haley reached for Theodosia’s hand and clutched it tightly.
“We promise,” Theodosia said.
* * *
* * *
Haley was lucky. The ER wasn’t one bit busy this Thursday night, so a young resident by the name of Dr. Tony Wieks was able to see her right away.
“That’s quite a cut you have,” Dr. Wieks said to Haley. “You want to tell me how you got it?”
“I fell down,” Haley said.
“Somebody shoved her down,” Drayton said. He seemed more nervous than Haley at being in the ER.
“Am I telling this or are you?” Haley grumped at him.
“Judging by the tone of your voice, you seem to be feeling better,” Drayton said. “Feisty.”
“She’s going to be fine,” Dr. Wieks said. He gazed intently at Haley. “Five stitches should do the trick. But first I’m going to numb you up.”
