Page 18 of Honey Drop Dead

“Um, the ones on my other camera, the Leica, yeah, I did.”

“But not these images,” Theodosia said.

“No. Do you want me to? Turn them over to the police, I mean?”

“Why don’t we keep this between us for the time being, okay?”

“I guess.” Glass shifted from one foot to the other. “What do you think you’re going to find?” He sounded curious, edgy.

“Not sure,” Theodosia said. “Finding anything meaningful is kind of a snipe hunt at this point.”

Glass nodded. “Tell me about it.”

6

By midafternoon, things had settled down to a dull roar. Lunch, which had drawn a surprisingly good crowd, had ended, and now there were four tables of guests enjoying afternoon tea.

Theodosia served pots of gunpowder green, Earl Grey, and cinnamon spice tea, as well as cream scones and Haley’s famous lemon poppy biscuits. Then, keeping an eye on her customers, she wandered back to the front counter. Drayton had his Montblanc pen out, jotting notes in one of his Moleskine notebooks. His tortoiseshell glasses were poised halfway down his nose.

“Figuring out your unpaid taxes?” Theodosia asked.

“Um, no,” Drayton said, glancing up and looking startled. Then, “Don’t frighten me like that. You know how I am when it comes to personal finances. I tend to go a bit rigid.”

“We all do. That’s why we’ve got Miss Dimple.” Miss Dimple was their bookkeeper, sometimes server, and crackerjack preparer of income taxes. She kept them all on the straight and narrow.

“Actually I was working on ideas for a couple of event teas.”

“I’m glad somebody’s on top of this,” Theodosia said.

“What would you think about a Fox and Hounds Tea? You know I scored several pieces of Old Britain Castles dinnerware. Or how about a Secret Garden Tea?”

“Both ideas sound fabulous and a little offbeat,” Theodosia said. “Kind of like tomorrow’s Wind in the Willows Tea. Which is a fun, almost eccentric theme that I’m glad we took a chance on.”

“Are you kidding? We’re practically sold out,” Drayton said. “There’s maybe two or three seats left.”

“Thanks to your enterprising nature. I know you’ve been hustling tickets to everyone who’s come in here.”

Drayton lifted a shoulder. “Word-of-mouth selling is just good business. As you always like to point out, making a profit trumps simply making a living.”

“It’s amazing how many small businesses don’t understand that,” Theodosia said. “They’re afraid to do a little marketing or put on their sales cap and ask for the order.”

“So.” Drayton gazed at her. “You intend to insert yourself in the Claxton murder?”

“Not necessarily. I see it more as lending a hand to Holly and Jeremy.”

“Semantics,” Drayton said. “I think you’re juggling words.”

“You’d prefer I juggle suspects?”

“No! I don’t think you should get involved at all. Claxton’s murder didn’t just happen, it was premeditated. Someone planned it out quite methodically.” His brow furrowed. “The thing is, someone knew Claxton was going to be attending our tea.”

“You make a good point,” Theodosia said. “Someone had firsthand knowledge.”

“But who?”

Loud footsteps sounded in the back hallway.

“Sounds like storm troopers. Or is that Haley stomping around in those weird crocodile shoes?” Drayton asked.

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