“Please bear with me,” Theodosia said. “And I know this next question is really going to sound strange . . . but do you know where Billy was on Sunday night?”
Haley glanced up and gave a blank stare. “Sure, I do. But . . .” Then she stiffened and her eyes did a slow reptilian blink. “Wait a minute. Why are you asking about him?”
“The police and FBI think there was a guy on a motorcycle who served as a kind of lookout for the jewel thieves.”
Haley’s good mood suddenly evaporated. “And you think it was Billy?” She sounded shocked.
“Not really. But it just feels like an awfully weird coincidence. There’s a guy on a big bike who leads the getaway car through town and suddenly you have a friend who rides a big bike.”
Haley shook her head so defiantly her blond hair almost escaped from her kerchief. “He wouldn’t. I mean he would never.”
“I didn’t think so, either, Haley. But I’m just . . . well, I’m kind of looking out for you.”
“And for Brooke.”
“Yes, of course, for Brooke.”
“And you want to find justice for Kaitlin.”
“That’s a huge factor, too,” Theodosia said.
“Which is why you want to know where Billy was Sunday night.”
Theodosia peered across the butcher-block counter at Haley. “Do you know where he was?”
Haley stabbed murderously at a cucumber slice. “He told me he was working. And I believe him.”
“Okay, Haley.” Theodosia knew when it was time to back off. “I was just asking.”
“Asked and answered,” Haley said in a tight voice. She spun away from Theodosia and stood at the stove with her back to her. Finally she said, “I made a pot of squash bisque for lunch.”
“You must have hit up the farmer’s market.”
“I did. And I’m doing chicken salad with apple and pineapple chunks, kind of a modified fruit salad, as well as a roast beef and Cheddar cheese sandwich.”
“It all sounds wonderful,” Theodosia said. She was pretty sure she’d offended Haley, even though they were both chirping away like nothing had happened. “I was also wondering if you’d worked out the menu for our Duchess of Devonshire Tea tomorrow?”
“I still have a couple of things to talk over with Drayton. I want all the food to complement his tea choices.”
“Sure. I can see that.”
Haley began peeling an apple. “We seem to be doing a lot more special event teas lately. You don’t think we’re doing too many, do you?”
“Not really,” Theodosia said. “The teas are fun to do because they always revolve around an interesting theme. And they’re a great marketing device. Our regular customers always bring guests along who get intrigued by our tea shop, and eventually become new customers. So it’s really a win-win situation.”
Haley shrugged. “If you say so.”
? ? ?
Theodosia served lunch, packaged up take-out lunches, and greeted a group of women who’d driven in from Summerville. They called themselves the Summerville Tea Divas, and they pretty much adored every sweet and savory that was put in front of them. Of course, Drayton was called upon to expound upon the subtle differences between black tea and white tea, and he really got into it. For a while. Once lunch was concluded, he went back to being worrywart Drayton.
“I feel as jittery as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs,” he told Theodosia. They were both behind the counter, wiping out teapots and putting them away.
“You’ve got to relax,” Theodosia said. “This is all going to play out. The FBI will do a thorough background check on your friend Rinicker, and I’m sure everything will turn out fine.”
“And if it doesn’t? If Rinicker really is this Count von Schmaltz . . . ?”
Theodosia smiled. “Count von Strasser.”
“What if Rinicker really is an international criminal, and what if the FBI doesn’t find out in time? What if something happens at the Rare Antiquities Show on Saturday?”
“Now you do think he’s a criminal?”
Drayton looked depressed. “I don’t know what to think, Theo. I need your help.”
“What? You mean to investigate Rinicker? On our own?” She found the idea slightly unnerving.
“That would be the smart thing to do.” Drayton looked hopeful. “Do you think we could handle something like that?”
“I don’t know. Let me noodle it around. We wouldn’t want to be too obvious when it came to asking him questions. Especially if we’re coming in right on the heels of the FBI.”
Drayton pondered her words. “I suppose you’re right.”
“But we could certainly, um, alert Timothy Neville.”
“I was thinking the same thing. In fact, I think we almost have to. It’s our duty.”
“We? Our? Wait a minute. How did I get involved in breaking the bad news to Timothy?”
Drayton gave her a tentative smile. “I suppose . . . guilt by association?”
Just as Theodosia was about to beg off, the phone rang. Theodosia snatched it up. It was Brooke.
“Theo,” Brooke said. “How’s it going?”
“I’m working on a couple of ideas, Brooke.”