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“Not really.” Theodosia stopped to think for a moment. “Well, I’ve met Ben in passing a couple of times. You know, when he stops by on his bike to pick up Haley.”
“He rides a motorcycle.”
“That’s right. Why are you asking?”
“Because a motorcycle was seen racing away from that whole Petigru Park area yesterday afternoon.”
Theodosia held up a hand. “I heard that, kind of a high-pitched revving noise. I didn’t make the connection at the time, but now that you say motorcycle, that must have been it. The killer on his bike, racing away from the scene of the crime.”
“The scene of the murder,” Riley said. “Claxton’s death has officially been ruled a homicide by the powers that be.”
“I assumed it would,” Theodosia said. “I’m also sure there are hundreds of motorcycles in Charleston. Maybe even thousands.”
“Yes, but we have an eyewitness who saw and remembered a partial plate number—nine five three. A couple of the numbers match the license plate on Ben Sweeney’s motorcycle. So I have to ask. Was Ben hanging around your tea party yesterday?”
“Are you asking if he was at the tea itself or somewhere in the vicinity?” Theodosia suddenly didn’t like where this conversation was going.
“There. Nearby. Anywhere.”
“I don’t know.”
“Then I’d better talk to Haley,” Riley said.
Theodosia held up a finger. “Just a minute. Are you here in an official capacity?”
“It’s a murder investigation, sweetheart.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“So will you please get Haley?”
***
But when Theodosia went into the kitchen and explained Riley’s visit to Haley, she was visibly uncomfortable.
“Do I have to talk to him?” Haley asked, her eyes widening in alarm. She was dressed in a white chef’s jacket over a black T-shirt and leggings and had bright yellow Crocs on her feet. What she called her cookin’ shoes. At the moment she’d just finished working her magic in their postage-stamp-sized kitchen and put double batches of apple scones and lemon tea bread into her oven.
“I think the sooner you do, the quicker this mistaken identity thing, which I assume it is, will be cleared up,” Theodosia said.
Haley considered Theodosia’s words, then wrinkled her nose and said, “Awright.”
But when they stepped from the kitchen into the tea room, Haley said, “Can Theodosia stay with me while we talk?”
“I suppose,” Riley said.
“Let’s go in my office, then,” Theodosia suggested. “Where we can have some privacy.”
They all trooped down the hallway into her office. Theodosia took a seat behind her desk, Haley lurked directly behind her, and Riley sat across the desk from them on an oversized cushy chair.
“I’m only here to ask a few basic questions,” Riley said.
“About Ben,” Haley said. Her eyes roved around Theodosia’s office, taking in the crates filled with tea tins, stacks of hats, and shelves full of extra tea cozies and jars of jam. Looking everywhere but directly at Riley.
“That’s right,” Riley said. “Was he at the tea yesterday?”
Haley shook her head. “No. And Ben didn’t have anything to do with the murder either.”
“You seem awfully sure of that,” Riley said.
