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“You do?” Theodosia said.
“Don’t keep us in suspense,” Drayton said. “What is it?”
Haley grinned. “Sweet Caroline.”
Theodosia and Drayton exchanged glances. “We love it,” they said together.
“Really?” Haley looked delighted.
“It’s perfect,” Theodosia said.
“Unless it’s already taken,” Drayton said.
Theodosia was more optimistic. “Of course we’ll check out trademarks and such. But for now, I think we have a winner.”
“Gee,” Haley said, clearly pleased. Then, as she heard the front door snick open, she turned and muttered a quick, “Oh boy,” and squirted toward the kitchen just as Bill Glass walked into the tea shop.
Today Bill Glass was dressed in a battered leather jacket, saggy blue jeans, and ratty loafers. In fact, his shoes were so old and beaten up that one of the soles actually flapped as he walked.
Theodosia shook her head. Lord, give me strength.
“Hiya,” Glass said as he walked toward them. Flap. “How do?” Flap. Then he smiled his trademark cheesy smile and said, “I brought you guys a stack of papers so you can share ’em with your customers.” He winked at Theodosia. “And I put a nice sensational story about Josh Morro’s murder right on the front page.”
“Do tell,” Drayton muttered as Glass dumped his stack of Shooting Star tabloids onto the counter.
“Plus, I’ve got big news,” Glass added.
Theodosia’s ears perked up. “Something about the murder?”
Glass gave a conspiratorial nod. “My contact at CPD tells me Craig Cole is the number one suspect.”
“Seriously?” Theodosia said. When she’d spoken with Cole that morning, he hadn’t seemed to have a care in the world. If he was suspect numero uno, wouldn’t he be mildly concerned? Or was he a total sociopath with ice in his veins?
“You look surprised. Who did you think it would be?” Glass asked. He reached a hand out, lifted the top off the cake saver, and helped himself to a scone.
“Not sure who’s at the top of the list,” Theodosia said. She was reluctant to share any information with Bill Glass for fear it would end up in next week’s paper.
Glass took a bite of scone, chewed thoughtfully, and said, “Why do I not believe you, Miss Browning? Whenever you get involved in a nice juicy criminal case it seems as if you’re always a half step ahead of the police.”
“You flatter me, Mr. Glass,” Theodosia said.
Glass gave her a serious look. “Not this time. I’ll bet you’ve been whittling down your list. Care to whisper sweet nothings in my ear as to who you think the culprit really is?”
“Um, no,” Theodosia said.
“Let me pour you a cup of tea,” Drayton interjected.
“Hey, yeah,” Glass said. “That’d be good.”
Drayton poured a stream of amber tea into an indigo blue takeout cup, snapped on the lid, and shoved it across the counter. “Here you are. Tea to go.”
“You guys are always trying to get rid of me.” Glass sounded supremely wounded.
“Only because we’re frightfully busy,” Drayton said. He made a big production of looking at his watch and frowning. “What time is that group from the Dove Cote Inn supposed to arrive?”
“Two thirty,” Theodosia said, picking up on his ruse.
“It’s two fifteen now,” Drayton said, looking harried.
