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She and Beth Ann got busy with lunch then, taking orders, grabbing pots of tea, chatting with their guests, pouring refills, and having a pretty good time of it. Haley’s white bean cassoulet proved to be the hit of the day and was the first item they ran out of.
“Maybe I should have made a double order,” Haley said in the kitchen later. She felt bad that some of their customers had missed out.
“Next time do that,” Theodosia said. “Because I think a lot of folks will be coming back just to enjoy that one lovely dish.”
Haley gave a thumbs-up. “Works for me.”
* * *
As Beth Ann cashed out customers and cleared tables, Theodosia took a breather at the front counter.
“Here,” Drayton said, pushing a cup of tea toward her. “Try this.”
“What is it?”
Drayton smiled. “You tell me.”
Theodosia took a sip, nodded, then said, “I taste hints of apple, peach, apricot, and…maybe strawberry?”
“A gold star for you. This is Peach Bellini tea from Plum Deluxe. Rooibos tea loaded with bits of fruit.”
“Delicious,” Theodosia said. Then, hearing the front door click open, she turned to find—surprise, surprise—Detective Burt Tidwell shuffling into her tea room.
She met him halfway.
“Detective, what brings you in today?”
Tidwell regarded her with hooded eyes. “I think you know.”
“I couldn’t possibly guess. But would you care to sit down and…”
Tidwell sat down heavily at the nearest table.
“As I was saying, would you care to sit down and have a cup of tea? And perhaps a scone?” Theodosia knew Tidwell had a particular weakness for scones.
“I could do that,” Tidwell agreed.
Theodosia signaled for Drayton to brew a pot of tea, then hurried into the kitchen to place two cream scones on a small silver tray, then added a small dish of Devonshire cream and a dish of strawberry jam.
As she deposited the food on Tidwell’s table, Drayton came over with a pot of tea.
“Japanese Sencha,” he said. “But to get the full benefit of the lemongrass, it needs to steep another two minutes.”
“Thank you,” Theodosia said to Drayton as she sat down across from Tidwell. She smiled at him and said, “How on earth was Josh Morro electrocuted?”
Tidwell took his time answering. First he broke off a bite of scone (a large bite), slathered it with Devonshire cream and jam, then popped it in his mouth. Chewing thoughtfully, he said, “Obviously there was a huge array of cables and wires wrapped around his metal folding chair.”
“You’re saying this must have been preplanned,” Theodosia said.
“The word is premeditated,” Tidwell said. “Since we’re referencing a homicide. And as far as the deadly chair goes, once we cleared the set we discovered that the wires—most all of them—were connected to a metal awl that had been jammed into a circuit breaker.”
“And that alone was what killed Morro? It sounds awfully makeshift.”
“Are you serious?” Tidwell’s chair creaked noisily as he leaned forward. “There was enough juice running through that chair to turn every person inside Brittlebank Manor into crispy critters.”
“I’m glad you’re finding humor in this,” Theodosia said.
“Actually, I’m not. I take this murder—any murder—very seriously.”
