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“In front of all these people,” Theodosia continued.
“People?” Booker’s growl suddenly morphed into a high squawk.
“Look around. You see those faces staring at you? Wondering what you’re doing here? They’re curious because you’ve been intrusive and impolite.”
Booker tamped his anger down and swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean...”
Theodosia tugged on his arm again and pulled him outside. Once they were on the sidewalk, in the clear light of day and away from prying eyes, she said, “What’s your problem? Why would you come storming in like that and frighten all my guests?”
Booker stared at her with red-rimmed eyes and a downturned mouth. “Because I got a bone to pick with you.”
“I can’t image what that would be,” Theodosia said.
“Oh yeah?” Now Booker was fired up again. “How about two cops showing up at my door this morning and basically jerking me out of bed to question me!”
“Uh-huh.” Theodosia was really thinking, Uh-oh.
“And since you were the one who asked all those nosy questions last night, I figured you were the one who sicced the cops on me.”
“I didn’t single you out, if that’s what you mean,” Theodosia said. She knew it was a little white lie—oops, those lies could start to pile up—and didn’t feel good about it. Because she had mentioned Booker’s name to Riley last night. On the other hand, Booker could be a viable suspect, so talking to Riley had been a good thing. From her point of view, anyway.
Booker took a step back from her. “You didn’t?”
“I would never tell the cops to jerk you out of bed.”
“Somebody did.”
“Well, you do have a history with Claxton,” Theodosia said. “About him nixing your grant. There must be other people who know about that.”
Booker looked down at his scuffed work boots and studied them for a few moments. “I guess.”
“Then are we cool? Tranquility restored?” Theodosia asked.
He shrugged. “For now.”
“No more pop-in visits like this one, okay?” She glanced down the street, where a motorcycle was sandwiched between two SUVs. “Just... try to walk in like a normal human being if you want a scone and a cup of tea.”
“I don’t drink tea.”
Theodosia gave a faint smile. “Maybe you should.” She turned away from him, raised a hand to signal farewell, and walked back inside the tea shop.
“Everything okay?” Drayton whispered as he brushed past her carrying a teapot.
“Seems to be now,” Theodosia said. “Were our guests upset and wondering what that crazy interruption was all about?”
“Only for about two seconds. Then Haley and Miss Dimple brought out the Scotch eggs and salads and everyone basically went facedown.”
“Thank goodness.” Theodosia grinned as she pantomimed wiping beads of sweat from her brow.
“But you know what I was thinking?” Drayton said.
“I do. That this was like shades of our Honeybee Tea. But, thankfully, no one got killed.”
“Not yet, anyway,” Drayton said in an ominous tone.
***
An hour and a half later, a few guests still lingered at their tables while others busily checked out the tea gifts Theodosia had for sale. The tea cozies were the most popular item—cute quilted cozies with cats and pandas and even pink mice that snugged over teapots. Then there were her proprietary T-Bath products—the Chamomile Calming Cream, Lavender Love Moisturizer, and Rose Petal Feet Treat. But a couple of Theodosia’s grapevine and miniature teacup wreaths were also lifted off the brick wall and brought to the front counter.
