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“Those chairs could be false clues, you know.”
“We’ve considered that,” Riley said.
“So you’re not making brilliant headway on either case.”
“Are you?”
“Not exactly.” Theodosia gazed out across the floor of the tea shop. It looked warm and friendly, not a place to have such a cold discussion. “Tell me, did the Crime Scene guys discover anything worthwhile last night?”
“You mean besides a body? Nothing earth-shattering, I’m afraid. A shell casing that might be traceable, food crumbs on the carpet, some dust—which is no great surprise since there are so many antiques and artifacts in that shop.”
“Anything else?”
“Some plant debris.”
“What kind of plant?” Theodosia didn’t remember seeing any plants in Helene’s office.
“Actually, one of the lab guys put it under a microscope and surmised it might be some kind of algae.”
“You mean from the ocean?” Theodosia asked
“Maybe the ocean. Or maybe from a creek, stream, swamp, estuary, or backyard puddle. To tell you the truth, Theo, we don’t really know yet. Plus, whatever it is, it could have been there for some time,” Riley said. “Maybe got ground into the carpet.”
“Would it help if we got together and…”
“Hold that thought,” Riley said. “I’m on my way to a meeting and am already ten minutes late.”
“Call me later, okay?” Theodosia said.
But Riley had already hung up.
* * *
It was just as well, because now the clock was ticking down to their Breakfast at Tiffany’s Tea. Theodosia grabbed a pot of vanilla chai and poured seconds and thirds, delivered checks to tables, and generally tried to gentle her guests along without seeming to actually hurry them. Time had become a key factor and she needed to start decorating.
But wait. There was still a major bump in the road.
“Theo!” Delaine screeched as she rushed into the tea shop. “Where’s Theo?”
Heads turned, lips pursed, and patrons frowned at hearing such a bloodcurdling scream echo from the rafters. Which sent Theodosia running to head off Delaine, grab her, and forcibly sit her down at the table closest to the door.
“I can’t believe it,” Delaine wailed. She was practically hysterical. Her lipstick was smeared, her mascara had spackled under her eyes, and she shook like she was possessed by evil spirits. “Helene was my friend!” she bawled. “And now she’s dead!”
“Shush,” Theodosia said. She grabbed a hanky from her apron pocket and handed it to Delaine. “Try to pull yourself together. I know it’s awful but you have to calm down.”
“I’m trying,” Delaine said, dabbing helplessly at her eyes. “But when something like this happens—a totally senseless murder—it rocks you to the core. Makes you come totally unglued.”
As if to underscore her words, Delaine’s right false eyelash came partially unglued and began to flap crazily with every blink.
“Drayton?” Theodosia turned to appeal to her tea sommelier. “Some strong tea, please?”
“Coming right up,” Drayton said.
Theodosia reached over and rubbed Delaine’s back for a few minutes until her friend finally got her crying jag under control. Then she said, “Feel any better?”
“Not really.” Delaine sniffled loudly into her hanky. “I’m trying, but…” She blinked wildly, then said, “Theo, you have to do something.”
Theodosia reached over and plucked off the offending eyelash, causing Delaine to let loose a tiny squeak and sit back in surprise. Then Theodosia said, as gently as she could, “It’s not that I haven’t been trying. You asked me to look into Josh Morro’s murder and I have. Then, last night, well, that was me stumbling blindly into Helene’s shop and finding her dead.”
